Chapter Five
Ben stood on his terrace in his burgundy silk robes and looked out over the rolling hills illuminated under the pale, full moon.
As was the case most nights, he couldn’t sleep.
But tonight he wasn’t awake because of a haunting desire to fight.
Tonight he was lost in thoughts of how Miss Ramsey won three games of chess against him.
He’d won four, but she’d beaten him three times! She was clever and tactical.
When one was raised on the street, they either became warriors or they died.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with the choices. She’d purposely distracted him with her hair, her eyes, her lips, her fingers, her skin, her breath…
He ran his fingers through his hair.
What was she doing to him? He’d met plenty of women, thanks mostly to his meddlesome sister.
The best bred, most beautiful, courtliest, most courteous women in the whole of Great Britain.
And none of them had ever affected him the way the enchanting Miss Fable Ramsey did.
No matter how hard he had tried, he often found himself staring at the way sunlight pooled in the cradle of one of her curls, igniting fires of coppery-gold and all the shades of autumn, and the way her slender fingers stroked the smooth wood of his chess pieces.
He blew out a deep puff of air.
He thought of her now. What was he to do about it? He couldn't run off to battle. His arm wasn’t healed enough. Even so–and here was the worst part–would she haunt him on the battlefield? Even his trip to Ardleigh to see Lord Brambley was plagued with thoughts of the woman in his kitchen.
What was wrong with him? Should he just toss himself over the side of his terrace? He likely wouldn’t even die.
He had no idea what to do about her.
She left him feeling completely out of control of his own thoughts and desires.
Is this what being fond of a woman did to a man? He didn’t like it.
He would put an end to it and as soon as she was well he’d send her on her way.
Look what she was doing to him.
He didn’t mind spending time with her.
It wasn’t fair to her.
Even if he didn’t dream of returning to battle, did he truly want to ignore his father’s wishes? Hell, why was he even letting his thoughts wander down that road with her? He had no intentions on becoming a husband–anyone’s husband.
His head snapped to attention when there came a rapping on the outside door.
He went to it and opened it quickly.
Stephen stood on the side with Edith.
Both of them were pale and their eyes were wide with concern.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,”
his steward said, “Edith found me and informed me that Miss Ramsey is having trouble in her sleep.”
Ben hurried off without changing his night clothes.
Her rooms weren’t far from his and he reached them quickly.
He heard her cries before he saw her.
“No! No! I…I can’t!”
He rushed through the sitting room and reached her beside.
“Miss Ramsey?”
He kept his voice non threatening and steady.
Judging by the way she was shaking and perspiring, she needed to wake up in calm, not fear.
“It’s Ben.
You’re safe.
You’re safe.”
He sat beside her on the bed and instinctively reached for her.
When she felt him near, she clung to him.
Without thinking–what was there to think about–he closed his arms around her.
“Don’t be afraid,”
he whispered into her hair as she trembled.
Her soft whimper against his neck made his blood go warm.
He held her closer.
She didn’t say his name but she woke up fully and began to cry.
He sat with her wrapped in an embrace he’d never offered to anyone before.
Ignoring Edith’s and Stephen’s shocked expressions when they saw him, he dismissed them for the night.
Whatever Miss Ramsey needed, he would provide.
They sat in the dim firelight of the hearth.
He wouldn’t push her away or force her to talk about her dreams.
He was patient and quiet, an immovable rock, there to protect her, despite the alarms going off in his head to run.
She wasn’t for him.
He didn’t care.
He’d seriously consider what was wrong with him tomorrow, when he had a clearer head.
Tonight, with her in his arms, his head was somewhere lost in the clouds.
“I’ve been nothing but trouble since I got here.”
He heard her soft voice rising to his ears.
“That’s true,”
he agreed, “though I don’t know why you always bring it up.
Are you testing me to find out how much trouble I’ll take from you before I ask you to leave?”
“Maybe,”
she snapped back, breaking contact with him.
“What if I won’t ask you to leave no matter how much trouble you cause?”
he asked, still close enough to hear her breath.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because no one ever has before.”
He didn’t mean to bring tears to her eyes.
He reached for her again.
This time, he was afraid she would pull away, reject him.
What if she did? He’d never been rejected by a woman before.He’d never been with any of them.
She didn’t move away but closed her eyes when his fingertips brushed over her teary cheeks.
“How do you know me so well already?”
she sniffled.
“Parts of you are not difficult to understand,”
he told her, “It just takes an ear.”
“A compassionate ear,”
she corrected.
He narrowed his eyes on her and warned playfully.
“Shh, don’t let word of my kind heart get around.”
He caught her smile before she rested her head against his chest.
He closed his arms around her again and spoke softly into her hair.
“My father used to say that if you want to forget your nightmares, you should tell someone about them.”
“Why did he say that? Were you having nightmares about something?”
He scowled above her.
This wasn’t about him.
He meant to help her by listening if she wanted to tell someone what made her so afraid while she slept.
How did she turn it around on him so quickly?
She bent her head back to look at him, taking with her the light scent of flowers.
“You must have been afraid of something for him to go around making up memorable quotes.”
If she didn’t beguile every one of his senses, it wouldn’t have been so easy for her to vanquish his scowl and produce a smile in its place.
He closed his eyes for a moment and shrugged a shoulder.
“Everyone’s afraid of something.”
She didn’t answer or respond in any way.
Finally he looked down at her.
She was waiting for more.
He exhaled.
Should he speak of what frightened him? Why was he even considering it? Even Sudbury didn’t know.
“I don’t usually speak of things like this with anyone.”
“What if your father was right?”
she suggested.
“You would still be having nightmares. Are you?”
Strangely, he felt comforted here with her in his arms.
“My fears have changed from when I was a child.”
She returned her cheek to his chest, letting him continue in the silence.
“Now, I dream of my mother.”
He felt his heart swell up with deep emotion he hadn’t released in a long, long time.
He drew in a sharp inhalation, as if to keep it inside.
“She and my father were killed seventeen years ago by Jacobites.
My father, Richard West was a lieutenant-colonel in the Royal Army and an enemy of the Stuart supporters.
My parents were away at the time so I didn’t witness their deaths but I dream of her dying.
It happens in different ways each time, but she always dies, and there’s never anything I can do to stop it.
I dream of the Jacobite men I’ve killed to avenge her. But none of their lives brought her back.”
He stopped and wiped a tear before it fell into her hair.
“I couldn’t protect her.”
The woman clinging to him remained silent but her embrace tightened.
Again, a wave of warmth coursed through him, misting his eyes, though he kept them closed.
He wondered if he’d ever stopped like this and just pondered everything.
He realized he hadn’t.
“What about you?”
“In my dreams,”
she began quietly.
“I’m running from something, someone–it’s always different.
That’s all my nightmares are about.
Me running.
I understand that the dreams have to do with insecurity.
I’ve never been safe in my life.
My mother was a vagrant and most nights we slept in dark alleys, places no normal person would want to be. So sure, as a kid I dreamed of running from monsters. But now, something different is coming after me.”
“Maybe now it’s time to stop running,”
he told her.
“If whatever it is finds you, I’ll help you do away with it.”
She sat back, out of his arms and stared at him.
“That someone chasing me is real and he has a sword.”
“I have a sword too,”
he let her know with a gentle smirk.
“I’ll help you no matter what it is, Miss Ramsey.”
“You want to protect me because you couldn’t protect her…your mother,”
she said softly, understanding him a little better.
“Why does it matter?”
“Well, because…”
Because it proved he wasn’t protective of her because he liked her.
It was from a sense of failure to protect his mother.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,”
she said and fell into his embrace again.
“I’ve been fighting for a long time,”
he told her.
“I know there are those who can’t fight to save their lives.
That’s who I protect.
It may have begun because of my mother, but it’s filled me, branching out like a summer tree into every part of me.
I fight to protect the king, who should have the people’s interest at heart.
But all that protection is obscure.”
While he spoke, he wondered if she could feel his heart beating fast and hard against her body.
“With you it’s different.
The first time you fell into my arms you begged me not to hurt you.
That’s when I decided I would protect you.”
“I don’t want you to be responsible for me,”
she said into his nightshirt, and then pulled back.
“I really can take care of myself.”
“My lady–”
“Call me Fable.”
He dipped his brow.
“An odd name.” Like her.
“My mother read somewhere that fable means a legendary story of supernatural happenings like animals speaking and acting like human beings.
I grew up spending much of my time in my own fantasy world of pretending I could communicate with animals.”
She laughed softly, rendering him senseless.
“I was a silly child.”
“Duke,”
she whispered after a moment, “all your talk of protection tempts me to depend on you.
That will make me lazy and slow, and…”
“And?”
he urged in the dim light.
“And it would break my heart when we parted.”
When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that nothing is permanent.”
It would break her heart when they parted? Why? The food, he guessed.
But was there more? It didn’t matter if there was more.
He thought of his father.
He didn’t reply but let her go and rose from the bed.
It was time he left her room before rumors started against her.
“You’re well,”
he said, motioning her to lay back down.
When she did, he covered her with her blankets and let his gaze linger on her for a few extra breaths.
“I’ll be going.”
“Ben? she called out as he headed for the door.
He stopped and turned to her.
“Chess tomorrow?”
“No,”
he told her.
“Something more fun .”
He paused once more before he left. “Fable?”
She rose up on her elbows. “Yes?”
He pointed to himself, though he was sure it was too dark for her to see it.
“Me.
I’m permanent.”
He returned to his bed and dreamed of a fiery haired woman running into his arms.
#
Ben remained still while his servants helped him into knee breeches and Enis dressed him in a silk suit with gold thread buttons and a dark green velvet coat.
He slipped his feet into his square-toed shoes and headed for the door.
“Your Grace,”
Enis called out, “your cravat.”
“I’ll find Stephen to tie one of his elaborate knots.”
He didn’t wear a periwig nor did he color his face.
Running his fingers through his natural hair, he thought he looked pleasing enough.
Enough for who? Her?
He thought about how she’d just swooped down into his life bringing a little ray of light and warmth with her.
He’d easily opened up to her.
They shared their lives with each other as if they’d been waiting all their lives to do so.
He thought about how she made him want to smile.
He wasn’t even sure he remembered how.
How was she breaking down walls it had taken him almost two decades to build? Besides, she was a Ramsey.
She could be a Jacobite spy–if she was a spy he’d have to admire how good she was at it–before he killed her.
Could he kill her?
He stepped out of his rooms and spotted a little kitten racing by him.
The kitten was followed by Miss Ramsey hot on its heels.
With her gaze fixed on the feline, she ran straight into Ben’s arms.
He closed them around her and gazed into her eyes.
“You’re making a habit of this, Miss Ramsey.”
“Just keeping you on your toes, Your Grace,”
she replied with a bright smile to start his day.
“Looking for this?”
Sudbury appeared at the top of the stairs carrying the kitten in one hand.
With a squeak of joy and a little jump that left Ben’s bones trembling, Miss Ramsey left his arms and ran to his best friend.
Ben watched her take the kitten and kiss and hug the tiny beast.
He felt the beginning of a smile.
“Your Grace.”
Prudence’s voice snapped across his back like a whip.
She stood beside him with another lady on her arm.
When she had his attention, she softened her voice and smiled at her brother.
“Look who’s here to pay a visit, Lady Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Nottingham.”
Ben had met Lady Charlotte on a number of occasions.
He wasn’t interested in getting to know her better.
He spared her an uninterested glance then returned his gaze to Miss Ramsey and Sudbury standing together and stroking the kitten between them.
He felt his belly rumble.
Was it his belly?
“Your Grace,”
Lady Charlotte curtsied low and looked up at him from under her long lashes, “it’s always a pleasure to see you.”
Did Miss Ramsey just smile and pet Sudbury’s arm the same way she stroked the kitten? “Sudbury!”
He called out to the one he was certain would obey him. “A word.”
He stepped away from his sister and her guest and met Sudbury halfway.
“Are you trying to start a war?”
he demanded quietly.
“Pardon? Ben, I’d never dream of fighting you.”
“Not between us,”
Ben corrected, even though what he told Sudbury was only half true.
“Look at Prudence.
On whom do her eyes burn?”
His friend looked over his shoulder at Prudence glaring with hate-filled eyes at Miss Ramsey, who, by now, was also looking toward the women.
Mainly, Lady Charlotte and her golden curls shimmering around her ears.
Sudbury appeared thoroughly repentant, but then said.
“You know I’m in love with your sister, despite her sometimes unattractive traits.
I have no thought of turning my heart in another direction.
It’s no longer mine to give.”
He smiled at Ben, and Ben nodded.
“But brother,”
the earl added.
“I like the little flower you found in your garden.
The more I get to know her, the more I believe she’s the one who will heal you.
I’ll support whatever you choose to do.
Your sister will get over it.”
With that, he patted Ben on the upper arm and stepped around him to go to Prudence–God help him.
It left Ben facing Miss Ramsey.
He was glad his friend had cleared that up.
Unfortunately, it spread light on the fact that he was jealous.
Possessive too, he reasoned as he went to her without hesitation.
“How are your feet?”
He glanced down to see her feet covered by hose beneath her nightgown.
“All better.”
She gave him a wide smile that rendered him weak for a moment…or two.
He laughed silently at the pitiful fool he was becoming over her.
He had to fight it, keep his head on straight.
He had a goal.
He wanted to fight again.
He needed it.
He was born for it.
“I’m glad,”
he told her.
“I’ll have you measured for shoes.”
“Oh, no, don’t go through the trouble, Ben–Your Grace.”
He turned to see what vanquished her delightful smile.
It was his sister’s snarl up close.
She’d dragged Lady Charlotte to him with Sudbury coming up at a leisurely pace behind them.
“Yes, Ben, don’t go through the trouble,”
his sister said through clenched teeth.
When she turned to Lady Charlotte, she managed a smile.
“His Grace has a large heart.
He’s always taking in strays.”
She looked toward the kitten, which he’d found on the road and brought home last week…and Miss Ramsey.
“Prudence,”
he said, straightening his spine, folding his hands behind his back, and stepping in front of Miss Ramsey, “surely Lady Charlotte doesn’t wish to subject her delicate sensibilities to your unkind temper.
Perhaps you should arrange for her to visit with you another day.”
He turned his unregretful gaze on his sister’s guest.
“Good day to you, Lady.”
With just a look toward Miss Ramsey and a slight motion of his chin, she came to him.
Ignoring the slight commotion behind him, he took the kitten from her arms and kissed it.
As he left the hall with Miss Ramsey at his side, he made a note to thank Sudbury for stopping Prudence from following him.
“Why aren’t you in the kitchen, Desdemona?”
he asked the kitten.
Beside him, seemingly unfazed by the goings on, Miss Ramsey smiled.
“Is that her name, Desdemona?”
“Yes.
She was Othello’s wife in Shakespeare’s play Othello.”
Her pretty, aqua eyes opened wider.
“I’ve heard of Shakespeare!”
“Of course you have,”
he let out a short snort.
“Everyone’s heard of him.”
“Even people in the twenty-first century.”
He cut her a curious side-glance.
“Does his fame live on then?”
She nodded and reached over to pet the kitten asleep in the crook of his elbow.
She was oblivious to the many stares and whispers going on from the other inhabitants of Colchester House.
Ben wasn’t, and glared at every one of them.
“Where are we going anyway?”
she asked.
“Back to your room.
We’ll find you something decent to wear and shoes, and then we’ll go have breakfast together in the dining Hall.”
He swore her face lit up, warming his heart and his blood.
He suddenly had the odd desire to make her happy all the time.
Was he enchanted? Possessed? He wasn’t himself.
But then, who was he really? At the tender age of eleven everything in his life had changed, including him.
He stopped being thankful and happy, and began living for revenge.
But this woman claiming to be from a lonely future was luring him with fiery light, joy, and…peace.
The peace wasn’t comforting. It was foreign and it made him confined and unsure. But the more he basked in her light and watched her smile, the more he wanted to smile with her. He dropped her off in her room and set out to find Edith.
“I’ll take care of everything, Your Grace,”
the servant promised.
When he began to return to the room with her, she stopped and smiled at him.
“I’ll bring her to you when she’s ready, Sir.
It would do no good to her reputation if you were in there while she was getting dressed.”
“Of course,”
he said, feeling his pitiful face grow flush.
He turned away and listened to her footsteps as she walked off.
“Edith,”
Ben called, stopping her momentarily.
“What do you think of her, of Miss Ramsey? Is she unkind to you when I’m not nearby?”
She laughed softly.
“What does my opinion matter in such things, Sir?”
Her opinion was the most important one in this matter.
Many ladies pretended to be patient, kind, and generous when others were watching.
Servants knew them best.
“I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t matter.”
She bowed her head in reverence.
“I think she’s a bit peculiar and uncommonly charming.
I like her, Sir.”
He let out a breath he wasn’t sure why he was holding.
Yes.
She was a bit peculiar.
She didn’t conform.
Somehow, she remained true to who she was.
Not some copy of a hundred other ladies.
She was certainly uncommonly charming, enchanting him without him even knowing, until it was too late. Too late for what? he asked himself on the way to the kitchen to drop off Desdemona. Too late to stop thinking of her when he wasn’t with her. Too late to care about anything but her. Too late to live his dream of returning to the battlefield. Who was she that she tempted him to seek peace and forget killing? He turned to look over his shoulder, toward the way from which he came.
He’d gone against everything he’d promised to his parents–himself.
He’d let trouble in, and now he was doomed.