Chapter 10
HER WORDS WERE enough to bring him to his knees. She had loved him once, but he’d been too overcome by his own emotions to see it.
And he’d deserted her.
In a way, this was far more painful than hearing she’d never had affection for him at all.
A love left fallow was a waste for all.
Brigham turned toward the manor—his home…Mellie’s home—and wondered how long it had taken for her love to subside. Perhaps she would share her secret to suppressing her love for him, and how long it would be until it faded enough to bare returning to his family home and seeing her.
“You have a gift for me?” Her soft voice by his ear had him turning back toward her, seeing her with fresh eyes, through the unclouded stare of a man who’d lived his entire adult life holding on to a thread of hope. “I should like to see it before you depart…if you must leave, that is.”
That she still wanted anything he had to give her startled him nearly as much as her breath at his neck and the weight of her hand as it settled on his arm to halt him from fleeing the garden.
Brigham glanced down at the tiny box nestled in his hands.
He’d selected the box with precise care and consideration, for it housed the Christmastide present that was to change their entire relationship.
It had been meant to make amends for the past, speak of a new commitment for their present, and give them hope for the future to come.
Instead, it would be a parting gift.
“I had this commissioned especially for you, Mellie.” He held the box out to her, begging himself to have the strength to watch her open it.
She took the gift and smiled up at him, her eyes clouded with tears.
The bright moon overhead made them glisten as they threatened to fall.
But then she was focused solely on the box, and her fingers shook as she removed the top to bring the pendant into view.
It was a simple adornment, as Mellie had never been one for garish jewels or gems.
Yet, it was made of the purest silver with a heart-shaped outer shell with wild blossoms encapsulating it.
The pendant spoke of Mellie in a way no other necklace could.
Quickly, she found the tiny, hidden clasp and released it, opening it to see inside.
Two tiny images, barely decipherable in the night were nestled inside.
As if knowing the moment was a great turning point, the moon’s rays brightened, casting a light like that of a close candle over the pair and illuminating two hand-drawn portraits; one of Mellie’s parents, Baron and Baroness Montfort, and on the opposite side, Mellie and Brigham on their wedding day.
“Oh, I had no idea these portraits existed,” she sighed, her finger tracing first the likeness of her parents and then the one of she and Brigham. “Where did you…how did you…”
“I have always kept a painting of us with me. For the one of your parents, I went to Tapton House during the last Christmastide season and retrieved it.”
When he’d journeyed to the neighboring estate the year before, it had been to assess the damage and repairs needed, but he’d found the portrait hidden in a corner of a dusty, abandoned chamber and he’d known he needed to take it. For what purpose, he hadn’t been sure at the time.
However, seeing the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her green eyes, and the blossom of her complexion now was enough for him to know his choice of gift was perfect.
Though it hardly changed anything.
“May I?” Brigham held out his hand for the necklace. When she set the gift in his palm, she immediately turned around and lifted her hair for him to clasp the chain about her neck.
“It is beautiful, Brigham,” her breathed as the weight settled on her bosom. “I shall cherish it always.”
Why did her words hold such a powerful sting?
Because that was all she’d have to cherish, for he would be gone.
Before Brigham knew what was transpiring, he leaned forward and kissed her neck, following the trail of the pendant’s chain as it cascaded over her shoulder, down to her clavicle, and to her cleavage where the heart lay.
“You are cold.” Her skin was icy against his lips. “Let us return inside.”
She turned to face him with agonizing slowness as she began to unbutton her cloak.
“The night is harsh, and I should retrieve your muff.” Brigham glanced about, spotting her hand warmer on the ground several feet away.
He hurried over to collect it, and when he returned, she’d laid her long, flowing cloak on the ground—in the exact spot they promised to love and cherish one another for all their days.
The morning sun did not burn brightly in praise for their joining this night.
No, it was the Christmastide moon…full and casting its luminous glow over Mellie as she lowered herself to the cloak, her hair free about her shoulders and the pendant hanging between her breasts.
Never had Mellie been more stunning. Captivating. Utterly enchanting as she arranged her skirts about her on the ground.
But then…then she did the one thing that brought Brigham to his knees.
Mellie held out her hand to him.
It was a proposition.
She wanted Brigham to join her.
Under the Christmastide moon.
“Come, my husband.”
There was so much left unsaid, hundreds of words he longed to say, though he could not find his voice as he sank to the ground beside her.
His wife.
The woman he’d lived all these years without, even though his heart had remained with her at Hockcliffe.
His entire body pulsed with need as she brushed his cheek with her hand before leaning in to set her lips upon his.
This kiss was far different than their previous one at the cottage.
That had been driven by a fiery need that had lain dormant between them for years.
This kiss, this joining, went far deeper than pure lust, want, and desire.
Something inside Brigham reached out and took hold of Mellie, and he sensed it would always be that way. Denying his ever-present love for her, begging it to subside and recede, was futile.
Brigham pulled back as her brow furrowed in confusion.
There was much he needed to say, and this moment, this very intimate space of time, demanded he speak his piece.
“Mellie.” He would not allow the words to come in a rush of mumbling, unintelligible utterances.
She was worth more than a hastily spoken vow.
“You must know I loved you the day we wed, and I’ve loved you every day since.
My commitment to you has never wavered, though I have not been the husband you needed or deserved.
” When she made to close the distance between them and bring their lips back together, Brigham halted her.
“I would not blame you if your love for me has waned over the years, as it was my own neglect of you and our marriage that caused the distance between us. However, from this day forward, even if your love for me never returns, I will remain by your side. Here at Hockcliffe or in London or even the great Sahara Desert. Wherever your heart leads you, I and my heart will follow. Anything you demand is yours.”
His heart hammered in his chest as he fell silent. The cool night air only served to make Brigham aware of the burning within him.
Mellie drew in a ragged breath. Her narrowed stare traveled no higher than the lapel of his coat as if she debated something.
“Do say something, please,” Brigham pleaded. He lifted her chin with his forefinger, returning her stare to his. “Do not leave my mind adrift too long.”
Yet, what he saw there was not confusion, puzzlement, or some great internal debate.
“Anything I demand?” Her lip turned up at the corner, and her eyes twinkled in the evening glow. “You will deny me nothing?”
Brigham swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.
A nod was all he could muster in response to her question.
He would walk to the ends of the Earth if she so demanded.
He would rage a brutal war against anyone she named as foe.
And he would give her any gift she longed to possess. All she need do is speak her command.
“Make love to me, Brigham.” Her chin lifted as if daring him to deny her. “Bed me properly under the Christmastide moon.”
She needn’t command aught else as he pulled her close and set his lips to hers.
With ungainly coordination, Brigham reached behind her and untied the sash about her waist and then began with the buttons down her back—the same buttons he’d expertly undone just that morning.
Why was the task immensely more difficult now?
Every inch of him knew why, and he pulled back, needing Mellie to speak of it.
“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips as she attempted to follow him.
Mellie paused, sensing what he asked of her. “I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you even more tomorrow.”
Holding her gaze, Brigham had no doubt that everything she spoke was the truth and rooted deep within her heart.
Swiftly, he moved through the buttons down the back of her gown.
Their labored breaths joined in the mere inches separating them and escaped into the night.
Mellie shrugged from the bodice of her gown, allowing it to pool at her waist, her thin shift barely hiding her hardened nipples.
His hand shook with desire when his finger grazed the tight bud, and he pushed the shoulders of her chemise down to follow the same path her bodice had taken.
Breathing deeply, Mellie’s breasts rose and fell, her perfect form exposed to his ravenous stare.
He wanted to touch her, taste her, claim her.
When his stare returned to hers, Brigham had no doubt that she sought to do the same with him.
MELLIE HAD WAITED years for this moment. No, she’d waited a lifetime for Brigham to look at her as he was now. She wanted it to last decades; however, she also wanted his hands upon her bared breasts, his lips on her neck, and his manhood at her core.
Her need was her undoing.