Chapter 10 #3
They somehow managed to get up the stairs and to his room. She got him inside the bedchamber and started to unfasten his jacket. He smiled down at her, the expression cock-eyed. “I like when you undress me.”
“I’m sure you do. You’re a man, after all,” she said, swatting his hands away when he tried to help or distract her.
She pushed the jacket away and unwound his cravat so he wouldn’t choke himself on it.
She unfastened his shirt and somehow he managed to get it off and only caught his head in it once.
“Lie on the bed,” she ordered, and couldn’t help but smile again as he staggered to it and flopped across it, his booted feet hanging off. “Look at you, still trying not to dirty the sheets even in this state. So polite.”
“I just want to dirty the sheets in more pleasurable ways,” he hiccupped, and then stared at her a moment as she struggled to get his boots off. “I mean with you.”
“Yes, I got that.” She smiled at him. “I like this Silas. He’s a very silly man.”
She expected him to smile or reach for her again. Instead, his expression grew darker. Sadder. “Silas isn’t silly. He’s rotten.” He sighed, a broken sound that made her turn her head. Then he did reach for her. “Tell Poole to send your carriage away and just stay here and fuck me.”
“Men are such singular creatures,” she said.
“You don’t have to fuck me, then. Just stay with me,” he corrected himself. “Warm everything up with your sun.”
“My sun?” she repeated. “I don’t think anyone has called my quim that.”
His expression grew softer. “Not that. You . You are the sun, Arabella.”
She stared at him, this now far past half-drunk man who was telling her she was the sun. Many men had given her compliments over the years, none of them left much of an impression, but this one felt powerful. Like the brightness everyone else tried to dim was so lovely to him.
She turned away, trying to regain some purchase over herself when her heart was throbbing traitorously and her hands were shaking.
“You—you are very sweet when you’re drunk, Silas,” she said. “But I would wager what you really need is a good sleep. So I should go.”
She waited for him to argue. To repeat the request. If he did, she wasn’t certain she was strong enough to refuse him.
After all, what he asked for was what she wanted, herself.
She wanted very much to climb into his bed and into his arms. She wanted to have him again, that longing didn’t cease, but then she just wanted to stay.
To wake up with him as she had a few days before, and watch the shafts of light around the curtain illuminate his handsome face.
She blinked at the intimacy her mind created. Then she turned back toward him. To her surprise, he was not waiting to argue with her, but he was asleep. It seemed like that last drink had finally fully entered his bloodstream and taken over whatever control the man had over himself.
She moved toward him, feeling like a thief as she brushed a hand over his cheek, tracing the feel of his stubbly jawline. “Years ago, I might have jumped at the chance to be your sun,” she murmured. “But…but now I know better. I know these things can only create pain for everyone involved.”
She leaned in to kiss him and then slipped from his room. She came through the hall and down the stairs, only to find Poole standing there, arms folded and pointed, hard expression on his face.
“What a pleasure you are,” Arabella said with a humorless laugh.
“You’ll be happy to know I’m leaving, so no need to stand guard all night.
But I do think that it would be a kindness to have the kitchen staff be ready with a curative in the morning for Mr. Windham.
I think he’ll need it. If you don’t know a recipe, I can write one down. ”
“I don’t take orders from someone such as yourself,” the butler said. “And I don’t need your opinions or recipes.”
She stared at him a moment. There it was. The judgment of a man who had no idea of her life. Not that it mattered. Servant or no, he was elevated above her. And oh, how men like this liked to lord it.
“I suppose you don’t,” she said softly. “Though I assume it bothers you mightily that you must take orders from him .”
“Just for another month and then the period of his lease will be up,” Poole hissed. “And he can go back to wherever men like him belong.”
Arabella flinched. He’d talked about longer, but he must have been hedging his bets.
Ready to run if things didn’t go well. But a month?
That felt like so little time. He’d be back on a ship then, back to being unreachable.
Probably better for her, at that, because when she was with him she felt longings she had erased years ago. Dangerous desires that went beyond sex.
The same dangerous desires that made her want to defend him against this utterly nasty man. And that, at least, she could do. With great pleasure.
“Do you think the people you dismiss don’t know things?” she asked. “The reason your master, the Earl of Montague, is so close to losing this place, that he has to let it, and you , out to someone you have so little respect for…isn’t for any of the reasons that go around in public.”
Poole’s nostrils flared a little, but he said nothing and so she continued, “He wants people to believe it’s gambling, poor investments.
The usual things the Upper Ten Thousand can dismiss with a little bit of pity.
He’ll still get invited even if they cluck their tongues.
But what would they say if they knew about his payouts? His victims?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Interesting that you’ve gone so pale then,” she said.
“I wonder if that’s because you helped him.
That seems like something such a loyal servant might do.
And when he loses this house, you’ll also be out of a job, I think.
At least you might be if someone were to find out what was really going on around here and your role in it. ”
There was a long pause as they stared at each other. Then Poole let out a shaky breath. “What do you want?”
“A little respect for the man who is currently living in these halls,” she said with a small smile. “The man who is fifty times the one who owns them. Now, do you know the recipe for a curative?”
“The cook used to make them for the earl when he drank too much,” Poole said, softer now, not meeting her eyes with such cheek anymore. “I’ll make sure one is included on Mr. Windham’s breakfast tray.”
“Good man. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. Good night.”
Arabella turned on her heel and exited the estate back to her still waiting carriage. She took her place and folded her arms. There was triumph in using what she knew to put someone horrid in their place, but she felt little pleasure in it.
Her life had been spent protecting others.
She did it easily for those she loved. She never did it for her lovers, though.
They were powerful and had money and they didn’t need her to swoop to their rescue.
She tried not to even know their troubles, not at any deep level, and her comfort was always surface.
But tonight she had threatened a man in order to give Silas just a little more wellbeing.
She wanted to give him that relief, and she knew what a foolish notion that was.
No, not foolish, precarious. It meant she cared, no matter how many times she kept telling herself she wasn’t going to get close to this one.
It seemed it was impossible to stay away. And she had no idea what to do about it.