Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Caspian’s lips kissed down Arabella’s neck like a starved animal. His hands pawed at her as if she were life itself, and to let her go would see death visit him. She lay on her back, happy for him to take full control, happy to give herself to him because he owned her in that moment.
“Oh… Caspian…” she breathed as his lips devoured her neck. “Touch me there…”
“Do not tell me what to do,” he growled as his lips moved to her collarbone.
She wrapped her legs around him. They were bare, she only just realized, and his hands squeezed them and pulled them in tighter. On top of her, Caspian moved his hips, trapping her beneath him so that she was utterly at his mercy.
And all the while, those lips moved further south.
Suddenly, Arabella was naked. Had she always been? It mattered not because she just saw Caspian travel further down her chest, his lips moving to her right breast. He took her nipple in his mouth. She cried out, he bit down, and she moaned.
“I think that you like it,” he chuckled as he moved to her left breast.
“I would tell you not to stop but…” She gasped as her left nipple went into his mouth. “I know how you hate being told what to do.”
Her hands ran through his thick hair. They scratched at his back.
They grabbed anywhere that they could, because Arabella could not get enough!
And all the while, Caspian’s lips moved further down to her belly, to just above her sex.
He looked up, a wickedness in his eyes, and then he dove his head between her legs and—
Arabella sat up in bed, her breath catching in her lungs, her body trembling as if she had just sprinted a mile. The sweat coating her skin also drenched the bed, soaking the sheets so much that the covers were wet through.
Breathing heavily, desperate to get herself under control, Arabella did not need to question the cause of what had happened to her. The dream was fresh, burned into her memory, so real and so vivid that she almost looked around her room as if expecting Caspian to be there with her.
Where did that come from, Arabella?
She shook her head and sank back into bed. She did her best to push the dream away, trying to act as if it had not happened. But the more she tried, the more vivid it became. Caspian on her… His lips over her body… And how good it felt when he dominated and completely owned her.
It had been just one day since Caspian left for London, and Arabella had hoped that not seeing him would allow her to forget.
Out of sight, out of mind, and she might have been able to pretend that the small moment which had passed between them was exaggerated, and there was thus no need to worry about it.
One day… A single day and evening without having seen Caspian, and this was her reward? It felt more like a punishment!
As much as Arabella wanted to believe that she was happy to avoid Caspian and act as if he did not exist, the truth of her dream spoke volumes. And as she tried to fall back asleep, tossing and turning, all she was able to think of was whether he was having the same dreams about her.
When Arabella woke up the next morning, she decided upon two things.
The first was that she needed to do everything that she possibly could to remove Caspian from her mind. There would be no more thinking about him when she let her mind wander. There would certainly be no more dreams! She had to forget about him.
The second thing was a desire to do as she had promised herself, and as Caspian had asked her to do.
She was the duchess of the estate now; it was her home, and it was time that she treated it as such.
No longer would she rely on somebody else to tell her what to do and how to do it, and no longer would her life lack agency.
Her life was her own, and it started with how she ran the estate.
Better still, she was quite sure that if she focused on the second thing, then it would help her forget about the first. That was the plan, anyway.
But how would she approach such a thing? Arabella had never been in charge before, so she truly did not know what to do or how one might do it. She was a fish on dry land, a new world presented to her, and survival was not guaranteed.
“Might I make a suggestion?” Mrs. Roberston said to her that morning, when Arabella told her what she was thinking.
“Please,” Arabella said, desperate for advice. Caspian had told her that if she needed anything at all, Mrs. Robertson was the one to speak with, so she took that advice to heart. “Anything you can offer, I will be so grateful.”
“You wish to assert yourself in this home, yes?” Mrs. Robertson said, always smiling. “To make it your own?”
“That is the goal.”
“Then why not start by meeting those who keep it from disorder and chaos? The staff, is my meaning. If you like, I can arrange for you to speak to each of them. They are the life and blood of the estate, and learning who each of them is, even if you know them from sight, will make a world of difference.”
“The staff…” Arabella nodded along as the idea took hold. “Yes, that is a wonderful idea, Mrs. Robertson. Let us start there.”
And so, the day was spent meeting every single member of staff in Glastonbury Manor. It did not matter what their job was, how unimportant they were in the grand scheme of things. If they worked at the estate, Arabella spoke to them.
“Claude?” she asked the head cook; he was in his mid-fifties, had hard features, and was missing at least two fingers. “How long have you worked for His Grace?”
“Five years now, Your Grace,” he said, his voice rough, as if he had just wallowed in gravel.
“And do you like working here?”
“Enough,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh.” She blinked. “Is there something that might be improved?”
“I…” Claude hesitated. “It is not my place to say, Your Grace. It is good work, and I have no cause for complaint.”
“Please,” she pressed on him gently. “If there is anything you need at all, tell me now. I mean to improve things, and I cannot do that if I do not know what is wrong.”
Claude looked at her as if searching for the lie. No doubt he thought she was trying to trick him; if he revealed something she did not appreciate, she would dismiss him. But Arabella was sure to smile, appearing perfectly innocent, determined to make him trust her.
“Well… It might be nice if there was another cook on hand,” he said carefully. “Only, there are times when I am run off my feet, is my meaning. One more cook, even an apprentice of sorts, would make all the difference. It would certainly make my life easier,” he finished with an awkward chuckle.
“That is quite reasonable,” she said. “I will see it done.”
“Truly?” He blinked in surprise.
“Yes,” she laughed. “I do not see why not? If it makes your job easier, does that not benefit everyone?”
“I suppose it does…” He narrowed his eyes, still unsure.
“I will speak to His Grace—no.” She stopped herself, furrowing her brow, taken by a sudden desire to put her foot down. “I do not need to speak to him. I will arrange it myself.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Claude said with exasperation. “You are too kind.”
She shrugged. “Just doing what I can.”
It felt good to help. It felt important. And as Arabella spoke to each member of the staff, she searched for small ways that she could show them, and herself, that she was in charge.
As she met the staff, she was also introduced to the young woman who would be her lady’s maid. Her name was Anna, she was just twenty, had only started working at the estate six months earlier, and was a bundle of nervous energy.
“I am so pleased to meet you… Your Grace,” she stammered helplessly, hardly able to look Arabella in the eyes.
“As I am you,” Arabella said. “There is no need to be so nervous.”
Her eyes were sharp blue, and they widened in fright. “I am so sorry! I did not mean it.”
“Nor is there a need to apologize,” Arabella laughed. “We are going to be seeing a lot of one another, Anna. So, we ought to be able to speak honestly, no? Perhaps we will even be friends.”
“Friends?” she said the word as if she did not know its meaning.
“Yes, friends,” Arabella said with a warm smile. “Mrs. Robertson has told me so many good things about you, I cannot wait to see the truth of them.”
As Anna seemed unsure about the concept of friendship, Arabella was just as unsure. She had no true friends, as sad as that was to say, and the idea of having one in her life excited her. Further proof that she was changing.
“Mrs. Robertson said that?” Anna’s smile was hesitant, but it reached her eyes, and Arabella saw the pride in them.
“Does that surprise you? I hope not.”
“No, Your Grace.” She shook her head vigorously. “I am… good at my job.” She nodded firmly. “I will do you proud.”
“I know you will.”
What pleased Arabella most of all was when Timothy joined her toward the end of the morning. He must have gotten word of what she was doing, and he eagerly stood by her side as she spoke to each staff member, acting as if he were in charge.
“We should dismiss someone,” he said to her at one point.
She laughed. “And why would we do that?”
“To show that we are serious!” he said as if it were a matter of fact. “So that they are scared of you.”
“But I do not want them scared of me,” she said to him. “I want them to like me. Believe me when I say that kindness works as a better motivator than fear.”
“You think so?” He did not look convinced.
“I know so,” she said to him. “If you can gain a person’s affection and their trust, they will do anything for you.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It is lucky then that I am here to teach you.”
Timothy introduced her next to Miss White, his governess. He was excited to do so, as if he were showing her off. Miss White was kindly, if not a little stern, with Timothy, but Arabella could see that the woman truly cared for him.
“Make sure you are kind to her, Timothy,” Arabella said once Miss White left them.
“I am kind!”
“Oh, really?” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned wickedly. “I sense that you rather enjoy testing her patience. And do not lie to me.”
“Maybe a little…”
“She is only doing her job,” Arabella sighed. “So why make life hard for her?”
“Because it is fun,” he exclaimed.
“But is it fun for her?” Arabella pointed out. “From now on, if you must make mischief, make it with me. I doubt that there is anything you can do that will upset me. Why, I almost dare you to try.”
That single promise excited Timothy more than anything.
It was a long day, but it was also rewarding.
Slowly, and so very surely, Arabella found that she was coming into her own. Oh, there was still so much work to do, but she no longer feared doing it. In fact, the idea of making more changes excited her.
She walked through the manor that afternoon, looking over each room, trying to determine whether any needed fixing.
While Glastonbury Manor was not dreary and morose like some castles, it was still old, it was still a little dark and isolating, and she decided that some color, some life, was needed.
Is this what it means to be in charge? To make decisions? I rather like it.
She liked how the staff responded to her.
She liked how Timothy was starting to trust her.
She liked that when she walked those hallways that afternoon, the manor felt more like a home than she had thought possible.
They were small steps in the right direction, but she knew that where they led was exactly where she wanted to go.
And better still, not once that day did she think about Caspian.
What she thought of often, however, was her father and the threat that he had made.
Even as she came into her new role, her thoughts often returned to what he had said to her, and how he had said it.
And while Arabella liked to believe that when that time came, she would have it in herself to deny him… Well, she had not come that far yet.
Even her husband, as much as she tried to avoid thinking about him, was not so far removed that she could forget him completely.
He would probably return in the next day or two, but when he did, Arabella would be prepared.
She had asserted herself in her new home and life, and she was confident that the next time she saw her husband, things would be different.
At least she hoped so…