Secrets and Seduction - Chapter Two

Holly rose from her bed and lit the candle on the bedside table. She lifted the mattress and reached for her worn leather journal. Every important event in her adult life was documented in the yellow, dog eared pages. The book also contained a shamefully long list of her faults and the day she conquered them. Sadly the list rarely shortened and she was fast running out of room on the ten pages she had allocated for flaws. She sighed as she carefully printed the words “voyeur” and “deviant”. Her gaze darted around the page until it settled on the word “curious”. She certainly had not conquered that tonight. It was her blooming curiosity, or perhaps something just short of insanity, that brought her to Ramsay’s room. She mistakenly believed if she saw his surroundings, touched his things, and yes, if she was perfectly honest, read his correspondence she would finally know something of the man. But still she knew nothing.
What had she been thinking, hiding in his wardrobe when she heard him approaching his bedchamber? Now it was obvious she should have apologized and explained she had taken a wrong turn and become hopelessly lost in his impressively large house. That would have most certainly worked as all men liked to be told all things in their possession were impressively large. But just like the witty retort that came to her 10 minutes after a conversation had ended, it was too late.
She flipped the pages until she reached a fresh sheet. The volume would not be complete without this entry. There was no need to burden the text with preamble. Unlike so many other events in her twenty-two years, which she had documented to the most minute detail lest she forget anything, all she would ever need to bring the evening alive again was to read the date beside his name. And in truth, if fate was kind, her memory would soften some of the harsh particulars. Inevitably, in the not so distant future, she would feel quite ashamed of what transpired. A benevolent providence would most certainly omit all detail, leaving only an imprint of every last sensation.
She smiled and quickly jotted the most important passage of her life.
June 3 1855- At last I have incontrovertible proof that I am not like my mother. Many thanks to Lord Ramsay for illuminating this glorious fact.
With a smile she blew out the candle and returned the journal to its snug home nestled safe under her mattress, and she returned to the warm cocoon of blankets.
No she was not like her cold, fragile, emotionless mother. Holly could feel. And she would again. She would make it happen. But with whom was the question.
Holly startled when a gust of wind billowed through the curtains. She never left the windows open. She was always too cold. She pushed the quilt off of her and walked to the window. The rug beneath her bare feet was wet. The rain must have come through the open window, but it was not raining. Her eyes went to an overturned vase, a thick puddle of water was pooled around it, leeching slowly into the thick woollen rug.
She reached for the discarded flowers and from the corner of her eyes she saw a flash of movement in the inky darkness. Her head snapped around. Someone was in her room. She could not see anything but she felt the presence. She was not alone. The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end. There was definitely someone in her room.
She bolted up and ran towards the door. A strangled scream pierced the silence. A large form reached out from the darkness and stopped her in her tracks. One hand covered her mouth and the other hard muscled arm pulled her back until she slammed against the solid wall of the intruder’s rigid form.
She was screaming but his hand muffled the sound. No one could hear her.
“Don’t bite me this time,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear.
Ramsay! Her body instinctively relaxed into his. Her thoughts raced in all directions. He was here. In her room. His hand slid from her mouth.
“Did you miss me love?” His lower lip caressed her face with each syllable and sent a wave of heat down her neck.
She tried to speak but her voice faltered, the words caught in her throat. Just having him close again made it hard to think, reason and conscious thought drained away, replaced by a crushing desire to press her body against him until their forms merged into one. Mindlessly her hand went to the thick stubble that lined his jaw, so course against her smooth hand, jagged and rough. What would it feel like on even more delicate skin? Dear Lord she was a deviant! She really needed to start being that better person she aspired to be.
Just don’t touch him. If you don’t touch him you won’t be tempted. She turned quickly to put precious distance between them. “Perhaps it best you call upon me tomorrow when... my mother can chaperone.” Yes she needed lots of people around her to dilute his effect on her. And no soul alive could dampen affection like her mother. Truly this could not be normal for her breath to quicken every time their skin made contact. And his smell... How could something as simple as soap and warm masculine flesh be enough to make her knees buckle? Truly her reaction to him must be abnormal. How on earth would people manage to get by if this was the norm?
“Some things are better without a chaperone,” Ramsay said. The deep timbre of his voice reverberated through her, drawing her further in. He closed the final distance between them, coming so close she could feel the scratch of his unshaved face against her cheek. She shivered as he made contact. Oh that is what it felt like. She fought the urge to turn her head and allow the bristles to rub against her lips. The thought was enough to make her face burn with anticipation. For the first time in her life she was pleased with her height, the slightest movement forward, and her mouth would be on his. He wrapped his rough fingers around her hand and turned it upwards to stroke her palm with a calloused finger. The sensation of his hard skin against her smooth flesh sent a bolt of heat up her arm, warming her and filling her with a heat matched only by the intensity of his gaze. She could not see him but she could physically feel his stare bearing down on her, through her, touching places she had not yet discovered.
“Shall I show some of those things Holly,” he asked. With each word his lips stroked hers, inviting them to part until she could feel his hot breath in her body.
“No,” she managed to say though every nerve in her person throbbed with an exquisite intensity.
“Shall I tell you about them then,” he whispered against her mouth.
More than anything she wanted to say yes. Surely there was no harm in that. She had already established there was some sort of innate depravity that robbed her of all decorum when she was in his presence. She could work on that tomorrow, a few words would not compromise her further, even scorching evocative words. But she shook her head before she could change her mind. “Best not to,” she managed to say.
“Because you won’t like what you hear or because you will like it too much?” he asked. His voice was husky and smooth. His hands were on her waist, pulling her in, until she could feel the hard length of him against her. Hot tension built between her legs where their bodies touched, even through layers of clothes, the heat of him burned into her. He rocked his hips gently against her. His mouth opened and his tongue skimmed across her lower lip until she opened to him. His mouth left hers, his tongue tracing a path down her throat until he reached the delicate hollow of her collar bone. A moan escaped her, a sound strangely familiar.
Oh God that was the same noise the woman had made tonight!
A tidal wave of shame washed over her. Only hours had passed since Holly had seen him with someone else and here she was wantonly giving into him. This was not being a better person, it was being a far worse one than she had ever imagined. “I just saw you with another woman,” she shouted, more angry at herself than him. She was not depraved she was insane. “Do you honestly take me for a woman who would invite you to my bed after that?” She pulled away from him.
“Yes. But that’s why I like you,” he laughed.
“You don’t even know me,” she said.
“I know what you taste like. Who else can say that? Except Pierpoint maybe. Do you make that sound when he kisses you too?”
“How do you know about that?” she demanded.
“Because I just heard it,” he said deliberately misunderstanding her. “Shall I kiss you again so you know what I am talking about?”
“No,” she said a bit too forcefully. “How do you know about Pierpoint?”
“I told you Holly, I know lots about you.”

Ramsay stroked the petal soft skin of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. God he wanted her. He had dreamed of holding her since the first night he met her. “You are not the only curious one,” he said as reached behind her and untied the ribbon that held her thick hair in place. His fingers teased the silken strands apart until they flowed in soft waves over her shoulders. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the sweet smell of lavender, promising himself it would be the last time. “I am just more subtle.”
“Rather than worrying about the sounds I do or don’t make, perhaps you should worry about getting back to your friend,” Holly said.
“Vivienne, her name is Vivienne. Please don’t call her my friend.” What transpired between him and Vivienne made a mockery of friendship or at least what he remembered of the concept.
“Is that her name? It is beautiful. As is she. I can see why you are friends.”
He moved his head to one side, his lips passing over hers in a feather light caress. Tonight when he got the letter back, he would never again allow himself to be near Holly. He needed to be more careful, he could not let himself become attached to her or anyone for that matter. She was like an addiction, the more he had of her, the, more he wanted. If it was just the way she looked, it would be easy enough to find a replacement. There were plenty of beautiful woman in London who would gladly spread their legs for a titled gentleman. But he wanted more from Holly. Yes he wanted her to writhe beneath him as he found his pleasure in her, but when they were both completely spent, he wanted to lay entwined talking and laughing. And that was the dangerous part. He could not afford to care.
“She is not my friend,” Ramsay said honestly.
“Your lover then.”
“No. Don’t call her that.” Ramsay ran a hand through his hair. “She is nothing to me.”
“And how would she feel to hear you say those words or to know you were here.” There was no denying the reproach in her tone.
“I dare say she wouldn’t care as she is warming her husband’s bed right now.”
Holly went rigid. She pulled away from him and he let her. He disgusted her and why wouldn’t he? He disgusted himself at times. What she had seen between Vivienne and him was meaningless, motivated only by circumstance and necessity. Vivienne was the only one who could get the information he needed from her husband so Ramsay did what he had to do.
“Why are you here My Lord?” Holly’s lower lip trembled in the cold.
He could delay it no longer. The time for fantasy was over, he needed to get the letter back and leave Holly Harrison in the past. Ramsay sighed and put back on his mask and forced himself back into the role he had been assigned. “I need the letter back Holly.”
“What letter?”
“The one you stole from my desk.”
“I beg your pardon My Lord but I have never stolen anything in my life!” Her chin rose in indignation. “Despite my obvious multitude of faults, you have my word, I am not a thief,” she stated emphatically.
“Oh well then, I must be mistaken. I have the word of a woman who breaks into rooms and watches people having sex. You will excuse me if I don’t take you at your word.” In a different life he would have relished discovering all of her obvious faults but tonight he just needed to be finished with Holly Harrison.
“I most certainly did not break in to you room. I was a guest at your house.”
“You were a guest at my ball, not my bed. If you wanted an invitation to the latter you just needed to ask.”
“I most certainly do not want an invitation to your bed.” Holly’s hands balled into fists. Her cheeks flashed an angry red.
“But you don’t wait for invitations do you? I suppose I should just count myself lucky it was my wardrobe I found you in. It could have been bit of a tight squeeze with three in a bed. Wouldn’t you agree? Or perhaps that is how you like it? Please tell me that is one of your character deficits?”
Holly’s stepped back and took a swing at him. Her fist connected with his jaw with surprising force. “I would thank you to leave now sir.” She said through gritted teeth.
He spun her around and pulled her tight against him. “And look I have discovered another fault. You are violent. I must say I am brilliant at this. You really should have let me know you liked it rough. My game raises considerably when I know the rules.”
“You are a vile pig,” she seethed.
“And yet not five minutes ago you were trying your best to defile my person. Would that make bestiality one of those personality flaws you were talking about because I am afraid that is even a bit too far for me love.”He backed up until the back of his legs were pressed against the soft crushed velvet of a chaise longue. He dropped to the seat pulling her atop him.
“Me defile you!” she shouted. She slammed her elbow into his ribs with as much force as she could muster. “I can still feel your willingness pressed against my person.”
“Oh love, you really mustn’t put too much credence in it. The wind blows the right way and he stands at attention, nothing to do with you, rest assured.”
“I hate you,” she seethed.
“Shame because I was growing ever fonder of you. But no more games Holly. The letter in my desk with the red wax seal, where is it?”
“The silly poem about the ferret and the fox!” She asked after a moment. “Is that what you are talking about?” She almost laughed. “You broke into my home for that horrific thing. Please tell me you did not write that drivel.”
“Remarkable how you have retained your memory. Now if you would be so kind as to return it.”
“You did! You did write it. And here I thought you were worldly and wise. Of course I will give it back. It is not as if I have any wish to keep the blasted thing. Believe me your time would have been better spent working on your prose rather than coming here to annoy me. Your poem would need extensive reworking to even be considered mediocre,” Holly said. She pushed herself up from his embrace. She tried to walk away but caught her bare foot against the trunk in front of her bed in the process.
He caught her in an instant “Are you all right?” he demanded.
“Of course I am all right. I have just stubbed my toe.”
“Be careful.”
“Please don’t pretend you care about my well being.” She sat down on the bench seat of the trunk and gave her foot a rub. “It is in the pocket of my gown,” she pointed to an upholstered seat in the shadows.
Ramsay searched the chair and the vanity. “There is nothing here.”
“Oh then Nancy must have taken them to be washed. I will get it in the morning and have a footman send it, though I must say you really could do better. It was not even the slightest bit lyrical-”
“I need it tonight.” He replied as evenly as he could manage.
Her head snapped up, “You act as if a few stanzas mean life and death. Perhaps I have done you a favour because trust me no woman wants to be compared to a fox or heaven forbid a ferret. Could you have picked a less romantic animal? Or is Vivienne the nightingale in Paris.”
“Holly the letter!” he snapped.
A look of realization spread across her face. “It is not just a poem is it? It is something very bad isn’t it?” Holly asked.
Every muscle in Ramsay’s body contracted in protest. Instantly his thoughts were brought crashing back to reality. If she knew it was a code the entire mission was compromised. The consequences would be a disaster. And Holly would never be able to let things rest, she had proved as much tonight. She would put everyone at risk including herself. He crossed the room to her and pulled her so tightly against him that he could feel her heart beating through her ribs and into his own chest. “Why did you have to ask that?” he whispered into her hair. The sweet smell of lavender filled him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried in vain to block out every carnal reminder of her. It could not matter that it was Holly. He no longer had the right for sentimental attachments.
“You can pretend I didn’t,” she said in a strained whisper. “I swear I will not tell another soul.”
“If only.” The icy determination returned, coursed through him, pushing out the last traces of emotion. “Best you know, I could snap your neck before you would have time to scream,” he warned. When she did not respond, he squeezed her wrist with bruising force. “You are alive because I let you live. Never forget that.” She gave her head a quick nod. He turned away when he could no longer bear the terror and betrayal that played across her face. He took the sheet from her bed and ripped strips, the soft material offering no protest. Wordlessly he wrapped the fabric around her mouth to gag her. He then tied her hands. Not because she would hit him but because even the slightest touch from her could threaten his resolve.
He guided her through her room to the bottom of the stair where the kitchen lead to a grand pantry and a smaller wash room. Ramsay lit a lamp and began sorting through the pile of washing. There was a week’s worth of laundry including kitchen towels and bed linens. At last he pulled up the pale dress she had been wearing, his blood splashed across it like a visceral insignia. He reached into the pocket and pulled out the letter. He opened it and read it again quickly and then walked to the kitchen where the embers of a recently burned fire were still smouldering. He tossed the letter in and watched as the parchment slowly came alight, glowing orange and curling in on itself until it disintegrated, leaving nothing but ash.
Only then did he turn to look at her. He could see her properly again, there was nothing to protect her from his gaze. Her night clothes were made of the thinnest sheet of silk, she may as well have been standing naked. The only modesty provided was by the thick cascade of her hair that flowed down to her waist, but even then he could still make out the perfect form of her breasts and her trim waist.
He covered his face with his hand and shook his head. Dear God what was he going to do with her? What could he do? He knew what he had to do. But she was a woman for Christ’s sake! An innocent woman. He stumbled backwards until his legs hit a chair and he collapsed down. Damn it! This was not in the plan. This is not what he signed on for. He had not even let himself think of what he would have to do if she pieced things together. He knew what he was required to do in this instance. He minimised and contained risk, it was one of the more unpalatable aspects of his position, but he did it. But not her. Not Holly. His mind would not let him contemplate hurting her.
Silently he reminded himself that he had a job to do. Job to do, was his mantra, one that he repeated daily. This was a job and it was almost over. He had come this far. All he wanted was to complete his mission and leave. Why did she have to come into his life now?
Who was he kidding? He could pretend all he wanted, but he could never have her.
He did not want to see her, to hear her. This would be so much easier if it wasn’t her. If it was just someone else he could do what needed to be done and move on. Just like he always did.
“I am going to remove your gag. You know what will happen if you scream.”
She nodded. But how could she possibly know what he was going to do when he didn’t.
“You have no reason to believe me but I promise you...I promise that I will not tell anyone about this. It was none of my business, I should never have...I am sorry.” Her hands were trembling. She looked like her knees were going to buckle under her but she stood proudly holding on to the kitchen table for support.
She was scared of him. He covered his mouth with his hand. He was going to be sick. She was scared of him and she should be. When did he become someone that women were scared of? God, none of it seemed worth it anymore.
He needed time to think. There had to be some other way, some way where he could just walk away and leave Holly there alone, unhurt. His head was throbbing, another headache was coming on. Dear God what had happened to his life?
“Put your dress on.” He did not know what he was going to do yet. He could hand her over to Didier and let him do the dirty work.
But he wouldn’t.
Ramsay was no coward, he would do whatever needed to be done himself.
She was moving too slowly, they had to get out of there. He needed to get home so he could think. It was clear he would not hurt her, he physically couldn’t. He had done a great many things in the course of his life that he was not proud of but he would not hurt her. That left one choice - hide her until his job was done. He was close, it could only be a few more weeks or months maybe and then it would be done. Then she could go back to her life. Her reputation would be ruined but she would be alive. And any reputation could be repaired with a bit of money and she was not lacking in that. She would be fine in the end.
And he would have a few precious weeks with her his mind sang out, a few weeks to see her and listen to the soft cadence of her speech, a few weeks to indulge in the illusion there could be a future for them. He would not touch her again. Even after everything he had done he still mercifully lacked the depravity needed to take advantage of her.
He spun her around and pulled the dress over her head, even without the corset he was able to fasten the tiny buttons that lined the back. “Ramsay please no,” she begged. “Please just let me go. I swear I will not tell a soul. Please.” She stiffened under his touch but she did not flinch, even when his hands lowered to fasten the buttons that touched the intimate curve of her buttocks.
He turned her around and looked into her eyes. He was not a short man by any standard but she matched him in height. Fear was etched clearly into her face. “I will not hurt you Holly. You have my word on that.” His voice was solemn as if he were in prayer.
“The word of a man that breaks into women’s bedrooms in the dark of the night, am I to be assured by this?” She tried to joke but her voice betrayed her by cracking. Her knees gave way and buckled beneath her. An intense admiration shot through him. Other woman and even most men would have dissolved into a flood of tears but even now she was trying to be strong. For a brief moment he held her and let himself pretend there was a world where he could have her.