Page 27 of Submitting to the Widow
“Why are we working like galley slaves at the last minute?” Raj glared peevishly at her niece from a nearby stool.
“Because…Mr. Forsythe and I have unfinished business which was interrupted by whatever nest of snakes he’s poked in his true pursuit here for Eleanor Goodrum.”
Raj gave her a long look. “So, you’re going to send him back to London with the rest of his pages? Just like that?”
Jane returned the skeptical look with a determined one of her own. “Yes. Just like that. It’s high time I shoved that man out of my life.”
After a long silence, Raj tried again. “Does Mr. Murray have to leave as well?”
Jane sighed. “Yes, Raj. Stephen is Murray’s employer. Why wouldn’t he leave with him?”
Raj had no reply for that question, just a withering look for her niece before she returned to vicious pounding of a mound of seeds into a fine powder.
Jane finished plucking the petals of the last of the heads of the roses and pushed away from the stool to return to the conservatory to decide what she’d prepare for the crowning glory of what she had planned for Mr. Forsythe before she banished him back to where he belonged.
The minute she walked through the arches leading from the library into her warm, steamy bower, a whiff of something sweet and delicate filled her nostrils. Her carefully cultivated, cosseted banana plants were calling out to her senses.
And they had the perfect shape to inspire the havoc she’d wreak on the stuffy barrister that night.
* * *
Stephen followed warilybehind Raj through the now familiar dark hallways of Trevllyn House toward the faint glow that always seemed to emanate from the conservatory. Dusk was fast closing in outside the structure’s tall windows, but the glow never totally went out. He supposed the few braziers scattered about the tile floors might have something to do with the mysterious glow, but he preferred to think of the illumination belonging to Jane alone.
Before his valet had left on his own mission, Murray had brushed Stephen’s jacket and trousers to ebony perfection. He’d also ensured his walking boots shined as if ready for military inspection. His neckcloth reflected a neatness that he’d never quite been able to accomplish on his own.
Odd that he’d never thought much about declaring himself to a woman. However, in his wildest imaginings, he’d never thought one of the fair species would take his offer of love and turn him down flat. After all, his cricket followers over the years had included many an available woman who would send him passionate love notes enfolded in scented handkerchiefs after some of his matches.
Even odder for him to comprehend was the sensation that Jane’s repudiation had enflamed even more what he felt for the confounded woman.
Raj stopped abruptly at the arched entry and whirled away without a word, back to wherever she spent her evenings lurking, leaving him alone. The view of the conservatory beyond put him off-balance. The sight and scents were positively dizzying. He searched for an empty chair, something he’d never spotted before in her bower, since every flat space had always been stacked high with books and loose manuscripts.
The chair was devoid of the usual debris, as was the small wicker table she used for a desk. In fact, plump pillows covered with paisley-painted silk were piled invitingly on the chair. When he moved deeper into her bower toward the chair, he realized with a start the source of the glow. The long steaming pool leading to the grotto-like waterfall structure at the far end of the room was aglow with lighted candles balanced on mirror-like discs floating in the water.
The water in the pool itself was nearly blanketed with a colorful, soft substance. When he knelt down to touch whatever was floating atop the water, the soft, living texture gave him a shock. There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands of rose petals afloat in the pool. He smiled and stood, crushing the fragrant petal beneath his nose. No matter how much she loathed him, tonight would be an explosive sensual experience that would have to last him a long time, perhaps a lifetime, because there would never be another woman like Jane.
* * *
Jane watchedStephen from the shadows. The longer she observed his reactions to the sensory details she’d created for their last night together, the more a piercing pain crept from beneath her breastbone and took her by surprise.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think there was something wrong with the oyster she’d sampled earlier in the kitchen. Even the pain of death probably would not rival the searing burn in her heart. However, after seven years of unhappiness, she simply could not trust her heart. She had to remain free to please herself. She had to heed the warnings coming from her brain.
When she moved to pull on the simple red silk sari she’d chosen for the night, the bracelets at her wrists and ankles jangled and caught his attention. He moved toward her, and she prayed to Kali for strength.
When he moved closer straightaway, she was sure he’d cover her with kisses and make her forget why they were there. She held out her hands to keep him at a distance. “Tonight is for me alone to make love toyou.”
He frowned but didn’t argue. “Then let us begin the games I’m to perform to retrieve the final, damnable pages of my journal.”
“That sounds a bit cold.”
“I’m only trying to live up to your rules of engagement, milady.”
She pointed toward a corner where a low table with two thick floor cushions had been set up for an intimate supper. An elaborate floral arrangement of lily-like deep purple and red flowers leaned in toward each other in the middle of a large glass bowl. Huge, suggestive stamens waved suggestively with the breeze generated by their movements toward the table.
When Stephen kicked off his boots and made as if to sit cross-legged in his woolen jacket and trousers, she grasped his arm and handed him a silken banyan. When he began to strip down with glee, she shook her head sadly and directed him to the screen behind which she’d recently dressed.
“Mystery, my eager schoolboy, mystery is what makes life worth living.”
He answered with a wolfish smile and retired behind the screen, tossing his trousers, jacket, shirt, neckcloth and linens over the top of the screen. She sighed, shook her head, collected his castoffs, and hung them carefully on pegs along the wall next to the library.