Page 44 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
She looked down at her gown and the white apron that covered it. A day at home, at Hillsworth Manor, before she left the house, forever. She did not know when Louis would arrive to claim her, to whisk her away to Scotland, so that they could get married, but she knew that it was going to happen. She had patience, and she had faith.
As she walked slowly, basking in the rays of the sun on her skin, she thought of Louis, at Warwick Manor, with Ben. The last day of the hearing, when the court had decided that her marriage to Frank Blackmore was to be annulled, he had received a letter by urgent messenger. Benjamin had taken ill again, and was fretful, wanting his father. Louis had been torn between wanting to spend the day with her, celebrating, and wishing to see his son.
“Go,” she had urged him. “There is plenty of time for us to be together now. Ben needs you, more than I do, at the moment.”
He had left her, regretfully. That had been over a week ago. She received letters from him every day, telling her how much he missed her, how much he longed for her, and how Ben was improving, but still wasn’t fully recovered. The physician thought he might have croup; apparently, he had a barking cough that would become uncontrollable, and he would struggle for breath. The physician had assured him that many young children caught it and recovered. But Hetty could read between the lines of Louis’s letters, that he was worried.
She was worried about Ben, too. But since she was not there, at Warwick Manor, she could not ascertain with her own eyes how serious it was. And she knew that Louis panicked about his son, as was normal. Her mother had told her that Hetty had suffered croup as a baby, and made a full recovery. She had prayed for the little boy, but there was little else she could do.
It had been on her mind, daily, to just journey to Warwick Manor, so that she could help nurse him. But her father had shaken his head, saying that even though the court had announced her annulment, there was still the slight possibility that Frank Blackmore might lodge an objection. She could not risk journeying to Warwick Manor, as he might get wind of it, and use it against her. They would only be safe once Louis had finally put that ring on her finger to make her his wife.
She was almost to the apple tree. She stopped, gazing upon it. The apples were nearly gone; most had fallen to the ground, and there were very few good ones left, the ones that remained on the branches mostly rotting, or picked clean, by birds. The cycle of fruition was almost over for another year.
She kept walking, feeling a slight breeze ruffling her hair. She would miss this place and all it had meant to her. She smiled faintly, thinking about Louis, again.
The apple tree had always been a favourite place of hers since childhood. But it had taken on new meaning now. Vividly, she remembered when Louis had pushed her on the swing, and it had collapsed. How they had laughed together as he pulled her to her feet, and they had shared a special moment of connection. It had been the very first time that had foreshadowed how deeply they would come to feel about each other.
She blushed. And there was another memory, of when he had kissed her, for the very first time, beneath this tree. How he had fiercely gathered her up in his arms and explored her body, giving her the first inclination that there was hunger of another sort. That touch was a language, all of its own. Once she had opened her ears to the words of that language, it was as if she was born again, as a new person, entirely.
She sat against the tree trunk, gazing into the distance, the basket on her arm discarded. She had a vague inclination when she left the house to pick the last of the good fruit on the tree for the cook to make into apple cobbler. But now that she was here, a lethargy had overtaken her, and all that she wanted to do was watch the rolling green hills and be at one with the day.
The last day of summer. All things pass.
Della ran off, nose to the ground, possibly following the scent of a rabbit. Hetty closed her eyes for a brief moment. There was the low rumble of thunder in the distance. She opened her eyes again, frowning slightly as she saw the grey clouds rolling over the horizon, marring the perfect blue of the sky. But it was far off and might pass over, in any case. She had time, still, to enjoy the day before she returned to the house.
It was done. It was over. She was a free woman.
Every day, as soon as she opened her eyes, and the fog of sleep passed, those same words rushed into her head. She would feel the same overwhelming relief that she had felt, in that court, when the bishop had finally proclaimed that she was no longer a married woman. The sheer, overwhelming joy of it that she had managed to pull it off.
She still couldn’t quite believe it. She had to pinch herself that it was real, and that she was finally free to marry Louis. She wanted it, more than life itself. But there was also pure joy in the vindication that she had cleared her name, as well.
That she was no longer the abandoned wife, the disgraced wife, the woman who had been made a fool of. Now, she had never been married at all. She was not divorced. Her marriage had been annulled, been declared null and void. For all intents and purposes, it was as if it had never happened.
She breathed deeply, overwhelmed with that sweet relief and joy,once more. Perhaps the joy of it would never truly leave her, even as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Even after she had left all of this behind, and it was just a dim memory, perhaps a kernel of that pure joy would still be there, buried deep within her.
She had been given the chance to live again.
Her eyelids started to droop slightly. It was warm beneath the sun, despite those ominous rumblings of thunder from far away. She heard the drone of bees buzzing, collecting their nectar from the last wildflowers in the field, and the trill of birds in the trees. She closed her eyes, her head tilting against the rough bark of the tree.
I miss Louis so much,she thought, as her mind began to drift.I know that I shall see him again very soon, but it does not change the fact. When, oh when, can we finally be together?
She shivered beneath the warm sun, missing him so very badly that it was like a physical ache in her chest. It had only been a week, but it felt like a year. She shivered again, thinking of his hands touching her body. His lips, searing her skin. How she wanted him. How much she would give to be lying in his arms now, and for his mouth to be drifting down her body like a chain of fire, scorching her flesh …
***
She woke suddenly, jolting upright, her heart pounding hard withinher chest. Where was she?
Slowly, consciousness returned, and with it, an ache in her back and neck. Ruefully, she massaged her neck, releasing the muscles. She gazed around. She had fallen asleep beneath the apple tree. Della was asleep, too, snoring gently, her golden head upon her lap. Hetty let out a sigh of relief. The dog could easily have run away into the hills.
She blinked. The sky had changed. It was no longer the deep, pure blue it had been, marred by the grey clouds. Now, it was almost completely metallic grey, the colour of a musket, and just as foreboding. A single raindrop fell on her forearm. She should get back to the house before it started pelting down.
She got up abruptly, causing Della to awake with a yelp, shaking herself. Heading down the track, that same yearning for Louis nipped at her. Another lonely night without him. How could she endure it?
But her footsteps started to slow slightly as she gazed ahead. Someone was walking through the back gate of her house towards her. A tall figure dressed in green britches, a black jacket, and a crisp white shirt. High riding boots and ruffled, unruly dark hair.
Her heart clenched. It was Louis.
She didn’t hesitate for a moment. She picked up the hem of her gown and started to run towards him, panting in her haste. He was here.He had come to her. At last.
