Mary was like a younger sister to me. We both had had husbands who bashed us. She was pregnant with you the same time that I carried Harry.
She was a very beautiful woman, so it didn’t surprise me that Sir William had taken a fancy to her. Your mother told me that she’d been Sir William’s lover for many years, even while living with that savage man, who you thought was your father.
I couldn’t judge either Sir William or your mother harshly. They’d both married badly. Sir William was a handsome man with black hair and deep-blue eyes. I never understood why Lady Catherine ended up in the arms of Gareth Wolf, that scruffy gardener.
Sir William wanted to marry your mother, but imagine the scandal, given that her husband was in prison.
One day, she confessed that you were Sir William’s son. I should have guessed. You both had the same eyes.
The blood drained from my face. Sir William, my father? My father was the refined, elegant man who I’d admired for all those years, not that brute languishing in prison.
I opened the window and yelled. It burst out of me like an exorcism. My heart thundered. But it wasn’t enough. Blood raged through me, so I grabbed the pillow, smothered my face in it, and cried my guts out.
Relief, frustration—an overflow of colliding emotions spewed out of me onto that pillow. After I got that out of my system, I filled a glass with whisky and drank it with the thirst of a man possessed.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I picked up the journal and continued reading.
I managed to convince Mary to tell Sir William that you were his son. That was the same day that Lady Catherine, who’d been drinking heavily, told Dylan, in front of me and one other, that his father was Gareth Wolf.
It was then that I decided to collect a strand of your hair and Dylan’s for concrete proof. Mainly for legal reasons so that you would inherit what was rightfully yours.
Sir William cried. He kept asking your mother why she’d waited so long. On his own admission, they were tears of relief. He’d always seen good in you and evil in Dylan.
On his deathbed, Sir William told Mary he’d changed his will. The DNA test and a testimony by the cook sat with the solicitor. Should Dylan have contested the will, he would have incriminated himself.
As for Lady Catherine, Sir William left her enough to keep her from spitting vitriol.
Your mother came to me the day before her disappearance, making me promise to watch over you. She was only forty, and I told her that she’d be around for a long time. The look on her face contradicted that.
Sir William made me swear on his grave never to reveal that he was your father. I could only assume it was to protect you from Dylan.
Never one to go against my word, I obeyed. Sir William was a good and honest man. I couldn’t have asked for a fairer boss.
But I couldn’t have gone to my grave with such a burdened soul.
I can now rest in peace.
All I ask is that my ashes be scattered in the wood by Raven Abbey.
40
* * *
PENELOPE
HE STOOD BEFORE MY bed like an apparition. I jumped. It was early morning and still dark outside.
“Sorry to startle you like this,” he said.
“What are you doing here, Blake?” I asked, lifting myself up from the bed.
“I had to see you.”
I turned on the lamp. He looked different. His large eyes were alert.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he said, “I let myself in. I have a key.” His half smile was so sweet that I leaned forward and held him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m a Fox.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“I’m a Fox, and Dylan, that lowlife, is a mongrel. A nobody. Just a piece of dirt.”
“Have you been drinking?”
He removed his shirt and dropped his pants. He stood before me like a Greek god. My eyes traveled down to his cock, which had gone steel hard as his fingers slid over my skin, leaving a trail of heat.
I moved over, and he joined me in bed. I parted my lips, ready to speak, when his mouth landed on mine. His plunging tongue swirled around mine. We hadn’t seen each other for a day, but it seemed like longer.
My body melted in his arms. I knew something big had happened. In that gaze lay the pain of loss but also a sense of release. I could feel it in his body as he held me.
“What’s happened?” I asked, pulling away to stare into his eyes.
“I want to feel you. I need to know that you’re real.”
Before I could speak, his lips burned onto mine. His body, hot and needy, rubbed against me, his cock hard and moist against my palm.
His finger slid inside me. “I need to fuck you.”
I surrendered by opening my thighs wide. He sucked back a breath through his teeth while entering me, his beautiful face on mine, and his eyelids heavy. His mouth fell open, and a groan touched my face.
He turned me around. “I need you this way.” His hands smothered my breasts, his lips on my neck biting gently.
He thrust harder than I was used to. Something had bitten him. Overflowing with desire, I opened up and released my muscles, welcoming his fiery entrance. His cock moved teasingly against my walls. The friction was intense.
Red and raw, his cock moved in and out. With each entry, he hit an erogenous spot. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I trembled through one spasm after another as toe-squeezing pleasure ravaged my senses.
His breath tickled my ear. “Come for me, Penny.”
He must have possessed magical powers, because that breathy plea registered in the same spot as where his dick landed and I released a deluge. A primal groan echoed off the walls as he shot into me as though impregnating me with his soul.
In a strangled tone, he murmured, “You’re mine.”
I was his. No question about it. He could do what he wanted with me at that point. I’d grown so attached to him that our spirits were one.
We held each other, and he kissed me so tenderly that it seemed his trembling lips were crying. Or maybe that was me.
As I held onto him, Blake fell asleep. He looked like a boy and was unexpectedly peaceful.
A few hours later, we woke in the same position, his head on my chest. No cries. He hadn’t moved at all.
Something had changed.
He opened his eyes. Streaks of aquamarine shimmered before me, and I fell into them as I would the sea.
“Tell me you’re not a dream,” he said.
I shook my head slowly. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I have just had the best sleep I’ve ever had. It was me and you alone in a sunny, flourishing meadow.”
“How’s Milly?” I asked, studying him and wondering if he’d taken a trip or something.
“She passed. It was peaceful.” Blake lifted himself up. “What time is it?”
“It’s only ten.”
“I’d better get moving. I left my car at some weirdo hotel. It’s probably been stripped bare. I caught a cab.” He smiled.
That was new too. He didn’t smile like that ever.
I couldn’t believe how buoyant he seemed, standing before me naked.
“Should we have a shower?” I asked.
He was about to say no, but I stood naked before him, and he took me into his arms. “I guess I need a little bit of breakfast.” He wore a dark grin.