I feel a cold grip around my heart as if it’s being squeezed by a hand. “What Harriet and I had is forever.” I say out loud to myself. Then as quickly as it arrived, the obtrusive feeling disappears. I shudder, shaking it off. The light fixtures on the wall flicker and I feel as if I’m being watched. Looking behind me, I assure myself that I’m alone in my room. Though the feeling lingers, as does the guilt. Sweat drips down my forehead as my breathing becomes narrow, my chest feeling heavy.
The vision of Harriet bleeding out before me, eyes wide and scared. “Barrett, no” flickers against my brain once again. Forever on a loop, tormenting me.
Rooting around in the drawer, I find a match and go over to light one of the candles I keep on the nightstand. I strike the match and light the wick, watching the flame dance for a moment before tossing the match in the bin. Hesitantly, I unbutton my cuff of my shirt and lower my arm down over the candle’s flame, letting the heat graze the underside of my wrist where healed burns dot my skin. I suck in a breath between my teeth, screwing my eyes shut as I absorb the pain. I let it numb my racing thoughts. Staying like that until I can no longer tolerate the sting. Wrenching my wrist away I tuck my wrist back under my shirt. Buttoning the cuff back up I feel renewed. The vision ceased and my breath returned to normal.
I rake my hands through my hair and resolve to shake off these pesky urges. Taking off down the stairs, I grab my hat and coat from the closet.
“Ellen!” The maid appears while I’m in the midst of tugging my arm through the sleeve. “Please, watch Ms. Peppins. Help her get acclimated to the children. I’m going out, make sure she knows what she’s doing.”
I can hear her muttering under her breath, something about it not being her job, but I know Ellen. She loves the children fiercely and has been the only one to stay in the house out of the staff I once employed. They’d all tired of my erratic moods and outbursts after the loss of Harriet. I didn’t blame them for leaving. Were I in their shoes, I would have done the same. Only Ellen stayed.
I take off down the lane, a frightful chill lingers in the air, and it’ll be dark soon. I find myself wandering near the Thames aimlessly lost in memories. My steps slap along the wet cobblestones in a steady staccato beat that matches the rhythm of my heart. Fog rolls off the putrid smelling river, but I pay it no mind. I let it encompass me, shrouding me in misery. I give myself over to the past, letting it eat at me while pictures of my once happy life dart behind my eyes. Wandering the barely populated streets without a care where I end up, I let my feet carry me. They know the way and before I know it, I find myself kneeling at my late wife’s grave. Her name crudely etched with crumpled flowers strewn across her final resting place.
The words “Beloved wife and mother” mock me with how easily I’ve strayed from the vows I made her. My fingers dig into the tuffs of grass that line the rectangular stone. I press my forehead to the cool slab and let out a strangled sob. “Forgive me.”
A cackling caw from above answers me. Even the birds mock my plight.
Drops of rain burst free from the sky, saturating my clothes in an instant. In my rush to leave the house, I’d forgotten an umbrella. Letting out a sigh, I flop onto my back lying next to my deceased wife as the deluge continues its assault. I welcome it, feeling the incessant pattering against my skin, sinking the cold deep into my bones.
Distantly, I hear Harriet scolding me about pneumonia, but I push it away accepting my punishment. Serves me right for still being here when she is not. For thinking such thoughts about another woman.
I’m shivering, fingers blue and numb when I return to the house, sending Ellen into a fit. She shoves me into a hot bath, and I let the warmth penetrate me. I stare aimlessly into nothing, my eyes unfocused as the water becomes tepid.
Pulling my robe on, I hear a knocking at my door. I yank it open expecting to find Ellen on the other side but am met by Ms. Peppins wearing a white lacey nightgown and holding onto a dimly lit candle. Her gown leaves little to the imagination. The candlelight flickers against her porcelain face and a surge of lust overcomes me. I’m keenly aware of my cock tenting against the flimsy robe. I attempt to close the door, but she pushes at it. Fingers pressing against the wood ever so slightly.
“Can I help you?” words I’d normally say without an issue, come out tight and strained.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Blackford, but I just wanted to thank you for offering me the position. The children are tucked away soundly in their beds.”
I nod my head, afraid to utter any words. This woman undoes me with her presence. I could easily fire her. I should fire her. But the thought of not being near her feels worse than fighting off this instant attraction I find myself experiencing. Attraction can fade, I tell myself. I’ll push through it for Harriet. For the children.
Her eyes drift down, and her mouth drops open, taking in what I’ve tried to conceal. My want for her. I clear my throat and feel myself twitch at her brazen attention.
Her floral scent engulfs me, and I find myself opening the door, letting her come in and closing the door behind us. I feel as if I’m in some trance the way I’m drawn to her. She could ask me to burn my hand on the candle she holds, and I’d do it happily.
Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself pressed against her, pulling at her nightgown. Her fingers unhook my robe and find my length waiting for her. I brush my nose down her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. It’s a mixture of rain and lilly of the valley, and something darker. Deeper. Something that’s just her.
“You have no idea how badly I want you, Ms. Peppins.”
“Marigold.” She says, her eyes mirroring my own desire. I should put a stop to this, but I won’t. I can’t.
“Marigold.” I say back, feeling the weight of her name on my tongue. It feels right.
She grips me then, rubbing my cock from tip to base. Her blue eyes are blown wide, and her cherry-stained mouth is parted in awe. The candlelight flickers between us and I grab it from her, setting it down on my bureau. I pull her to me, crushing my lips to hers. My fingers dig into her black curls, deepening our kiss. She tastes like sugar and spice as she moves with me. It’s a heady sensation that works its way down my spine as our lips mingle. The faintest hint of her tongue flicks against my bottom lip and I let out a moan. I can’t fight this madness I feel with her near. I let go of the guilt that claws at me, giving over to this animalistic need to claim her.
I pull at threads holding her nightgown in place and watch as it tumbles to the floor, leaving her bare for me to see. She’s an angel sent from heaven, or a devil come to damn my soul. Her naked form enchants me, and I find myself grabbing for her, tugging her closer to me by the chain on her ruby pendant that hangs betwixt her breasts.
“To the bed.” I manage to say between kisses. I want her splayed out beneath me, taking every inch that I have. She nods her agreement, sinking onto the feather bed. Her black hair curls around her face, framing her angelic features.
“Mr. Blackford… please.” She runs her delicate fingers around her clit, and I watch with rapt hungry eyes, feeling the intensity of my desire rise.
“Barrett.” I instruct, setting myself between her legs.
“Barrett.”
My name on her lips is what does me in. I shove myself into her, hard and fast. I let her feel how unhinged she’s made me. I set a punishing pace as her legs clasp behind my back her fingernails digging into my flesh. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and I watch her writhe in pleasure for me. She is a sight to behold, and it takes everything in me to not erupt inside of her.
“You have bewitched me, Marigold. I cannot control myself. Look at what you’ve done to me, what you’ve turned me into.” I slam into her, fingers bruising her hips. Her breathing is erratic, full lips quirked up into a satisfied smile.
