My Forbidden Mentor (13 page)

“Okay,” she faintly replied. She found it easy to obey him for she was numb and needed guidance.

Turning on his heel, in no time he was out the door.

Melissa stepped over to the bottom of the stairway, waiting for John’s return, when Miss Beckett hurled down the stairs toward her.

“Oh come here, love.” Her arms opened to Melissa. They embraced each other before Miss Beckett lifted away to hold Melissa at arm’s length. “Has Lord Blackburn left already?” she asked.

“No he’ll be back,” she said before explaining, “Auntie, I’ve asked Lord Blackburn to stay here tonight. I wanted you to be aware.” She waited, nervous of her reaction.

Her startled features became soft again. “I understand, my love. I’m grateful for everything he’s done,” she said and smiled, giving Melissa a quick peck on her cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning then. We have a long day ahead of us. Good night.”

John watched his driver leave before stepping back inside the house. He had already been strained about the closeness with Melissa and now she had begged him to stay with her all night. Well, in any case, he was sure he’d be sleeping on the couch after she fell asleep, or at worst on her bedroom floor so she’d have him near. What was there to worry about?

New tears spilled down Melissa’s cheeks while awaiting John’s return. Piled on top of the most draining day of her life she couldn’t even climb the blasted stairs to her bedroom. It didn’t mean forever, but that didn’t mean now either, when her whole life was falling apart. Her hand covered her mouth to stifle any crying sounds she made.

Just then the front door swung open and John entered. When he came up next to her he could tell that she’d been crying again, but he didn’t say anything. If she needed to cry then let her. “Ready?” he asked, his legs bending to prepare for her weight.

“Yes,” she replied, tugging her blankets and pillows into a ball.

While he carried her so easily up the stairway, Melissa imagined she was dreaming. Instead of carrying her out of necessity, he carried her like they were lovers searching for her bedroom. She’d almost forgotten how good he smelled, how warm his body felt next to hers. When they reached the top of the stairs Melissa tucked her face into his neck, continuing to believe it was a dream.

Reality brought her back when he asked, “Which way?”

Her dizzying head straightened. “Left,” she told him.

He set her down at the doorway of her bedroom. Needing to bring her traveling bags up was the perfect excuse to leave so she could undress for bed. “I’ll be right back. I need to get your bags.”

“All right.” She almost looked disappointed that he was leaving again but then she gave him a small, sweet smile that he hadn’t seen in some time.

Melissa was lying in her bed with a long nightdress covering her body by the time she heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she called out.

John walked in with her baggage, set it on the floor and then shut the door as he stepped over to her. He sat on the edge of the bed while she lay on her side toward the middle, facing him. A lavender coverlet covered every part of her except her hands, which were tucked beneath her cheek. John’s finger went to her temple, pushing a strand of loose hair away when he asked, “How are you feeling?”

Her focus was intense on his relaxed hand, which rested on his thigh. “Okay,” she replied, sounding distant.

He could tell she needed more rest. His fingers brought the edge of the coverlet around her, securing her shoulders even more. “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Where would you like me to sleep then?” he asked, feeling a bit uneasy that she might have an inappropriate answer.

Her eyes shifted to his. She didn’t have to think about it but her concern lie with his reaction. Would he think her too forward? “In bed . . . with me,” she replied. As she had expected, his expression changed. “I hope it’s not asking too much,” she said and her eyes cast downward. “It’s just . . . it helps when you hold me.”

Her sad eyes were precious when they found his again. In his wildest dreams he hadn’t expected this. He thought about turning down her request because he wasn’t sure how much constraint he had left. She had asked him to hold her. How much closer could they get without the inevitable happening? Of course, the inevitable was entirely controlled by him.

He understood the death of a parent quite well. Melissa shouldn’t have to go through those lost feelings by herself. It would please him to give her comfort, and that was all it would be tonight. His selfish needs could wait. Right now she was fragile, like a small child needing his arms to embrace her. “It’s not too much to ask,” he said, giving her a warm smile. Then the plump little figure of her aunt came to mind. “Melissa, what about your aunt?” he asked with growing concern.

Her sleepy eyes found his. “I’ve already spoken to her. She’s aware.”

He studied her dreary features, deciding not to push the issue. “If you’re sure?” he questioned to verify.

“Yes,” she answered with certainty.

Rising from the bed, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt. After slipping off his shirt and tossing it onto a chair he bent down to take off his boots. He stood straight again, pulling the tie from his hair, letting the black silkiness flow freely across his back. Leaving his trousers on, he tugged the blankets down and slid in next to her.

She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake being this close to John, but she knew John had respect for her and would know what she was going through, which was why she needed him now. He could understand her and reassure her, reassure her that the numbness and emptiness would disappear, that life does go on. Her father had told her that when her mother had passed away, but now she needed John to tell her. He’d made it through his mother’s death. She needed his strength to make it through her father’s.

She observed him with intent as he lay on his side, facing her, leaning his weight on one elbow, his palm supporting his head. She watched his black hair fall loosely around his shoulders, then captured his gray eyes piercing through her, his mouth sending her a smile from heaven. She voiced her thoughts aloud before thinking about it. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

His smile faded after she whispered those words. Stunned by her comment, he could see in her eyes that she meant it. Lord she tempted him with her honesty. The willpower it took not to devour her became devastating. Never had he wanted a woman so much. Melissa tested every throbbing nerve in his blazing body. His smile returned as he leaned closer to her. “So are you. Now go to sleep, you need to rest,” he told her, his head tilting as his lips placed a quick tender kiss upon hers. “Turn the other way,” he said, and with gentle ease motioned her to face away from him.

His chest fit perfectly against her back. His mouth was content swimming in her golden streams of hair while his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her snug against him. Her arm slid over his and eventually they fell asleep that way. Once in awhile periodic sounds of crying woke John during the night. Hearing her sobs, he would draw her body tighter against his own, soothing and coaxing her back to sleep.

John woke up early. He didn’t want to let go of Melissa, didn’t want to leave her warm concealed body, but he decided he’d better in order to fetch her some breakfast. It was the perfect excuse, leaving him without an option to take advantage of the situation, which would be the last thing she needed to deal with on the day of her father’s funeral. With quiet movements he slipped out of the bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Miss Beckett was bringing breakfast to the table when she just about ran into John through the doorway. “Oh, I didn’t see you coming Lord Blackburn,” she gasped.

“It was entirely my fault. I was in a hurry,” he smiled.

“That hungry, huh?” she said, teasing him.

“I could smell your cooking through the house and my appetite became ravenous.” His words were complimentary.

“Thank you Lord Blackburn. I’ve cooked for many years, I would hope it’s edible by now,” she laughed. “Here, sit and eat. I hope you like crepes, ham, and porridge?”

“Indeed I do.” His mouth began watering when she placed the heaping mound of food before him.

“I hope you slept comfortably,” she commented with a distinctive gleam in her eye.

John glanced up between bites of food and responded; “Yes,” he acknowledged, choosing not to let his previous night’s resting place be challenged, and he changed the subject. “How are the funeral arrangements coming along?”

Miss Beckett sat across the dining table from him, noted his reaction and realized the subject of his sleeping arrangements was not up for discussion. “Everything is set. The funeral will take place this afternoon. There will be a few neighbors and friends attending, and Mr. Howard’s workers, of course. Thankfully everyone has offered to bring food and . . . oh dear, I hope I haven’t forgotten anything.”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” he commented, now realizing how hungry he’d been.

A distant stare displayed on Miss Beckett’s features. “You know we just went through this three years ago. It’s not fair to Miss Melissa, simply not fair.”

John stopped eating to ask about further arrangements. “What will happen to the carpentry business?”

Miss Beckett gave him a slight smile. “I’m not sure. That will be up to Miss Melissa. She owns it now, you know.”

John continued to finish his breakfast.

Miss Beckett watched him devour his food and offered him more. “A might hungry, Lord Blackburn? There’s more if you’d like some.”

He returned a grateful smile. “Thank you but I’ve had plenty. It was delicious, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

A brief period of silence intervened.

John dabbed his mouth with an available linen cloth. “How are you doing?” he asked, knowing she had had to make all the preparations for the burial.

“I’m doing all right. I’m more concerned with Miss Melissa.” Her eyes began to water.

“Yes, I know.”

There was another moment of silence.

Miss Beckett backed away from the dining table, lifting to take their empty plates to the kitchen. On her way back, she had a full plate of food for Melissa.

John could see that she was upset and offered to take on the task at hand. He rose with a scrape of his chair to catch Miss Beckett before she started up the stairway. “Let me take it up to her, Miss Beckett. I’ll make sure she eats.”

Miss Beckett was glad that he was there in their time of need. Although she knew that she and Miss Melissa could take care of themselves, it was comforting to have a man around to take charge in these troubled times. “Thank you Lord Blackburn. I might lie down on the couch for a bit.”

“You do that. You need to rest after all the work you’ve done.” John took the plate from Miss Beckett and headed up the stairway.

Making his way to Melissa’s room, he stood inside the doorway watching her sleep. She was laying in the fetal position, facing the wall, her long golden hair floating onto his pillow. An image appeared in his mind that they were husband and wife. He’d never had extended thoughts like that before. He’d seen plenty of women lying in bed, but the concept of being his wife never entered his mind before now. He set the plate of food on the nightstand, shaking off his unusual thought. Kneeling on the bed, he reached over to wake her. “Melissa,” he spoke, “Melissa, wake up. You need to eat.”

She groaned at him, not moving.

He called her name again, “Melissa,” using more insistence.

Pulling the blankets over her head, she muffled, “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he told her as he tore the blankets back down.

“John,” she replied in a perturbed tone, trying to pull the covers back up.

He wouldn’t let her have them. She was being stubborn so he decided to try another tactic that was sure to get her attention. Slipping back into bed, lying next to her as he had before, his arm went around her waist, pulling her snug against him. She didn’t seem to mind until his hand reached down to lift her nightdress up around her waist.

The cool air drifting along her legs stirred her further, but the warm hand gliding across her bare buttock drove her full awake. “John, what are you doing?” she exclaimed, flipping over toward him, in innocence pulling her dress back down. He lay on his side, leaning his weight onto his elbow, smiling at her.

“What was that all about?” she hissed at him.

“I was trying to wake you. It seems I’ve succeeded.” His grin was devilish this morning.

“Yes, well, I’m up now,” she told him, not sure what else to say. Having never woken up with a man in her bed, a most handsome man at that, she wasn’t quite sure how to act.

Watching her trying to cover herself, her actions proved again how innocent she really was, and he treasured that. She teased him without any notion of doing so. “You need to eat,” he told her, sitting up to get the plate of food.

“I’m not hungry John,” she said, wondering if he had heard her the first time.

“At least try a crepe. They’re strawberry. I know you like strawberries. I’ve already had some. They’re delicious,” he informed her as he cut a piece to feed to her. She sat up, staring at him with her arms crossed and lips pouting.