Chapter Nine: Duty versus desire.

Berkley Castle, England

May 1816

For three days after he'd kissed the life out of her he saw nothing of Therese. When he thinks back though on the passion unleashed by that kiss his whole body tightens and he is helpless to stop recalling it again and again. Her mouth was so sweet, so yielding under his, her kisses a little shy, untutored, with a wild innocence he had not experienced before. Therese might be twenty nine, but it is clear to Bastian she is as yet untouched, her sensual nature untapped. He feels an insane triumph in this, when she is finally his she will be his only. No other. Ever.

If he had thought he wanted her badly before he kissed her, it is but nothing to the rampant, hard-edged need riding him now. And he is going quietly mad while she avoids him like the plague. Though for long moments they kissed with abandon that night, the chiming of the dinner gong had brought them both swiftly back to earth. Therese had suddenly struggled frantically in his arms, hauling herself away from him with fear and amazement burning in her gaze. She was flushed, her chest heaving, her lips swollen from his passion and then she turned away and fled the room before he could say anything beyond her name to stop her. He had wanted so much to go after her and continue kissing her until she wanted him so badly she would agree to his demands, but his duty was calling him to dinner, and so willing his body to calmness he had straightened his jacket and his cravat and walked quickly to the formal dining room.

Dinner had been an interminable affair that had tried his patience on every level. Alathea had invited several men to the house party, mainly the fathers of all the eligible debutantes and because each of these fathers wanted to marry off their darlings to him he couldn't seem to carry on a decent conversation with any of them. Thankfully Alastair was arriving that evening, a fact for which Bastian was profoundly grateful. Alathea of course had neglected to invite his cousin; Alastair was younger than he, of similar height with dark hair and his mother's vivid blue eyes. A very handsome man with an easy charm; he was Bastian's father's youngest brothers oldest son, and currently fourth in line to the Earldom. Bastian and Alastair had been fashioned very much in the same mold and though there were nine years difference between them, now that they were both grown men they were as close as brothers.

Alastair was also very eligible, with his own fortune and large house in London, nothing compared to Bastian's wealth and title, but Alastair's connection to the Earldom of Gloucester was certainly a further strike in his favor. Alastair didn't make dinner, but showed up for brandy and cigars in the smoking room not long after. With the women all expecting them sometime in the drawing room, Bastian should have gone with his guests for that evenings entertainment – charades, but instead he excused himself and Alastair on the pretext of estate business, very important.

Alastair had raised an eyebrow, amusement glinting in his eyes, but meekly followed Bastian's lead as they retired to Bastian's study, brandies still in hand.

Once the door was safely closed behind them Alastair had taken the seat opposite the desk as was his custom, and sprawling his long legs in front of him he asked casually,

"Who is she?"

Frowning Bastian had shot him a lethal look before pacing to the window and with his back to Alastair replied simply.

"The twins' governess."

Behind him there was a loud snort of laughter as Alastair almost choked on a mouthful of brandy. "Good God, and you've only been home such a short time, Lady Sophia will be most distressed to be passed over for a governess."

When Bastian did not immediately respond Alastair was surprised. He was further amazed to see his rakish cousin, a legend in the world of the haute-ton, quietly seat himself opposite him real distress evident in his handsome face.

Suddenly concerned, Alastair had leant forward, placed his brandy on the walnut desk and said gently. "What is it Bastian? What's happened?"

Running a hand distractedly through his thick wavy locks Bastian had sighed heavily, "Her name is Therese Brandon. She's been the twins' governess for three months, and you should see them Alastair, they are flourishing with her instruction. She is unlike any woman of my acquaintance. Her intelligence, the sheer scope of her knowledge is amazing; she is beautiful, kind, thoughtful, graceful, musical, everything a well-bred woman should be, yet she rides like a demon, has radical political ideas and I can think of nothing but her morning till night."

Stunned by Bastian's confession, which to Alastair's ears sounded very much like his cousin was falling in love, Alastair asked. "And Therese, what of her feelings for you?"

A wry smile pulled at the corners of Bastian's mouth. "I don't know. There is something between us Alex, something beyond a physical attraction. Our connection was immediate, and I have no doubt she feels it as keenly as I. In her company, there is a feeling of relief that washes through me when she is close, a feeling of belonging to something, I cannot describe it, I have no frame of reference for this. I only know I want her. But to seduce her, to seduce an innocent, surely this is wrong? I would provide for her of course, she would never need for anything, but I cannot see her agreeing to be my mistress, she was raised for better than that. She is not a member of the demi-monde, or a bored aristocratic wife whose husband will look the other way. Neither is she a widow of our class whose discrete affairs society will chose to ignore. If she agrees to my request, wherever I settle her people will suspect what she is, they will label her a whore, they will shun her, and she will never have respect."

Alastair sighed as he said feelingly. "You cannot marry her Bastian, you must see that. You are an Earl, the head of our family; you must marry someone of our circle, an appropriate mother for your sons."

Bastian had nodded. "I am aware of everyone's expectations Alex, and I am prepared to fulfill them. I do not require an emotional connection to marry, that is a separate issue. I am just compellingly distracted, afraid of what Therese will say to my request, and what will I do if she refuses me?"

Alastair had picked up his brandy again. "You will forget her Bastian. You are an Earl."

Bastian had swallowed his remaining brandy in one large swig, though Alex would be considered right by everyone he knew, in his heart one shining thread held true. 'I will never forget her; it's too late for that.'

Four days after she'd acted like a wanton hussy and kissed his lordship in a fury of passion, Therese was still in hiding. She put the twins on half-lessons, to allow them to participate in some activities with the house guests, an excuse no-one would suspect. She ate all her meals alone and in her room, feigning a slight illness she was abed very early each night and though she slept poorly she was up by dawn each morning.

Needing to get out of the castle lest Bastian come looking for her, something she didn't put past him to do, she crept to the stables in the early light and spent the time between then and the girls' lessons with Nero.

Dear Nero. Their reckless ride had forged a bond between horse and rider, Nero always snorted his delight at her visits. Butting her in the stomach gently with his long velvet nose; and whiff ling her gowns searching for sugar lumps. Therese knew she should not allow herself to grow attached to him, but he was a beautiful horse, and she longed to ride him again.

As she muttered nonsense in his ear and cuddled against his long neck she is disturbed by a sound behind her and turning quickly is relieved to see it is only O'Brien, his lordship's head groom.

O'Brien tugs at his cap. "Good morning miss. You come to take him out then? His lordship said you was to have use of him whenever you liked."

Therese paused. Bastian had said that hadn't he. She has hours before classes and if she is out riding it might clear her head.

"Yes please O'Brien. I would like that very much."

The old groom smiles. "Have him saddled for you right away miss, by the time you change and get back here he'll be ready to go."

Oh right. She will need to change into her riding habit. Blast she'll have to go back to her room. Never mind, his lordship will most certainly be abed at this hour, she won't run into him and she really only needs ten minutes. She'll do it.

Fifteen minutes later she is flying like the wind across the same fields as before, faster and faster she pushes Nero, slowing only slightly before she sails over the gate and on up the hill on the far side. The sun is truly up now, summer still not really here and a chill in the morning air, but she is so happy to be free of her room and on horseback once more.

She stops at the top of the hill, turning to look back the castle with the sun behind it.

It is so beautiful. Large, it dominates the landscape around it but seems to fit right in with its pale grey stone walls and manicured gardens. That she will have to leave this place she has come to love is a very real possibility. She will not be able to avoid Bastian forever, and after her wanton response to his kiss she knows eventually he will seek her out and make her the offer she is dreading. Dreading because she can not do it, she will not disgrace herself or her late parents name by becoming Bastian's whore.

But she wants too, and that will make her refusal so hard she is terrified that he'll see her weakness and somehow persuade her. That he can be very persuasive she has no doubt, just the memory of his kiss has her knees weak and trembling.

Just then she hears the distinct sound of another horse and rider, from the pace of the hoof beats, someone else is riding hard too. She turns Nero and looking down the other side of the hill as the landscape drops away towards the Severn Estuary she sees a rider getting closer on a horse she recognizes. A large, powerful, black horse, a rider dressed in a darkest blue. It seems Bastian is not safely sleeping as she had supposed, and it is clear he his heading directly for her.

Part of her wants to turn Nero back towards Berkley, at full gallop she will be there before he can catch her. But she cannot avoid this conversation forever, so she remains where she is, her stomach churning and her hands trembling slightly on the reins.

It feels like mere moments before he pulls Lucifer up short in front of her, and jumping immediately from the saddle he draws near. Pulls her foot from the stirrup and tugs, she feels herself slide from the saddle towards the ground, powerful arms catch her and swing her up until her carries her in his arms.

Finding her voice she says as indignantly as she can. "What the hell do you think you are doing my lord?"

His reply his gruff, autocratic, all feudal nobleman. "I want to talk to you."

"Put me down at once, this is outrageous behavior my lord."

Risking a glance at his face, Therese sees his jaw is clenched tight, the lines of his face graven. She softens her tone, trying to appease him.

"Please my lord."

Dark eyes, gone stormy black look straight through her, into her soul. "Will you talk to me Therese? Will you listen?"

Swallowing the lump suddenly blocking her throat she nods first as she struggles to reply.

"I will listen. If you promise me you will too."

Bastian nods. But before he sets her on her feet he plant a kiss on her forehead, inhales the scent of her hair.

The tenderness in the gesture rips at her heart. This may prove to be the hardest conversation of her life.