My Captive Duchess (The Reeves of Reeves Hall #1)

Chapter 25

Jane

T he ensuing week passes slowly, a cool distance forming between Broek and me. During meals, he is stiff and formal, though he continues to scrutinise me closely. He no longer speaks to me at night through the contraption in the wall. Contrarily, I miss the intrusion. On occasion, I have been tempted to summon him myself for a talk, but I have resisted. It is better that I should not, for with each day, my determination grows. I must escape this captivity.

I am beginning to accustom myself to this environment, the things I had found strange and alarming becoming commonplace. Not only am I now used to voices coming through the wall, but also to members of this household communicating with each other through a tiny contraption hidden within the ring they wear on their finger. I have grown very fond of those purplish Uvonian pancakes that are served each morning, and as to my nightly bath—well, that is something I shall miss greatly when I am gone.

I occupy a curious position in this household. I am treated now, no longer as a temporary guest, but as a permanent member. The people here are at ease around me—with the exception of Broek—and I am shown warmth, dare I say also affection by the other members of the Reeves clan. On Chloe, they positively dote. And yet come Sunday, I am left at home while they all go to church, and each time I wish to set foot outside I must do so first with a guard at my heels. The summoning of a guard so that I may walk outside is my daily salutary reminder that I am a prisoner here.

During each walk, I examine my surroundings carefully and try to formulate a plan of escape. It will be just me and my daughter leaving Reeves Hall, for when I obliquely mentioned the prospect of leaving to Betsy, she made it plainly evident that she wishes to stay. “Me and Velnas be courting,” she told me just two days ago. “And Your Grace, things are ever so much better here. I could not go back to the way we lived before.” On further consideration, perhaps that is for the best. Although I shall miss Betsy’s services, she is prone to chatter, and I could not trust that she would keep silent on what goes on at Reeves Hall.

In preparation for our departure, I have already packed necessities in a small knapsack, together with my purse containing the remainder of the one hundred guineas that Broek paid me on the day we agreed to the sale of Penhale Manor. The rest of my belongings will need to remain at Reeves Hall, for now. I will find a way to get my trunks back at a later date, once I am safe from captivity.

Tonight, I lie in bed, conscious as ever of Broek’s presence in the next room. In order to stop my mind from thinking about him naked in his bed, I try to consider practicalities. If I were to escape Reeves Hall, where would I go? And how? If somehow I could get Catana to let us out through the back gate, we would need a horse. I cannot see how we could slip away in the carriage without being noticed, but a horse—that is more of a feasibility. Travelling on horseback in a north-eastern direction would eventually get me to Bodmin, but it is a long journey to attempt with Chloe. In the opposite direction is the village of Penhale, but I discount it. There is very little there apart from a few shops and cottages, and no inn to seek shelter at while I commandeer a carriage for a further journey. No, we shall have to ride a few miles further to the town of Newquay. By my estimation, it is an hour’s ride away from Reeves Hall. Once there, I will find accommodation at an inn and make enquiries about a small cottage to rent. Yes, that is what I will do.

Now, all I need is to speak to Catana and convince her to help me. That may not be an easy task. I yawn and resist once more the urge to call Broek on the wall contraption. I do not like this coldness that has crept between us. Over and over in my mind, I hear his words that last time we spoke. Then we are at an impasse, Duchess . Yes, Broek, I think to myself. We are at an impasse, and that is why I must break it by leaving Reeves Hall. Once I am safely away from here, who is to say what could happen next. This need not be the end of whatever it is that has developed between us, but a new beginning.

Next morning, I am disappointed to find Broek gone on yet another business trip. I eat my breakfast quietly, missing his scowling presence next to me, and wonder how long it will be before he returns. His absence casts a pall once more over my humour. I do not like him gone, and less do I like it when we are at cross purposes with each other. I decide to go for a walk earlier than my usual time in the afternoon, just so that I may raise my spirits. “Connect Wolkan,” I speak to the contraption in the wall of my chamber, and once I am connected to him, I tell him of my wish to go for a walk.

He hesitates a while, as if I have disconcerted him with my request. I had not realised that I had become a creature of habit, going for my constitutional promenade at the same time each day. “Hmm,” he murmurs, as he thinks the matter through. “I suppose I could ask Catana to mind you.” My heart leaps. Catana. Finally. Then, with greater certainty, he goes, “Yes, Catana. I will have her wait for you at the main door in five minutes, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Wolkan,” I say.

At the appointed time, I am at the door where I meet that glowering Amazon again. So, there has been no change in her disposition towards me. I do not care to speculate why I am so disliked. It is too painful to think of Broek with this tall and busty female doing intimate things such as he did with me, and more perhaps. Instead of dwelling on so discomposing a thought, I decide to attend to the positive aspect of her dislike—that it will make her more likely to champion my departure from here.

She does not address me, merely marches out of the door, expecting me no doubt to follow. Her strides are long, and it is with a puffing breath that I draw up next to her. “Good day, Catana,” I begin cordially.

She does not respond. I decide to get straight to the matter in hand, for there is no ignoring such obvious incivility. “My presence here offends you,” I say. To this she make a snorting sound and continues pacing forward at a punishing speed. I see I shall be having to conduct this interview while fighting for my breath. I do not let this impediment deter me. “Certainly, you wish me gone from here,” I continue bravely.

“Ha!” is the only response I get.

“Then our two objectives align,” I say on a wheeze. “Perhaps you could see your way to assisting me in leaving Reeves Hall.”

She stops so abruptly that I very nearly collide with her mountainous form. “Assisting you is the very last thing I wish to do,” she snarls.

I am gasping for breath but do not waste the opportunity. “And asking for your assistance is the very last thing I wish to do,” I manage in between pants, “but one must make a virtue out of necessity.” Her gaze is hostile, so I hurry on with my plan, “All I need is for the back gate to be unlocked and to be provided with a horse for my journey. I shall take care of the rest.”

She continues to glare at me. Then with a scornful toss of her head, she turns away and begins marching forth once more. I follow as we make a circle around the house until we return to our original starting point. I am by now almost out of breath, but I am proud that I have, despite my far smaller form, managed to keep pace with Catana. She stops by the front door of the house and eyes me balefully. “The answer is no,” she says shortly. She sees me into the house and leaves without a backward look.

I stay a moment in the front hall, regaining my breath as disappointment floods through me. Catana was my only hope for escaping this place. Now, I cannot think what to do. Dispiritedly, I go seek my daughter. Her joyful laughter will be a balm for my weary soul.

Broek is absent the following morning and the subsequent one. I go about my days in a cloud of despondency, a stark contrast to the seemingly cheery disposition of those around me. Of course, it does not go unnoticed. Tonight, Horis catches me up after I excuse myself from the dinner table.

“Jane,” he says with a frown, now in the habit of calling me by my given name. “Is something the matter?”

I do wish these people would stop pretending all was normal and well with my presence in their home. “The matter?” I enquire, “you mean apart from the fact that I am being held here against my will?”

He winces at this. “I had thought you reconciled to staying with us,” he now says. “Have we not treated you well? Or is there someone that has said or done something to vex you?”

I am beginning to lose patience with the entire Reeves clan, even kindly Horis. This may explain why I am somewhat less than civil in my reply. “What vexes me, Horis, is the fact that you and everyone else here has no compunction in holding me captive, thinking that spoiling me with the generosity of your welcome will somehow obscure the realities of my situation. Do not, pray, ask facile questions of me.” I turn away from his horrified countenance and march up to my room where the only salve for my foul mood is to run a hot bath.

Next day, there is still no sign of Broek. My ire now turns on him. Why must he absent himself for so long? Does he not know that in curious contradiction to his surliness and the fact of his being my gaoler, I find joy and solace in his presence? I want him here. I want to feel the intensity of his gaze on me. I want to battle words with him. Lord in heaven, but I miss the dictatorial man, even though I may have to leave him. What this says about the strength of my feelings, I do not wish to ponder, though a voice in my head whispers insistently, “Marry him. Marry him.” It takes much strength of will, which I am fortunate to have in abundance, to ignore this whispering.

As I undress that evening in readiness for my nightly bath, I see a folded sheet of paper pushed under the door of my chamber. I hasten to pick it up and read this terse note.

Be at the back gate tomorrow, 3 o’clock.

There is no signature, but it can only be from Catana. She has agreed to help me. Excitement and fear thrum through me. Tomorrow at last, I shall be free. My mind sets rapidly to thinking. Chloe is in the habit of taking a nap after luncheon and waking at around three. I shall perforce have to take Betsy into my confidence so she can have my daughter ready in time. Then there is the matter of making my exit from the house unnoticed. The servant’s door at the back, I decide. It is by the kitchen. Perhaps Betsy can distract Velnas while Chloe and I slip out. Yes, that could work.

Even the bath tonight cannot ease the tension from my body. When night comes, I toss and turn in the bed, unable to find the repose of sleep. A thought tugs painfully at my heart. I shall not see Broek before I leave. Will I ever see him again? I must. I must. This cannot be the end of things between us.

Next morning after breakfast, I seek out Betsy and quietly explain my plan. Her eyes widen in surprise and concern. “Your Grace, are you sure of this?” she asks in a small voice.

“Yes, Betsy,” I respond firmly. “It is what I must do. Will you help me?”

She nods. “Yes.”

I smile at her gratefully and return to my chamber where I check the knapsack again for good measure. I place inside it a slice of bread and cheese wrapped in a napkin, in case Chloe becomes hungry during our journey. From the wardrobe, I take out my black cloak and gloves, laying them on the bed in readiness for later. My stomach flutters with nerves, and yet it is only eleven o’clock in the morning. There are still four hours and a luncheon to go before I can take my leave from here. I pace the room in anxiety. In desperation, I pick up the book at my bedside table and make my way out of the room to the front parlour, which is usually quiet at this time. I sit myself down in an armchair, take a deep breath and force myself to read.

I do not know how long it is before I hear the sound of the door opening. I look up from my book, and my heart stops. Broek . I cannot prevent a wide smile taking hold of my countenance. He is here, at last. His lips too curve into an answering smile. Book forgotten, I am on my feet, hurrying towards him as he approaches me. “You are back,” I say breathlessly, looking up into his searching eyes. His glorious scent envelops me.

Gently, he places a hand on either side of my face and examines me. “I am back,” he says in a hoarse voice. I bask under the heated intensity of his gaze.

The moment is over quickly. His hands fall from my face, and he steps back, taking out a letter from his coat pocket. “This came for you,” he says simply.

I take it from him and break the seal, reading it quickly. It is from Mr Smithson at Drummonds Bank. He writes to acknowledge receipt of my letter and to confirm that the interest on my lump sum will be re-invested into the funds on my behalf, as instructed. He sounds a note of apology too, for having written to my uncle, and takes note of the directions at Penhale Manor where he must henceforth send his communications. Of course, I will not be there, but once I have secured a more permanent home, I can write to him again with my new directions. The important thing is that his correspondence will no longer be sent to my aunt’s house.

I pass the letter to Broek, who reads it impassively. “Good,” he says, returning it to me.

“Yes,” I smile gratefully. “The matter seems to be resolved satisfactorily.” I pause. “Although, truth be told, Broek, my sense of justice makes me wish there was some way to punish my aunt and uncle for what they did.”

“Rest assured they have been punished,” declares Broek decisively. At my look of confusion, he explains, “I went to see them not two days ago. Your uncle was not best pleased with his wife over the matter, though he cannot have been in ignorance of it all the years that you lived in their home.”

I stare in awe at him and breathe, “You went to see them?”

“Did I not just tell you so?”

“What happened? Tell me!”

He is curt in his reply. “Suffice it to say that they have agreed to repay you every penny owed.”

“What did you do? How did you make them agree?” I wonder breathlessly.

He shrugs uncomfortably. “I have my ways, Jane. Have you not accused me before of playing God with my nanoprobes?”

“So, you discovered something, some knowledge to hold over their heads?”

He nods in the affirmative.

I cannot help a chuckle. “Then, all I can say is that on this occasion, it is a good thing that you hold such power.” I step towards him and place both my hands on the solid wall of his chest. “Thank you, Broek.”

His hands fly to mine quickly, trapping them to his chest. “You do not need to thank me,” he says gruffly. “I only did what was right.”

“And yet I do thank you.” My eyes stare into his as he lowers his head slowly to mine. I know he is about to kiss me, and I cannot find any strength in me to resist him. The first touch of his lips is soft, inviting. Up close I breathe him in and tremble with a powerful surge of desire. His lips draw mine to him again, this time a little less gently. Over and over we kiss, tugging relentlessly at each other’s lips until I part mine on a gasp. Then I feel the sweet invasion of his tongue. Never before have I been kissed liked this. It is wicked. It is madness. And yet I feel myself meld into his intimate embrace, wanting more. His hands release mine so he can anchor me to him as he devours me with his mouth, and I let myself be devoured. Oh what ecstasy this is.

My tongue goes out to meet his, and I taste him. So potent. And now that we are attached, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, we cannot let go. A spark has been lit under our fire, and we ignite. My hands grip the back of his neck, nails digging into skin as I tear into him in my hunger. Small I may be, but in my need of him, I am a lioness. I pounce, and I do not let go. This kiss is endless, growing in power as I feel every inch of my body throb. I do not let go of his lips as he lifts me and strides to the couch. He deposits me atop him while he continues to ravage my mouth with his kisses.

And now that my body is spread over his and his arms are holding me close, I feel the hardness of his male shaft pushing relentlessly against me. Ah. Without conscious thought I grind my hips to his length, feeling a wonderful pressure on the small joyful nub at my mound. And as my tongue delights in the taste of him, as I hear his muffled groans, I press my body fiercely to his, seeking that culmination of pleasure. But I want more than simply to push and stroke and grind. Instinctively I know what it is I need, what it is I have craved these many days and nights. Against his mouth I breathe the words, “Fill me.”

He groans again, a deep and needful sound. Then his hands drop from around me to make quick work of releasing his manly shaft. Next instant, he has my dress and petticoat bunched up, and then there is nothing between us. “Take me,” he cries hoarsely. I do not know whether it is him that positions his shaft to my entrance or whether it is my grasping hands that bring him to me. All I know is a deep, aching need to have him inside me.

His large girth pushes slowly through the gates of my body, and inch by inch, he fills me. I hear him grunt, though I know not whether it is in agony or ecstasy. “Take all of me, Jane,” he pleads, wild desperation in his eyes. And so I do. I cry out loud as I impale myself on him. He is thick, so thick, and though I am slick down below, it is a tight fit. Inexorably, he continues to push deeper and deeper into me. I look into his feverish eyes as finally, it is done, and I hold the entire length of him inside me. For an instant, we exchange a wondrous stare, marvelling at this magnificent joining of our beings.

And then all at once, we take action. Broek pulls my face to his and takes my lips in a punishing kiss. Then his hands are at my rump, pressing me to him as he begins to pump his shaft up into me. Then it is I who grasps his face in my hands. It is I who devours his mouth with mine. And it is I who pounds my body to his, our joint moans loud as we both of us seek that divine pinnacle of untold pleasure. On and on he fills me. On and on I crush my body to his. On and on we kiss and moan and groan. We are bestial in our need. It is beyond rational thought.

“Broek!” I cry as I feel myself nearing the precipice.

“Come, Jane!” he roars. He thrusts even harder up into me.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” I moan as I am gripped by a wave of tumultuous contractions. It is just like that last time, except it is far stronger. I feel Broek’s shaft swell impossibly large as he cries, finding his own release and pulsing his spend into me.

I collapse like a rag doll over Broek, my face buried in the crook of his neck while I breathe him in. For a long time, we lie still, our bodies joined intimately. Inevitably though, sanity begins to return as I realise what it is I have just done. Broek tenses under me, sensing the change in my state of mind. His arms grip me tight as he snarls, “Do not dare to feel shame for this, Jane.”

“But I should. I have been wicked.”

“No,” he bites out. “Never that. I will not have you ever regret this.” His shaft, still buried inside me, thrusts up with each last word he speaks, as a reminder—or a rebuke. Then he kisses me again, and I am powerless to resist the temptation of his caress. What we did was wrong, I know it. Yet he is also right. I cannot regret the joy we experienced together, even as I know that I shall be leaving Reeves Hall today. See him again I might after this, or I might not. I am glad we were able to have this moment, before I left. I will forever remember the ecstasy of joining my body to his.

At last he ends the kiss with a sweet nibble to my lower lip. With god-like power, he senses the softening of my resistance. Against my lips, he growls, “You are a goddess, Duchess.”

“And there I was thinking you were a god,” I say in teasing reply.

He huffs out a short laugh. “You make me feel like one, sweet Jane.”

I sigh against his mouth and give him one last kiss. “We had best tidy ourselves, lest we be disturbed,” I say wistfully.

He grunts in answer but gently lifts my body away from his and sits me down on the couch. With little regard for his modesty, he goes to a side table, his shaft hanging loose from his undone trousers, and comes back with a linen cloth. Leaving me no scope for any timidity, he brings the cloth to my wet mound and wipes me clean in a brisk, industrious manner. When he is done, I stand and re-arrange the folds of my dress while he tucks himself back into his trousers. My hands go to my hair, which is in wild disarray.

“I had best retire to my chamber and tidy myself before luncheon,” I say with a hint of shyness.

He nods. “I have some work to do, so I will see you then.” He draws me gently to his large body and claims my lips in a parting kiss. Of course, being Broek, he cannot resist having the last word. “You would be wise to say yes to my offer of marriage, Jane, now that you know what satisfaction I can bring you when we fuck.” Then he is gone before I have the chance to reply.

No, I think sadly. There will be no marriage, at least not until I am free.

Luncheon is an awkward affair as I field Broek’s intense and knowing gaze while his siblings cast us puzzled glances. Adding to my discomfort is the knowledge that soon, I shall be gone. My heart feels like it is shattering into a myriad pieces, but I know what I must do.

The meal over, Broek takes his leave once more to catch up on work in his subterranean lair. As we rise from the dining table, he bids me farewell, then with a show of possession, tucks my body to his and kisses me firmly on the lips. Oh Broek, I think in desolation. If only you knew that I do not mean to stay here another day . His family watches on with interest, but thankfully say nothing. In any case, I do not linger in their vicinity, but take myself up to my chamber. Before I leave, there is one more thing I must do.

Quickly, I remove a sheet of paper from the dresser drawer, together with ink and a quill. I sit at my dressing table to write my letter. It takes a few efforts to get the wording right. I write to explain why it is I must leave. I also write what is in my heart—or something of it. I try to make Broek understand. When I am done, I re-read the missive one last time before I fold and seal it, then write Broek’s name at the front.

With only a few minutes to spare, I take the letter through the washroom and to Broek’s chamber. It is the first time I have ever seen this room. I linger a moment to take in the large bed with burgundy-coloured sheets, the shirt draped carelessly over a chair, the various nicknacks. There is a faint aroma of his cologne and of him. I take a deep steadying breath, then place my letter on his dresser. Without thinking, I steal the discarded shirt, bringing it to my nose, and go quickly back to my chamber, stuffing the shirt into my rucksack. Then, it is time to leave.

I go across the hall to Chloe’s room. I find her dressed and ready. Putting on a wide smile, I say, “We are going on a big adventure today, but we need to be very quiet. Will you do that for me?”

She nods thoughtfully. “What ‘dventure?” she asks curiously.

“It is a surprise. Now come.”

With Betsy leading the way, we walk to the servants’ staircase and make our way down towards the kitchen, which is located beside the back door. I nod at Betsy, and she goes forward while we wait in silence. I hear her begin an animated conversation with Velnas. After a time, I deem it safe to proceed. With Chloe’s hand held tightly in mine, we move on soft feet to the door and let ourselves out. I cast a furtive glance about me, but there is nobody there. “Quick, this way,” I tell Chloe. “Nice and quiet.” I hurry her down the path towards the back gate. It is several yards away, and with each fraught step I am fearful of discovery. But all goes well.

We reach the gate, and I see that it is slightly ajar. With shaking hands, I push it open and take my first step into freedom. I make sure to shut the gate behind me so as not to draw attention to it. Then I look around me. Where is it? My heart sinks in disappointment. Could it be Catana has failed to provide me with a horse? If so, how are we to make the long journey by foot? Just as I am beginning to despair, I hear a muffled whinny to my right. I follow the sound, and there, in the shelter of a wide oak tree, I see a brown mare—my very own mare, Daisy. I say a silent thanks to Catana.

With a relieved smile, I go to her, stroking her coat and murmuring softly. There is no time to be lost. I turn to Chloe. “This is my surprise,” I tell her, imbuing my voice with the proper enthusiasm. “We are going on a ride with Daisy.”

She laughs excitedly. “Daisy!” she cries.

“Come Chloe,” I say firmly. I lift her small body and deposit her on the saddle. “Stay still and hold on here,” I instruct. Now comes the challenging part. There is a large wooden stump, conveniently placed there, for which I whisper another word of thanks to Catana. With great care, I step on the stump and put one foot on the stirrup. Then with all the strength I have in me, I pull myself up onto the saddle, arranging my legs in the side position and smoothing my cloak down. All the while, my lovely Daisy stands docilely.

I take hold of the reins, deciding to wind them around Chloe’s body and mine, as a makeshift way of securing my daughter to me. “Are you ready?” I ask her.

“Yes!” she cries.

I kick the stirrup gently, and then we are off, breathing our first taste of freedom in over a month.