Read Online What a Woman Desires by Rachel Brimble - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Brimble
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Jane strode forward and stood between Monica and their mother. “Go. I will deal with Mother’s tea. Just go and do something. Anything.”
With her mind reeling and her heart racing, Monica strode from the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. What did her mother want from her? She was wearing mourning. What had her mother seen to cause an outburst filled with such disgust?
Monica darted her gaze left and right as claustrophobia rose inside her. She had to get of the house. Far away into the fields so she could breathe. Her breaths turned harried as she rushed into the hallway and yanked open the front door. She rushed across the gravel driveway, toward the back of the house that led to the fields and lanes beyond.
The sun was blinding through her tears, but she ran on. Barely a week ago, she’d been onstage, or laughing and joking with her fellow actors and stagehands as they assembled backstage, or in the local tavern for drinks and merriment. That was the life she loved; the life she’d carefully orchestrated through sheer determination and the occasional plea for help.
That help had come in the form of kindness from unexpected people and friends. Friends she lived her entire life for now as a way of thanking them for their support and belief in her talent. Could it be possible she could ask for their help again in her current situation? She shook her head. She would ask for no more. Her dear friend Adam and others had done enough.
The pastures flowed like a welcome emerald green blanket ahead of her. As a child, she would often run into the fields and hide from her parents until she’d gathered the strength to return. The spanked bottoms and lack of dinners before bedtime had been worth the freedom for a couple of hours.
Am I running from Mama again? Behaving as I did as a child, when Jane is relying on me to make her life so much better than mine was when I was here?
Shame and a heavy sense of failure engulfed her and Monica stopped, pressing a hand to the cramp in her side. A low, deep scream grew tight in her stomach, rising through her torso and into her chest. Higher and higher, it gathered momentum until it reached her throat. She opened her mouth, tipped her head back . . .
The clip-clop of approaching hooves stilled her.
Thomas.
Her entire body heated with awareness and her cheeks burned like flames of fire. She wouldn’t turn around. She wouldn’t speak to him. Not after yesterday. Not when she knew how little he thought of her and her career.
The sound of the horses’ hooves drew to a slow halt behind her and Monica squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for Thomas’s inevitable taunting.
“I could use some company if you’d like to come home for a visit with me.”
She opened her eyes. “Pardon?”
“I thought you might like to visit my parents. I know they’d be happy to see you.”
She relaxed her shoulders as the kindness in his tone whispered over the surface of her skin. She smiled and turned.
Thomas stared down at her from the huge height of his beloved horse, Jake. His face broke with one of his rare and heart-melting smiles as he held out his hand. “How about we shock the neighborhood by announcing your return in spectacular style? I need to go home to collect something. My parents would love to see you. Climb up here behind me, I dare you.”
Her smile stretched to a grin. He dared her? Did he think they were still adolescents and he could cajole her into doing the unthinkable through the guise of a dare? Every fiber screamed at her to resist, yet still Monica glanced from him to the rear of his saddle, temptation making her shiver.
Her love of rebellion rose like a tidal wave washing through her blood. She met Thomas’s shining eyes. “Not as much as I’d love to see them. You’d better get down and help me up; I’m supposed to be a lady, after all.”
Thomas clenched his jaw as Monica tightened her arms around his waist. He longed to feel the weight of her
With her mind reeling and her heart racing, Monica strode from the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. What did her mother want from her? She was wearing mourning. What had her mother seen to cause an outburst filled with such disgust?
Monica darted her gaze left and right as claustrophobia rose inside her. She had to get of the house. Far away into the fields so she could breathe. Her breaths turned harried as she rushed into the hallway and yanked open the front door. She rushed across the gravel driveway, toward the back of the house that led to the fields and lanes beyond.
The sun was blinding through her tears, but she ran on. Barely a week ago, she’d been onstage, or laughing and joking with her fellow actors and stagehands as they assembled backstage, or in the local tavern for drinks and merriment. That was the life she loved; the life she’d carefully orchestrated through sheer determination and the occasional plea for help.
That help had come in the form of kindness from unexpected people and friends. Friends she lived her entire life for now as a way of thanking them for their support and belief in her talent. Could it be possible she could ask for their help again in her current situation? She shook her head. She would ask for no more. Her dear friend Adam and others had done enough.
The pastures flowed like a welcome emerald green blanket ahead of her. As a child, she would often run into the fields and hide from her parents until she’d gathered the strength to return. The spanked bottoms and lack of dinners before bedtime had been worth the freedom for a couple of hours.
Am I running from Mama again? Behaving as I did as a child, when Jane is relying on me to make her life so much better than mine was when I was here?
Shame and a heavy sense of failure engulfed her and Monica stopped, pressing a hand to the cramp in her side. A low, deep scream grew tight in her stomach, rising through her torso and into her chest. Higher and higher, it gathered momentum until it reached her throat. She opened her mouth, tipped her head back . . .
The clip-clop of approaching hooves stilled her.
Thomas.
Her entire body heated with awareness and her cheeks burned like flames of fire. She wouldn’t turn around. She wouldn’t speak to him. Not after yesterday. Not when she knew how little he thought of her and her career.
The sound of the horses’ hooves drew to a slow halt behind her and Monica squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for Thomas’s inevitable taunting.
“I could use some company if you’d like to come home for a visit with me.”
She opened her eyes. “Pardon?”
“I thought you might like to visit my parents. I know they’d be happy to see you.”
She relaxed her shoulders as the kindness in his tone whispered over the surface of her skin. She smiled and turned.
Thomas stared down at her from the huge height of his beloved horse, Jake. His face broke with one of his rare and heart-melting smiles as he held out his hand. “How about we shock the neighborhood by announcing your return in spectacular style? I need to go home to collect something. My parents would love to see you. Climb up here behind me, I dare you.”
Her smile stretched to a grin. He dared her? Did he think they were still adolescents and he could cajole her into doing the unthinkable through the guise of a dare? Every fiber screamed at her to resist, yet still Monica glanced from him to the rear of his saddle, temptation making her shiver.
Her love of rebellion rose like a tidal wave washing through her blood. She met Thomas’s shining eyes. “Not as much as I’d love to see them. You’d better get down and help me up; I’m supposed to be a lady, after all.”
Thomas clenched his jaw as Monica tightened her arms around his waist. He longed to feel the weight of her
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