Beautiful Whispers (Ausmor Plantation Book 1 - Romance/Suspense) (3 page)

Charlotte giggled and couldn’t speak. Byron’s blue eyes netted unsuspecting prey, and I remembered how many times I’d fallen victim. Suddenly, Byron turned his attention to Johnston and stiffened. “Why are you here?” His normally smooth as silk voice chilled as if speaking to a lamp. “Didn’t I warn you to stay away from Miss Austen?”

“Yes...
Byro...I mean Mr. Bashl...I mean yes...”

I was glad someone else tugged at
Johnston’s strings for a change.

Johnston continued to sputter like a pent up hose, wiped his runny nose against his sleeve and fled.

“What a catch. Guy gives me the hives.”

“Did you say that filthy servant, Alexander, was back?”
Much like the most beautiful rose, Byron’s thorns could sting quickly and without warning. He stepped closer to me. “You’re going to stay away from him this time. I won’t warn you again.”

Wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing which is why I ran into Johnston. Asshole almost knocked me down. He kept looking behind him and was about to apologize when he saw me.

“You.”

“Yes, me. Hello, Johnston.” I looked him over. “Your forehead actually gotten bigger?”

He tightened his jaw. His thin skin stretched too tight, and the shape of his bones became clearer.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Johnston recoiled. “And it’s Mr. Stonston to you.”

I laughed. “Do I really have to call you that if we’re related?”

His beady eyes narrowed, and more sweat beads formed across his engorged forehead. “Just because your grandmother spread her legs for my grandfather—”

I grabbed him. It was instinct, but I couldn’t make a scene. I let go of him.

He smiled at me with a sickening grin as if he knew I couldn’t hurt him in public. “I’m not related to a filthy son of a slutty maid.”

I nodded as I watched him scurry away and trip a few times. Normally, I would never dare to admit being related to the Stonstons, but I knew what buttons to push. “Perdóname, Madre.” If anyone else had dishonored my grandmother or mother, I would have removed their skin from their face, but Johnston didn’t count. None of the Stonstons did. Not after what they did to her.

Then I saw Eva. My skin clammed up
, and my heart pounded. What she could do to me. She doesn’t know how smart she is or how everyone worries about her. Karenda forces and bullies, but Eva doesn’t have to. I’d forgotten how she made me feel. At least I tried to forget how seeing her took my breath somewhere else. We’d known each other since we were kids, and I’d hoped to make my feelings clear then. But mom and I had to leave quickly to avoid the situation. What about the rules? I’m the son of a maid and gardener, and she descends from one of the founding families.

Who is she with? She doesn’t look very happy. Byron. Of course. He always brings out the worst. What is he telling her? I know it won’t be the truth. He’d never confess to his crimes. Not to Eva. I have to get to her before he poisons her against me.

Byron grabbed my arms tightly.

“Warn me?” I had to make sure I heard that right. He talked to other people like that but not me.

Byron’s face softened a bit. “Look, it’s for your own good. He’s not what you think he is.”

I squirmed away from his grasp. “It’s Alexander. He’s my friend.”

“You’re not friends with a servant.”

“What is this, 1810? This isn’t
Downton Abbey
. I can go downstairs without them rising to attention and then complaining about it afterwards. You know Alexander.”

Byron nodded. “He was the son of my maid. I know him. I know everything.”

“What does that mean?”

Byron hesitated. “You look cold. Where’s your coat?”

I realized I was shivering. “Blacking out and coming to somewhere else doesn’t allow for weather contingencies.”

“What?” Byron took off his black, expensive coat, draped it over my shoulders and buttoned me up.

Damn, why did he have to be so drop dead hot cocoa on a winter’s day gorgeous?

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Byron looked deep into my eyes, and I warmed up immediately. “Just make it easier on your sister.”

“Excuse me?” Way to spoil the mood.

“Just do the Jane Austen bit. You love Jane Austen. You used to go by Jane when we were kids.”

“I went by Eva when we were kids.” Why wouldn’t he have remembered that?

He shrugged. “You’ve read everything she’s ever written dozens of times. It’ll be good for Ausmor, and go easier on Karenda. She’s under a lot of stress.”

I took his coat off and threw it at him.

“Don’t kill the messenger. I know they tiptoe around you because of your situation.”

My blood froze. “My situation? Are you talking about this?” I raised my sleeve to reveal the three deep scars running down the length of my arm.

Byron hesitated as he eyed a couple of women walking by who weren’t shy about their thoughts.

I waited. “You want to grab their numbers? Maybe get a quickie in the alley?”

Byron rolled his eyes. “Don’t be jealous. I can’t help it.”

“Right. You were born a narcissistic bastard.” I regretted saying it before it left my lips. I tried to reel it in, but bastard slipped out too fast.

Byron looked down at the ground. He put up walls for everyone else, but I knew him. I knew how to hurt him. Sometimes, when necessary, I unleashed the arsenal before restraint pulled me back from the ledge.

I’d known Byron since he returned from his twelfth boarding school. I was four. He was seven, and we became inseparable playmates. I couldn’t remember a time I hadn’t been in love with him. Always willing to play prince or pirate, Byron’s friendship comforted like a hazelnut chocolate malt. But, lately, things had changed, and I didn’t know why.

“I see Ausmor’s getting ready for the Christmas party,” Byron said trying to lighten the mood.

“It is?” I hadn’t noticed. “Is it bad if I hadn’t noticed?”

Byron shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

A group of teenage girls rounded the corner with giggles but soon descended to silence as they stared at Byron. His midnight under a fool moon hair glistened, and his blue eyes transformed to a violet hue when he intensified his focus. He flashed them his dangerously sly smile people waited their whole lives to see from someone so beautiful. They craned their necks as they continued walking, and one of the girls smacked her spiky haired head into a brick wall.

I studied Byron for a minute. “Do you really think I took a knife to myself? Do you think I threw myself down the stairs? Broke my own leg? Locked myself in that room?” I needed to know the truth. His truth. I needed his support.

Byron couldn’t look at me, and I had my answer. My heart crushed just a bit. I knew I was difficult and bitchy most of the time, but I needed him. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he give me that after everything?

For years, I’d put up with the whispers and stares. The insinuating rumors hinted I was unstable, or maybe like my mother who died when I was six. Politeness dictated the suicidal opinions weren’t uttered aloud, but eye rolls, whispers and glares hinted of the toxic appetizers many had digested and taken as fact.

I started walking. I didn’t know where I was going, but I had to get away from him. Mrs. Kiness believed me. I think. And Lillia. Not quite an endorsement from a twirlaholic. Fanny Dingo believed me. Although, as long as I left her collections alone and put out her favorite food, she wouldn’t care if I kept babies in my freezer.

I walked until I stood in front of a café. I didn’t know how long I’d walked or when I’d stopped. I turned to look back, but Byron wasn’t there.

“What happened? What did he say to you?” Alexander asked.

I jumped. “Didn’t know you were here.”

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. “You’re shaking.”

“He thinks I did it.” I lifted up my sleeve to show him the scars. “He thinks I did this to myself.”

“But you didn’t. I believe you. I know you.” Alexander gingerly took my arm and studied the scars. His eyes narrowed and his forehead creased as he studied my wounds. His rough fingers caressed the entire length of each scar and back again. I felt his touch through to my spine. In that moment, I wished we weren’t in public. I wished we were somewhere much more private. I wanted him to make me forget about Byron. I wanted him to make me forget about everything. He could make me forget and remember. No rules. No society.

Then he bent his head and kissed the wounds. From that moment, my world shifted.

When I kissed her skin, something coursed through me. Not yet. Not so soon. This time, I needed it to be real. I wouldn’t be her escape. To her, I’m just the childhood friend. She doesn’t remember everything. She doesn’t know we were together a year ago. She couldn’t
remember. Eva was different. Special. Fragile. She’d been that way since we were kids.

Any bit of trauma. No matter how small, and Eva went away. She’d come to after a few minutes and not know what happened. Some thought it was a trick. A way to get out of things she didn’t want to deal with. I knew it was real. Something happened to her. Something in that room on the third floor. I had my suspicions, but no one talked about it. The Austens and Morgans wouldn’t dare bring it up, and the staff only hinted.

I let go of her arm. I swore I wouldn’t fall so quickly. Not again. I had to be careful. I could ruin everything if I pushed. “I’m sorry.” I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Our eyes locked, and, I know what it sounds like, but everything else disappeared. Her eyes took me in.

I almost let myself believe she saw me. The real me. That she remembered everything. Her breathing quickened. I knew that look. Longing. I knew what she wanted. I made her forget. I made her remember. I made her feel. I let myself be her anything last time, but I swore I wouldn’t do that again. I forced myself to look away.

“You need a ride back home?” I tried to ask it nonchalantly as if I were asking a random hitchhiker, but I heard the catch in my voice. I told myself to slow down. We had time. I clenched my jaw tight so I wouldn’t smile and waited for her to say something.

I could melt in Alexander’s eyes. I mentally traced his arms and imagined his muscles around me. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to taste his crooked smile, but then it got weird. It’s like he was with me, and then he was somewhere else. Why? He thinks I’m a freak, doesn’t he? He’s heard the rumors about my memories and my unexplained wounds. He knows about my mother. He knows everything. He flipped so easily like he didn’t want to be associated with me.

“Charlotte’s here. I can get a ride from her.”

Alexander shrugged as if I’d asked to projectile vomit down his pants. He busied himself with his bag from the hardware store. So, I’m not as interesting as brackets or bolts or whatever he’s got in there. Good to know where I stand.

“Son of a bitch!” Charlotte screamed as she hurled herself towards us. “God forsaken car won’t turn over. Turds on a Sunday if I ain’t messing with something every five flippin seconds. If it wasn’t the car your grandfather and I made out in, I’d catch it on fire and drown it in the lake.” She continued muttering as she walked past us. Shoppers flung out of her way as she stomped past the cafe and disappeared around the corner.

“Okay.” I studied Alexander for a few seconds, but he wouldn’t look directly at me. I waited. “I guess I could call Mrs. Kiness, and she could send someone.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “I’ll take you home.”

I took Eva’s bag and led her to my motorcycle. She stopped suddenly when she saw it.

“This is your car?”

I laughed. She’d always said that. “Yeah.”

She looked around as if someone would stop her from climbing on the back of a deathtrap. “If Mrs. Kiness…”

I jumped on and held out my hand for her. “She won’t. I know the back way. Roads are clear. There won’t be ice till tonight.”

She grabbed my hand, and that surge pulsed through me again. I remembered the times we’d touched before. I remembered the times we did more than touch. My room. Her room. The kitchen pantry. The dining room. Every room. Her skin smelled like cooked strawberries, and her eyes could look black or blue or green depending on the time of day. I was the only one. The most important person - hers. I shook my head. “Can’t do that.”

“What?” She jerked her hand back. “Did I do something wrong?”

I smiled. “No. Hop on, hold onto me. You’ll be fine.”

The entire ride, I focused on the road. I thought of anything but Eva. Lillia twirling and giving me that look. My mother’s glare when I got too chummy with Jane. Mrs. Kiness dusting. Byron naked in a tub. Naked Byron? “What
the?”

“Something wrong?”

Her voice scared me. “Why?”

“You tensed up like a sad peach waiting to be sliced for pie.”

“I’m fine. Nervous that’s all. Taking an Austen home.”

She laughed and coiled her arms closer around my chest and waist. I was gone. No way back.