Cadence of My Heart (4 page)

“But I want you to see me wearing that dress,” Cadence grumbles. “I liked the way you looked at me when I modeled it for you.”

Feeling a twinge of shame, Marlee regrets letting her eyes get so licentious. Was her attraction really that evident? Ugh. She should be utterly mortified. How could she look at Cadence as anything other than a soon-to-be sixteen-year-old girl? Mind you, it
is
only looking, and where’s the harm in that? Convincing herself that she’s in the clear, her mouth starts moving against the advice of her brain, words coming out unchecked.

“Why don’t you wear it for me another night?” she suggests. “We’ll both get dressed up and go out for dinner together. How does that sound?”

What is she saying?! It sounds inappropriately romantic, and Cadence is grinning.

“Perfect, Marlee.” Cadence pulls back to look at her, cheeks pink with excitement. “I’d love to go out with you.”

As she’s swept into another hug, Marlee panics slightly. Did she just ask Cadence out on a date?

Seventeen minutes. Cadence has been counting, and that’s precisely how long it’s been since someone—anyone—has paid any attention to her at her birthday-cum-debutante party. At first, the parents of her potential suitors were all over her, asking her questions and making her spin in pointless circles. Now, they’re huddled around her mother and father, asking them even more questions, most of which seem to be about money.

Bored and irritated, she slips away under the guise of needing the bathroom and goes on a hunt for Marlee, having no intention to return. After checking the most obvious places—her bedroom, the library, and the games room—she heads for the servants’ quarters. Sometimes, when she’s precluded from taking part in a family activity, or is otherwise surplus to requirements, Marlee will retreat here to drink tea and chat, or play cards with the domestics.

But not tonight.

Cadence skips down the stairs and pokes her head into the kitchen, nine different members of staff all swiftly abandoning their cards on the table to stand in her presence, which is a custom she’s never particularly understood.

“May I help you, Miss Cadence?” The butler bends to speak to her in a rather condescending tone, as if she’s still a small child.

“Where’s Marlee?” she asks, scanning the table for a face that isn’t there.

Without waiting for an answer, she darts back into the hallway and starts calling Marlee’s name—loudly. This is much to the consternation of the housekeeper, who, at this hour, would very much like her to use her ‘indoor voice’ instead.

Cadence pays no heed, and eventually, she’s rewarded with the appearance of a harried-looking Marlee, stumbling out from a housemaid’s bedroom. Her hair is slightly tousled, her cheeks flushed, and she’s struggling to fasten her open blouse, her bra-clad breasts spilling out from it.

“What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”

Behind her, Rachel steps out looking equally disheveled.

“What’s all the yelling?” She spots Cadence and immediately adopts a more appropriate stance, standing perfectly straight with her head slightly dipped. “I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t know it was you.”

The apology means absolutely nothing. Marlee was in her room! Marlee was …

Heart crushed, brain cells exploding, Cadence hightails it out of the servants’ quarters.

“Shit!” Marlee puts her breasts away and makes chase, but Cadence disappears back into the closed-off ballroom before she can be caught.

“Buggering hell,” Marlee mutters to herself, taking a seat on the bottom step of the main staircase, not sure what she should do next.

Should she wait? Should she make herself scarce? Time ticks by, and a full hour passes while she does nothing but chew down her fingernails. She hasn’t yet come to a proper decision when the door to the ballroom swings open and Cadence’s father strides through it, dragging Cadence along with him.

He’s a tall man—over six feet—with thick gray hair and a goatee that’s so pale it’s almost white. In his early sixties, he’s got plenty of age lines on his face, but he’s still handsome. A former military man, he keeps himself in good shape, and uses those strong arms to throw Cadence across the foyer.

Marlee leaps to her feet, just in time to catch the flailing teen. “Darling!”

Mister Ashlock is so enraged he doesn’t seem to hear the casual use of an inappropriate endearment, or bother to question why the nanny is there, in such a perfect position to catch his discarded daughter. He just starts shouting.

“Goddamnit, woman! Do we not pay you enough to teach her some good manners?!” He straightens the jacket of his formal dinner suit. “She’s supposed to know how to behave like a lady, for god’s sake. She’s a disgrace to my name!”

Cadence reeks of booze.

Oh, lord. How much trouble could she get herself into in an hour? Plenty, apparently.

“Put her to bed,” Mister Ashlock snaps. “I don’t want to see her for the rest of the night.”

Cadence is giggling, leaning against Marlee with all her weight, only held upright by Marlee’s breasts and grappling hands.

“What did you do?” Marlee whines quietly as Mister Ashlock storms back into the ballroom. “You silly girl.” She says that with not an ounce of anger, only love and concern.

Getting Cadence up the stairs to bed takes an inordinately long time, since putting one foot in front of the other seems to be more than her addled brain can cope with.

“I drank a lot of champagne,” she slurs, resting her head on Marlee’s shoulder. “Are we going to bed now?”

“
You’re
going to bed. I’m going to bash my head against a brick wall for half an hour.”

“Don’t do that.” Cadence tries to pat her cheek, misses, and slaps her neck. “You might hurt yourself.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Marlee succeeds in getting Cadence into her bedroom, then into the bathroom adjoining it, and sits her down on the edge of the bathtub with a toothpaste slathered toothbrush in her hand. Despite missing her mouth the first time she tries to insert it, Cadence gets it between her lips on the second try, and Marlee retreats to the bedroom, folding and sorting clean laundry while she waits.

Was this her fault? Almost certainly, although Cadence probably didn’t need much of a push toward finding a way to sabotage her first debutante party. Should she explain the situation to Cadence’s parents in the morning? Probably, although that might get Rachel dismissed. Not that personal relationships between staff members are prohibited, but the Ashlocks have a rather nasty habit of venting their frustrations on anyone who seems to be distracting Cadence from her obligations, or causing her to underperform in some way.

Marlee’s fairly certain they wouldn’t actually fire
her
, although she did inadvertently ask their underage daughter out on a dinner date, which probably wouldn’t help her case if the whole truth were to come spilling out.

“I’m done,” Cadence calls from the bathroom.

“Come to bed, then,” Marlee calls back, staying with the laundry.

Cadence drops her toothbrush in the sink, then staggers out and leans against her dresser, swooning and swaying at Marlee. “I think you’re so beautiful.”

Marlee, feeling guilty for being the cause of this, won’t turn to look at her, unwilling to acknowledge her champagne-fuelled flirtation with a direct response. This is the second time in a row that she’s had unsatisfactory, climax-lacking sex with Rachel, and she’s on a short fuse.

“You’re drunk,” she sighs, dismissing the compliment.

Continuing to fold laundry, she hears a zipper, followed by the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor. Now she’s
afraid
to turn around. Did Cadence just undress? Is she wearing her new underwear? Marlee mentally rebukes herself for letting the thought cross her mind. Who cares if she’s wearing her new underwear? What difference does it make?

“Marlee,” Cadence coos softly, urging her to turn around. “Look at me.”

Her voice is so seductive. How is that possible? How can such a sexually naïve young girl be so damn seductive? Marlee closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Can Cadence see how much she’s struggling? Is she doing this on purpose?

With her heart thumping behind her ribcage, she twists to face her intoxicated, nearly naked teen, a small gasp of sincere appreciation escaping involuntarily at the sight of her.

“Do you like?” Cadence smirks.

She looks stunning. Her curves are so exquisite, from her slender shoulders to the peaks of her breasts, areolae just visible beyond the black lace cupping them, hard nipples tenting out the fabric slightly. Everything below her slim waist is more than perfect, too: her tiny bellybutton, flat stomach, the gentle sweep of her hips, and the small mound of her mons pubis at the apex of her thighs, dark pubic hair trapped behind the lace. And those legs! Long, milky, perfectly smooth legs. She’s been shaving since she was thirteen.

Christ.

Marlee feels her body respond to Cadence’s provocative form. She’s entirely womanly, with a fully bloomed figure and young, silky, untouched flesh.

“Oh, heavens.” Marlee looks away, pretending to be unaffected by the display. “The underwear looks lovely on you, darling. I knew that it would.” She deliberately leaves all trace of emotion out of her voice.

Turning her back on Cadence, she busies herself fluffing pillows, picking stuffed toys off the bed, and pulling back the duvet, completely unaware of the emotional distress her casual disregard for Cadence’s appearance has caused.

“Why don’t you like me?” Cadence mopes, disappointed by the lack of attention, feeling slighted by Marlee’s uninterested eyes.

“Oh, Cady.” Marlee looks up, holding an armful of displaced teddy bears. “I
love
you. You must know how much I love you.”

“But you don’t think I’m pretty?”

Marlee’s heart aches. So many times over the last year, she’s been caught off-guard by Cadence’s emerging womanhood. At some point, she’d become desperately aware of how the bony ass of a little girl had formed into the soft, round rump of an adolescent—a fact cemented in her mind while they were in the clothing store.

Likewise, the further development of her tiny breasts had come as a delightful surprise. On the first day of summer break this year, Cadence had taken advantage of the good weather and gone for a swim in the pool. Even though she’s well on her way to adulthood, her parents still require that she be supervised at all times—something which neither she nor Marlee have ever complained about.

When she emerged from the clear, cool water, her bikini was clinging to two glorious mounds on her chest. She’d caught Marlee looking, they’d exchanged a smile, and Marlee cautioned herself against being so free with her eyes. But now Cadence is standing semi-naked in her bedroom,
demanding
that she look, feeling hurt when she doesn’t.

“You’re so beautiful, honey.” Marlee scans Cadence from head to toe. “Why are you asking me these things?”

“What does Rachel have that I don’t?” Cadence steps closer. “Does she please you more? Would you rather go out with her?” She sneers out the last word disdainfully.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Marlee’s heart feels as though it’s about to rupture. “Are you jealous?”

That shouldn’t be surprising at all. Outside of the time Cadence spends in school, or embroiled in extracurricular activities, they’re together practically every waking hour of every day. Never has Marlee sought out any relationships that might take her away from the house. For one thing, she hasn’t had the time. Tending to Cadence is a fulltime job, and she’s been unreservedly devoted to caring for the child night and day, sneaking off to tend to her adult needs only when she was certain Cadence was preoccupied.

Until tonight.

Tonight, Cadence had seen something she’d never seen before.

“Do you love her more than me?” Cadence climbs onto the foot of the bed, creeping closer on her knees.