Cadence of My Heart (7 page)

Marlee starts to seriously consider the possibility that she might be losing her mind. She tries to recall if anyone in her family has ever been committed, or suffered a breakdown, or developed early onset dementia of some kind.

She can’t think of anything significant. Her uncle Bob always seemed a bit off, but she’d been told that was only because he’d been deprived of oxygen at birth. Anyway, apart from lusting after a teenage girl, she feels perfectly mentally competent, and she’s not quite old enough to be having a mid-life crisis. So what is this? Some kind of hormone imbalance? She rules out the possibility of early menopause for two reasons: one, a drop in hormones should make her less sexually erratic, not more so; and two, she still gets a period every twenty-eight days like clockwork, so there’s not likely to be anything abnormal going on down there.

Maybe she has too much estrogen. Is that a thing? Does that make you rampantly horny for no apparent reason? Even now, her body’s aching for something. She’s sitting across the table from Cadence in a small café, bags of lingerie at her feet. They’re surrounded by sane, rational people who would all think she’d gone round the sodding twist if they knew what an exorbitant amount of money she’d just spent on lingerie for a sixteen-year-old.

This isn’t normal.

In fact, this is spiraling so far out of the realm of normal that it’s making her a little nauseous. She picks up her latte to take a sip and glances at Cadence, wondering what she’s thinking. For the last five minutes, she’s been staring intently at a kissing couple in the corner of the room.

Probably in their early twenties, the couple have their tongues so far down each other’s throats it’s a wonder they can still breathe. Every now and again, the boy puts his hand on the girl’s thigh, and she responds by pushing him back down toward her knee. At least one person here still has some sense of decency.

What could be on Cadence’s mind, though? She’s never spoken about boys, except to suggest that she might not want to marry one. She’s never confided in Marlee about school crushes, or boyfriends, or going on dates. She’s never been on a date. Has she ever been asked? Why the secrecy? Perhaps there’s nothing to hide. Perhaps she’s still too young. After all, she’s been very sheltered.

At the request of the Ashlocks, Marlee had never educated Cadence in such things. They didn’t want their daughter encouraged to date, to explore, or to become worldly in that way. The less thought given to the matter the better, they’d said, since her personal feelings aren’t going to be taken into consideration anyway.

On the rare occasions that Cadence asks for specifics on certain topics, Marlee never lies, but Cadence seems to have little interest in romantic pursuits. Still, she’s only sixteen, Marlee reminds herself. There’s plenty of time for that to develop.

As the kissing couple finally break for air, Cadence turns back to the table and to her cup of steaming hot chocolate, thinking deeply before asking:

“Will you kiss me like that?”

Marlee coughs and wheezes, choking on her latte, some of the hot liquid getting caught in her windpipe. “Why in the world would you ask me such a thing?”

“Because I like it when our lips touch,” she says matter-of-factly. “Do you?”

Marlee sets her cup down and stares into the bottom of her drink. “Far too much.”

She looks saddened, and Cadence can’t fathom why.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re only sixteen, Cady.” Marlee sounds deeply apologetic. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to kiss you like that. Do you understand? It’s against the law.”

“No, it’s not.” Cadence scowls, angered by the suggestion. “I’m old enough now. I—”

“Not for me,” Marlee cuts her protest short. “I’m your nanny. The rules are different.”

Cadence, utterly flummoxed by this unforeseen stumbling block, is rendered temporarily silent, her disappointment palpable.

Then, “How different?”

“Eighteen,” Marlee answers with a sigh. “As long as I’m still your nanny, you have to be eighteen.”

“But we love each other,” Cadence counters.

Oh, how her view of the world is so adorably simplistic.

“Darling”—Marlee reaches for Cadence’s hand on the table—“I could get in a lot of trouble for kissing you that way. Besides anything else, do you know how old I am?”

Cadence shakes her head, sipping her drink.

“I’m thirty-three. I’m more than twice your age.” She wishes that weren’t true. “For god’s sake, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

Cadence sets her cup down so forcefully it almost cracks the saucer. “If you don’t want to give me kisses that way, just say so. Don’t make any more excuses.” She looks crestfallen, her eyes full of tears.

Marlee is heartbroken. “Sweetheart, I would love to kiss you that deeply. I really would.” She weaves her fingers between Cadence’s. “It hurts me how much I want to love you that way, but I just can’t. Please try to understand.”

It’s clear that Cadence really doesn’t understand—or doesn’t want to. She barely says a word for the rest of the day, and things are so strained between them that, when it comes to bedtime, Marlee isn’t even sure if the sulking teen wants to be tucked in.

Collecting Cadence’s laundry from the dryer, she uses its delivery as thinly veiled subterfuge for entering the bedroom, and starts putting things away quietly while Cadence brushes her teeth. With a few minutes to think, she decides to let Cadence be the one to break the stalemate if she wants to, and if not, then maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. A cooling off period might do them both some good.

But that’s not the way things play out.

Cadence returns from the bathroom, exploiting her peripheral vision to watch Marlee remove the last item from the laundry basket, waiting for her to speak first. When that doesn’t happen—and as soon as she realizes Marlee intends to leave without saying a word—she finally calls out to her, breaking the silence.

“Will you tuck me in?”

Marlee’s more relieved than she thought she’d be to hear her ask. “Of course I will, darling. I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

She abandons the laundry basket on the floor and settles Cadence into bed, pulling the duvet up around her shoulders before perching on the edge to say goodnight.

“Sleep well, my love.” She moves stray hair away from Cadence’s eyes, brushing her bangs aside, smiling fondly at her, pleased not to be fighting anymore.

“I still want a goodnight kiss,” Cadence reminds her.

As if Marlee could forget. Hoping to get their relationship back on the right track, she bends to kiss Cadence’s cheek … but Cadence evades her.

“Not that kind,” she insists. “It has to be lips, else I’ll still be cross with you.”

“Cadence …” Marlee frowns disapprovingly.

“Marlee.”

At the unexpected sound of her name, Marlee feels a surge of arousal between her legs. How is that possible? How can one word do that?

“Say my name again,” she begs.

“Marrrrrrlee,” Cadence whispers, drawing it out. “I love you.”

That almost does the trick. Marlee rolls her tongue over her lips, moistening them.

“Marlee,” Cadence tries again, determined to win this battle of wills. “I want you to kiss me.”

With a whimper, Marlee capitulates. Hoisting the white flag of surrender, she bends forward and brings her lips to Cadence’s, stealing another illicit, closed-mouth kiss from her charge—but Cadence isn’t sated by that. When their mouths touch—the tentative bumping of lips quickly evolving into an erotic clinch—she flicks her tongue against Marlee’s lips.

This daring escalation of intimacy manages to elicit a soft, involuntary murmur from Marlee, but nothing comes of it. Sticking to her guns, Marlee pulls back and sits up, retreating from the kiss entirely.

“What did I tell you about kissing me like that?” The disapproving frown returns.

“But it’s so unfair,” Cadence protests. “It’s only a kiss. Why shouldn’t we be allowed to kiss?”

Sensing Marlee’s lingering weakness—positively pouncing on her inability to say no—Cadence sits up and moves toward her. Swiftly initiating another kiss, she teases Marlee’s lips apart with her tongue, and shudders with pleasure when she feels Marlee give in to her. Win!

Eyes closed, Marlee lets Cadence’s tongue find hers, murmuring again as Cadence invades her mouth, kissing her so deeply. It’s adult in every way, their lips locked together, their tongues caressing, probing, and exploring, and she whines with disappointment when it breaks.

Cadence flops against the bed. “That was perfect. Just like I imagined it would be.” She grins up at Marlee from the pillow. “I like kissing you a lot.”

Marlee licks her lips, tasting Cadence’s toothpaste, astounded by her proficiency. “Wherever did you learn to kiss like that? That was so grown up.”

“I practiced.” Cadence beams proudly. “I wanted to be good for you. I didn’t want you to think I was terrible.”

That’s the third time Cadence has insinuated harboring a long-held desire for her nanny, and the sudden realization that she’s been planning this for a while has Marlee flooding between her legs again, her body longing for so much more than a kiss.

“Darling, how long have you felt this way?”

Cadence shrugs. “Since I was thirteen,” she reveals candidly. “I stopped having nightmares when I was eleven, you know. Long before you became my nanny. All those times I climbed into bed with you, I was only pretending.”

“Why?” Marlee’s voice is scarcely above a whisper.

“I wanted to be closer to you. I like it when you hold me. Feels so safe and warm.”

Marlee cups Cadence’s cheek, silently admiring her.

“I like the way you look at me, too,” Cadence adds, reveling in Marlee’s loving gaze.

“How do I look at you?”

“Like there’s only me in the world.”

After playing it out in her head several times, Marlee leans forward and kisses Cadence again, seeking out her tongue deliberately and confidently, causing Cadence to mewl with surprised delight.

It feels much too good.

Forcing herself to stop before she gets caught up in the moment, Marlee breaks her lips free. “I love you,” she whispers. “But I have to go.”

Cadence nods, not expecting anything more.

The next morning, Cadence wakes herself up and gets dressed entirely on her own for the first time since … well, possibly ever. She’s in a hurry to get the day started, and to spend as much of it as possible with Marlee.

Too eager to wait for Marlee to come to her, she dashes into Marlee’s room with the intention of diving onto the bed and waking her up, but not only is the bed empty, it’s already been made. Do the housemaids usually see to the beds this early? She shrugs. How the hell would she know? Marlee’s the only one who makes her bed now.

Thinking Marlee must’ve risen extra early for breakfast, Cadence heads for the morning room.

Still no Marlee.

There’s only one other place Cadence can think she might be, so she skips down the stairs to the servants’ quarters and starts calling out her name.

“Not this again,” the housekeeper mutters from the kitchen, trying to enjoy a peaceful cup of tea and a slice of toast.

Cadence looks here, there, and everywhere, and is about to give up and try somewhere else in the house when the back door swings open and Marlee enters—with Rachel. The two are laughing and carefree, Marlee with a basket of blackberries in her arms, but the laughter dies on their lips when they realize Cadence is standing there.

“Good morning, Miss.” Rachel dips her head and curtseys.

She doesn’t see what happens next, but Marlee does. It’s as though Cadence’s heart is shattering right in front of her. She looks crushed, tears welling in her eyes, her cheeks colored with envious fury, hurt beyond all measure.

“Oh, Cady.” Marlee takes a step toward her. “No, no, no. This isn’t—”

Her words fall on deaf ears.

For the second time in under a week, Cadence bursts into tears and runs off.

“Goddamnit.” Marlee thrusts the basket of berries at Rachel. “Here, take these.”

Rachel pulls a face. “What was all that about?”

Marlee offers up nothing elucidating and takes off after Cadence, chasing her through the house until she finally catches her in a restricted area on the top floor: the games room. Complete with a pool table, darts board, video game system, ping pong table, poker table, and all the board games you could imagine, it caters to almost every need. Including, apparently, teenage girls who just want somewhere quiet to hide and cry.

Off limits to most of the domestics—for fear that they might take to abusing the room for their own fun—it’s a haven that’s seldom used by anyone but Cadence and the occasional guests she invites. Right now, she’s using it to sob into an enormous beanbag.

In the doorway, Marlee presses a hand over her chest, pausing to catch her breath.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to run in this outfit?” She’s almost hyperventilating. “Or these stupid shoes.” She kicks off her high heels. “It’s a deep expression of my love that I even made it up here.”

“Go away.” Cadence’s voice is muffled against the beanbag.

Marlee won’t do any such thing. She gathers up her skirt and attempts to lower herself gracefully onto the beanbag, failing miserably. Heavier than Cadence, when she loses her balance and tumbles down onto it, Cadence’s side of the beanbag rises up and sends her rolling backwards, their bodies colliding.

“Ooh, that’s better.” Marlee pulls her close, kissing the top of her head.

“Stop it!” Cadence wriggles away from her. “You had sex with Rachel again!”

“No, sweetheart. I didn’t.”

Cadence is behaving like a jealous lover, and although Marlee hates to see her this upset, the fact that she could even
get
this upset over witnessing a perceived act of infidelity moves her deeply. Too deeply. The thought of having Cadence as a lover is surprisingly, dangerously intoxicating.

“Yes, you did!” Cadence maintains the belief, struggling to get to her feet.

“Darling, don’t go.” Marlee looks up from the beanbag, skirt bunched around her thighs, her long legs exposed all the way up to the top of her stockings. “Stay here with me.”

If Cadence weren’t so upset right now, she’d think Marlee was the most beautiful and alluring creature she’s ever seen. But she
is
upset, and she feels betrayed.

“I thought”—she chokes for breath—“after last night … you kissed me …” More sniffles. “I thought you wanted me.”

“I
do
want you.”

Marlee puts so much emotion into those words that the heartfelt confession stuns both of them. Marlee is alarmed by how easily the words roll off her tongue—without any hesitation or reservation—and Cadence is amazed by how they make her feel. As her tears dry up, something very different happens between her legs, her body aching with a desire she can’t quite name.

Meanwhile, Marlee stretches out on the beanbag. She has one arm resting across her stomach, the other above her head, and her back is slightly arched, pushing out her chest.

Cadence watches intently. “Are you flirting with me, Marlee?”

Marlee slightly crooks one of her legs, causing her skirt to ride up an inch or two higher, unveiling a splash of pale thigh. “I think I might be.”

Before Marlee has a chance to change her mind—as if there’s any likelihood of that—Cadence drops back down onto the beanbag, melting into her arms.

“Do you really want me?”

Since actions speak louder than words, and Marlee hasn’t got a clue what to say anyway, she leans forward and runs her tongue over Cadence’s lips, moistening them, teasing them apart. When Cadence is ready to be kissed, Marlee cradles her neck and lays a passionate lip-lock on her.

No encouragement needed.

No coercion.

No trickery.

“Kissing you feels so divine,” she confesses when the kiss breaks, immediately scooping Cadence’s willowy body into an embrace. “I love your mouth.”

They kiss again, all self-restraint lost. They’re a bundle of whimpers and whines, tongues moving this way and that, lips pressed tightly together, and several minutes go by before they stop for a much needed breath of air.

“Ask,” Marlee urges Cadence then. “Don’t let it fester between us.”

Not entirely sure that she really wants to hear the answer, Cadence’s voice is hushed and low. “What were you doing with Rachel?”

“She spends a lot of time in the gardens, and she knows the very best places to pick wild berries. Did you not see the basket I was carrying?”

Nope. She’d been too busy remembering the sight of Marlee with an open blouse and tousled hair, imagining so many heartbreaking things.

“I didn’t expect you to be up this early,” Marlee continues. “I was picking berries with her because I was going to make you breakfast in bed. I still can if you want me to. It’s never too late to go back to bed.”

What the hell does that mean? Marlee has no idea. The sensible part of her brain shut off the instant she decided to lounge all over the beanbag like a cat in heat, flaunting her thighs.

Speaking of her thighs, Cadence’s eyes are wandering, and Marlee wonders how brave she might be. Will she try to touch? Does she want to? A few seconds of quiet appreciation pass, then Marlee gets her answer: Cadence lunges at her with another kiss. In the midst of the lip-lock, she feels heat and pressure on her knee, moving slowly upward.

Cadence’s hand, creeping up, up, up …

“Careful.” Marlee stops her from getting above the stocking. “Not too much.”

“Why not?” Cadence asks, not giving Marlee any time to compose an answer. “Will you take your clothes off for me?”

“What?” Marlee mouths the word, hardly any sound coming out.

“Don’t get me wrong, your nanny outfits are amazing.” Cadence admires Marlee’s form. “They’re sexy, you look gorgeous in them, and I love staring at your cleavage, but my parents aren’t home, and I think we should take advantage of that.”

“Really?” Marlee raises an eyebrow, more shocked than she is excited.

Cadence can’t possibly be thinking about sex. Can she? Regardless, all the blood in Marlee’s body rushes straight between her legs.

“Uh-huh.” Cadence fingers the bust of Marlee’s blouse, undoing the first button, her fingers brushing against Marlee’s breasts. “I want you to wear something casual today, and I want you to let your hair down. I like it that way.”

Deeply relieved, and feeling foolish for thinking Cadence could’ve meant anything more, Marlee chuckles. “You want me to
change
my clothes, not take them off.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cadence feigns sincerity. “Was I not clear?”

“You’re such a tease.” Marlee slaps the teen’s thigh lightly.

“Of course, if you
do
want to take your clothes off for me …” Cadence throws the thought out there, letting Marlee decide how seriously it should be taken.

“Stop it.” Marlee tugs the hem of her skirt down a few inches. “You’re a bad influence.”

Following one more kiss, they cuddle together, slipping into a comfortable silence. Marlee almost dozes off, until Cadence’s voice draws her back from the brink of unconsciousness.

“Marlee?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are we going to have sex?”

All of a sudden, Marlee’s wide awake. Cadence
is
thinking about sex!

“What do you mean, darling?” She needs some clarification. “Ever? Or right now?”

One of Cadence’s shoulders rises and falls briefly. “Soon, I guess.”

“No, my love.” Marlee squeezes her tightly. “You’re much too young.”

Expecting a series of increasingly difficult to answer follow-up questions, Marlee’s pleasantly surprised when Cadence says nothing, seemingly content with the facts as they are.

Phew.