Madeline was faintly aware that she was lying on her side. Warren’s fire danced before her eyes, the flames red-gold and glorious, warming her naked skin. Charles was curled in close behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist.
Surely, her thoughts ought to be tumultuous at a time like this. Her mind was typically a hive, buzzing with so many curious bees. After something as momentous as sharing carnal relations with two men at once, she should be quivering with nervous excitement and confusion.
But she wasn’t. She felt empty, carved out. More than that, she felt…serene. Her mind was a placid lake. There was only the flames, the feeling of Charles’s warm breath at her neck, the dull throbbing ache in her core.
This had been momentous. She could already feel herself changed by it. The eagerness with which they shared her, the easy way they all flowed together. She’d seen it only once before. She saw it in the way Rosalie lived and breathe in perfect rhythm with Burke and the duke.
Madeline had to believe they shared this too. Nothing else made sense. Nothing else could bring three people so close together that they almost shared one spirit. If it worked for Rosalie, then maybe…just maybe…
“Madeline…”
She glanced up, following the sound of Warren’s deep voice. He was dressed again, even down to his boots.
He dropped to one knee, glancing at Charles’s sleeping form before he brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’m sorry, lovely, but you can’t stay here. I need to get you back now.”
She winced as she sat up, curling her legs underneath herself. Charles’s hand slipped off her, but he didn’t wake. Her golden tresses tumbled around her naked shoulders, a mess of tangles and curls. She looked into the flames, feeling a sense of loss sink into her gut.
“I’d give anything to have you stay, believe me,” Warren added. “But the house staff are all early risers, particularly the outside staff. If we delay much longer, I won’t be able to get you back inside unseen. And if the house wakes to find you missing—”
“I know,” she murmured, tucking her hair back behind her ears. “I must go.”
“But you can come back…if you want.” He looked so quietly hopeful. The feeling all but pained him, she could tell.
“I would like that,” she murmured, tipping forward on her knees to brush her lips against his.
The forest was bright with winter moonlight as Warren led Madeline down the path back towards Alcott. Everything was glazed in frost and a thin layer of snow, with the silvery full moon peeking through the skeletal trees. The air was sharply chilled, burning Madeline’s lungs with each breath.
She had her chemise and dressing robe back on under her winter cape. And Warren gave her the added warmth of a blanket stripped from his bed. The thick quilt hung around her shoulders, smelling like him—all spiced forest and hearth fire.
He walked with one arm casually draped around her shoulders. His touch calmed her, making her feel safe and protected. But she could tell he was currently the opposite of calm. Something was on his mind. He was stiff and quiet, his features shuttered.
“Is something wrong?” she murmured.
“No,” he said quickly, shifting his hold from her shoulder down to her waist. The move had her inching closer to him, their hips all but touching as they walked down the frosty forest path.
“You can confide in me, you know. I want to know you, Warren. But you’re difficult for me to read. You keep everything buried so deep.”
He groaned, pulling her to a halt. “Madeline, I must tell you something. It is upsetting Charles for you to not know and I fear his delay in giving you an answer is down to me. You deserve to have all the facts.”
She went impossibly still in his hold, trying to control the racing of her heart. “You can tell me anything,” she replied, readying herself to hear the worst.
He dropped his arm off her hip, walking a few steps away. “I am a bastard second son. My mother was a housemaid. She died giving birth to me, and I have no contact with my father.”
She let out a relieved breath. Of all the dark truths she imagined him sharing, that was nowhere on the list. “Oh…well that is…do you want contact with him?”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, he’s an insufferable arse, cruel and controlling. And his wife hates the very idea of me. She let me know every day what an inconvenience I was and how badly she wished the earth would miraculously open and swallow me whole.”
“Oh, Warren…” She stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
He turned slowly, glancing down at her over his shoulder. His face was a cold mask of stone.
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
He stiffened under her hand. “I don’t tell you to earn your pity,” he muttered. “I left when I turned twelve and never went back. Selby took me in when he could…when Charles twisted his arm hard enough,” he added. “And I found piece work that offered food and shelter. It was Selby who got me the position as an Alcott gamekeeper under the current duke’s father.”
Her heart twisted as she thought of a young Warren alone in this world with only Charles to fight his corner. “Charles loves you so very much,” she murmured. “I should let you both you go.” She shook her head, closing her eyes to fight back her tears. “It’s cruel of me to try to force my way between you—”
“No.” He cupped her cheek with his warm hand. “Look at me, Madeline.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his.
“You are like a fresh breath of air in my lungs,” he said. “Charles left, and for three years I’ve been drowning on dry land. Then I climbed onto that hay cart and saw you…and I breathed again.”
Her heart squeezed tight as the tension between her shoulders eased.
“I feel such a connection with you,” he went on. “I can’t explain it. Would that I could. I just feel like I know you already.”
“Yes, exactly,” she replied, placing her hand over his on her cheek. “You feel like an old friend, not a new one. I am quite beside myself with confusion over it too. I am typically so reserved, you see. And I’ve never liked being touched. My own mother can hug me and it’s like I turn to stone. But with you…with Charles…I feel like myself. I feel like I can just…be. Does that make any sense?”
He nodded, bending down to brush his lips against her forehead. Then he pulled back with a sigh. “Madeline, my father is a baronet. Sir John Warren of Ramsby Hall. Charles has long said I ought to fight my corner, that I deserve to be made a legitimate claimant to his estate. I was never interested. My elder half-brother would inherit anyway. But then he died about seven months ago.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, I—”
“No,” he raised a hand to quiet her. “Don’t. I had no connection with him, thanks to his mother. He was all but a stranger to me. He is dead now, and Charles wishes me to fight for my full inheritance rights. Sir John has no other children, you see,” he explained. “If he would but claim me, I would be his sole living heir.”
Madeline gazed up at the man before her, considering the implications. The truth sank in her chest, and she sighed. “And Charles believes if I make my offer of marriage to you, then your father will be more likely to claim you…am I right?”
He nodded.
She chewed her bottom lip. “And…is that what you want? Do you want to be the heir to a title? Do you want to be a baronet?”
Warren groaned low in his throat, his face flashing with anger. “Listen to me now.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I would rather climb to the top of Alcott Hall and leap from the roof. Do you understand? I want nothing from that man. Ever. Charles is indignant on my behalf, but his anger is misplaced. I am happy as I am, Madeline. It may be difficult for people to understand, but I make my own way in this world. I live my life on my terms. Yes, I am poor, but I am free.”
Free. Heavens, it sounded too good to be true.
“I do not pity you, Warren,” she replied. “I envy you. All I want is to experience that same freedom for myself.”
“I know,” he said with a nod, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, his fingers brushing along her jaw.
“But could you be happy with us?” she whispered, desperate to get to this truth. “Could you be happy if Charles and I marry? He was yours first, I know that,” she added. “He will be yours always in your hearts. I can’t bear to think I would relegate you to a life in the shadows. It would be a life being labeled as our friend and nothing more…at least nothing more where other eyes might see.”
“I have always lived in the shadows where Charles is concerned,” he replied with a shrug. “I know well how to play the game, Madeline.”
“And…me? I cannot pursue this with Charles without your consent, John. I need to know that you will not see me as standing between you but with you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, the move crinkling his brow scar. “And my revelation?”
She huffed a little laugh. “What, that you have disagreeable relations you’d rather not claim? I know the feeling, I’m afraid. My cousin Rory is an angry brute too. Cruel and vindictive. He pulled my hair once just to see me cry. And my own father plots against me, trying to steal my inheritance. We both have family we’d rather not claim, John.”
He still watched her, looking for some evidence of disinterest. “Will you think less of me if I never rise above the station of a lowly gamekeeper?”
“Does our profession define us then, sir?” she replied. “Heavens, I hope not. For I have no profession at all. I cannot have a profession. Society won’t allow it. Who am I to the world without that hook to hang my hat on?”
Warren cupped her cheek, his frown turning slowly into a smile.
Her cheeks flamed with warmth. “What? Why do you smile at me, sir?”
His smile widened and he let out a soft laugh. “I have a feeling that when this all works out in our favor, Charles will never get another night of peaceful sleep.”
She smiled too, letting it quickly fall as she spoke her truth to Warren and to the universe. “He has to marry us first, John. And the stubborn man has yet to say yes.”
Warren’s smile fell too. “He will. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to see us both married to Charles Bray.”
“I believe you,” she murmured, cupping his cheek with a cold hand.
He leaned into her touch, turning his face to kiss her palm. Raising a hand, he cuffed her wrist. “And if for some reason he doesn’t agree, if we can’t bring him ‘round to our way of seeing things…well, I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a proposal? She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, taking her by the hand and leading her down the path back towards Alcott Hall.
