The Burlington Manor Affair

Carmen closed her eyes, tight. It only made things worse. She felt as if she were sinking under his will, but his arm around her made it impossible to do anything but drown in the pleasure.

CHAPTER FIVE

REX WORKED HIS body hard, using the early-morning air and the physical exercise to focus his thoughts on Carmen. Jogging across the grounds didn’t need his full concentration, anyway, because he was on a path that was familiar. He’d run here many times as a youth. It gave him time to think, and to clear his head. Not that he wanted to forget what had happened the night before, no way. What he wanted to do was try to understand the intensity of what had passed between them.

Being with Carmen was everything he thought it would be in terms of hot sex, but there was a mind shock there he hadn’t anticipated. He had no idea that Carmen was a submissive. What an absolute treat that had turned out to be. Smiling to himself he relived the memory of waking up at dawn to find her splayed on his bed, sleeping soundly after a seriously good session between the sheets. That was a sight he’d wanted to enjoy for years, and the sense of victory it gave fueled his early-morning run.

He changed direction, heading through the trees toward the lake beyond. After the path forked he glanced back over his shoulder at the house, acknowledging that it was good to see the old place again.

At first the house had seemed strangely empty without his father’s presence. When he’d wandered the halls and rooms he found everything so familiar, so unchanged, that he was forced to admit he had grudging affection for the old place. That positive feeling intensified once Carmen arrived. Burlington Manor was greatly enhanced with the mysterious, ethereal beauty of Carmen Shelby present inside its walls once again. He hadn’t doubted it would, not for a moment.

The early-morning air under the trees sharpened his concentration.

When the path opened up at the lake he slowed the pace. In the past, this would be the part of his morning run where his father’s hounds would break free of him and run on ahead. The dogs had long since passed on, and, for whatever reason, his father hadn’t brought new pups to the house. Much as he hadn’t replaced any of them when they’d left his side. It was a lonely end for the old man.

It occurred to Rex that the route and speed of his morning run was the same as it’d always been, as if he was programmed to undertake his jog in exactly the same way. The conne

ction to the past didn’t sit well. To break the habit, he stopped running and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the lake.

Maintenance work was needed on the banks of the lake. It was built into the landscape gardens over a hundred and forty years earlier, a man-made lake that was fed by the local river so that the water was fresh and it was safe to swim there. The sloping bank of the lakeside was covered in thick, lush grass, and had been a picnic ground throughout many generations of the family. On the far side the edge of the lake was overgrown and lacked order, which was essential for a landscaped garden such as this. The lily pads that floated there had grown too thick and unruly. They were meant to be an embellishment, not a mask. But with a skeleton staff at the house nowadays, the jobs had to be prioritized. They seemed to be managing fairly well given that they were so shorthanded.

He circuited the banks at a walking pace, and when he glanced back at the trees that flanked the path to the house he almost saw his young self idling there, watching Carmen. On one of his visits home he arrived in the late afternoon on a hot sunny day, and one of the staff had told him Carmen was down by the lake. As he approached, he caught sight of her swimming there. The sun glinted on her wet hair as she made her way back and forth across the small lake. He’d been about to strip off his T-shirt, run down there and join her, when she emerged and stood by the edge of the lake squeezing out her hair.

That’s when he’d become transfixed by the sight of her. He’d stayed where he was under cover of the trees so that he could admire her before he made his presence known. She’d been wearing a red swimsuit and the damp fabric clung to her outline. He’d ached for her then, and it was with a fierceness that was so strong it took root in him.

“Good morning to you, sir.”

The sound of the voice behind him drew Rex’s attention.

“Bill, it’s good to see you.” He strode over to where Bill Amery stood, glad to see the familiar face. Bill, who was married to the housekeeper, was the head groundsman and had worked at Burlington Manor all his life. Apart from a few more white hairs in his beard, Bill looked the same, and he wore his trademark overalls covered over by a waterproof jacket. His flat cap was possibly a new model, but it was exactly the same as the previous ones he’d worn. As a young lad, Rex had been a complete nuisance to this man while he went about his duties on the estate, but Bill was patient and Rex knew that he and his wife had brought a lot of stability to him in what was otherwise a wreckage of a family life during his early years.

He shook Bill’s hand and nodded. “You’re doing a good job.”

“Not as good as I’d like. Your father had to pare down the number of staff. What was it, six of us here on grounds duty, when you were a lad?”

Rex nodded.

“Now I’ve only got Gary, who does three days a week on the shrubs and terraces, and Jason here, who works mornings on general duties alongside me. Both are good workers, and Jason makes a worthy home brew ale, which he generously shares with us.” Bill grinned back at the lean young man who stood beyond him. “I could do with him being full-time.”

It was unlike Bill to make demands, but these people were effectively in a state of limbo between official owners. They didn’t know if their jobs were safe or who they would be working for if they were even kept on after the property was sold. Bill was stating his needs up front, most likely because of his uncertainties.

“Leave it with me. I’ll do what I can.” Rex nodded over at the man who stood beyond Bill, listening. “Good to meet you, Jason.”

“Likewise, Mr. Carruthers.”

Rex put out his hand and Jason hesitated, then shook it. “How long have you been working here at the manor?”

“Just a few weeks, but I like the place. Better than being cooped up packing boxes in a factory.”

“Being outside certainly has its advantages,” Rex agreed, nodding. He was enjoying the countryside more than he thought he would.

Rex estimated the newcomer was in his mid-twenties. He was lean and there was a wiry quality to his build. Bill, on the other hand, was somewhere in his mid-sixties and probably should’ve retired already. Rex wouldn’t want to part with either him or his wife, but they were the ones who should be part-time, as supervisors.

His train of thought stalled. Why am I thinking about this?

Because, temporarily, he was part-owner. Assuring himself it was only that and no greater sense of responsibility, he attempted to shrug off the odd notion. It didn’t go away. He cared about these people. They’d been part of his childhood. Rex hadn’t realized he’d be pulled into everyday details, but there was no denying that responsibility was playing its part in how he felt.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked back at the house while Bill talked about some of the adjustments they’d made in the land maintenance in order to make it manageable. He listened, and engaged, but his moment of self-scrutiny lingered.