Falling for His Practical Wife

by Laura Martin

  ‘I don’t frown a lot,’ he said, catching up with her.

  ‘You’re frowning again now.’

  Relaxing his face again, he grumbled something under his breath.

  ‘It can’t be far now,’ Annabelle said, steadfastly ignoring whatever it was he was grumbling about.

  ‘A few more miles. Did you want to rest before we push on?’

  ‘My legs do ache a little.’ In truth, she could ride for another five hours without stopping—she loved being on horseback with the wind in her hair and the ground falling away under her horse’s hooves—but it was such a pleasant day she was determined to make the most of it.

  They stopped in the shade of a tree, Leo carefully looping the horses’ reins over a low branch. They were strong animals, healthy and well fed, the best they could hire from the inn they had stayed at the night before. Annabelle hadn’t been privy to the negotiations, but she hoped Leo had arranged for them to keep the horses while they were honeymooning in Dorset. It would be lovely to get out on horseback every day.

  Annabelle sat down on the grass, leaning her head back against the trunk of the tree and closing her eyes. After a moment she felt Leo sit down next to her, close but not close enough for their bodies to be touching.

  ‘Tell me about where we will be staying.’

  ‘It’s remote. I hope you don’t mind that.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘There’s a tiny village called Kimmeridge and just a little further on a beautiful bay with views in both directions of the Dorset coastline. Our cottage is outside the village, five minutes from the bay.’

  ‘A cottage?’ She opened her eyes in surprise. She had just assumed they would be staying in an inn or something similar. A cottage was intimate, private.

  ‘Yes. I have a friend who has a property nearby. He is in residence at the moment and offered us use of his guest rooms, but I thought you would prefer something more private. The cottage is at the edge of his estate.’

  ‘That sounds...lovely.’ For a moment she considered how she felt. A cottage did sound lovely, they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else, but she did feel a flicker of uncertainty around Leo’s motivations. He knew she felt uneasy in company and that made the gesture of a private cottage thoughtful and considerate, but she wondered if it was a completely altruistic decision. Her scars made people stare—even when her face was covered with the veil people peered and whispered, trying to make out what she was hiding underneath. Perhaps the cottage was as much for his benefit as hers.

  ‘You would prefer somewhere else?’

  ‘No.’

  She felt his eyes on her and forced herself to smile. She was overthinking things. Whatever the motivation she would be happier in a cottage than staying elsewhere.

  ‘I’ve never been on holiday before,’ she said, lifting up her veil and tucking it over the top of her bonnet.

  ‘I haven’t been on holiday with someone else since I was eight.’

  Before. She was fast learning everything in her husband’s life was split into before and after. Before the illness that had killed his parents and after it.

  ‘You can remember holidays with your family?’

  For a moment she thought he was going to get up and walk away, but instead he settled back against the tree, his hand brushing her leg as he lifted it to run it through his hair.

  ‘Yes. Every year we would go to some seaside town. One year Lyme Regis, which is not far from here, another year Brighton. Father would teach us to skim stones from the beach and Mother would paddle in the shallows.’

  ‘They sound like happy memories.’

  ‘They were good times.’

  She chewed her lip, wondering how to ask him more about it. He had hardly spoken of his family before. All she knew was through Beth.

  ‘Where was your favourite?’

  ‘Probably Lyme Regis. It’s tiny and has the most magnificent cliffs. Every day we would walk the two miles from our accommodation into the town to buy fresh bread and cheese and then picnic on the beach. There were these ancient curios to collect from the beach and we spent the whole week with bare feet on the sand.’

  Annabelle stayed silent, hoping he would say more.

  ‘I was six, I think, and Josh four. I can remember him running at the sea, fully clothed, so excited to see it. He fell in face first and got completely soaked and our father had to go in to haul him out. They both collapsed on the beach, laughing.’

  ‘Your father didn’t mind getting wet?’

  ‘My father’s temperament was much like Josh’s is now. He was relaxed, warm, didn’t let the little things bother him. My mother was similar, she always had a smile and a kind word for everyone.’

  Annabelle wondered if he was remembering with an orphan’s nostalgia or if his parents had been as they were in his memories.

  ‘I was always the odd one out.’

  There didn’t seem to be a diplomatic way of asking if he had always been so distant or if it was something that had developed as he was growing up. A life without love, deprived of the people who care for you, must have had a profound impact on Leo’s character.

  He glanced at her. ‘Josh and I were the most opposite you could imagine, but we loved each other like only siblings can.’

  ‘I can’t imagine being forced to grow up without Beth,’ she said quietly, reaching out and placing her hand gently on top of his. ‘She gave me love and strength even when life seemed too difficult to bear.’

  For a long moment he looked down at their hands, hers on top of his, then he stood abruptly, turning away so she couldn’t see his expression.

  ‘We should get moving if we want to reach the cottage by lunchtime.’

  Annabelle tried not to let her disappointment show. Every time she felt as though her husband was opening up, revealing a little of himself, he pulled away and returned to the distant man everyone thought him. Instead of wallowing, she summoned a sunny smile and remounted, trying to ignore the spark of excitement that ripped through her as her body brushed against Leo’s as he helped her up on to her horse.

  ‘Stop it,’ she muttered to herself. The last thing she needed was to feel attracted to her husband. If he got any hint of that, he would run to the other end of the country. She was aiming for pleasant companionship, nothing more, so steadfastly she tried to ignore the first flares of desire deep inside her.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘No. How long do you think until we reach the cottage?’

  ‘An hour or two at the most. I don’t think it is far now. Can you press on and we will eat when we get there?’

  ‘Of course.’

  The carriage was meeting them at the cottage, taking the longer but wider roads, but still it would probably arrive after them. Lunch would be later, but Annabelle didn’t mind. She never had much of an appetite when it was hot like this.

  * * *

  The rest of the journey took an hour and a half, although they rode slowly down the country lanes, allowing the horses to pick the pace as the sun rose higher in the sky and the day grew warmer. Annabelle looked around her in interest as they passed through the tiny village of Kimmeridge. It had a shop and an inn and not more than twenty houses clustered round the centre of the village. They were certainly remote.

  Another ten minutes later they saw the cottage, perched on the top of a hill with views down to the cliffs below and the sea beyond. It was whitewashed and quaint, small in size but well maintained. To one side there was a fenced-off area she assumed was to be used as a paddock for the horses with a shelter at one end. The rest was open countryside—the rolling hills of Dorset were right on their doorstep.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it.’

  ‘I thought nowhere could compare to my wonderful South Downs, but I feel a little f
oolish making that assumption when I haven’t seen anywhere else. This is just as stunning, in a different way.’

  They dismounted and saw to the horses first, removing the saddles and bridles so they could take a long drink from the trough and then run free in the paddock. Only once the horses were settled happily in the shade did they turn their attention to the cottage.

  It was even smaller than Annabelle had first thought—she doubted there could be more than four rooms inside. As they opened the door she found herself holding her breath in anticipation. Having never thought she would marry, she hadn’t ever considered what her honeymoon might be like, but ever since Leo had suggested a trip away her imagination had run wild.

  The cottage was small but cosy inside, with one room downstairs that offered comfortable armchairs and a small dining table and a kitchen at the back. The stairs led up directly from one side of the downstairs room.

  ‘It’s smaller than I imagined,’ Leo said, a frown on his face.

  ‘It’s perfect.’ For her it was. There was nowhere for any servants to stay so it would be just the two of them. She swallowed, hoping it would bring them closer together rather than pushing them apart.

  ‘Let’s take a look upstairs.’

  She could tell there was something wrong by the way he went completely still in front of her at the top of the narrow staircase.

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Slowly he stepped aside and Annabelle caught a glimpse of the room beyond. It was light and airy, with a large window on each side that let in the light and allowed unparalleled views of the sea. The bedroom, the only bedroom, took up the whole first floor and in the middle was a comfortable-looking bed.

  It was a large bed, plenty big enough for two.

  ‘We can still enquire if there are rooms available at the inn.’ Leo’s voice was gruff and Annabelle felt her world swaying. Surely she wasn’t so repulsive he couldn’t even bear to share a bed with her. It wasn’t ideal, of that she was aware, but they were married, there was nothing scandalous about sleeping chastely side by side in one bed. It was so big they probably wouldn’t even brush against one another.

  ‘Whatever you think best,’ she said, turning away, wishing she hadn’t taken her bonnet off as they’d entered the cottage and could still hide behind the veil. Her cheeks were flushing red and she knew if she thought about it too much the tears would flow.

  ‘There is only one bed, Annabelle,’ he said and she could tell he was making an effort to soften his voice. ‘I wouldn’t want to make things uncomfortable.’

  ‘Whatever you think best,’ she repeated and turned and hurried back downstairs, the air in the cottage suddenly seeming humid and close.

  Outside she took a few deep steadying breaths, thinking Leo would likely follow her in a minute or two. When he didn’t emerge she walked over to the edge of the paddock and leaned on the fence, watching the horses munching on the grass.

  * * *

  It was ten minutes before Leo came out of the cottage. She heard his footsteps and felt his presence behind her, but didn’t turn around.

  ‘I’m not very good with people,’ he said eventually, coming to stand next to her and lean on the fence. ‘I never have been. Often I say the wrong thing. People think I am cold, arrogant.’ He sighed and she shifted so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. ‘Perhaps I am.’

  The silence stretched out between them for a while and for once Annabelle didn’t try to fill it or ease the awkwardness.

  ‘I think I said something wrong in the cottage, something that upset you, but I do not know what.’

  Annabelle stared out at the horses and wondered if she should be honest with the man who told her so little of his thoughts and feelings.

  ‘I am your wife,’ she said eventually. ‘Perhaps ours is not the most conventional of marriages, but we are married. There is no reason we cannot stay in this cottage together, even with only one bed.’ Quickly she glanced up at him, but as usual it was difficult to read his expression. ‘I know I am not pleasant to look at, but all we would be doing is sleeping side by side.’

  ‘Annabelle...’ he said, reaching out for her hand, but she stepped away.

  ‘I didn’t realise I was so hideous you couldn’t bear to be close to me even for a short while.’

  ‘That’s not it at all.’ He waited until she looked up and met his gaze, which took a long time, but she sensed he was more stubborn than her and eventually gave in. ‘I don’t find you hideous. Good Lord, you’re not hideous.’

  She scoffed. ‘I know what I look like.’

  ‘Annabelle, you’re a very attractive young woman who happens to have a scar covering one cheek. That scar isn’t the sum of you.’

  ‘It is what everyone sees.’

  ‘I won’t pretend I don’t see it, but it isn’t all I see. And I certainly don’t think you’re hideous. That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘You reacted pretty strongly when you saw there was only one bed.’

  ‘I’m new to this, too,’ Leo said with a frustrated little sigh. ‘I’ve never been married before. I’ve never had to consider the needs of someone else so often before. We are not having a normal marriage and I thought that would mean it would be awkward to share a bed. Most women...’ He trailed off.

  ‘Most women would get the wrong idea?’

  He mumbled something and she felt a laugh bubble up from deep inside.

  ‘Do not fear, Leo, I don’t find you so irresistible I might fall in love if my hand brushes yours in bed one night.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

  She could tell it was exactly what he was thinking. For so long he hadn’t married as he hadn’t wanted anyone to get close and even now he was doing all he could to keep her at arm’s length.

  ‘I am aware of what this marriage is and what you wish it to be, Leo.’

  He remained silent so Annabelle pushed on.

  ‘But we are both reasonable people. Our lives are intertwined now, however separate you wished you could keep them. I am planning on living to a ripe old age so we have many years ahead of us and at least some of that time will be spent together. I think it will be much more pleasant if we can find a way to develop a comfortable companionship, a friendship even.’

  ‘You’re being very reasonable,’ he said with just a hint of suspicion in his voice.

  ‘I am a very reasonable woman.’

  ‘I don’t have many friendships. I’m not that sort of person.’

  ‘There was Mr Wilbersmythe at our wedding.’

  ‘We’re not exactly close.’

  ‘And the friend who is letting us use the cottage.’

  ‘Again, I don’t see him all that often.’

  ‘I won’t pretend I am a social butterfly,’ Annabelle said wryly. ‘I probably have fewer friends than you, but I do think we can build something good out of our marriage. It doesn’t all have to start and end with the question of convenience.’

  ‘So you’re happy to share a bed.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And you’re happy to spend the week alone with me in the cottage. The servants will have to lodge in the inn in Kimmeridge.’

  ‘It sounds delightfully peaceful.’

  ‘Then we shall stay.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Dear Josh,

  Do you remember that holiday in Dorset? The one when we spent the whole week on the beach?

  It was still light outside when Annabelle started yawning and rubbing her eyes, although he watched with fascination as she persisted with her book for another ten minutes even though he could see by the movement of her eyes she was having to read the same section over and over again because of her fatigue. The day had been tiring, with the early start from the inn and a brisk walk across the hills once they had settled into
the cottage. They’d eaten dinner at the inn in Kimmeridge and then strolled back as the heat of the day finally began to subside.

  ‘It’s been a long day.’

  Annabelle yawned again and then smiled sleepily at him. ‘Yes. I think I might go to bed. I know it is early, but I can barely keep my eyes open.’

  ‘A honeymoon is meant to be restful,’ he said and then was hit with images of what else a honeymoon was meant to be. He shifted uncomfortably and tried not to look at his wife as she stood and headed for the stairs.

  ‘Would you mind helping me with my dress? Normally the maid would unfasten it for me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He followed her upstairs, his eyes drawn to the bed they would soon be sharing in the centre of the room.

  ‘It’s just a few fastenings at the back and a bow to untie at the waist.’

  Her dress was pale yellow with a white sash around the middle. Simple yet elegant.

  His fingers felt clumsy as he unfastened the dress, pulling at the bow at her waist last and seeing the material fall open to reveal the creamy skin underneath. Not since Emily had he helped a woman undress and he felt a pulse of suppressed desire.

  Quickly he moved away, descending the stairs with a cursory goodnight to his wife. He didn’t desire her, no matter what his body was trying to tell him. He would not be a slave to purely physical desires.

  Downstairs he tried to concentrate on his book but found he couldn’t read more than a sentence at a time before he was distracted by the creak of the floorboards as Annabelle moved around above him, readying herself for bed.

  He poured himself a brandy and took a few gulps, looking up as there was a rustling of sheets as his wife settled herself into bed, then silence.

  Leo tried to lose himself in his book again, but in a way the silence was worse than the creaking of the floorboards. Now he knew she was in bed, lying between the sheets, her honey-blonde hair spread out on the pillow.