What a Widow Wants

by Jenna Jaxon

  “It’s a bit of a story.”

  Fanny’s horror grew as he related the tale. “He burned my letter before your eyes?”

  “Quite gleeful about it, he was.” Matthew’s back shook slightly with his own mirth. “I suppose he never thought for a moment I’d find you in time. Does the marquess have some other grudge against you, my dear, or has this all been about the fact that I am Ella’s—”

  “Shhh. Don’t tell her now.” She didn’t want the knowledge of her parentage to come at such a horrible time for Ella.

  “Do not worry, my love. She has been asleep almost since we started.”

  Satisfied, Fanny leaned her head on his comfortable back again. “Yes, I believe that information must have driven him to devise this scheme to murder us. That and . . .” She sighed. So much she’d brought on herself because of her follies. “I more or less threatened to let the news of our affair and the name of Ella’s true father come to light when he banished us from the house.”

  “God, no wonder he was in such a state. He seems to be under the impression society will give a damn.”

  “And they truly won’t, you think?” That fear had been instilled in her by Theale and Lavinia for years.

  “Do you think we are the only couple in the ton to have done such a thing?” Matthew’s laugh moved her head up and down. “I can name you ten wives at least who have a child not of her husband’s getting.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Shall I name them forthwith? One or two will positively make you gasp.” He chuckled and she gave his back a smack.

  “No, thank you. I do not need such confirmation. Your mother assured me of the same thing, though again, I did not believe her at the time.” If only she had, so much could have been avoided. “So how did you find us? I had written we were going to my cousin’s in Copsale.”

  “A judicious bribe of one of Theale’s grooms and then the good luck to find Davies returned to the Chequers. I almost made a grievous mistake there.” Matthew’s voice had gone grim.

  “What happened?”

  “I convinced Davies to tell me where he’d put you out of the carriage and was getting it hitched up to come and get you. Which would have taken much longer and been disastrous considering I just got to you in the nick of time.”

  A chill chased down her spine and she clutched him tighter. “What changed your mind?”

  “The smug smile on his weasely face. Something else had to be afoot. With a little more persuasion, he told me he’d hired three men to murder you and Ella.” His back tensed and she rubbed it to reassure him. “At that, I leaped onto Lucifer and we pounded the road all the way there. When I didn’t see you at the dancing tree, I continued down the road, calling your name, and finally saw the outline of the barn and their lantern glimmering in the darkness.”

  “Thank God you did, my love.” She tightened her arms around him. “Can you ever forgive me for creating all this havoc?”

  “You I forgive everything, utterly and completely. The Marquess of Theale,” his voice lowered menacingly, “will not escape so easily.”

  “Do nothing that will end with your being taken from me, Matthew.” The thought of him avenging her at the cost of his own life was intolerable.

  “Do not worry, love.” He chuckled, a lighter spirit restored. “I vow you will not be rid of me for a very long time to come.”

  Amen to that.

  CHAPTER 30

  Sometime in the hours before dawn Fanny awoke with a slight jolt when Lucifer stopped. Nestled comfortably against Matthew’s back, she must have fallen asleep in the night, lulled to slumber by the gentle motion of the horse’s smooth gait. Opening her eyes on a lamp-lit courtyard, she stretched carefully and let go of Matthew’s waist. “Where are we?”

  “The Chequers. What-ho, groom!” Matthew called loudly. Several minutes later a young stable lad stumbled out of the building opposite, shaking his head and pulling on his coat.

  “Can I help you, milord?” The boy yawned fiercely, then peered up at Matthew.

  “Help the lady down, lad. I need to pass her the child here.” He still held the sleeping Ella against him.

  “Right away, sir.” He darted toward Lucifer’s rear and reached up to her. “Grab my hands, lady. I’ll catch you.” The lad looked no more than twelve, scarcely tall enough to reach the big horse’s withers. But she was too tired to argue. After everything that had happened yesterday, this shouldn’t daunt her at all. Leaning forward and trusting again to God, Fanny slid off the horse and into the arms of the lad, who was actually sturdier than he looked. Her feet hit the smooth cobblestones that paved the yard and she slipped, but the boy righted her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Immediately, she turned to Matthew, arms open.

  Gently, he picked Ella up, still dead to the world, and lowered her into Fanny’s waiting arms. The exhausted child barely stirred and Fanny cradled her against her breast while Matthew dismounted.

  “Give him a full measure of oats and all the water and hay he wishes.” Patting Lucifer’s withers fondly, Matthew pulled a coin from his pocket. “This is yours, lad, if you treat this fellow right.”

  “Yes, milord.” The lad bobbed his head and took the reins, looking up at the big black horse skeptically. “What’s his name?”

  “Lucifer, but remember the devil was an angel before he fell.”

  “Yes, milord.” Wrinkling his brow, the boy and horse moved off toward the stable.

  Arms heavy with the sleeping Ella, Fanny wanted to sink down where she stood. Exhaustion had claimed her, despite her nap on the horse. The thought must have been written on her face, for Matthew plucked the girl from her arms, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

  With a sigh, Ella burrowed her head into his neck but did not wake.

  Placing his other arm around Fanny’s shoulder, Matthew led them toward the inn. Drawn to his warmth and the comfort of his presence, Fanny leaned against him, happy to have his strength to depend upon. Never had she been so tired in her life.

  Dark and quiet, the inn’s taproom enveloped them with warmth from the banked fire on the far side.

  “I could sink down right here and sleep.” Fanny gazed hungrily at the hard tables and benches.

  “A moment or two more, sweetheart, and I can offer you much softer accommodations. Innkeeper.” Matthew called toward a dark doorway that might be the kitchen.

  A moment or two later, a middle-aged woman appeared, yawning as she pulled a robe close against her chest. “Can I help you, my lord?”

  “I need rooms for myself, my wife, and child.”

  A thrill shot through Fanny, bringing her wide awake. He’d called her his wife. Suddenly and overpoweringly she wished that were true. She wanted nothing more than to remain at this man’s side for the rest of her life.

  The woman nodded. “This way, my lord. I’ve a parlor and bedroom available, though it overlooks the courtyard. I’m Mrs. Jameson. My husband’s from home at the moment, but we can still do for you.” The woman unhooked a large key from a small brass hook, one of only two such remaining in a row of empty hooks hung behind a desk. “This way if you please. I’ll wake Betsy and send her up with warm washing water for you.”

  “Send her later in the morning.” Matthew shifted Ella, and they started up the stairs behind the innkeeper. “I fear we are too weary at the moment to want more than a bed.”

  The parlor proved well appointed, though Fanny barely glanced at it. She gazed longingly at the door to the bedroom, weariness seeping into every part of her. If she didn’t lie down soon, she would drop where she stood.

  Quickly stepping forward, Mrs. Jameson lit a lamp, then led them into the bedroom.

  The large comfortable bed drew Fanny’s full attention. Was it big enough for the three of them? “Ella will have to sleep between us.”

  “Nay, my lady.” Mrs. Jameson darted to the bed and drew out a trundle from beneath it. “The lass can sleep here. Leaves more room for the two of
you.”

  “Bless you, Mrs. Jameson. What a very well appointed inn you have. We’ll want breakfast late.” He shot a questioning look at Fanny.

  She nodded and took Ella from his arms. She lay the child gently in the bed, then sat on the edge of the mattress to remove her dusty shoes.

  “A mishap on the road has stranded my wife and child without conveyance. Do you have any sort of carriage that may be rented to take us to London later today?” Steering the woman back into the parlor, Matthew left her and Ella alone.

  This afforded Fanny the privacy to remove their daughter’s clothes down to her chemise, and tuck her under the covers. The small face, so sweetly innocent in repose, looked the very picture of Matthew as he might have been when young. If all their children could look thus, she would be content. She prayed the horrific events of the day past had not distressed the child enough to cause her sweet nature harm.

  Wearily, Fanny stood and stripped out of her clothes, dropping them in a puddle on the floor. Once in her shift alone, she crawled into the bed, pulled the covers over her, and sank into blissful unconsciousness.

  A violent dipping of the bed woke her and she jerked upright out of her dreamless sleep with a cry.

  “Shhh, it’s only me.” Matthew’s deep voice came from the near darkness right by her head.

  “Thank God.” She eased back down under the covers. “I need no more villains in my life.”

  The words brought back vividly the scene in the barn, the ruffian on top of her, his hands fumbling at her skirts. He’d run his rough hands over her thighs, and her skin crawled as though he still touched her. The memory of his open fall, the glimpse she’d had of his thick, eager manhood turned her stomach. At the thought of what might have happened had Matthew not arrived when he did, she turned away from him, shaking violently as tears trickled down her face.

  “What is it, my love?” He put a tentative hand on her shoulder and she sobbed aloud.

  “That man . . . he . . . he almost . . .” Tears choked her throat.

  “Shhh. It’s all right. You are safe.” He slipped his arms around her, so strong. So secure.

  She cried louder as he held her, crooning words of comfort softly in her ear, until her tears were spent and she panted to catch her breath.

  Easing toward her until his chest and stomach pressed along her back, Matthew gathered her to him. “Do you feel better now?”

  Nodding, she sighed and relaxed against him. “I feel like a fool. It is over and done with. He cannot hurt me now. Still, I remember—”

  “Many feel fear but have the courage not to show it. As you did tonight. There is no shame in letting your fears and hurt go, however you do it.” He kissed her cheek. “It is truly over, my love. Try your best to forget it and think only of our life going forward.”

  She turned toward him, though the darkness hid his face. “Our life?”

  “I love you, Fanny. I will say it however many times it takes for you to accept it.” His voice softened and he grasped her hand. “I want us to spend our lives together, to see our children grow up together, to grow old alongside you, and in the end, to lie beside you forever into eternity.”

  Any tiny doubt she may have had disappeared with those words. “I want those things too, my love.” She touched his cheek, his night beard prickly beneath her fingertips. “To live beside you, to lie in your arms every night, to bear your children proudly, and love you with all my heart forever.”

  His body tensed like a great coiled spring. “Then you will marry me?”

  “Yes, my love. Of course I will.”

  “There has been no ‘of course’ about it at all. Oh, Fanny.” He grasped her head and found her mouth. Insistent, he pressed his lips to hers until she couldn’t tell where hers began and his ended. His tongue stole into her mouth, stroking and caressing her until she tingled all over. Their tongues tangled and she wanted to melt into the bed with happiness. A kiss of such passion and possession that the world disappeared, leaving only the two of them joined in the darkness together.

  Finally, Matthew raised his head, panting. “I had thought we would wait until the wedding, but I believe that is impossible.”

  The hardness poking her thigh told her he spoke truth. She laughed deep and throatily, pulling him onto her again. “I see no reason to delay our pleasure.”

  “Then we must marry soon, sweetheart. Unless you no longer care if our next child is said to be born too early.”

  Fanny went still beneath him, closed her eyes, and swore silently.

  “What?” The edge of concern was back in his voice. He sat up, fumbled with the candle on the nightstand, and the flare of a single flame brought his face into sharp relief. Puckered brow and taut jaw greeted her. “What is wrong?”

  Putting a reassuring hand on his arm, she stroked the firm muscles. “Nothing, save I suspect we are too late for that to be a consideration, my dear.”

  His frown deepened, then his eyebrow raised, a look of surprise on his face that made her chuckle.

  “Do you mean you—”

  Smiling, she nodded. “Yes, I am almost certain I am carrying your child.”

  “Fanny! Oh, my love.” The joy in his voice made her heart sing. Then he shook his head. “But how is it possible, sweetheart? We have not been together since Charlotte’s house party. You had said then you believed yourself safe.”

  “So I did. I’d been drinking the concoction all along. Yet, ever since Charlotte’s wedding, when I discovered both she and Elizabeth were increasing, I have recognized the symptoms—unexpected flashes of heat, fatigue, my breasts have been sore and swollen, and I have developed a strange craving for milk in my tea.”

  He sat back, staring at her with wide eyes. “Milk in your tea? You have never liked it that way.”

  “Save when I carried Ella.” An odd thing that disappeared the very day her daughter was born.

  “And your courses?”

  “Absent since September.” She took his hand, twining it in hers. “Somehow your seed vanquished my Queen Anne seeds.” Hesitant, still she needed to ask, “You are pleased, my lord?”

  He stroked her cheek, his eyes shining with love. “With all my heart, my love. I am thrilled that you may even now be carrying my heir, or another beautiful daughter. But how did it happen? Your seeds have not failed before.” He raised accusing eyebrows at her. “When you took them.”

  “I have no proof; however, I suspect it may have something to do with that startlingly sensual pagan rite at the Wrotham Harvest Festival. You remember when the Harvest Lord claimed the Corn Maiden?”

  His eyes grew the darkest black and he settled himself on top of her again. “That I do remember very well.” He kissed her neck, nuzzling along the side until he came to her shift. Growling, he grasped the fine linen material. “We need to dispense with this now.”

  “Wait.” She closed her hands over his to stay them, then pushed them away. “If you tear this garment I will have none to wear tomorrow.” Sitting up, she untied the string at the neckline. “You must wait a little as I disrobe.”

  “Ahhh, you mean to torment me. Go faster.” Matthew threw himself full length on the bed.

  “Going faster would merely lessen the element of seduction, my lord. Lie back.”

  With a groan, Matthew complied, lying in her place with one arm beneath his head.

  Fanny rose to her knees, pulling the chemise from around her until it covered her completely from neck to knees.

  “Why do you assume the Wrotham festival possessed some quality that assisted in getting you and your two friends with child?” Bright eyes taking her in as she slipped the garment off her shoulders, Matthew extended his hand toward her neckline.

  “No, I need no assistance from you, my lord. Yet.” She blew him a kiss, then pulled the one remaining comb from her straggling hair, bringing it tumbling around her shoulders and spilling down her front covering her breasts further. His sudden intake of breath and a stirring beneath
his shirt to her right made her own body yearn for his, deep within her. “I find it interesting that all three of us had passionate interludes that night after witnessing the rite. A fertility rite, if you recall. Charlotte and Nash were actually in the field.” She lowered her shift until it barely covered her nipples and raised his shirt, revealing his cock at keen attention.

  “I remember.” The husky voice only increased her need.

  Grasping his member, she slowly stroked up and down. “I also discovered that Elizabeth and Lord Brack shared a bed that night. I scarcely believed it, but she told me it was true.”

  “For pity’s sake, Fanny, I’m about to burst.”

  She threw back her head and laughed.

  A whimper from the trundle bed cut her short and she froze. After a moment, when no further sound was forthcoming, she returned her attention to her impatient lover.

  “As you command, my lord.” In a liquid motion she dropped her shift, revealing her overly plump breasts, nipples hardened into tiny points, and mounted him, sliding herself onto his thick cock.

  He grunted as she seated herself and sighed with the exquisite pleasure of having him deep inside her once more. “You may also remember our interlude in the trees just beyond the field.”

  “I remember nothing at the moment,” he said, cupping her breasts, kneading them, a look of pure bliss on his face.

  “Allow me to jog your memory.” She eased herself up and down, slowly at first, then faster as he began to counterthrust into her. Leaning over she seized his lips, plunging her tongue into him as her need reached its ultimate peak. Groaning into his mouth, she shattered around him, complete and whole again.

  Moments later he strained into her as his release came, calling her name. Sweeter words she’d never heard.

  As they lay panting, entwined together in the rumpled sheets, Matthew grasped her hand, lacing their fingers together. “If you will agree, I’d still like for us to be married from Hunter’s Cross, in my parish church, All Saints.”

  “I would like that very much. Will you get a special license?” They need not rush, but if he suddenly worried about Society’s gossip, then they should wed as quickly as possible.