Reassured, Mariah turned and opened the opposite door, which led into the back of the drawing room. She entered to find Burke gazing from a window. He was dressed with his usual dandyish elegance. A good-looking man. A pity he wasn’t more likable.
She felt a moment of sympathy for him. The fact that Burke had foolishly gambled the estate away wouldn’t dim the pain of his loss. Rather, the contrary.
Her sympathy vanished when he turned and gave her a lazy smile while he studied her with insulting frankness. She frowned. She was used to being admired by men, but the polite ones at least started by looking at her face.
“Mariah.” His smile implied greater intimacy than they shared. “How lovely you look today.”
Given the circles under her eyes, she assumed that he was either blind or a liar. “You flatter me. I look like a woman who needs a good night’s sleep.”
She was about to explain that she had been kept up late by her “husband’s” return when Burke said with dripping solicitude, “You are carrying too great a burden for a woman. I admire your spirit and determination in attempting to run the estate by yourself, but you need a man to take care of these business matters.”
“I do not,” she retorted. “I am entirely capable of managing Hartley. And if I do need help, I’ll have my husband.”
He smiled pityingly. “Isn’t it time you gave up that pretense? I know you invented a husband to keep me at a distance because I was fool enough to offer marriage when you were still shocked by the news of your father’s death. The time has come for honesty between us.”
He stepped close and took her hand, his handsome face earnest. “Marry me, Mariah. We can drive up to Gretna Green and be married in a day.” His voice became caressing. “I should like to take you to London before the Season is over. You deserve a London Season, and how better to see the delights of the city than with a devoted husband by your side?”
She was tempted to laugh. Or possibly throw something at him. “I doubt you have it in you to be a devoted husband! Even if you do, just last night my husband returned.” She tried unsuccessfully to remove her hand from his clasp. “And I have not given you leave to call me by my given name. I am Mrs. Clarke.”
After a startled moment, he laughed outright. “You are certainly persistent in your claims! Where is this husband of yours? I should be delighted to meet him.”
Exasperated by his arrogance, she managed to jerk her hand free. “You can’t see him just now. He is unwell and resting from a difficult journey.”
“And I’m the Sheik of Araby.” His expression changed, and she saw the first genuine feeling he’d shown today: lust. “I do adore you, Mariah. For your sake, I think I could even become a devoted husband.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth into hers. He tasted of brandy. At this hour of the morning! No wonder he was behaving so badly. She wrenched her head to one side and cried, “Let go of me!”
He ignored her protest, saying thickly, “We are both beautiful and a little wicked. We were meant to be together, Mariah!” He forced another kiss on her.
She tried to break away but only managed to pull them both off balance. They tumbled onto his grandmother’s small table, which fell over with a crash, but he kept her trapped in his embrace.
Mariah had been kissed by amorous and slightly foxed gentlemen before, but she had never felt real fear because her father had always been close. Now she was unprotected and no match for Burke’s strength. There were no male servants in the house, only the housekeeper and two maids, and they were unlikely to be within earshot.
Furious at her helplessness, she kicked him in the ankle, but her soft slipper didn’t even make him flinch. Toes hurting, she raised her foot to stamp down.
Before she could, Burke released her with such abruptness that she almost fell. No, he hadn’t released her; he was being wrenched away—by Adam.
Her sailor loomed over her, barefoot, head bandaged, and wrapped in her father’s worn banyan. As she watched in shock, he twisted and pitched Burke across the room. Her assailant slammed into the sofa and crumpled to the floor, expression incredulous.
Adam caught her elbow and steadied her, his eyes dark with concern. “Are you all right?”
She nodded shakily. “Right enough.”
“My poor darling.” He wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, then turned to her assailant. Though not as tall as Burke, Adam radiated an authority that could make a man twice his size cower. “Do not ever touch my wife again,” he said in a voice like flint. “Do I make myself clear?”
“I…I didn’t think Mariah was really married,” Burke stammered.
“You will not use my wife’s given name,” Adam said coldly, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “She is Mrs. Clarke to you, and you owe her an apology. Not only did you assault her, but you insulted her honesty by refusing to believe the truth.”
Mariah winced inwardly. In fact, Burke had read her lies accurately. But that gave him no right to maul her!
Burke struggled to his feet, no longer a confident dandy. “I…I thought it was a kind of game she was playing. Everyone in Hartley thought she was single. The first time she mentioned a husband, she seemed to be pulling the idea out of the air. I was sure that after she absorbed the news of her father’s death, she would see the advantages of marrying me and accept my offer.”
“He wants his property back,” Mariah explained. “George Burke is the former owner who lost this estate to my father in a card game. Saints preserve any woman fool enough to entrust her future to him!” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t think he intended harm today. He was just…thoughtless and carried away.”
Burke scowled, his expression a blend of anger and shame. “I apologize for my behavior, Mrs. Clarke. My admiration and hopes led me to misread the situation.” He retrieved his hat. “I shall leave Hartley today. There is nothing more for me here.”
There was no mention of a lawsuit. Maybe that had always been an empty threat, now dissipated by the presence of a living, breathing husband who was willing to defend Mariah and her rights. Hoping there would be no more strife, Mariah said quietly, “I wish you well in the future, Mr. Burke.”
He acknowledged her with a jerky nod of his head, then left. She exhaled roughly. “I feel sorry for the man, but I shan’t miss him.” She glanced up at Adam, who was looking exhausted now that the crisis was past. “You heard us arguing?”
“Raised voices and crashing furniture have a way of capturing one’s attention.”
Since he was beginning to sag heavily on her shoulder, she steered him to the sofa. “Sit down. I’m amazed that you had the strength to walk in here, much less save me from George Burke.”
Adam smiled at her with a sweet intimacy that made her catch her breath. “I couldn’t let that fellow hurt my wife.”
“I am very glad you came to investigate.” She was ashamed of the quaver in her voice. “How did you manage to toss a great lummox like Burke across the room?”
Adam frowned uneasily. “I…just knew. There are ways of using a man’s weight and size against him. Not that I thought about that. I just saw you fighting him and acted from instinct.”
So whatever his past, he knew how to fight. That went with his workman’s hands, but not his cultured speech. He was an enigma. And he believed completely in their marriage. Knowing he had defended her honesty to Burke made her feel wicked. “I’ll help you back to your room when you can walk again. You’re recovering splendidly, but Julia won’t like it if I let you overexert yourself.”
“I should like to sit up for a bit.” He pulled her down next to him on the sofa and put an arm around her, drawing her close. “I have missed you.”
Though she knew it was unwise, she relaxed into him, grateful for his strength and protectiveness. “Do you remember being with me?” she asked warily.
“I’m afraid not.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “But holdin
g you feels so right that I know I must have been missing you.”
Her deception was getting more dangerous by the second, yet she couldn’t bring herself to move away from him. She, too, felt right when they were close. “You’re feeling better, I gather.”
“My head still hurts and right now I’m too weak to swing a cat, but I feel much better than when I was hanging on to wreckage at sea.” His warm hand stroked down her arm. “Though it might be best not to talk about my past, what about your father? How did he come to win the estate from the unpleasant Mr. Burke?”
“He supported us by traveling from one house party to the next. He was a charming guest, a good sportsman, never a burden. His card playing was good enough to keep us comfortable,” she explained. “Mr. Burke is not a good card player.”
“Was your father from around here?” Adam halted. “Where am I, anyhow?”
“Cumberland. The extreme northwest of England, just south of Scotland. Does that make sense to you?”
He frowned and with his free index finger began to trace a shape on the fabric of his banyan where it lay across his knee. Mariah saw that it was the rough outline of Britain. “Cumberland is here, yes?” He touched a spot on the northwest coast.
“Exactly. So you remember Britain.” She glanced up at him. “Do you know if you’re British?”
He frowned again. “In my mind, I hear yes and no at the same time.”
“It’s such an interesting mixture of things that you know and you don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “Surely you will recall everything soon.”
And the sooner, the better. It struck her that with Burke leaving Hartley, she could now tell “Adam” the truth—that they were strangers, not spouses.
But she couldn’t do that to him. Not when he looked at her as if she was the center of his universe. She could not bear to tell him that he was alone, with no name or friends or family. His help had freed her from Burke. Now she must aid him while he was vulnerable.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said. “Where were you born? Where is your family from? Now that your father is gone, do you have relations nearby?”
She smiled ruefully. “I know little more about my family roots than you do. My father and I were close. I knew him better than anyone in my life. Yet he would never talk about his past. I don’t know where he was born, who his family was, how he and my mother met, or even how she died.”
“So you have had two men of mystery in your life.” Adam’s mouth quirked up. “Why wouldn’t your father talk about his past?”
“I think that he was born into a gentry family, and that he was cut off because of bad behavior,” she said candidly. “He was barely twenty when I was born, and he lost my mother when I was about two. I remember nothing about her. After that, I lived with my grandmother in Shropshire. My father would visit several times a year. We had the loveliest Christmas holidays. Then he’d go off and join some hunting party.” She sighed, remembering how hard it was to say good-bye whenever he left.
“His family was from Shropshire?”
“Though Granny Rose lived there, I never heard anything to suggest that we were related to anyone in the neighborhood.” She didn’t intend to say more about her grandmother but changed her mind. The fact that she had told Adam a big lie made it seem essential for her to be truthful in everything else. “Granny Rose was half gypsy. She was my great-grandmother, actually. The village midwife and healer.”
Mariah watched to see if Adam was shocked to hear that she had gypsy blood, but he seemed only interested. “I can hear in your voice how special she was to you. Did you get your brown eyes from her?”
Mariah nodded. “She said the gypsy blood made the women in our family irresistible. I think the blood has thinned in me, but Granny Rose was beautiful till the day she died, and her daughter was lovely enough to win the heart of a gentleman.”
“The blood has not thinned in you,” Adam said firmly.
His gaze was so warm that Mariah blushed and looked away. “I was eighteen when Granny Rose died, and after that I traveled with my father.” Her lips thinned. “Burke accused him of cheating to win Hartley, but that’s a lie. Papa never cheated. He didn’t need to. Burke threatened to sue me to regain the property, using cheating as his grounds. If I’d have him for a husband, no lawsuit.”
“Outrageous that he talked so to a married woman! I should have thrown him into another wall before he left.”
“You weren’t here and I didn’t really discuss my situation with anyone.” She laughed a little. “Not talking about the past seems to run in my family, so I can understand why he didn’t believe me. But it was maddening that he thought I needed a man to take charge of Hartley Manor. Though I don’t know much about agriculture, I can learn, and I’m far better with the account books than George Burke ever was.”
“When I’m a little stronger, I can take over managing the farm,” Adam said.
She stared at him, startled by his calm presumption that he would take over management of her estate. But he thought he was her husband, and in English law, a wife’s property belonged to her husband. Still another drawback to having him think they were married.
Misunderstanding her expression, Adam said, “I believe that I actually do have farming experience, though I can remember no particulars.” He frowned. “It just feels like something I understand.”
“More mysteries.” She pulled herself together. “I expect you to remember everything soon, but if not, when you’re better I’ll show you around Hartley Manor and we can test your understanding.”
He stood, swaying with the effort. “I think I can make it back to the bedroom with your help. I promise to revive if you need any other unruly chaps tossed.”
She laughed and slid a supportive arm around his waist. She liked touching him, liked the way his arm came easily around her shoulders. They returned to his room and she helped him out of the banyan and into the bed. As she pulled the covers over him, he murmured, “Could I persuade you to lie down with me? Just till I fall asleep.”
His suggestion was equally shocking and appealing—and wouldn’t have been shocking if they truly were wed. The deciding factor was her fatigue. “That sounds like a lovely idea.” Carefully she stretched out on top of the covers on his right side so he wouldn’t injure his head if he rolled toward her. She made a mental note to check if the bandage needed changing later.
For now, she rested. Though she was on the outside of the blankets and he was underneath, it still felt deliciously wicked to cuddle full length against him. She could get fond of this….
Despite his fatigue, Adam was wakeful. He’d had enough sleep, and he would much rather savor the feel of his wife in his arms. She had fallen asleep immediately with her head on his shoulder, tired by her long night and difficult interview with that dolt Burke. Thank God Adam had been able to summon enough energy to protect her.
Most of her luminous blond hair was pinned back demurely, but the strands that had escaped were silky to his touch. The memory of her glowing in the lamplight when he woke the night before was enough to make him wish he was strong enough to be a proper husband.
It would be a great waste if his memory didn’t return. He wanted to recall every detail of how they met. Their first kiss. Their wedding night.
He even wanted to remember the pain of having to leave her. For that matter, where had he been and why had he left?
He released his breath in a sigh. All in good time. He bent and kissed the top of her head. If his memory never returned, they would just have to make new memories.
Chapter Six
Glasgow
Randall gazed out the post chaise window as they rattled through the dense and teeming city. “I didn’t know Glasgow was so large.”
“It’s not so big as London, but the city is home to some of the greatest merchants and manufacturers in Britain,” Kirkland said. “And busier than a hive of hungry bees.”
“Your accent is sliding toward Sco
ttishness,” Masterson said with interest.
“’Tis only natural,” Kirkland said with deliberate broadness. “But if you think I sound Scottish, wait till you hear the average Glaswegian. You won’t even know they’re speaking English.”
Randall smiled a little at the byplay between his friends. On the whole, it had been a silent trip up from London. They’d hired the post chaise and set off to Scotland at the fastest speed possible. Though being cooped up in the carriage with minimal halts had been hell on his wounded leg, they’d made good time. But if it hadn’t been for the wound, he would be back on the Peninsula now and he would have learned of Ashton’s death weeks after the fact.
He had lost friends on campaign, both in battle and to vicious fevers like the one that had brought Will Masterson home to recover. But friends who were back in England were supposed to be safe. They weren’t supposed to be getting themselves blown up in bloody bedamned steam-powered ships.
As they rumbled over the Clyde River on a vast, crowded bridge, he thought what a relief it was to finally be here so they could do something. “Do we know where Ashton’s shipyard is?”
“Somewhere in Port Glasgow, west of the city proper,” Kirkland replied. “It won’t be hard to find the right yard. Glasgow has more than its share of engineers, and projects like Ashton’s would be discussed at every tavern and coffee-house in the city.”
Masterson remarked, “You seem to know Glasgow well.”
Kirkland shrugged. “I spent a fair amount of time here as a boy. My unfortunate fondness for my mercantile relations helped get me sentenced to the Westerfield Academy. For which I am eternally grateful.”
Masterson chuckled. “I should love to know all the reasons that students ended up in Lady Agnes’s hands.”
“The ways a boy can deviate from civilized standards are legion,” Randall said dryly. “And we discovered most of them. How long until we get to Port Glasgow?”
“At least an hour.” Kirkland studied Randall narrowly. “It will be near dinnertime by then. I suggest we book rooms at an inn and get a good night’s rest before we start searching for information about Ashton and the Enterprise.”
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