No Other Love

by Isabel Morin

  Taking off his coat, he slid it over her shoulders and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Gradually her trembling eased, and still he held her.

  They were less than a mile from town. Trees interspersed with fields stretched away on both sides of the narrow road. His horse grazed among the short roadside grass looking for tender blades, a darker shape in the night. An owl hooted nearby and then flew over them on silent wings.

  Luke looked down at the woman in his arms and knew he couldn’t lose her again. His hands came up to cup her face.

  “Marry me, Rose.”

  The words came of their own volition, but as soon as he said them he knew he didn’t want to take them back. Rose's mouth fell open in shock.

  “You can’t mean that. You don’t want to marry me.”

  “I can’t lose you again. Be my wife and let me take care of you.”

  “But you said….”

  “Never mind what I said. I know how I feel about you, how I’ve felt these last weeks without you.”

  She only shook her head in bewilderment.

  He had no other words to express what she meant to him, the terror he felt at the thought of losing her. Instead he kissed her, pouring everything he felt into it, his lips demanding but patient, hungry but unhurried.

  She opened to him, her sweet mouth like honey, her lush breasts pressed to his chest in innocent abandon. He kissed her eyes, the sweet curve of her cheek and the hollow beneath. He wanted all of her, without limit. Sweet little moans sounded in her throat and her hands roamed over his shoulders, scorching him though the cloth, her movements restless and demanding. Breaking the kiss, her lips skimmed over his jaw before moving to his neck, nearly bringing him to his knees.

  At last they stopped and looked at each other in wonder and fear, the power of their mutual need overwhelming them, as new to Luke in all his experience as it was to Rose in all her innocence.

  Luke pulled her to his chest in a fierce embrace, one hand buried in the raw silk of her hair, his forehead resting against the top of her head in surrender.

  “God in heaven, Rose, say you'll marry me.”

  For a moment, there was no sound but the beating of his heart. Then she spoke.

  “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you.”

  He slipped his hands around her tiny waist and picked her up, swinging her around in a celebratory whirl before crushing his mouth to hers once more. They were both breathless by the time he put her down.

  “Does this mean you won’t want to move away again?” she asked.

  “Wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be,” he said, smiling down at her. “Right now I think we need to be inside. We can’t stand on the side of the road all night.”

  “Yes, I ought to go to Vivian’s house. I can stay there until…” She stopped and looked up at him uncertainly.

  “Until we’re married,” he finished for her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whom should I ask for your hand?”

  “You may ask Vivian’s father, Edward March. Though I hardly know what he’ll think,” she said doubtfully. “I’ve scarcely said two words about you.”

  Luke laughed ruefully. “It has been a most unusual courtship. But I can be very persuasive when I want to be,” he whispered, covering her mouth with a kiss.

  They stood together catching their breath, and though it was time to be going, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. Even knowing he would have her forever didn’t diminish his need.

  Just then she started in his arms.

  “Luke, what will you tell your family? They’ll be totally against this. Good lord, I was turned out by your stepmother just hours ago, not to mention accosted by her son. It’s too much.”

  “I don’t live my life worrying about my family’s approval, or anyone else’s for that matter.”

  “Very well, but I’ll be sorry if this makes things difficult for you,” Rose replied, sounding doubtful.

  “The only thing I can’t handle is living without you,” he said, pressing a reassuring kiss to her forehead.

  Pulling his reluctant horse away from the grass, Luke led him over to Rose and then helped her mount. Her skirts rose above her ankles just as they had the last time she’d ridden astride, though she tried mightily to cover them.

  Good God. The woman wasn’t wearing stockings.

  He stared at those few inches of smooth skin, unable to move or breathe. As if of its own volition, his hand slid under the hem of her dress and petticoats. He heard her gasp at the same moment his blood began to pound in his ears.

  She was soft and silken, warm to the touch. For a few beats of his pulse he simply let the curve of her calf rest in the palm of his hand. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Her skirts rustled as he pushed them up, revealing her inch by inch, her skin as luminous as pearls in the moonlight.

  Her knee was bared, then her thigh. She didn’t stop him. Her hand was on his shoulder, fisted in the fabric, her breath ragged.

  The horse snorted and stomped his foot, startling Luke out of his lust-induced trance. With trembling hands he pulled her skirts back down and silently led the horse forward.

  “Is something wrong?” Rose asked, and he could hear the nerves and confusion in her voice. Still in an agony of desire, he nevertheless managed to smile wryly up at her.

  “Yes, but it’s my own fault. I can’t touch you without driving myself mad, but I’ll be just fine in a few minutes.”

  The tension in her eased and her lush mouth curved in a private smile of pleasure.

  “I don’t mind if you ride with me, now that we’re to be married,” she said after several moments of silence.

  “That’s a very fine offer, my sweet Rose, and one I’ll take you up on as soon as I trust myself. In the meantime why don’t you tell me what happened tonight. Why did Charlotte turn you out?”

  With stops and starts Rose recounted how Nathan had accosted her while Luke was away, and how Charlotte had come upon them and subsequently threatened Rose with dismissal. Rage surged in him again and his hands clenched into fists at the thought of what she’d endured. If only he could strangle Nathan all over again.

  But he was angry at himself as well, for it was clear that his own reaction at the dinner party had sealed Rose’s fate. He’d utterly failed in protecting her. But Rose was smiling now as she told of her last words with Charlotte.

  “I could not believe the things I said. Mrs. Fletcher looked ready to strike me when I spoke to her in Latin. It was quite thrilling,” she said, sounding surprised and pleased with herself.

  “I imagine it was, after everything you had to swallow working there,” Luke said, smiling at the thought of Rose finally standing up to Charlotte.

  “Of course, it’s slightly less thrilling now that she’ll be my mother-in-law. I can’t quite wrap my mind around that. But things have turned out much better tonight than I thought they would. I must have lost my head to get in a carriage with Mr. Byrne. If it weren’t for you…”

  Luke stopped the horse and looked up at Rose, his stomach clenching at all the time he’d wasted, how close he’d come to losing her. To hell with his arousal, he needed to put his arms around her. Swinging up on the horse he settled behind her, her sweet bottom nestled close enough that he was immediately hard again. It was an agony he was happy to endure. Wrapping one arm around her, he held the reins in his other hand and they moved as one toward their future.

  Chapter Nine

  Rose knocked on the door at 35 West Street, rehearsing what she would say and hoping she could explain things so they wouldn’t sound shocking. Then the door was opened and Sally was looking out at her with surprise. Hastily she stepped back and beckoned Rose to enter.

  “Who is it Sally?” Edward called, emerging from the parlor.

  “It’s Rose, Mr. March.”

  Instantly Edward was beside her.

  “Rose, whatever is the matter?” he asked, looking her over as if to assess any damage. “Do come in an
d have a seat. You look exhausted.”

  Rose smiled wearily at him, relieved to finally be somewhere both restful and predictable.

  “I’m well enough, Edward, though it’s been a strange sort of night.”

  Rose and Edward sat down in the parlor and Edward leaned forward in his seat, clearly anxious to hear what had brought her there at such an hour.

  Looking at his kind face, Rose was suddenly nervous. She needed him to accept something that was still new and shocking even to her. She didn’t know how or where to begin, so she started with the end of the story.

  “Luke Fletcher intends to ask you for my hand tomorrow afternoon.”

  Edward stared at her in surprise. Finally he found his voice.

  “I’m not sure what to say. Perhaps you could explain how such a thing came to be.”

  Perched on the edge of her chair, Rose told him about Luke in as much detail as she could. Which was very little, considering their forbidden kisses and the secret she carried. Instead, somewhat guiltily, she painted a picture of innocent courtship, emphasizing the kindness Luke had shown her.

  “Tell me, child, do you love him? And does he love you?”

  Rose bowed her head and looked at her clasped hands. With this question Edward hit on the aspect of her engagement to Luke that caused her real pain. For of course he had said nothing of love. But she loved him, enough to leave behind everything she knew, brave his family, and keep a secret that could someday tear them apart.

  “He cares for me,” she began, trying to put her feelings into words, explaining them to Edward even as she acknowledged them to herself. “He promises to make me happy. Perhaps that’s love, perhaps his love will grow over time. But I love him, more than I thought possible. He’s a good man, Edward.”

  She could see how the responsibility of looking out for her weighed upon him, and knew also that he would be glad to see her taken care of, if only he could be sure Luke would do so.

  “You know I care nothing for class distinctions, but there is no changing the fact that you were a servant in his father’s house. People will make things difficult for you.”

  This she couldn’t argue, as she had the very same worry. Moreover, she couldn’t even allow Luke to meet her aunt before she told him the truth. When that would be, she had no idea.

  “No doubt you’re right, but we’re prepared to deal with the consequences.”

  “I don’t envy the struggle ahead of you, Rose, but I’ll speak to your Mr. Fletcher tomorrow. As stand-in for your father, I must see for myself what he’s about. If he’s all you say he is, I’ll gladly give my blessing.”

  Rose squeezed Edward’s hand, relieved he would hear Luke out but still anxious about the day to come.

  The two of them stood and Rose kissed his grizzled cheek before dashing up the stairs to tell her oldest friend the news.

  Vivian met Rose at the doorway to her bedchamber. She wore only her nightgown and her hair was in a braid down her back, ready for sleep.

  “What’s happened, Rose? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, better than I’ve been in a long while. Come, let’s get into your bed and I’ll tell you all about it. I feel dead on my feet, and yet I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again.”

  Once in bed beside Vivian, the covers drawn up to her chin, she told her friend of the day’s events. Vivian was appalled at the accusations against Rose, and terribly impressed with her showdown with Mrs. Fletcher. But when Rose described her ordeal in Mr. Byrne’s carriage, Vivian was beside herself. By the time Rose had finished her tale, complete with swooning kisses, marriage proposal, and the ride into town sitting astride a horse with Luke behind her, Vivian was dumbfounded.

  “But when will you tell him who you are?”

  “Every moment I’m with him, I want to tell him everything. But I can’t bring myself to do it yet. It’s a terrible mess. But I love him, Vivian. Maybe if I give it some time, whatever we have will be strong enough to withstand the truth.”

  “I’m very happy for you, Rose. But I do worry. Everything seems so tenuous, as if it could all go terribly wrong.”

  Rose was surprised to hear such a dire assessment from her normally optimistic and supportive friend, and yet she couldn’t deny the truth of it.

  “It’s possible that things might go very badly, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “But that’s just it. Though it’s you I care for most of all, you’re not the only one who stands to get hurt. Mr. Fletcher is the one who will one day find himself wed to a wife who lied to him.”

  For a moment Rose couldn’t speak. All this time she’d been thinking only of the risk to herself or her family, but she wasn’t the only one with something at stake. Did she have the right to risk Luke’s happiness too?

  “I know I should tell him, but I can’t risk losing him,” she said, full of both anguish and resolve. “I have to believe we can all live with the consequences, whatever they are.”

  “And I will be there for you, whatever they are.” Vivian whispered.

  Long after Vivian fell asleep, Rose lay awake. She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open, and yet there was too much to think about, too much to feel.

  She had always hoped to find the kind of love her parents shared, but until she met Luke she hadn’t realized how powerful pure attraction could be. It burned through her childish views of love and devotion, a force all its own. Luke’s desire for her was strong enough for him to go against all that he’d planned, all that made sense in his world. Could such feeling turn to love one day? And if it didn’t, how long before it burned itself out?

  Among all her doubts, one thing was certain. She must prove that Byrne killed her father as soon as possible. There was no future beyond that.

  Rose sat at Vivian’s desk the next morning, a blank piece of paper in front of her as she wondered how to tell Aunt Olivia the news. She had said next to nothing about Luke in her letters, and she was now faced with having to explain her reasons for marrying into the family of her father’s murderer.

  It would have been so much easier if she could see Olivia in person, but what if Luke offered to go with her, or visit while she was there? Given the problems with the line in the Berkshires, it was possible he would be out there again soon, and she would be forced into more lies.

  Bending her head to the task, she began to relate how unfailingly kind and protective Luke had been. Pouring out her heart, she confessed how she felt about him, so much more than she had ever felt for Will. She would want for nothing. Most importantly, she trusted him with her life.

  There was no way to know if she could convince her aunt she was making the right decision. Most likely Aunt Olivia would still be worried sick. But Rose couldn’t help that. She could only hope that one day soon her aunt would understand. Hopefully by that time so would Luke.

  Later that afternoon Rose nervously paced the upstairs hall as she strained to hear the sound of Luke’s approach. Suppose he didn’t come? Suppose he’d changed his mind?

  “He’ll be here, Rose. It’s not yet three o’clock,” Vivian said calmly from where she sat embroidering in a chair.

  “He’s probably used to rich women in fine clothes and I still look like a servant. I must have worn this dress hundreds of times,” Rose said in dismay, looking down at her blue dress. The hem was fraying and the high waistline was several years out of fashion.

  “You’re as beautiful as ever. If I didn’t love you so much I’d be green with envy.”

  Rose smiled at her friend’s reassurances, though she wasn’t convinced. A moment later they both started at the clatter of approaching hoof beats. Grabbing Vivian’s hand, she listened anxiously as a knock sounded at the door. Sally answered and Luke’s deep voice floated up as he was let in and led into the parlor.

  “He came,” Rose said with relief.

  “Yes, dear, he did.”

  For the better part of the next hour, Rose waited anxiously upstairs, trying and failin
g to concentrate on the stockings she was darning. What if Edward didn’t see what she saw? What if he didn’t approve of the marriage after all?

  “I wonder what they can be talking about all this time.”

  Vivian looked up from her embroidery.

  “I’m sure Father is just getting to know him. I shouldn’t worry if I were you.”

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Sally came upstairs to tell Rose she was wanted in the parlor. Heart beating frantically, her stomach in knots, she headed down the stairs. At the door to the parlor she paused, gathering her courage, but Luke saw her immediately. Standing up, he looked at her with an intensity that shook her, his eyes never leaving hers as she entered the room.

  Edward came to her and took her hands in his, smiling warmly.

  “It looks as if Luke and I both want the same thing, your happiness. You have my blessing. I feel sure your father would have given it as well. However, I do have one stipulation that I have already discussed with Mr. Fletcher. Your relationship to date has been most unusual. Because of this, I must insist that you announce your engagement immediately, and set the date of the wedding for a month from now. That will give Mr. Fletcher time to court your properly. You deserve it, and it will benefit you both to spend time together before your marriage.”

  One month. Everything had happened so quickly, she had given no thought to when they would marry. Now she found herself relieved to have more time to get to know Luke before the wedding.

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed, trying to sound calm and sensible.

  Edward shook Luke’s hand, kissed Rose on the cheek and then left them alone together, letting the door close behind him. All at once Rose felt terribly shy. To think he would soon be her husband, and she now had permission to see him openly. It was such a turnaround from their surreptitious meetings. All those days wanting just to catch a glimpse of him, and here she was, promised to him forever.

  He moved to stand before her and cupped her face in his hands. “I can’t believe I get to have you,” he said quietly, a rough note in his voice. “I’ve spent so long trying to live without you, I hardly know what to do.”