Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1)

by Rebecca J. Greenwood

He stood. She finally pulled her gaze away forcefully and buried her head into a pillow. She tried to block out all noises of movement.

  A scraping near her had her lifting her head.

  “Here it is.”

  He was wearing a long nightshirt and crouched at the side of the bed.

  Curiosity got the better of her, and she looked over the side.

  It was a trundle, indeed. A box with bedding, shorter than the bed.

  She let out a gasp. “It’s too small! You will be uncomfortable.”

  He glanced up at her with his beautiful half-smile. “I’ll curl up.”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  He climbed into the low box and settled himself. “You ready to sleep, Eliza?”

  She nodded.

  He sat up. “May I have your hand, Mrs. Ashton?”

  She slowly extended her bare hand. He took it. The rush of warmth in her body at the touch of his bare skin on hers sent a shock through her.

  He rubbed his palm over her hand, and kissed each finger, each knuckle, and then her palm. She sucked in a breath. His lips warmed her chill fingers.

  He reached out and rested his palm on her cheek. “Goodnight, my wife.” He released her and settled back into the trundle’s mattress.

  She stared, but he closed his eyes and didn’t move more.

  Eventually, she snuffed the candles, and lay back, her heart still beating too fast.

  He shifted. Then shifted again. He couldn’t be comfortable.

  “Daniel,” she said into the dark.

  “Yes?”

  “I only need one pillow. Here. Maybe it will help?” She held the extra pillow over the edge of the bed.

  His soft laughter came through the dark. It was tugged out of her fingers. She tucked her now free hand under her chin.

  “Thank’ee kindly, ma’am. I may use it under my legs to protect them from the sides of this infernal wooden box.”

  She laid awake too long. Exhaustion numbed her mind, but her body was far too aware of his long, masculine body so near. Each movement and adjustment he made in the uncomfortable bed re-alerted her, staving off sleep.

  But sleep did come.

  Chapter 25

  His body aching from a wretched night’s sleep, he dressed without waking Eliza in the low, early morning light.

  He paused before donning his boots and indulged himself in several minutes of just watching her: the slow in and out of her breaths, the way she curled on her side like a child with her hand under her chin, the blankets wrapped tightly around her. She was so beautiful.

  Her cap was askew, her dusky braid coming loose. He had never seen her so disheveled before. So soft and vulnerable.

  How he loved this woman.

  He fought off the compulsion to crawl, like a beggar on his knees, onto the bed, bury his face in her neck, and sleep for several more hours with his arms around her.

  Too soon. Not yet.

  * * *

  The door clicking open woke her. She blinked in the morning light, momentarily disoriented in an unfamiliar space.

  Betsey bustled in and began pulling items out of Eliza’s trunk.

  Daniel wasn’t in the room. The trundle was back under the bed.

  She rolled onto her back and blinked up at the canopy. She was a married woman. Should she feel different?

  But she hadn’t a customary wedding night, so perhaps not?

  Not yet.

  A weird nervous thrill went through her. An emotion she did not know how to handle or what to do with. She ruthlessly shoved it down into herself and left the bed to ready for another day of travel.

  They set out, the new horses fresh and eager.

  “Could we continue our bargain of yesterday?” Daniel asked. “May I hold your hands again today, Eliza?

  “Merely one hand.”

  He took it, toyed with her gloved hand in his ungloved one. He peeked up at her. “Could I remove the glove?”

  Her heart gave a jump. She looked away, took a breath. “I suppose.”

  He pulled off her glove finger by finger, till her hand was exposed. He wrapped his long hand around hers, bare skin on bare skin. The roughness on her hands from the work at the Magdalen House was still healing. Hand salves had hurried the process, but they were not yet the hands of a lady once again.

  She refused to feel shame at it.

  His hands were masculine, long and strong. Feeling bold, she caught up his left with her right and drew his hand under her gaze. She examined it. His injuries from last week’s altercation with those horrid men were still healing, the bruises yellowed, the cracked knuckles covered with scabs. He had the calluses of a hard rider, a few scars from gunpowder burns and battle.

  She compared the length of his fingers to hers.

  “Do you play pianoforte at all?”

  “No. A few youthful attempts were made to teach me, but my talent and interest did not lie in that direction.”

  “A pity. Your reach would be remarkable. There are several pieces I cannot play adequately because my hands are not quite large enough.” She traced each of his fingers with her own.

  He leaned close as if he might kiss her. She drew back, gave him a sharp, scolding look. He opened his mouth, leaned back, and looked sheepish. Color rose in his sun-tanned cheeks.

  She pressed her lips together in amusement. Good, he could take direction. He was such a boy. So little in control of his impulses.

  She interlaced her fingers with his, and sat back, contentment unexpectedly settling over her. A smile rose and lingered on Daniel’s lips. A light entered his eyes, revealing a buoyancy of spirit that she could discern, as if all was made right in his world by the mere action of her holding his hand. They traveled on in peaceful silence.

  Gently he asked a question, and conversation flowed between them. Daniel described the hunting box they were going to, Bredon Wold. He had been there once or twice in a hunting party with his friend, Major Yarrow.

  He told her of boyhood antics, the scrapes he and the major had got into until she could not help but laugh.

  He asked of her childhood, and she shared some good memories of when her parents were still alive, when her life had had a solid foundation and her future had been dependable.

  With Daniel as her husband, would she have that blessed security she longed for once again?

  Rain started in the afternoon.

  “Betsey, do come down out of the weather, and sit in the carriage,” Eliza called to her maid at the next stop. “You don’t mind, Daniel?”

  He frowned, looked outside at the downpour, and said, “You’re right, of course.” He called out, “Betsey, I will assist you.” He exited the carriage.

  He returned, helping the young maid into the rear-facing seat, and retook his seat next to Eliza, his clothes damp with rain.

  With the maid in the carriage, Eliza moved over, wanting to not have her body pressed so closely to Daniel’s. She clasped her hands in her lap, and studiously focused out the window.

  “Ga’lawdy, it is good to be out of the rain. Thank’ee, m’lord, m’lady.”

  “You are welcome.” Daniel’s hand came down gently, large, solid, and insistent, to rest on Eliza’s clasped hands.

  She turned to him with a frown.

  His soft eyes and his amused half-smile gave her silent entreaty. Her heart gave a thump.

  Though not sure why she did it, her fingers unclasped, and her hand allowed him to take it into his. Heat flushed her face, and she gave a sideways look at Betsey across from them. The maid wasn’t looking at them, but her cheeks were suspiciously lifted in a smile as she watched the rain out the window.

  Eliza sighed internally. Holding hands wasn’t too distasteful, even though they were no longer alone.

  The rain continued, making the roads run with mud and their progress slower. The afternoon lengthened past when Daniel had said they should arrive, their team struggling on the muddy roads.

  The gr
adual darkening of the sky was almost unnoticeable until rose hues overtook the gray, and some of the lowering sun peeked through the heavy clouds overhead.

  They finally turned off the main road to head to the isolated hunting box. These roads were narrower and less well-maintained. Their progress slowed even further.

  Daniel looked at the sky with a furrowed brow. “I had hoped and planned that we’d reach Bredon Wold well before sunset. This doesn’t look promising.”

  They wove around the Cotswolds hills as the sky darkened.

  “Look, there it is! We’re almost there.”

  The yellow stone building peeked from between hills and was soon out of sight again in the overtaking twilight.

  They began the climb up the hillside on a rutted road up to the house.

  They finally reached the locked gates of Bredon Wold, the ancestral hunting box of the Earls of Gordale.

  Daniel gave his footman the key to the padlock, and it swung open with a rusting screech. Past the chipped paint and rusting gate, they pushed through the dimness of a track lined with overgrown oaks and encroaching underbrush.

  Daniel eyed the wildness of the drive. “I’m afraid this will not be the most inviting honeymoon spot, my love. Thomas feared it has gone into some sort of disrepair since his uncle died. He hasn’t visited it in years. But he did say there was a caretaker.”

  As the oak-lined track gave way to open, weedy lawn, flanking groves of apple trees in flower swept up both hillsides.

  The setting sun broke through the heavy cloud cover enough to shine ruddy light on the golden limestone walls of the house, an ancient Tudor edifice that had been in Thomas’s family for generations.

  Daniel left Eliza in the carriage and went up the front steps to bang on the front door. He waited, and banged some more.

  After judging the time to be long enough, Daniel used the last of the light left to unlock the door with the heavy key Thomas had given him.

  Inside, the house was draped in holland covers and dust. Musty dampness thickened the air. It felt abandoned.

  “Is there no one to meet us?” Betsey asked when she entered behind her mistress.

  “It appears not.” Daniel puffed out a breath. Thomas’ letter of introduction and instruction for the staff stayed in Daniel’s pocket. He wouldn’t need it.

  He turned to Eliza, gave her an apologetic smile, and took her gloved hand. “Welcome to our honeymoon suite, Eliza. I apologize for the less than ideal state of . . .” He waved a hand around. “Everything.”

  Chapter 26

  Eliza held a candle up as she walked through the rooms, the holland covers giving a ghostly aspect to all the furniture.

  On the walls hung masculine themes of hunting: ancient guns, carved wood paneling, and gory paintings. In the artwork, dogs were endlessly chasing hapless deer, and boar were forever turning and rending. She shivered. She felt too much like the deer and not enough like the boar. A boar might take a few men down with them.

  But eventually even wild boar were overcome by exhaustion, injury, and man’s relentlessness.

  The animals were hunted. Desired. Desired to be owned, used, controlled, and consumed.

  To be desired was to be hunted.

  She shuddered. A most romantic place for a honeymoon.

  Was Daniel like that? Like other men? Did he want . . .

  He often looked at her with desire. She’d catch it in his eyes. But then he would hood his expression, look down and away. He’d bank the fires.

  A noise came from behind her. She turned too fast. Her candle danced, threatening to go out.

  Daniel stood behind her, water droplets glistening on the shoulders of his coat from being outside. Her candle sputtered and died. She let out a noise of dismay. She was blind in the darkness.

  “Careful, my love.”

  She heard him moving, and his wet hand rested on hers, cold against her bare skin.

  “There you are. I’m afraid I’m too wet to be able to light it again.”

  “Daniel.” Her voice was tense with alarm.

  “Shhh, let your eyes adjust.”

  “Is there any light to adjust to?”

  “Perhaps.” There was amusement in his voice.

  The cold of the chill water clinging to him pulled at her body heat, drawing it away from her, sending a shiver down her back. Gooseflesh rose on her arms.

  “Come with me. My eyes are adjusted.”

  His chill hand drew her forward. She clasped his damp fingers tightly and tried not to stumble in the gloom.

  She groped along beside him, her breath too loud.

  “It’s been a long day. And there isn’t much in the way of food here. We’ll eat what is left of our traveling provisions and seek more tomorrow. Betsey is setting up a cold supper for us in the kitchen. ”

  His prosaic conversation as the darkness pressed in on her should be an amusing contrast, but it was too dark. She clutched the cooling candle to her chest and tried to keep her breathing even. She wasn’t succeeding.

  “Oh, my love.” There was tender concern in his voice. He drew her to the left and let go of her hand. She bit back panic. His cool body pressed against her, and his arm went around her waist, pulling her into him. His mouth came to her ear.

  “I’m here and I’ll guide you. Just move with me. The kitchen has fire and light.”

  He took a step forward and she went with him. How could he see in this pitch blackness?

  “I think it a fine idea to eat in the kitchen with Betsey and the men. Then we only need heat a few rooms. Though it’s not so cold, really, except for the dampness.“

  “Which rooms are we heating?” She forced her lips to ask.

  “Betsey’s room, a bunk for the postboys and Bill, our room.”

  “Our?”

  “Yes, love. Our room.”

  “But—”

  “I have a solution for you, if you are willing?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Separate blankets. The bed is a good size. Plenty of room for my side and your side. With a different set of blankets, you can wrap yourself tightly and securely. I’ve seen how you like to bundle yourself, Eliza, and this is as much a self-preservation for me, as for you, to use a separate set of blankets.” He chuckled.

  She let out an offended noise. Her fright had eased. She could see more outlines, and make out the white shapes of the covered furniture.

  “There’s the light from the kitchen,” Daniel said.

  Warm light spilled out into the hall before them, helping her regain her orientation in space.

  Wetness soaked into her dress from his clothes and left chilling cold where air hit the spots. A shiver took up in her spine and a trembling in her stomach.

  He moved before her, his bare head outlined from the light behind, the dark blond strands lit to glowing, his face left in darkness.

  “Eliza?”

  “Yes?”

  His hands, warmer now, ran up her arms, skimmed her shoulders, and then were at her neck, his touch light and thrilling. She caught her breath, and her stomach clenched.

  His face lowered, blocking out all light. Her eyes closed, her breath became shallow.

  She felt his mouth on her forehead, his breath warm. He left a kiss there. Light hit her eyelids as he pressed his cheek against hers and turned his nose into her neck. Air moved over her skin as he inhaled.

  Her breathing became ragged. Wet droplets that clung to his hair transferred to her, but the blood rushing to her face heated them.

  “Thank you.” He spoke low in her ear. “Forgive me. I’ll stop.”

  He backed away, but his hands skimmed down her arms once more, sending chills through her again. He clasped her cold fingers and drew her forward into the light and warmth of the kitchen.

  On Eliza’s second night as Lady Daniel, she found herself eating companionably with her maid, the footman, and two postillions. Daniel was open and friendly, a perfect gentleman to the servants.

  But he kept pushing h
er boundaries. His solution to their sleeping arrangements set her on edge the entire meal.

  She wasn’t ready—didn’t know how she could ever be ready—to share his bed.

  Someday. Maybe. Later. She swallowed down her nervousness. But not yet.

  * * *

  “Our door. I wanted to do this earlier, but circumstances intervened.” He smiled and then moved too swiftly for her to comprehend. She let out a small scream as he swept her up into his arms.

  Like a bride.

  She stared at his broad smile, her heart leaping in her chest. “I did not appreciate that, sir.”

  “Oh.” His face fell. “Would you like me to put you down?”

  Guilt tugged at her. “Just . . . go ahead.”

  “Thank you. I apologize for startling you.”

  She swallowed and nodded. He walked over the threshold of their room.

  Their room.

  She was not at ease with that, not at all.

  The bed was large. He headed to it.

  She let go of his neck and squirmed. “Please set me down.”

  He stopped. She wouldn’t look at his face, not wanting to see disappointment there.

  “Of course, my lady.”

  He set her down gently.

  She moved away from him as soon as her feet were on the ground. She kept her back to him, and walked unsteadily over to the fire and stood before it.

  “Eliza?”

  “Yes?”

  “You are not comfortable sharing the room tonight, are you? Even with my blanket idea?”

  Her stomach clenched. “I . . . no, I’m not, Daniel.” She wouldn’t apologize. “I can start a fire in the next room. I can do that for myself.”

  “No, no, no need. I’ve already stripped the bed of the blankets in the next room. I’ll just take them back. And I’ll fetch Betsey. She can ready you for bed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been overstepping, Eliza. Forgive me.”

  “It’s . . . It’s forgotten.”

  He escorted her next door. And when another fire was lit and Betsey was there to wait on her, he said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded and did not watch him leave the room.