Patricia Frances Rowell

by A Scandalous Situation

  He winked at her.

  A giggle almost escaped Iantha. She pressed her lips together and strove for appropriate decorum. Heavens, she was verging on strong hysterics, terrified one moment and giggling the next! Drawing in a long breath, she grasped at her control. In a moment her mind quieted enough to hear the vicar beginning the service.

  The clerk’s familiar deep voice boomed into the silence. “Who gives this woman in marriage?”

  Her father’s voice, also familiar, and very dear, replied, “I, her father, do.”

  And then he placed her hand in Rob’s.

  Iantha’s heart almost stopped, and she fought the impulse to pull away. After this she would be his. It would be her duty to… But the vicar was continuing. In a few moments she would be asked to make a vow she could not take back.

  How would she answer?

  And then Rob was speaking his vows, looking deeply and steadily into her eyes, and suddenly Iantha knew that she would rather die than disappoint him.

  When her turn came, her reply was firm and clear.

  “I do.”

  Inevitably, the wedding guests and Iantha’s family took their leave. Evening fell, and she found herself seated before a cheerful fire in her new sitting room. She found it very comfortable and attractive, a bit larger than the dowager’s, which she had been using. The furnishings that she had especially liked from the old one had been moved into it, and Iantha loved the view. Carved from the corner where the master’s and mistress’s bedchambers adjoined, the room had windows on two sides, revealing mountains as far as the eye could see. It had only one drawback.

  The door leading to his lordship’s bedchamber.

  Iantha tried to tell herself that she would feel safer knowing that Rob lay on the other side of that door, near at hand. But safe from what? Which danger was the greatest—those vague figures that possibly threatened her life, or the strong, muscular figure who slept next door and evoked such conflicting feelings in her?

  Tonight, her wedding night, Iantha had no doubt about that!

  Rob would make no demands on her. She knew that. But she felt guilty that this good, virile man could not come to his bride joyfully, as a bridegroom would naturally wish to do. She wanted to offer him what he had a right to expect.

  And she couldn’t do it.

  A tear leaked quietly onto her cheek. Iantha quickly dashed it away and groped for control. She could not let her feelings overcome her. Resolutely, she pushed them into the back of her mind.

  And, oh God, he walked through the door.

  Iantha smiled with what determination she could muster. “Good evening, my lord.” She resisted the urge to pull her white brocade robe closer together at the neck. It already buttoned to her chin. But it was a night robe. A garment for the bedchamber. For the marriage chamber. Dear heaven! She felt so vulnerable.

  His lordship returned her smile and went to stand with his back to the fire, his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown. “At least having you in this parlor, I can prevent your freezing to death.”

  She tried to laugh. The sound that emerged seemed strangled. Rob crossed to the sofa and stood beside her, gazing down into her face. “You look terrified.”

  “I…I’m sorry, my lord. I know you won’t…” Iantha flushed and looked at her hands.

  Rob went to the decanter and poured two glasses of brandy. Sitting beside her, he handed her one. “No. I won’t.” He leaned back and sipped his liquor. “So relax and have a little brandy.”

  “I have never drunk brandy before.” Iantha studied the dark liquid. “It is so strong, and I find I need to be careful even with wine….”

  “Why?” He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What happens when you drink wine?”

  “I…well, it is rather like what happened after the snowball fight.”

  “You want to weep?”

  “Yes. That, and I feel…other things….” She looked up from her glass at him. “I have thoughts that frighten me.”

  “Thoughts of harming yourself?” His brows drew together.

  She glanced down again, biting her lip. After several heartbeats she brought her gaze back to his. “No. Not myself.”

  “Ah!” His frown cleared. “Of hurting someone else then?”

  Iantha nodded. “But that is foolishness, of course. Those I wish to injure are not even known to me.”

  “Not by name.” He took a sip. “But known by their actions.”

  “Yes, of course. But then…” A wave of unnamed distress flowed through her, and she closed her eyes.

  Rob looked at her steadily. “Then what?”

  “I begin to think of other people—people I do know, and I have such thoughts….” She couldn’t go on. It was too horrible to think about, much less say. “I become a monster.”

  “No, Iantha, that is no monstrous inclination.” He set his glass on the table and took her hand. “Your anger, denied its logical prey, simply spreads to others. Listen to me, Iantha. When my family died, when I lost my beautiful, innocent little girl, I felt all the things you describe. At first I wept. When I could weep no more, I brooded. I drank myself into a stupor every night so as not to feel the pain. When I realized that I could no longer allow myself that luxury, at last I began to rage.”

  He leaned away from her then, against the arm of the sofa, his eyes focused on something far away. “But at whom could I rage? Against the fever? God? What good would that do? So instead I instigated quarrels so that I might shout at someone. I went to the docks and into low places and started fights so that I might hurt someone. I rode through the jungle and killed every animal that crossed my path.”

  Iantha shook her head in wonder. “I cannot imagine you thus.”

  He turned his gaze back to her. “I know. It is hard for me to recognize myself in that time. Yet thus I was. And eventually I returned to myself. There is a natural rhythm to grief, Iantha, one that you have given yourself no opportunity to pursue.” He indicated the glass in her hand. “So enjoy your brandy, and we will weather together whatever happens next.”

  Iantha, watching him over the rim of the glass, sipped the liquor cautiously, choking a little at the fire in her throat. Rob turned to stare into the flames, taking a swallow of his own drink from time to time. She relaxed against the back of the seat and tried another taste. This time it went down more easily.

  When Rob had finished his glassful, he brought the decanter and refilled not only his own, but Iantha’s portion. Now as he sat, he turned so that he could watch her. Slowly the level of liquid in her glass dropped to the bottom. At some point, which Iantha never quite remembered, the tears she had so ruthlessly subdued earlier bubbled to the surface and trailed down her cheeks. She tried in vain to again cap them off, but they would not stop, and she felt too weak too struggle.

  Rob set his glass aside. “Why are you crying?”

  “I am not crying.” Iantha sniffed and searched for her handkerchief.

  He smiled at this gross departure from the truth. “Of course not. What are you thinking then?”

  “That…that…” Another loud sniff. “I just wish that I could do what we should be doing right now. That you could do what bridegrooms do on their wedding night. You said it is life’s greatest adventure, and I will never be able to…” The rest trailed off into a wail.

  Her bridegroom gathered her into his arms and pulled her across his lap, holding her against his chest. “Yes, we will, my beautiful bride. We will conquer that adventure in due time.”

  Sobs choked her now, but she managed to blurt out, “I’m so sorry.”

  He drew her closer and began to rock her gently. “I am sorry, too. Sorry that you must endure this pain. But it will pass if you let it, Iantha. I know that. Let it go, and one day we will explore heights you never imagined.”

  His words did not make much sense, but Iantha nodded anyway, clutching the collar of his dressing gown and muffling her sobs in the fabric. She thought they would never stop, bu
t of course, eventually they did. She lay exhausted against his chest, half sleeping, until at length the fire died.

  At last Rob lifted her in his arms and carried her into her own chamber and set her on the bed. “Can you get out of your wrapper by yourself?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I will say good night.” He kissed her on the forehead and went through the door that led directly to his own bedchamber.

  Iantha sat staring at the closed door until the chill began to make itself felt. Then she fumbled out of the robe and slipped under the covers, pulling them tightly under her chin. She lay there, feeling strangely separated from her body and thinking about the man she had just married.

  And she didn’t feel afraid.

  It was not exactly the experience he would have chosen for his wedding night, but nonetheless, Rob felt exhilarated. He had held her longer this time than ever before. And she had wept, really wept, possibly for the first time since she had been attacked. He viewed that as progress. Like the first crack in the ice after a storm, it was a small thing. But as the sun continued to shine, that crack would grow larger and larger until the whole frozen lump disintegrated and tumbled down the hill.

  His elation diminished a bit when Iantha appeared at the breakfast table, again withdrawn and with downcast eyes. Damn! He was still taking a step forward and a step back, like a dance. But sooner or later the steps of the dance must break out into a new, more energetic pattern.

  Rob rose and drew back a chair for her. She thanked him without looking at him. Hmm. Not a good sign. Well, he was not going to sidle around the problem this time. He filled a plate from the buffet and brought it to her, gazing directly at her. “What troubles you, Iantha?”

  She put her fingertips over her lips, shook her head and winced. “I—I have the headache.”

  “No wonder in that.” Rob suppressed a grin. “You drank more spirits than you have had before. It takes some getting accustomed to. The headache will pass after you eat.” She nodded, but kept her eyes downcast and pushed her eggs around with her fork. “But that isn’t the only thing troubling you, is it?”

  Iantha sighed. “No, my lord. It isn’t. I…I owe you an apology.”

  Rob raised his eyebrows. “Oh? For what?”

  “For the scene to which I subjected you. I completely lost control of my emotions. I will do better in the future.” She took a deep breath and lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth. “In the future I will watch what I drink more carefully.”

  He suppressed an oath. Had he made his confession for nothing? Well, perhaps the significance of it would come to her with time. In the meanwhile…

  He placed his hand on her chin and turned her face toward him until he had captured her gaze.

  “Iantha, why do you think I gave you the brandy?”

  The tang of fresh air and the broad expanse of the sky were wonderful after so many days mewed up in the castle. While Iantha was still trying to puzzle out the meaning of his lordship’s remark about the brandy, he had abruptly changed the subject by suggesting a ride.

  “I’m sure you need to get out as badly as I do. You cannot stand being inside all the time, and neither can I. I think it will be safe enough. We will not be trapped, blind and deaf, in a carriage, and there is little cover in this area for an ambush. And of course, Feller and I will carry arms. Perhaps Vijaya will also accompany us.”

  Iantha had much rather have gone alone. She missed her solitary rambles with no one but Toby for company, but while the little horse had mended from his injuries, her gig remained a wreck. She suspected it would stay that way for some time to come. And, of course, with a killer in evidence who might want her life, she could not justify going about with no protection.

  It took her but moments to dash upstairs and change to the midnight-blue velvet riding dress that had been a wedding present from Mama. At last Iantha had an opportunity to wear it. It would add a striking contrast to the dainty dapple-gray mare that had been her father’s gift.

  Just as she dismissed her new maid, Rob had appeared in their connecting doorway. He nodded approvingly. “That color is lovely with your hair.”

  He circled her, examining her from all angles. Then suddenly, before she had any idea what he was about, he clasped her waist with one arm and with his free hand pulled her skirts to her knees. “Ah!”

  The pistol strapped to the top of her boot shone dully.

  Iantha flushed.

  Rob laughed.

  “As I thought. My pistol-pointing lady still goes about armed.” Dropping the velvet fabric, he released her. “Don’t look so guilty. I am happy to know you are able to protect yourself, even though I see it as my responsibility. Would you like also to carry one of my pistols on your saddle, as I do? Horse pistols are heavy, but mine carry two shots.”

  Iantha had not even paused for consideration. “Thank you, my lord. I would like that very much.”

  So now here were the four of them—looking exceedingly warlike for a ride in the fells—trotting along a crest with air and sky all around them. She began to long for her paints. Everywhere she looked, snowmelt waterfalls raced down the hills into the shallow valley. She turned to Rob. “Do you think we might come out again tomorrow? I would love to paint the cataracts.”

  “I don’t see why not.” He turned to her, his smile revealing his strong white teeth. She had never before noticed at what a jaunty angle he wore his soft, wide-brimmed hat. It made his steady person look…well, dashing. But he was continuing. “You seem to like waterfalls.”

  “Oh yes, I do. They move me in some way that I cannot quite describe. I love to paint them.”

  “Ah, then you will have a treat when spring comes. There is a cascade behind the Eyrie that emanates from a cave. It is a hard climb down, and worse up, but I think a daring lady might accomplish it.” He gave her a roguish smile. “And there is a pool deep enough to swim.”

  “Swim?” Iantha frowned. “Oh, dear. I don’t know how, but the waterfall sounds beyond anything.”

  “It is quite breathtaking, but I will teach you to swim. Perhaps by then…” Casting a cautious glance at their companions, he let the sentence trail off.

  Iantha was about to ask him for the rest of it when she saw a mounted figure on the road at the bottom of the hill. She pointed with her riding crop. “Who is that?”

  Rob squinted. “Looks like Sebergham. Come, we will ride down and meet him.” As Iantha hesitated, he added, “Come now. I doubt he is bent on mischief, and in any event, the odds are four against one.”

  They let their horses pick their way down the muddy slope while Lord Sebergham drew rein at the bottom, waiting for them. He tipped his tall-crowned hat as Iantha rode up. “Good day, Lady Duncan.” He bowed toward Rob. “Servant, my lord.”

  Rob reached out for a handshake. “Sebergham. What brings you out today?”

  “The need for a little air. Snowy weather becomes very confining after a while.” His cold blue gaze rested on each of them for a moment, without conferring any friendliness at all. Sebergham continued, “I hope you have had no more alarming occurrences?”

  “I am happy to say we have not.” Rob shifted in his saddle to glance at Iantha. “And your own life has been uneventful?”

  Sebergham’s mouth quirked up at the corners, but still conveyed no warmth. “Quite tediously so, but thus it is in the country. I find boredom quite difficult to tolerate. Perhaps I will call on you in the near future, if that is agreeable to you?”

  “Of course, we should be happy to see you.” It seemed to Iantha that Rob’s voice did not sound exactly happy at the prospect.

  Lord Sebergham tipped his hat again. “Well, I’ll be on my way. Your servant, my lady. Duncan.”

  They watched him turn his horse and ride off the way he had come. Iantha shivered. “What a strange man!”

  “A bit, aye.” Rob watched his neighbor disappear into the distance.

  “Wary.” Feller spoke for the first time since the mee
ting.

  “Like a tiger in the forest.” Vijaya’s bright eyes followed the rider. “Ready to pounce.”

  Rob nodded. “He lived a long time in environs much less civilized than England. It makes one wary.”

  Startled, Iantha thought she saw a certain wariness in Lord Duncan’s eyes. It did not seem to fit his open character. But then, he had lived a long time himself in uncivilized places.

  A new notion about her new husband.

  No doubt one of many to come.

  His new wife had allowed him to lift her down from her horse without pulling away. Perhaps she had gotten over her embarrassment at her tears. The ride had been a good idea. Active pursuits brought her out of her self-imposed emotional confinement.

  As they came into the entry hall, Vijaya hurried to the stairs. “Forgive me, but I am not bred to these frigid climes. I must seek a fire.”

  Rob chuckled and turned to a pile of mail on the table. Someone had gone down to the village and brought the post. Sorting through the letters, he came across one addressed to Iantha. He was on the point of handing it to her when he saw another, written in the same awkward hand, bearing his name.

  He drew the letter back from her outstretched hand. “Just a moment.”

  He unfolded his sheet and scanned the brief message.

  Duncan—

  You have chosen to marry a slut, so may you have whatever joy sluts bring to a husband. But if she speaks one word against us, you will not have that dubious joy very long. When she does that, she will die, and you along with her.

  With an oath, Rob crumpled the letter in his fist. He held the still-folded note out to Iantha, but did not allow her to take it from his hand. “Have you seen this handwriting before?”

  She blanched, but answered steadily. “I think so. It is another of them, isn’t it?”

  Rob ripped the note open and glanced at it. “Aye.” He made no move to give it to her. “But it was not written by the same person as the one that was slipped under your door Christmas.”