by Gayle Callen
He was a selfish man, touching her for his own pleasure instead of the reasons she thought. He was only using her, craving the feeling of knowing she wanted him. But he wasn’t going to give her anything back but heartache. Even if he found out she was innocent of the earl’s plot, he would still annul this marriage.
Yet he couldn’t stop himself from imagining how she’d feel naked, how she might clasp her legs about his hips.
“Edmund?”
He looked up to see Geoff leaning in the doorway, arms folded across his chest.
“The hay in your hair carries implications,” Geoff said.
Edmund shrugged and got to his feet to curry The General. “Thank you for Gwyneth’s cloak, although it was probably a bit too late.”
“If I’d have gotten here any earlier, I might have had quite a show.”
Edmund glanced at him and reluctantly smiled. “I mean that you were too late to keep her dry.”
Geoff didn’t answer for a moment, only studied him a bit too closely. “She’s getting to you.”
Edmund hesitated, then said, “I cannot allow it.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” He had to remind himself that he hadn’t told his friend about his plan to annul the marriage. He looked about and lowered his voice. “Some things have happened that cast doubt on her connection to the earl.”
“I believe she’s innocent, Edmund.”
He lifted a hand. “I know your thoughts, but I have to be suspicious of everyone. The earl will only be happy with my defeat. But today Gwyneth talked to Prudence Atwater about my marriage to Elizabeth. She could have kept this a secret and continued to inquire about me behind my back. But she just…told me. And then the other day, she said things about Elizabeth’s death, things the earl swore me to secrecy over.”
“And what was that?”
“I cannot tell you—and it isn’t because of my oath to the earl about her death. Elizabeth deserves some peace instead of being the butt of cruel jokes.”
Geoff walked toward him. “How does this relate to Gwyneth?”
“If she is under the earl’s control, I cannot believe he would have confided in her the details he most feared would become public.”
“Then you believe she’s innocent too,” Geoff said with a relieved smile.
“I did not say that. She’s simply given me cause to wonder, and I’ll remember that.
“You’re giving her a chance, Edmund. Maybe that’s all she’s asking for now.”
When Geoff left him alone, Edmund dropped his head to the horse’s flank and tried to push away the pain and pleasure he felt when he thought of Gwyneth. They were all mixed up inside him.
Two days passed, and whenever Gwyneth came upon Edmund, she would give him a secretive smile, and to her pleasure, he returned it. It was time for her to step up her efforts to seduce him beyond simple kisses. She needed this marriage to be real, for her family—but mostly for herself.
And when a daring idea came into her mind, she spent the night awake and trembling, uncertain if she could do such a thing. Just before dawn, she thought she was too much of a coward to try it. But when the sun came up and she looked out her window over the grounds that she already considered home, her courage reasserted itself, and she ran to find Lucy.
As Edmund strode through the great hall after breaking his fast, Lucy caught up with him.
“Sir Edmund!” she called.
He turned to face her, wondering if this had anything to do with her mistress. “Aye?”
“Have ye seen Lady Blackwell?”
“Nay. I suggest you ask Mrs. Haskell.”
“I already did, and milady has not been down yet. But when I try her door, ’tis locked, and she doesn’t answer.”
“Knock louder.”
“I did! I’m worried for her, milord. ’Tis not like her.”
For a moment, he wondered if the earl’s plan could be for him to fall in love with his wife—and then lose her. The thought brought a strange feeling of bleakness and a need to hurry. “Very well, I shall go up with you. The door must be stuck, and she’s probably sleeping soundly.”
Lucy only whispered, “But she wouldn’t do that.”
When they stood before the door in the tower, Edmund lifted the latch and gave it a solid push, expecting difficulty. When it gave way easily, he stumbled forward into the room before he could catch himself.
Gwyneth was taking a bath before the hearth, her damp hair piled on top of her head. He slowly straightened and stared at her. She was obviously ignoring him, because she raised one arm to soap its length. Water and soap bubbles slid down her shoulder to her chest. His gut tightened as he realized he could see one pert nipple glistening.
The door shut behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Lucy gone. Then he knew this had all been planned.
Gwyneth gave a start and, wearing a trembling smile, glanced over her shoulder. She wasn’t quite as good at seduction as she wanted to be, and something inside him softened.
“Edmund, what a lovely surprise so early in the morning.”
His feet were rooted to the floor, but he managed to speak. “Hardly a surprise. This is a trap.”
“A trap?”
She tipped her chin and ran the wet cloth down her neck. He watched its progress, unable to look away, even when the cloth slid through her hands and landed with a plop in the water. She frowned and fumbled for it.
“A trap implies evil intent,” she continued after a moment. “There is no evil intent here. I just haven’t seen much of you these past days.”
“And you wanted to make sure I saw all of you.” To his dismay, his voice had gone hoarse.
She smiled tentatively. The water lapped at the upper slopes of her breasts.
“Very well, you may leave if you must,” she said softly. “But I’ve accidentally left my towel on the bed. Could you bring it to me first? Oh, and would you throw another couple of logs on the fire? I feel chilled.”
Suppressing a groan, he deliberately kept his eyes on the hearth as he walked to it. With his back to Gwyneth, he built the fire higher, all the while listening as she dripped water from the parts of her body he was trying not to imagine.
He walked to the bed, picked up the towel, and turned around to hand it to her. She looked all soft and beautiful sitting there trembling before him, soap bubbles covering her body like clouds crossing a summer sun.
She was the perfect weapon to use against him, with her large doe eyes shining with hope. More and more she seemed too honest and innocent. But he couldn’t know for certain. Elizabeth had been far too good at disguising her true self when he’d courted her.
This cruel contest between him and the earl seemed more pointless than ever before. He’d needed the money, but why had he felt the need to best a cruel old man? The only escape he could see was to give back the dowry and annul the marriage. But the thought of how she would look when he told her the truth sickened him.
Gwyneth couldn’t breathe enough air. She was stunned by her own audacity, trembling with wonder that it might actually work. Finally she raised her gaze to see Edmund staring down into the tub. For just a moment, she saw the desire in his eyes. Then he shuttered them and dropped the towel onto a stool beside her. He braced his hands on the rim of the tub and leaned over her.
“This was cheating,” he whispered. “Don’t do it again.”
He gave her a quick kiss, straightened, and left the room.
Cheating? This was hardly cheating. This was desperation, and she wasn’t done yet. Not when things seemed to be going so well.
When he reached the winter parlor, Edmund sank into his chair and tried to pretend the image of Gwyneth was not the only thing he could see emblazoned on his mind. He was almost glad when Nell brought him a missive that had just arrived from the constable in Richmond—until he read it, of course. Harold Langston, the youngest son of the earl, was back in Yorkshire, in the Richmond jail to be precise. Another puzzle for the p
lot that was his life of late.
He was perusing the message when Gwyneth strolled in. Her hair was still damp and her cheeks were still pink. They stared at each other awkwardly until Nell brought in another bowl of porridge.
Gwyneth took it and sat down near his elbow. Mrs. Haskell entered next, filling their goblets with wine before retreating silently.
“What are you reading?” Gwyneth asked when they were alone.
“A missive from the Richmond constable. ’Tis about your cousin Harold.”
She put down her spoon in surprise. “Elizabeth’s brother?”
“He is in jail.”
“Jail?”
“Does that surprise you?” he asked dryly.
“I only met him once or twice, but you mentioned before that you were familiar with him.”
“He and his brother, Kenneth, were very instrumental in my marriage to their sister. Of course they didn’t mean to be.”
“I do not understand,” she said slowly as she scrutinized him with her golden-brown eyes.
“Elizabeth told them that my friend Alex Thornton had compromised her and refused to marry her.”
“You mentioned this before, but not in any detail. I’m confused as to why she would do such a thing.”
“Alex’s brother is a viscount, and the family is old and noble, with plenty of land and money. I was a landless knight. Reason enough in her mind.”
His voice was a little sharper than he’d intended, but Gwyneth’s eyes had gone soft and sad again, and she laid her hand on top of his.
“How did the truth come out?” she asked.
“They tried to kidnap Alex, steal from him, humiliate him for what he supposedly did to their sister. When I finally realized it was they who were following Alex about, I told them the truth. ’Tis how her family found out about me, and though they were angry, they had no choice but to agree to my offer of marriage.” He slid his hand out from beneath Gwyneth’s to eat, though his appetite had vanished. He hated having to tell her such a humiliating tale.
“Then why would Harold have the constable send news of his whereabouts to you?” she asked in surprise.
That was a perceptive question, one he couldn’t give his true thoughts on.
“Perhaps because he is only twenty miles away and hundreds from his family. Perhaps he was coming here because his father sent him. I don’t know. I only have to decide if I shall have him released from jail.”
Gwyneth picked at her food. “Do you know why he’s there?”
“The letter does not say.”
“Then I should go with you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because not only am I his cousin, it sounds like you might need me to help restrain your temper after all he’s done to you.”
He cocked a brow at her and leaned closer. “Do you think you could stop whatever I mean to do?”
“I can try. I certainly have no wish to visit you in jail.”
“Gwyneth—”
“Oh, please allow me to come. Richmond seemed lovely, and perhaps I could look at some of the shops while you talk some sense into Harold.”
He was about to refuse when he remembered where he was in their supposed relationship. He was giving her a chance, wasn’t he? Getting to know her. This trip would even allow him to further his scrutiny of her.
And besides, why would she need to talk to a cousin she barely knew?
“We shan’t spend the night,” he said. “We can make it there and back between dawn and dusk. You might have only an hour to wander the town.”
She smiled and lifted a spoonful of porridge. “That’s fine. What are you going to do with Harold?”
“Send him on his way. I harbor no good will toward him.”
When he rose to his feet, Gwyneth put a hand on his arm. “Edmund, I meant to ask you who I should see if I’ve discovered some”—she lowered her eyes and blushed—“linens missing after the laundry was done.”
For a moment, his mind pictured the linens she was implying, and he wondered how intimate they were. His voice was husky when he spoke.
“The laundry maids, of course.”
“They hung them on racks to dry in the laundry and haven’t seen them since.”
“Mrs. Haskell?”
“She’s as baffled as I am.”
“Question the rest of the servants, I guess.”
“I shall do that,” she murmured, looking almost worried. The she brightened. “When do we leave?”
“In the morning. Langston can spend another night in jail.”
Chapter 13
Gwyneth dressed in the morning still unable to believe she’d persuaded Edmund to take her with him. Her heart felt light, and she tried to think up other ways to maneuver him into kissing her. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she had another reason besides happiness to want a good marriage.
After breaking her fast, she took a basket of food for the journey out into the courtyard, only to see two saddled horses outside the stables. Edmund was adjusting the girth on The General.
Her steps slowed as she eyed the much smaller brown horse with a lovely white star on its forehead. Although she was nervous at the thought of riding solo, she was even more disappointed not to be riding in her husband’s lap. Such closeness could only further their intimacy—which Edmund had seemed to realize. She gave a heavy sigh.
He must have caught her response, because he held up a hand. “You have to attempt this sometime. This is not an easy country to walk in.”
“Can I not ride with you?” she asked.
“But then what will you have accomplished?”
Another kiss?
He walked around to the other horse. “You’ve ridden The General at a hard gallop. Trotting this little pony will seem easy.”
“’Tis not a little pony.” She stiffened as the horse nudged her arm.
“She wants you to pet her.”
Gwyneth awkwardly rubbed the animal’s nose.
“She’s a very gentle old girl,” Edmund continued. “She has birthed many a prize horse, and she does not startle easily. We’ll take our time.”
“’Tis a shame that Lydia’s not here.”
“Who?”
“My youngest sister. She’s quite fond of animals, and they used to follow her home. I am certain she’d find some way to make me feel at ease.”
“I can make you feel at ease.” He finally noticed the basket and frowned. “Gwyneth, we shall be in Richmond before noon.”
“I’d rather be prepared,” she said quickly. “And I remembered to bring food you could put in a saddle bag.”
He gave her a little half-smile that made her heart warm.
“Start handing things to me.”
When they were all ready, he turned to help her mount the mare, but she backed away.
“Gwyneth?”
“I know I am being foolish, Edmund,” she said, wearing a shaky smile.
“Try petting her.”
He showed her how to stroke the horse’s nose and the special place she liked between the ears.
“What is her name?”
“Star.”
“Just what I would have picked.” Gwyneth watched his gentleness with the animal and felt a sense of peace steal over her. She was so lucky to find a man like him to marry. It felt strange to owe Earl Langston her gratitude.
After having her feed a carrot to Star, he said, “’Tis time to try mounting her. It would be easier for you to learn to control the horse when riding astride instead of perched on a sidesaddle.” He smiled gently. “Trust me.”
She used a stool to reach the stirrups and get up into the saddle. She was taller than Edmund like this and could see many people in the courtyard as they stopped to watch her. With a low groan, she closed her eyes.
“Hold onto the pommel,” he instructed her as he adjusted the stirrups. “You won’t fall.”
“’Tis not that. I just…feel very foolish learning to ride a
horse at my age.”
“Don’t. I am proud that you’re trying.”
She couldn’t imagine feeling better if he’d told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
He gave her some basic instructions about using her legs and the reins, then led her slowly about the courtyard as she became accustomed to sitting in the saddle.
“Do you know why horses frighten you?” he asked as he walked beside her.
She gripped the reins tightly. “I’m not sure. My father tells me that when I was a little girl, he used to put me up in the saddle, and I would ride about our farm.”
“And you do not remember?”
“I had only seven years when we moved to London. But my mother thinks the true reason for my fear is really a sense of loss. She claims I cried for days when they had to sell that horse before we moved.” She felt herself blushing, and she risked a glance at her husband. “Foolish, aye?”
“Nay, I do not think you’re foolish at all.”
They had stopped in the middle of the courtyard, and Edmund stood with his hand on Star’s neck, looking up at her solemnly. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, unless it was that she might be falling in love with him. And he certainly wouldn’t want to hear that.
He finally stepped away from the horse. “Are you ready to try? I promise we’ll start slowly.”
She nodded and resolved to make him proud of her.
When they were finally on the road, with the castle dwindling in the distance, she began to let herself relax. The mare seemed content to travel at The General’s side, with little guidance required from Gwyneth. It felt awkward to have her legs spread so wide, but she was certain she’d become used to it. Even when Edmund picked up the pace, she only clutched the pommel for a moment until she felt she wasn’t going to fall off. She was beginning to feel quite proud of her new skill—and relieved.
They stopped to rest only once on the journey, and she felt a little stiff but otherwise fine. They reached Richmond just before the noon meal and entered through the town gates. Again she was struck by how pretty the town was, with its gray stone houses side by side on curving lanes running up the hillside. The streets were cobbled, but there was a line of sewage running down the middle of them.
