The Chaperon Bride

by Nicola Cornick

  Adam’s hand came up to rest just beneath her breast, languidly stroking the underside, caressing gently. Annis squirmed, wanting more. Much more. Her senses were alight. When he eased the neckline of her gown down to free her breasts from the confines of the bodice, Annis gasped with mingled pleasure and relief, needing to feel his hands and his mouth against her bare skin. He stopped kissing her and slowly traced his tongue down her breast, flicking the hard, pink bud. Annis thought she would explode with passionate need. Her knees were giving way and her blood was racing. She wanted nothing other than for Adam to take her there and then, beneath the trees with the smoke on the air and the touch of the breeze on her skin.

  Adam raised his head. With a deft movement he rearranged her bodice. Annis almost screamed with frustration.

  ‘In the morning,’ he said in her ear, ‘pray remember that—along with all your scruples about getting married.’

  He let her go, taking her hand to guide her through the wood. Annis walked by his side, scarcely noticing where she was going, aware only of the touch of his hand on hers, the ache in her body and the memory of his kiss. The twigs and bracken crunched beneath her feet and the brambles caught at her clothes, and once Adam had to stop to disentangle her, his hands lingering for a second on her waist, tightening, before he sighed and let her go. They did not speak again.

  Eventually he scrambled down on to a metalled road, where a pair of iron gates led to a wide drive. The moon was rising now, clothing everything in silver.

  ‘I do not like arriving at Eynhallow with nothing but the clothes I stand up in,’ Annis said. ‘It makes me feel like a beggar bride.’

  Adam laughed. ‘Nonsense, my love. Della will be able to lend you anything that you may need and in the morning we shall send to Harrogate for the rest of your belongings.’

  They started up the drive, hand in hand.

  ‘My lord,’ Annis said, a little shyly, ‘how soon did you intend for us to wed?’

  ‘I thought very soon. As soon as the banns may be read.’ He smiled at her. ‘I have always been impatient to wed you, Annis, but I believe that tonight has made things worse rather than better.’

  Annis hung back. ‘My lord—’

  ‘Adam. You called me Adam earlier on.’

  ‘If you wish. Adam, physical intimacy is not a good basis for marriage. Not at all. Sometimes the reverse is true and it completely obscures the reality.’ Annis hesitated. ‘I do not want this to confuse me…’

  ‘I understand.’ Adam bent his head and his lips brushed hers. ‘But sometimes, Annis, physical intimacy is just another, wonderful aspect of being married, along with the friendship and the shared experience.’

  Annis felt a huge sadness fill her heart. ‘Is that what your first marriage was like?’

  ‘It was. And I feel sure that with you it could be the same.’

  He was kissing her again, but Annis could not lose herself in the kiss as she had before. She envied him the easy intimacy he had had with Mary. She had never experienced such a love match. A part of her that she was ashamed to admit to was both jealous of his previous happiness and afraid that he would be disappointed in his second choice.

  The following morning was bright and sunny once again, with the promise of heat in the air. Adam rode out early, taking no groom with him, which caused no speculation since he made a habit of riding alone. He took the track through the woods and out on to the hillside, where he allowed the bay stallion his head and galloped along one of the old drovers’ tracks that criss-crossed the moor, sending the peat flying from its hooves.

  Eynhallow lay below him, curled in a fold of the hills, the sight of the manor, the church and the village bringing an ache to his throat. It had stood there for time immemorial and he was only a small part of that pattern. He felt that very strongly this morning, perhaps because he had chosen to marry again and so the sense of continuity struck more strongly than usual.

  When his first wife had died, he had thought that he would never want to remarry and that Edward would have to be the one to marry and to provide an heir. Then he had met Annis and, almost immediately, the decision was made. His instinct was strong; he wanted her. More than that, he wanted to marry her. He was convinced that she was the right wife for him.

  Adam reined in to pause and appreciate the view. Perhaps it had been arrogant of him, but the last thing he had expected was that he would find the lady he wished to marry only to discover that she was reluctant to marry him.

  At a softly spoken word from him, the horse moved off again, trotting downhill at a more sedate pace. Adam smiled a little as he thought about Annis. Her refusal to accept his suit had been a salutary lesson. When he had first proposed, he had assumed that her reluctance to accept him stemmed from their short acquaintanceship, and that perhaps she had happy memories of her first marriage that she was afraid she would be betraying. He had been self-confident, he realised now, assuming that a penniless chaperon would be happy to accept the proposal of an eligible lord, especially given that she had been compromised. Yet Annis’s reluctance had gone deeper than that. She had admitted as much, whilst refusing to confide in him. There was something that frightened her.

  Adam frowned slightly. Any notion that Annis was afraid of the physical side of marriage had been banished last night, when he had held her in his arms. She might have been inexperienced, but she was neither cold nor afraid. Rather she had seemed intrigued by the possibilities of physical passion. He had been warmed to find that with many of her inhibitions gone, she had felt the same overwhelming need for him as he had for her. It was not logical, it was not even sensible, but it was there.

  As for Annis’s fears, Adam knew they must stem from something else, something he had yet to discover. Of one thing he was certain. He would overcome her scruples, allay them. Nothing would take Annis from him now, just as he would never surrender Eynhallow to Ingram, nor see it lost in debt. He could be very stubborn when he chose and he chose to be now.

  He turned off the track on to the turnpike road and increased the pace towards the ruined tollhouse. The ruins were still smoking and made a strange sight in the bright daylight. The gate was smashed to pieces and nothing was left but a scatter of ash and debris across the road. Further down the road, the burnt-out hulk of a carriage squatted, looking like a malignant toad.

  There were men already busy about the tollhouse, sizing up the damage and discussing what should be done. Adam recognised Ellis Benson and a number of men from Ingram’s estate. Bad news had travelled quickly, then. No doubt Ingram himself would be here soon to assess the damage and rail against the criminals, demanding they be caught. Adam had already sent a messenger to Harrogate to acquaint Charles Lafoy with the news that his cousin was safe, even if his carriage was not. He smiled a little. He suspected that Lafoy would already be on his way.

  A small crowd had gathered, as crowds do when there has been some sort of incident. There was nothing in particular to watch, but they were watching anyway. Adam recognised some of the villagers from Eynhallow and the surrounding hamlets. A few of the men were there, but it was mostly the womenfolk and children. All had identical expressions of surly blankness, leavened occasionally by unholy glee. Mr Ingram had got his come-uppance and no one was sorry.

  Adam allowed his horse to idle up to the ruined tollhouse and exchanged a few, short words with Ellis Benson. The man’s gaze was not friendly. Adam paused for a few words with the villagers, then turned at the sound of another horse approaching up the road. It was Edward, looking benign and vicarly, and deploring the damage in unctuous tones.

  ‘How dreadful! How truly shocking!’

  Ellis Benson turned away, scowling, and Adam brought his own mount alongside his brother.

  ‘Doing it too brown, Ned!’ he said in an undertone. ‘Everyone knows that you are on the side of the rioters!’

  Edward looked suitably disapproving. ‘I have no idea what you can mean, Ash!’

  ‘Indeed? Cast your mi
nd back to last Sunday’s sermon—the one about the houses of the ungodly being scattered like dust in the wind…’

  A smile tugged Edward’s mouth. ‘That was rather a good one, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, and see what it has done!’

  ‘Benson is looking as sour as stale wine,’ Edward observed.

  ‘Can you blame him? No doubt Ingram will—for this unholy mess. Benson should have stopped it, Benson should have seen what was happening…’ Adam shook his head. ‘Ingram will blame everyone but himself.’

  ‘It is fortunate, then, that he has such willing place men to shoulder the blame.’

  ‘Benson, Lafoy…’ Adam sounded thoughtful. ‘He does rather surround himself with the gentry, does he not?’

  ‘Snobbery,’ Edward said comfortably. ‘It makes him feel superior that he has bought them.’

  ‘You are harsh.’

  ‘I merely observe, Ash. What happened last night?’

  The horses picked up speed away from the smouldering ruin and down the valley towards Eynhallow. They were far away enough from the crowd now not to be overheard, but Adam still glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘It was as you suspected it would be. Roughly forty men, armed. They burned the tollhouse, then set about Lafoy’s coach. It was fortunate that Lady Wycherley was clear of it by then or it would have been the devil of a job to get her out of there safely.’

  Edward grimaced. ‘The coachman turned up safe and sound. He’s at the rectory. I told him to go straight up to the house as soon as he was ready. Lady Wycherley will be glad to know he is safe, I think. The whole experience must have shaken her quite badly.’

  Adam nodded. ‘She will be glad to see him.’

  Edward grinned. ‘Did Lady Wycherley ask you what you were doing there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you tell her?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Edward looked alarmed. ‘You told her that you had gone to warn the men?’

  Adam grinned. ‘She guessed that I had gone out with a purpose. Annis is no fool.’

  Edward frowned. ‘I did not think it. But this is dangerous, Ash. She is still Lafoy’s cousin, and the more she knows…’

  Adam shrugged. ‘Annis knows that I have an interest in seeing Ingram brought down, but then, so does she. She is not sympathetic to his cause.’

  Edward sighed. ‘Are we no nearer to discovering the identity of the rebel leader?’

  ‘No. You know as much as I, Ned. He spoke like a gentleman and rode a very fine, bay horse similar to mine. Do you have any ideas who he might be?’

  Edward shook his head slowly.

  ‘What were you doing last evening?’

  Edward shot his brother an appalled look. ‘I?’

  ‘Why not?’ Adam quirked a brow. ‘You are a gentleman—and a fine rider—and you have a grudge against Ingram as much as I do, or indeed as much as Lady Wycherley. She and I can speak for each other since we were together. But you?’

  Edward goggled at him. ‘You know as well as I that I do not possess a bay stallion! Damn it, Ash, surely you don’t suspect your own brother?’

  ‘Why not?’ Adam said again. He saw Edward’s appalled look and grinned. ‘No, I do not really suspect you, Ned. All the same, it is odd. Horses are expensive. I wondered…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If Ingram might be setting the rioters up. You know how difficult it is to prosecute the villagers, for they will not testify against each other. He might have thought that the easiest way to capture the ringleaders would be to infiltrate the gang.’

  Edward frowned. ‘It is a cunning plan, Ash, but I don’t think the men would fall for it. They all know each other and they know who the leaders are—’

  ‘You know who the leaders are!’

  ‘Yes, some…’ Edward looked uncomfortable. ‘Marchant and Pierce are behind a lot of the trouble, but I know of no one with the means to keep a fine stallion.’

  ‘Except Ingram. Could he have bought some of the men, then? Bribed them, I mean.’

  ‘Unlikely.’ Edward winced. ‘They hate him like hell’s pains.’

  ‘Then there is no one else hereabouts. Ingram’s estate, and Eynhallow and Starbeck are the only estates big enough to support that kind of income. Annis has seen horses stabled at Starbeck, but swears she does not know who purchased them.’

  Edward whistled under his breath. ‘Interesting. I had forgotten Starbeck. Ingram and Lafoy are going to hate you even more for gaining possession of it, Ash!’

  ‘I know. There is no denying that it would be useful to control Starbeck, but I should not wish Lady Wycherley to think that that was why I wanted to marry her.’

  ‘I thought it was because you had compromised her?’

  ‘It is true that is why I made a formal proposal…’ Adam hesitated ‘…yet I should not want Annis to believe that was the only reason.’ He made a slight gesture. ‘I am…very much attracted to her.’

  Edward leant over to unlatch the gate that led into the Eynhallow deer park. ‘You have known her all of two months,’ he pointed out mildly.

  ‘Sometimes it takes two days. Or two minutes.’

  ‘I suppose so. If you are sure—’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And Mary?’

  Adam sighed. ‘I loved Mary. But loving once does not prevent a man from loving again.’

  ‘Have you told Lady Wycherley this?’

  ‘Not yet. We have had little opportunity for intimate conversation since we became betrothed.’ Adam frowned. ‘Also there are her feelings about her first marriage to consider. I formed the strong opinion that it has set her against marriage, but I do not know why.’

  Edward frowned. ‘If Wycherley was the martinet we have been told, there may be your answer. A bully, a tyrant…Your Annis will need gentle wooing.’

  ‘Yes.’ Adam smiled. He felt warm at the thought. ‘That is precisely what I shall give her.’

  Chapter Eleven

  W hen Annis went into the library after breakfast, Adam was standing by the windows in a patch of sunlight. Seeing him now in the daylight, after all that had happened between them the previous night, Annis was beset by such conflicting emotions that she could barely speak. She had known that Adam could move her to a passion that she had never experienced before, but the most difficult aspect to believe was that she had been so uninhibited with him. Not since she was seventeen in Bermuda had she felt so free from inhibition. In those days her behaviour had been prompted by innocence. Last night…She blushed to think of it. Last night she had been almost overwhelmed by her desire for him. Now, in the clear light of morning, she felt utterly tongue-tied.

  Adam came forward to greet her, and when he smiled Annis felt her heart trip, missing a beat. For some reason she had thought that the effect Adam had on her would be reduced in the daylight as well. That had been a mistake.

  ‘I trust that you are feeling well this morning, Annis,’ Adam said, gesturing her to sit on a long gold sofa before the fireplace. ‘I imagine that you have heard that Barney Thompson is safe? Edward said that he had sent a message over from the rectory.’

  Annis nodded. ‘I am greatly relieved. The loss of Charles’s carriage is unfortunate, but nothing compared to any loss of life.’

  ‘There is the loss of the horses as well.’ Adam’s lips twitched. ‘I doubt that Lafoy will ever see them again. Or if he does, someone will swear blind that they are completely different animals from his carriage horses! I fear the events of last night have cost him dear, assuming that you were correct and he is in no way connected with the riots.’

  ‘Have you been up to the Skipton Road this morning?’ Annis enquired. It was, in part, a genuine concern for the welfare of Mr and Mrs Castle that prompted her enquiry, but it was also an attempt to avoid the conversation moving on to more personal matters.

  Adam nodded. ‘I have. The tollhouse is ruined, but Mr and Mrs Castle are safe. As yet no one appears to have come forward to name the
suspects and…’ he gave her smile ‘…no one was captured last night. The militia sprang their trap, but by some mischance the rioters were already apprised of their plan…’

  ‘How lucky for them,’ Annis said, smiling back. ‘Of course, you know nothing of that, my lord.’

  ‘Nothing at all. And neither do you, should your cousin ask. I imagine he will be travelling over from Harrogate at this very moment to check on your welfare.’ Adam came across to sit beside her on the sofa. ‘I have been speaking to Ned about the marriage banns,’ he said. ‘They will be read for the first time of asking tomorrow.’

  A huge panic welled up in Annis. She stood up quickly and moved over to the long windows that looked out across the parkland.

  ‘Must it be so soon?’ She sounded stifled.

  When she looked back at Adam, she saw that his face had set in hard lines. He too got to his feet. ‘I have the strong impression that you do not wish to marry me.’ His tone was clipped. ‘Such unwillingness is not flattering, my sweet, particularly after your…enthusiastic response to me last night. Can it be that you are having second thoughts?’

  Annis swung round to face him properly. Adam’s body was tense and his expression unreadable, but there was something in his face, a tiny hint of vulnerability, that made her wonder if she had hurt him. The thought upset her. It felt like a dreadful thing to do.

  She felt something snap within her. ‘I told you in Harrogate that it was not that I did not want to marry you, Adam,’ she said quietly. ‘It is marriage itself that I have always sought to avoid. And now that I cannot avoid it, I am afraid.’

  Adam did not move towards her and the light in his grey eyes was brilliant. They threw her a challenge. ‘You have no cause to fear me, Annis. Surely you know that?’

  Annis struggled, with herself, her thoughts and her fears. ‘Marriage is too important for me to embark upon it without the expectation that it would work.’ Her tone rose with feeling. ‘Yet I know so little of you, of your reasons and expectations! I do not know you well at all! This attraction we have between us…this affinity…simply makes matters more difficult.’