Marriage 03: The Marriage Contract

by Cathy Maxwell

  She had to laugh. “I may agree with you, Major Lambert.” She walked him to the alcove. Aidan stayed behind. She was conscious of his gaze on her every move.

  Major Lambert bowed low over her hand one more time and then left. But she sensed they would see him again.

  She stood where she was, listening until at last she heard the sound of the soldiers marching away. For a moment, she feared she would collapse. Releasing a deep breath, she turned—and gave a start.

  Aidan’s expression was so grim, it alarmed her. He waited for her on the dais. “Come here, Anne.”

  She didn’t want to go. And yet she could not be a coward. “You are upset.”

  He pointed to a space on the floor in front of him. “Here.”

  Anne began walking toward him, feeling much like a guilty prisoner coming before a magistrate. She stopped at the base of the dais.

  He stepped down and lifted her face up to him. “Why did you do it?”

  She met his gaze. “I wanted to give Deacon a chance to escape.”

  “He did.”

  “Good.”

  His brows came together, and Anne sensed he saw more than she wished he did. He took her hand, his thumb lightly rubbing the inside of her wrist. “But there is more, isn’t there? You were shaking all through lunch.”

  “I didn’t!” she said with alarm. “I was so nervous, but I’d hoped he didn’t notice.”

  “He didn’t. I did.” He paused a moment, then said, “I won’t let harm come to you. When I tell you to do something, I expect to be obeyed. Do you understand, Anne?”

  She looked past his shoulders out the window at the rolling sea. The image of the soldiers searching the beach where she and the girls had been dancing made her tremble.

  He pulled her closer. “What is it, Anne? What frightens you?”

  Her throat tightened. It almost hurt to speak. “You mustn’t play games with men like Major Lambert, Aidan.” She raised her face to him. “He can do what he threatens. He could have dragged you out of here today and all the way to London. In chains, even. And if you’d died along the road or in prison, well, so be it.”

  “Britain is still a nation of laws,” he assured her.

  “That are not always followed,” she answered. “Especially when words like treason are bandied about. You aren’t a traitor, are you?”

  “Anne,” he said, drawing out her name in a way to let her know she was being ridiculous.

  She pulled her hand away. “Don’t patronize me, Aidan. You have patronized me from the first moment we met, and I won’t stand for it anymore. My father died because he believed in those laws. They said he was a traitor, too.”

  “What?” Now she had his attention.

  She nodded. “He wasn’t a traitor, but a doctor. A good one. I grew up on the coast like this. There was smuggling. One of the local men got caught by the excise men. There was a fight and he was knifed, but not before he killed one of the excise officers. The villager came to my father for help. He didn’t tell Father how he earned his wound, and Father didn’t ask. Instead, he treated the man and would have sent him on his way, except the excise men caught wind of where the smuggler was.”

  She rubbed her arms to vanquish the chill of memory. “People are funny, Aidan. You don’t know whom you can trust when something like this happens. Someone told the excise men the smuggler was with my father. I was asleep and there was a loud racket. They broke down the door to our house. The next I knew, they were dragging Father out, while my mother begged and cried for them to

  let him be.” She frowned at Aidan. “The excise officer was an ambitious man much like Major Lambert. He was proud to deliver my father to London.”

  “What happened?”

  “Father was tried and found innocent. But it took almost all summer, as the summer passed we became poorer. There were nights when we had so little food, my mother would give me hers and other nights when there was nothing at all.”

  “Did he return?”

  “No. He became ill in prison and died before he could come home. Mother passed on less than a year later. My parents were very close. They held a great fondness for each other. I don’t think she ever laughed after he left. And it was so unfair because he was innocent. So I’m going to ask again, Aidan, are you innocent?”

  Instead of answering, he walked to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Slowly, almost reverently, he kissed her on the forehead. It was a chaste kiss, almost a benediction. He followed it by rubbing the back of his fingers against her cheek. “Brave, brave, Anne,” he said softly, then turned and left the room.

  She stood quiet for some time, lost in her own thoughts. Aidan had been telling her it was a question he would not answer and there was nothing she could do for it. He would make his own choices. He didn’t love her, so her opinion, and her fears, carried little weight.

  But she worried she would be much like her mother. If something happened to him, a part of her would die, too.

  Sometimes it hurt to dream of things one couldn’t have.

  Anne shook away her dark thoughts. Aidan wanted nothing from her. She could have no expectations.

  Always practical Anne.

  Always the one left alone.

  She went to her room to fetch her shawl. It was late afternoon and the day had grown cloudy.

  No one was in the upstairs hallway. She opened her door and left it open as she crossed to an old trunk she had found and cleaned to hold her belongings. As she opened the lid, she sensed she was not alone.

  Anne turned as the door closed, revealing Deacon hiding behind it. She gave a little scream of shock.

  He placed a finger to his lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, groping for her composure.

  “I needed a place to hide where they wouldn’t look.” He paused. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you tell the English where I am?”

  Anne straightened. “I do not wish you harm.”

  “I’ve wished you to the devil a hundred times since you first arrived.”

  “And I haven’t gone, have I?”

  He stared at her and then chuckled. “No, you are a most stubborn English lass.”

  The door flew open. Deacon moved just in time or he would have been smashed. It was Aidan. “I heard you scream,” he said to Anne.

  She pointed to Deacon and Aidan relaxed. “I wondered where you’d gone off to.”

  “Here all along,” Deacon said proudly. “Right under Lambert’s bloody English nose.”

  “Well, we’ll have to find a place for you,” Aidan said.

  “I can’t stay, Tiebauld. You are in danger with me here.”

  “I’m in danger with you anywhere. Lambert wants me. I might as well be hanged for a wolf as well as a sheep. Come along. We’ll put you in the servants’ quarters. Stay out of sight and everyone will believe you’ve escaped.”

  But Deacon didn’t move. “Is it all right with your wife?”

  “Anne?” Aidan asked in surprise. Deacon had been so set against her, his asking her permission surprised him. Aidan looked to her. “What do you say, Anne? Shall we hide Deacon?”

  She considered her former rival a long moment. Finally, “I believe we must.”

  Aidan smiled his approval. “Come along then, Deacon.”

  His friend hesitated a moment. “You were bold, my lady. You saved my life.”

  Over the past week, she’d have loved to see Deacon humbled. Now, she understood why Aidan valued his friendship. The man was loyal, and she had proved her worth to him. He accepted her, his straightforward praise for her actions touching her deeply.

  Anne waited until they left, and then she collapsed on the bed. She wanted to believe all would be fine.

  She knew she was fooling herself—and yet she’d seen genuine concern on Aidan’s face when he’d heard her scream. Always the protector. She smiled sadly, wrapping the yellow Kashmir around her arms and burying her nose i
n it. For the past few days, she’d pretended not to care. She didn’t think she could live that way any longer.

  And she was tired of arguing. She’d even offered herself to him, and short of parading herself naked in front of him, she didn’t know what to do.

  Perhaps the time had come to try that, too.

  Aidan led Deacon to the servants’ wing. “The only ones here are Norval and Cora, and they can be trusted.”

  Deacon didn’t answer. Ever since the night he had propositioned her, he had not spoken to Cora. He’d been a coward.

  Now, he was going to be practically living with her.

  Aidan didn’t notice his quietness. He made sure there were blankets and left.

  Deacon sat alone in his room, listening. After an hour, he heard a woman’s light tread. She went into the room next to his.

  He rose from the bed and went out in the hall. The door to Cora’s room was closed. He could knock, but she would not let him in. She’d barely looked at him since the night he’d attempted to attack her.

  The handle turned, and before he could move, she opened the door. For the space of several heartbeats, they stared at each other.

  She broke the silence first. “Lord Tiebauld told me you would be here.”

  He nodded, tongue-tied and ashamed. But when she started to move past him, he said, “Wait.”

  She stopped and looked at him expectantly. “Yes, my lord?”

  He stalled. “Where is the girl?”

  “Marie? She’s up with Mrs. MacEwan in the kitchen.”

  They were alone. Deacon forced himself to say his piece. “I want you to know you don’t have to worry about me.” He made himself meet her gaze. “I won’t harm you.”

  Cora shifted. “I’ll not turn you in to the soldiers, if that is what you are afraid of.”

  “I’m more afraid of you than I am the English,” he admitted candidly. It was true. Suddenly, awkward with his hands, he doubled them in fists at his sides and confessed, “I’d thought I was a better man.”

  Her mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “I’ve never had a man apologize to me before. I don’t know if I like it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you like it. What matters is if you accept it. I’ve not had a drop to drink since that night, Cora. I’d like to blame the ale. I don’t know if I can.”

  She raised her hand to her bottom lip, the gesture thoughtful and evocative all at once. “I can forgive,” she said. “Thank you.” She hurried away.

  Anne didn’t come down to dinner. She had asked Norval for a bath and had sent word to Aidan she didn’t want to be disturbed. He worried. Lambert’s appearance had stirred memories, memories she’d probably wanted to forget.

  It bothered him that in her grief, she had turned from him.

  Worse, now knowing her past, he had no right to let her become embroiled in his activities. She would only be hurt.

  As he made his rounds of the stables and courtyard, Aidan found himself increasingly concerned. Maybe he should go to her. Maybe he’d lived with himself for so long, he’d forgotten how to relate to

  another. Women were sensitive. She might even now be up in her room, crying her eyes out.

  He could picture it. His brave Anne overcome by the loss of her father and mother and needing someone to hold her.

  He liked the image.

  But he was aware she could just as easily snub him. Anne was a proud woman. She might not like his offer of comfort.

  She might even take offense in it. It seemed he never knew how to do the right thing when he was around her. He’d not had the problem before. He’d always thought women easy to understand.

  But Anne was a deeper, more intelligent woman than he’d known. A headstrong lass who kept him on his toes.

  He hadn’t ever thought he’d admire a woman who challenged him. But he liked it. And he liked her. Very much. Maybe even too much.

  In the stables, he rubbed Beaumains’ nose and caught himself fantasizing about Anne. Her skin would be as soft and velvety—and then he laughed. Imagine comparing a woman to a horse’s nose. Anne would laugh, too. She had a sense of the ridiculous…

  Suddenly, Aidan wanted to see her.

  He strode with purpose into the house. Impatient, he bounded up the steps to the hallway. He knocked on her door.

  There was no answer.

  He knocked again. “Anne?”

  Nothing.

  Puzzled, he opened the door. The room was dark but the light from the hallway torch showed the bed empty. Where could she have gone?

  She could be in the kitchen or servants’ quarters. It was also possible she could have gone visiting. In a short amount of time, she had integrated herself in the lives of his crofters.

  She obviously wasn’t upset.

  He hit his head lightly against the door. He was fool. A fool who was in danger of falling in love if he wasn’t careful.

  He shut the door and headed for his room. It was all for the best. Tomorrow, he would put her on a coach for London if he had to tie her to it.

  Aidan shoved open his bedroom door with one shoulder and then stopped.

  Everything was as he liked it. A fire burned in the hearth. Several candles gave the room a soft glow and his torches provided light for reading. His soap was dry and in its place. His towel hung over the chair.

  But there was one difference, and it was a huge change—Anne was soaking in the tub.

  Chapter 11

  Anne heard the door shut.

  She and Aidan were alone.

  Even though she dared not face him, the hairs on the back of her neck tickled with anticipation…and fear. Her courage abandoned her. She was being a fool!

  She sat upright in the tub, hugging her knees to her chest to hide her nakedness the best she could. Pretending her presence was a mistake, she said, “I did not expect you to come to bed so soon. Please give me a moment’s more privacy and I’ll leave.”

  Her words sounded stupid to her own ears—but Aidan should do the gentlemanly thing and allow her a graceful exit.

  He didn’t. Booted footsteps crossed the stone floor to her. A heartbeat later, he sat in the chair by the tub.

  Anne couldn’t meet his gaze. She concentrated on the fire in the grate. “My towel, please.”

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  Instead, he captured her hand in his and ran his thumb along the sensitive skin inside her wrist. It tickled, and yet she didn’t laugh. She could barely breathe.

  He lowered his head. She turned then and watched as he pressed his lips where his thumb had touched, right on the pulse spot. Suddenly, the room grew warm. Hot, even. His tongue brushed her skin and the fingers of her other hand moved to stroke his blue-black hair.

  He raised his head. His gaze followed the curve of her breasts pressed against her knees, up the line of her neck to her face, lingering a moment on her lips before meeting her eyes. “You do like me, even a little?”

  I love you. “Perhaps a little.”

  “A little is enough.” He laced her fingers with his and started to rise.

  Anne panicked. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t ready to be naked in front of him. Her stomach coiled with anxiety. She grabbed the other side of the tub with her free hand. “It was a mistake. I meant to be gone before you came to bed.”

  He chuckled softly, not believing her excuse. “For the past four days you’ve managed to avoid me very well.” He kissed the hand he held. “Trust me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He reached for the towel. “Dry you off. Will you let me?”

  Anne had never heard a more scandalous suggestion in her life—or a more tempting one. “I’m afraid.”

  “I know. You needn’t be. I won’t do anything you wouldn’t wish.”

  “I know.” But it still didn’t make this step into the unknown easier.

  Aidan didn’t move, but waited patiently.

  She released her grip on the tub and let him help her to her feet. Water dripp
ed and ran in rivulets off her. The chill in the night air made her wet skin tighten. Her nipples puckered. Her instinct was to cover herself with arms and hands, but she wouldn’t. No more hiding.

  For one wild second, her arm floundered in the air and then she dropped it to her side. “I suppose there will be no secrets between us now,” she said weakly, in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

  Aidan hadn’t known what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been this curvaceous, sensual creature who had risen from his tub. Her high-waisted gowns had effectively disguised what was beneath.

  In reality, she was a sea nymph come to life with cautious gray eyes and silky hair down to a waist that was narrow enough that he could measure the distance with his hands. The curving flare of her hips gave way to long, long legs. The kind that could wrap themselves around a man and hold him tight.

  But what really captured his attention were her breasts. Anne had plump, beautiful breasts with dark brown aureoles that aroused something vitally primal inside him. The tightened nipples begged for his touch.

  He leaned forward, wanting to capture those impudent little nubs with his mouth. To taste their texture and warm them—

  She jumped out of the tub and he kissed air. “I’m growing cold.”

  Only then did he come to his senses and remember his promise to dry her off—a promise he intended to keep. He slid his arm around her waist. “Let me warm you.”

  She was still skittish, her eyes ready to swallow her face. He started with her arms, relaxing the tension in them…but he couldn’t help but move to her breasts next. He weighed them in his towel-covered hand. “You are beautiful.”

  She’d been studying a point in the corner of the room. Her gaze now shifted to him. “Do you mean those words?”

  The doubt in her tone surprised him. “Anne, I’ve always thought you lovely, from the first moment we met.”

  “You couldn’t have. My clothes were torn and my hair was blown every which way.”

  “’Twas not clothes or hair styles that attracted me.” He moved the towel down her back and over

  the curve of her buttock. Her skin was smoother than cream.

  “Then what was it?” She asked the question almost fretfully.