A Very Romantic Christmas

by Lorraine Bartlett

  The Sheriff turned crimson. “No, my lord. They were wide awake—but they had been distracted by a smaller fire set in an abandoned field and so were too late to apprehend the villains.”

  Sean pondered with a stern expression on his face, as if he were considering the implication of the sheriff’s words. At last he looked up, and said with the regal arrogance of the duke himself, “Still. That was closer than you have been, is it not? Things are looking up.”

  The sheriff nodded, apparently satisfied and even pleased by the not-quite compliment. “If you know anything, my lord—“

  Sean shook his head. Kate would have thought the regret stamped on his features sincere—if she hadn’t been there last night and seen him light the fire by his own hand. “I’m sorry to say I have no knowledge of the fire to offer you.”

  His initial belligerence evaporated, the sheriff became conciliatory. “I’m sure you understand, I needed to ask. Someone has been setting these fires and he must be caught.”

  “Indeed.” Sean stood, as if to see the sheriff out, personally. “Setting fire to full warehouses is an appalling waste of food. The cretins should be flogged.”

  “Hanged is more like it,” the sheriff said irately, shifting his weight from foot to foot as thought he were a child reciting a lesson.

  “Well, it certainly can’t be someone from around here and I’ve seen no strangers—except perhaps my wife. But you could hardly suspect her. She has been here only one week, and she had been in England before that.”

  “Your wife?” The sheriff was openly curious.

  Kate was about to back away from the door, when Sean said, without a trace of the anger she knew he must feel, “Come in my dear. I’m certain the sheriff would be delighted to meet you.”

  Kate entered reluctantly, afraid the man would read the guilt on her face and arrest she and Sean on the spot.

  He tugged his forelock again and mumbled, “My lady.”

  He seemed not to dare look directly at her. She bowed her head regally, sensing that would send the man scrambling from the room and she was not disappointed.

  He practically backed out of the room, waving away Sean’s attempt to follow. “If you hear anything, my lord—“

  Sean put his arm around her waist as if he were every bit the doting husband. “I’ll let you know at once, Sheriff. It does no one any good to have food burned to cinders.”

  As soon as the door closed behind the sheriff, he dropped his arm from her and sat back down at his desk to stare at the books open in front of him. For a moment, with the room empty except for the two of them, she thought Sean had forgotten she existed. But then he looked up. “I would ask when you took up the habit of listening at doors, but as I recall, it began very young for you—and Betsey as well. I had thought you might have given it up by now.”

  She blushed, but fought the feeling that she was an errant child. “I merely wanted to remind you that, since you seem so bent on going to an early grave, you might want to take the chance to leave an heir.”

  “I thought you wanted a girl.”

  “What I want doesn’t matter in such a thing. Or in anything concerning you, my lord, it seems. But I have thought about your proposal and I am willing to accept it. Ten thousand pounds.”

  The color drained from his face and she was pleased to see that she had shocked him at last. For an instant she thought he would accept, but then he shook his head. “I’m afraid, as attractive as your offer is, Katie, I have to refuse.”

  Kate wanted to scream at his obtuse refusal. “But—“

  He picked up a pen and began to scratch figures onto the page. He said wearily, “Kate, I don’t need you to give me that ten thousand pounds. It is already mine, as your husband.”

  He had known. He had known and still let her make her offer. How galling that he could turn her world upside down and not feel the need to compensate her in the least. There was nothing she could do.

  She felt herself begin to tremble with a rage such as she had never felt before. “Are you proud of that fact? That you have full command of a woman you don’t want? Full command of the funds that resulted from her hard work? Full command of her body—to accept or reject as you will?”

  “As long as I am your husband, I have that right, Katie. So will you not see reason and accept the divorce without making a fool of yourself?”

  A fool of herself? No, he had made the fool of her five years ago when he had lied about returning to her. She opened her mouth to castigate him with the truth, and stopped. That would not give her what she wanted.

  However, the sheriff’s visit had given her an idea and it was all she needed. She knew how to get what she wanted from him. She stood up and snatched the pen from his hand. “If you do not grant my request, I will turn you in to the authorities.”

  He pushed away from his desk. Away from the blast of her fury. “Blackmail?”

  “I prefer to think of it justice. You are turning my life inside out. A child hardly seems too much to ask.”

  “You are not asking. You are threatening me.” He pointed out, almost gently, “A baseless threat. A wife cannot testify against her husband.”

  Not again. She wanted to cry. Fury cut through her so sharp and clear that, in the ashes of her burnt hope, she realized, at last, what threat would work to bend him on this matter. “But she can testify against her husband’s sister. His cousin. His uncle.”

  “You wouldn’t…”

  “What have I to lose? A fortune? A reputation? A name? You have taken them all from me. And now you would deny me any chance for a child. I have nothing but a few letters. Lies.”

  She could see that he was concerned that she would do as she threatened, at last. “Let me think on it, Katie.”

  “No. No more thinking. You come to me tonight, ready to be a husband for the rest of my visit, or I will tell the sheriff what I saw with my own eyes. Even you would not be so heartless as to let your own sister hang to avoid visiting your wife’s bed for a few nights.”

  For a moment she thought he would protest, but instead he rubbed his eyes and said softly. “Very well, Katie. I hope you don’t regret it, in the end.”

  “I am certain I won’t.” Fiercely she hoped she might have a daughter. But even if she had no child, she would be done with him. Her roses would not disappoint her. Not like Sean had. Once he had divorced her, he would no longer have a right to her fortune, her body, or her heart. For the first time, she began to look forward to that day.

  To her surprise, he bellowed Douglas’s name, bringing the servant running. “Move Lady Blarney’s things to my room, please.”

  “Where shall I put your things, my lord?”

  “They shall remain where they are.”

  “Very good.” Douglas was fighting to maintain an impassive expression, but there was no doubt he would be off to the kitchens to gossip as soon as he had completed his task.

  “Is that necessary?” Sharing a room? With a man who had willingly stripped her of everything, and soon would take her dignity as well?

  “Now that you’ve given me no choice, Katie, I’d hate to disappoint you.”

  She did not know him. The man she had loved and married five years ago was an illusion and the man who would share her bed tonight was a stranger. She fought the temptation to order her things packed and a carriage readied for her departure. “This will not take the entire night—“

  “Who can judge?” He shrugged. “Besides, the thought of Lady Dilys watching us is much too daunting to consider. No, if we share a room it will make matters more efficient all around, don’t you see?”

  “Efficient?”

  “We want to make the best of our short time together, do we not?”

  She had set the terms and she would not be the one to retreat from her position, even if her knees were jelly and her stomach knotted into a lump. “Of course we do,” she answered stiffly before she left him to his books.

  Douglas, no doubt wanting to im
part his gossip, managed to move her things quickly and Lady Dilys’s room was empty once again except for the little bed and dresser.

  Sarah arrived shortly after Douglas’s departure from Sean’s now cluttered room. The third time the maid tsked over the awful condition of the room and its rackety old furniture, which had apparently been snatched from a fire barely in time some time in the very distant past, Kate sent her away.

  She managed to find work putting each and every possession of hers away—although she had to request a dressing table and mirror be brought from one of the other rooms in order to lay out her brush and comb.

  At the bottom of her trunk she found the bundle and her heart skipped a beat. Sean’s letters. He must have had one of the servants gather them up and give them to Sarah. Lifting one haphazardly from the pack she read “My dearest Kate, the weather here is as fine as any day yet. But times are still too hard for me to send for you. Hold on to your patience, my love, and we will soon be together.”

  When had she begun to realize that the letters held empty promises? And why did she still keep them? At dark, coward that she was, she took supper in the room. She would give him no more chances to shake her courage and release him from his debt to her.

  No. He must come to her. If he didn’t…she could not carry through on her threat. The very thought of fey Bridget or laughing Niall hanging lifeless beneath the gallows made her ill. If he refused her again, she would have nothing left to use to…what would she do then?

  But even as she worried at the question, she heard his step on the stair and the door to his room—which had a working hasp, she had noted at once—creaked open.

  He looked around at the changes she had made with some surprise, but made no comment. “Does the room suit you.”

  “Well enough.”

  “I can always have the men leave off grubbing for food in order to build you a better one. Marble tile perhaps? With only the finest goosedown for your pillow, my lady?”

  “There is no need to exercise your sharp tongue against my skin, my lord. I have asked you for nothing.”

  “Nothing? Is that what you value my stud service? I think not, or you would not have offered so much gold. Or threatened to see me hanged, either.”

  Ten thousand pounds. And even that had not been enough. “I ask only for what you owe me, as a husband. It does you no credit that I must hold a threat over your head for the privilege many wives receive as gifts of love from their husbands.”

  Her words were only the harsh truth, and she wondered whether he was as hurt by that fact as she was. But no matter, even if he didn’t love her, she would hold him to his word this time.

  If he couldn’t give her his heart, he could at least take away the shame of being an untouched bride from her—and give her the hope of a child.

  “Gifts of love—“ The blasted woman had done everything short of holding a blade to his heart to get him into her bed, how dare she…Sean bit back his own tart reply.

  He’d forgotten, in his thoughts of what the night would bring, how sharp his Kate’s tongue could be. He’d known he’d have to be careful with her feelings tonight, but he had been thinking of her heart, not his.

  Apparently she was ready to hurt him as badly as he had hurt her—it was a sad note when a man and woman could wound each other with only their words. He expected he would face her sharp tongue again tonight.

  Not that he didn’t deserve it, she had, after all honed it on his injustice. But that wouldn’t make things easier for him—or her—tonight. Foolishly, he’d expected her to be ready for bed in only her shift, tucked beneath the covers, waiting for him to join her and do what must be done. But here she sat by the window, still fully dressed.

  Her gray wool bodice was fastened tight up to her collarbone. Her face was set and pale. She didn’t look like a woman welcoming her husband, but more like a desperate woman facing the hangman’s noose.

  He closed the door behind him and moved to slide the bolt home. She made a little sound of distress and he turned to see that her gaze was fixed on the bolt, as if she were a prisoner eyeing her last hope of freedom. He left the bolt unshot. If she chose to run, he’d not get in her way.

  He removed his jacket and, as was his habit since he did not waste funds employing a valet, brushed it and hung it in his dressing room. He took off his boots with the ease of long practice and undid his collar and cuffs, reflecting that these were not in much better shape than the ones he had folded onto her dressing chair five years ago.

  In the unnatural silence, every slide of cloth sounded loudly in his ears. When he returned to the room, she had not fled, however, but still remained seated by the window, watching him as if she thought he were a highwayman about to steal all her jewels. Which, he supposed, he was in a way. Although she was the one insisting he commit the dastardly deed.

  Unless she had changed her mind? “We do not need to do this, Kate, if you no longer wish to.”

  She stood up. “I not only wish it, I insist upon it.” But that seemed the extent of her willingness to act. She turned to glance out the window briefly, before she turned to face him as squarely as honest men faced the executioner and added softly, “I just don’t know what is required of me.”

  He moved to kiss her but she turned her head away, the muscles in her neck knotted under the touch of his fingers. He turned her away from him, so that he could massage her neck and shoulders gently. “You must relax, Kate, or things will not go well between us.”

  She leaned back against him, still tense. “They need not go well, they need only go quickly.”

  Quickly. Did she truly think he would just lift her skirts and take her while she closed her eyes and bore the pain? What a disaster that would cause. No doubt she didn’t realize, due to her inexperience. “I shall be as quick as I can be, without hurting you unnecessarily.” He pressed his lips against the taut muscle in her neck, her shoulder, her tensed jaw. After a moment, she relaxed against him.

  He turned her toward him again and bent to kiss her. This time his lips managed to brush against hers before she turned her head away again. “No.”

  That took him aback, but he could see that she was very serious about the matter. “You’ll not find enjoyment in your first time this way, Kate,” he protested. “Not if you don’t let me kiss you properly. Warm you up, so to speak.”

  “I need no warming. Especially not from you,” she said between stiff lips, almost as if she were afraid to move.

  She needed more warming that an iceberg from the far north. So how was he to see to it? His memories from five years ago were warming him well enough—perhaps they’d do the same for her? He bent to whisper in her ear, “Surely you remember how pleasant it was to have me in your bed, my arms around you warming you up, no matter that it has been a few years.”

  “I remember that you refused to make love to me then.”

  So. Her memories were perhaps not as warm as his. “Kate, the act of love is not meant—“

  “This is not an act of love.”

  “Technically—“

  “This is business. Only business. A bargain struck between strangers who happen to be married for a while longer.”

  Her voice was so very cold, he found his own blood chilled. He tried to cajole her into a better mood. “No woman’s first time should be so cold-blooded.”

  “I think it fitting for a bride who must bludgeon her husband into her bed—and has waited five years in the bargain.” She did not look at him.

  “If you’ve changed your mind—“ He wouldn’t do anything while she was this frozen. She must be sure. He pulled back from her and crossed his arms. “There’s no need to do this.”

  “I have not changed my mind.” She gazed at him as though he were an insect to be crushed.

  “I feel as though I’ll need all the resources that Cromwell’s men employed to breach the castle in order to honor your request this evening,” he tried to joke with her. One little smile and he would
not feel like a murderer of innocence and beauty.

  “Consider it your revenge on my countrymen, then.” She lay down on the bed, stiff, her eyes closed.

  Perfect. Even though he hadn’t been with a woman in some time, he didn’t know if he could find a way to perform the required duties. One moment he would close his eyes and feel her skin under his lips, her shape under his finger tips and he had no doubts what he wanted to do. The next… He sighed and stood immobilized by his conflicting desires.

  She opened her eyes and swept him with a distrustful glance. “Can’t you bring yourself to do it, even now?”

  He sighed. “You’ll have to take your clothes off.”

  She responded by lifting her skirts to her waist. The sight of her white thighs exposed and vulnerable nearly took his breath away.

  He could not turn away, but he could not join her on the bed yet, either. At last, with her unflinching gaze upon him, he moved to unfasten his shirt. “I hope you don’t mind if I take mine off, then.”

  He proceeded to undress, despite the fact that she did not answer. A man had his standards. But he did wonder if the wool of her skirts would leave him with a rash once the deed was done.

  He stretched out beside her, careful not to touch her, propped himself on an elbow and stared down at her unyielding face.

  Memories that he had pushed away for so long flooded through him. Her lashes were long and dark against her cheek. He reached out a finger and brushed it against the tips of her lashes. She was so still he knew she held her breath, but she didn’t even twitch at his touch.

  How could he get her to thaw? He knew it was too much to expect her to smile, or to welcome him. But it would unman him if she began to cry, and he had a suspicion she would if he could not reach her somehow, no matter how brave and strong she wanted to appear to his eyes.

  Her breathing began again, rather unevenly, lifting her breasts in unison under the confines of wool, linen and corset. For a moment he fought the urge to unpeel her layers and reveal them. He didn’t—not certain she would let him, or that he wouldn’t feel he’d leave her vulnerable if she did.