by Stella Riley
He dropped slowly, blood bursting over his coat and a look of surprise on his face.
Somewhere, into the abrupt moment of total silence, a clock chimed the hour.
Eden stood over him, watching him die; watching those dark empty eyes go sightless and even emptier with death. Then, turning away, he said unevenly, ‘Ned … get Sergeant Trotter’s men to deal with this carrion. I’m going home.’
* * *
Back in Cheapside, with a borrowed coat over his ruined shirt, Eden found the parlour full of people all of whom wanted to know what had happened. None of them was Lydia.
For a minute or two, he responded mechanically, as best he could. Then he said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m more grateful than I can say for everyone’s concern and help – but just now, you’ll have to excuse me. Toby and Nick will explain everything. I need to …’ He stopped and, managing to locate Henry Padgett’s face, asked bluntly, ‘Where?’
‘Mistress Lydia is in your chamber, Colonel. Worried, of course – but warm, dry and with a little something to combat the shock.’
‘Thank you.’ He turned to go and then, looking back, ‘Toby. Can you …?’
‘Yes,’ said Tobias simply. ‘Go.’
On his way upstairs, Eden realised that he’d have liked to wash off the sweat and get rid of his bloodstained shirt before Lydia saw him but that this wasn’t going to be an option since the things he needed were in the same room she was. Then he told himself not to be stupid. He couldn’t hide his injuries forever, so she might as well see them now.
When he entered his room, Lydia – having recognised the sound of his footsteps – was already uncoiling from the chair by the hearth, her face white with strain. This time, instead of Alice’s hideous green wrapper, she was wearing something that looked like a mass of pale blue ruffles, interestingly fastened with darker blue ribbons. Eden swallowed. It was their wedding night; and he was coming to her filthy, aching and bleeding, his every bone and muscle protesting, less from the actual fight, than from the sheer weight of worry and fear that had preceded it.
Once on her feet, Lydia remained quite still for a moment, staring at him. Then, hurling herself at him amidst a torrent of words, she said, ‘You’re hurt, aren’t you? Don’t trouble to deny it! Why are you so stubborn? You didn’t have to fight him. He’s finished anyway. What has he d-done to you? How bad is it?’
‘It’s nothing,’ said Eden. ‘A couple of scratches --’
‘Yes. You would say that. Of all the stupid, obstinate m-men in the world, you’re probably the worst. You have to d-do everything yourself, don’t you? Always so sure that you know best and that no-one else could p-possibly do it half as well as you can!’
Eden put his arms round her and let her continue to rant, uninterrupted.
He understood this phenomenon. He’d seen it before after their escape from the cellar. His Lydia didn’t crumble when things were at their worst. It was relief that destroyed her defences; and even then there were no sobs to betray the silent cataract of tears he could feel drenching his throat.
So when the torrent of words finally stopped, he said mildly, ‘I’m not arguing. But I’d think you might want to come up for air. I can only imagine how rank I smell right now.’
And was rewarded with a tiny tremor of unsteady laughter.
‘That’s better.’ Quite gently, he lifted her chin to look into her face. Then, brushing away some of the tears with his thumb, he said, ‘I’m sorry you were worried. But I fight my own battles, Lydia. And this wasn’t something I could ask anyone else to do.’
The drenched silvery-blue eyes looked back at him gravely.
‘Is … is he dead?’
‘Yes. It couldn’t have ended any other way. But what about you? Are you all right?’
She nodded. ‘Just a bit … shaky.’
Despite everything he pulled her back into his arms and, against her hair, mumbled, ‘I’m so sorry. If I could only have got there sooner --’
‘Don’t! Don’t think like that. What matters is that you came – just as I knew you would.’ She pulled back from him. ‘Alice brought up a can of water a little while ago, so it should still be hot. Take off your shirt and wash. Then I can see what the damage is.’
‘You’re very free with your orders,’ he grumbled, shedding the coat.
‘Yes. You’re on my territory now, Colonel – and will do as you’re told.’
He winced involuntarily as he pulled the shirt over his head and heard the hiss of Lydia’s breath. She said, ‘What happened to your arm?’
‘Bullet. It went straight through.’
‘Oh. That’s all right then,’ she said sarcastically so she wouldn’t start crying again. ‘And that? One of those scratches you mentioned, I suppose.’ She stopped, hauled in a steadying breath and said, ‘I’m sorry. I sound like a shrew. Be still and let me see to you.’
While Eden washed his face, arms and chest, Lydia sponged his back and tended to the long shallow cut which mercifully seemed to have stopped bleeding. Conversation was kept equally superficial due to an unspoken understanding that as yet, some things were too painful to be discussed in any depth.
So they agreed that neither of them had ever suspected that Quinn and Northcote might be one and the same, but that the discovery had been less surprising than might have been supposed. Her voice under rigid control, Lydia admitted to having been told about the children in the brothel and Eden replied that he intended to see the place shut down if he had to demolish it brick by brick with his own hands. Neither of them speculated openly on what those children might have suffered; both of them knew that would come tomorrow.
And finally, when – having applied salve to the less serious cuts and bruises – Lydia finished binding the torn, angry flesh of his arm, she said expressionlessly, ‘Will they charge you with murder?’
‘No. It was a fair fight before witnesses.’ He peered at her sideways. ‘Will you please stop finding things to worry about?’
‘With pleasure – when you stop giving me cause.’
She stood up, intending to tidy things away but was swept back down as, laughing a little, he said, ‘You are amazing. Do you know that? But sometimes … just sometimes, you understand … I’d appreciate being allowed the last word.’
‘You get it far too often, in my opinion,’ she retorted, leaning into his shoulder and sliding one palm over the muscles of his chest. Then, ‘Is everyone still in the parlour?’
‘Most of them, probably.’
‘Do you need to go back down?’
‘No. You and I can do the rounds together tomorrow but, for now, Toby and Nick are giving chapter and verse. They don’t need me.’
‘Good.’ She glanced up into his face. ‘Then you can come to bed.’
Eden toyed idly with one of the pretty dark blue ribbons under her chin. He said carefully, ‘This is a very inviting robe. I imagine it covers an even more inviting night-rail.’
Lydia’s colour rose but she said prosaically, ‘It does. But it isn’t an invitation you’ll be accepting tonight.’
‘Oh. I won’t?’
‘No. You look exhausted. And if you’re not, I am. All I want … all I need right now is to sleep with my arms about you and yours about me.’ And with a seductive sideways glance, as she disengaged herself and rose, holding out her hand, ‘As for the invitation … assuming you feel you need one … it will still be there tomorrow.’
Tangling the fingers of one hand with hers and sliding the other into her hair, he took her mouth in a long, leisurely kiss – during which he wondered if perhaps he wasn’t quite as tired as he’d thought. Then, because the idea of wrapping her close while they slept suddenly seemed incredibly nice, he said wickedly, ‘By tomorrow, my darling, I’m likely to be taking unfair advantage. But for now, I’ll settle for a glimpse of that night-rail.’
* * *
Cradled in Eden’s arms, Lydia fell asleep very quickly. For him, given the evening’s events, it too
k rather longer. But eventually oblivion overtook him … and the next thing he knew, light was creeping in through the casement and Lydia’s hair was tickling his face.
Eden lay very still for a moment, enjoying the faint scent of lavender. Even more enjoyable was the fact that the length of her body was pressed close against his side and a bent leg lay – rather suggestively, he thought – across his thigh. Unfortunately, she was still asleep.
He told himself not to wake her. He even tried convincing himself to make his way carefully out of the bed and leave her to sleep. It took less than two minutes for him to do neither. Unable to resist, he slid one hand lightly along that smooth, shapely leg … tracing from the upper curve of her calf, past her knee and on to her thigh. Instantly, his body tightened rather more than he’d anticipated.
He withdrew his hand and waited for his blood to make a similar retreat from inconvenient places. It didn’t. It didn’t because Lydia sighed and stretched … and that tempting leg shifted a little higher up his own. Eden gritted his teeth and, for roughly thirty seconds, lay very still. Then, consoling himself with the knowledge that he’d warned her, he gave up being considerate in favour of taking unfair advantage.
Lydia awoke slowly to the lazy drift of his hands and his mouth feathering light kisses against her cheek and jaw. Her eyes drifted open and she blinked at him.
Eden propped himself on one elbow and grinned. ‘Good morning.’
She smiled back but he saw her eyes searching his. Finally, she said huskily, ‘You look better.’
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I’d say I didn’t mean to wake you … except that it wouldn’t be true.’
‘No. I – oh.’ Her breath hitched as his hand strayed a little further along her thigh. ‘I gathered that.’
‘Subtlety is beyond me this morning.’ He pushed the bed-covers back a little way and tugged at the ribbons of her night-rail. ‘This is very pretty. One might even say … seductive.’
‘You did say it. Last night.’
‘That doesn’t count.’ He had the first bow undone and was tugging gently at the second. ‘Last night I wasn’t allowed to appreciate it properly. And I always like to be thorough.’
‘Yes.’ The second bow surrendered and then the third. Laughter and dawning anticipation, making her voice less than steady, Lydia said, ‘I’ve always admired that about you.’
‘Thank you.’ The last bow gave way and he brushed the flimsy garment away to better enjoy the view. He wanted to trace it with his tongue. Instead, electing to tease her a little longer, he murmured, ‘What else?’
The look in his eyes was as potent as a touch. ‘What?’
‘What else do you admire about me? Hopefully, there’s something.’
‘Yes.’ Lydia put an arm about his neck and tugged. He didn’t move. ‘Yes. Everything.’
His gaze rose to meet hers, hot with desire but also brimming with wicked amusement.
‘Be specific.’
‘Now?’
‘Why not?’ Darling … if I can wait a little while, so can you. ‘Unless you can’t --’
‘All right – yes,’ she said rapidly. ‘Your honour and courage and intelligence and – and even your sense of humour.’
The words, Though I could do without it right now remained unspoken but he heard them anyway. Managing not to laugh, he said plaintively, ‘Is that all? It sounds rather … dull.’
‘You asked what I admire.’ Deciding two could play at this game, Lydia slid her palm temptingly over his chest and then began a slow descent. ‘Your face and hair … your devastating smile … and utterly beautiful body … those are things I love.’ She smiled when he trapped her fingers mere inches from their goal. ‘Better?’
‘Marginally.’ His voice was suddenly ragged and he released her hand to pull her hard against him. ‘It will do. For now.’
He kissed her and there was no longer anything teasing about it; only naked hunger and a great wave of emotion. Lydia sighed against his mouth and pulled him even closer. And suddenly all the hurts and fears of the previous day … everything that happened since the moment when they’d bound themselves to each other before God was simply wiped away.
Passion flared and spread.
Eden slid the night-rail from her shoulders so that his mouth could follow the trail forged by his hands and Lydia tugged her arms free in order to take her own voyage of discovery. Skin met skin, fingers tangled with fingers, tongue with tongue. Inch by glorious, tantalising inch, he kissed his way down her throat, while Lydia worshipped the taut muscles of his shoulders and back. And when he finally allowed himself the long-awaited pleasure of tasting the sweet, delicate swell of her breasts, he was rewarded with a shuddering moan of unconcealed wanting.
Flames became wildfire and mutual hunger raged like a hurricane.
Eden treasured each tremor, each ragged gasp of pleasure, each incoherent endearment. As he had done before … as he suspected he might always do … he found the way she responded to him something akin to a miracle. She offered herself completely, holding nothing back and it intoxicated him. So when self-restraint finally melted before the force of her desire for him as well as his for her, he moved slowly into the molten silk of her body … and saw in her eyes that he felt as exquisite to her as she did to him. And suddenly, helplessly, the world turned on its axis.
Later … very much later, when he lay at peace with her head on his shoulder, he murmured vaguely, ‘Did I happen to mention that I love you?’
A smile invested Lydia’s mouth and she continued tracing lazy patterns on his chest.
‘You may have done. I was a bit … preoccupied.’
‘A bit?’ he echoed. ‘You were a bit preoccupied?’
‘Well … maybe more than a bit.’
‘Thank God for that. If I need to try harder, it may well kill me.’
Lydia heard the lazy contentment in his voice and lifted her head in order to kiss his jaw.
Silence fell for a time but eventually Eden said reluctantly, ‘I suppose we should get up. Aside from visiting all your people, I ought to thank Ned and Rob Trotter. I also need to lay information against Northcote with both Lambert and Thurloe – which is likely to take a lot longer than one would think necessary. But I want that bloody hell-hole in Crutched Friars closed down without delay and that means putting it in official hands.’
‘And all this has to be done today?’ asked Lydia, sitting up and shaking back her hair.
‘Today and tomorrow.’ He folded his arms behind his head in order to fully appreciate the view of his wife clothed only by a yard of glossy brown hair. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to leave for Thorne Ash by the end of the week.’
She stared at him, torn between admitting she’d go anywhere with him whenever he liked and another, decidedly feminine thought. The latter won and she said, ‘You want me to marry you for the second time in a gown I’ve worn before?’
The hazel eyes drifted seductively over her and, in a voice that slid through her like warm honey, Eden said, ‘Darling, I’d happily marry you wearing nothing more than you are right now. But Mother might not like it.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
EPILOGUE
Thorne Ash, Oxfordshire
‘What,’ asked Eden, ‘are we waiting for now? We’ve been here a week. The christening is over and the banns have been called; Toby has finally arrived and the alterations to the gown Kate’s giving you must be finished by now. So why, in the name of God, can we not simply walk into the chapel and get married?’
Lydia smiled vaguely over the letter she was writing and shrugged.
‘I think your mother is still hoping your other sister will come or that Aubrey may change his mind.’
‘Amy won’t come. As for Aubrey – you know what I think of that.’
‘Yes. But if I don’t mind, you need not either.’
He eyed her bent head narrowly.
‘Why do I think there’s something you’re not telling me?’
Because there is, she thought. But said lightly, ‘Working for Mr Thurloe has left you overly suspicious.’ And then, before he could cross-question her further, she stood up and looping her arms about his waist, murmured, ‘You’re very impatient.’
‘Yes.’ Eden pulled her closer. ‘Aren’t you?’
She eventually managed to escape with an excuse about joining Kate to choose flowers for the chapel and he let her go because he had a secret of his own.
Outside in the garden, Eden’s sister shot Lydia an amused, sideways look and said, ‘Is he still bemoaning the delay?’
‘Yes. Sooner or later, he’s going to guess. I’m only surprised he hasn’t done so already.’
‘Then it’s a good thing we only have to hold our nerve until tomorrow, isn’t it?’
‘We do?’
‘Yes. Mother had a note giving us advance warning. You can distract him until then, can’t you?’ And with a sudden grin, ‘Silly question. Of course you can.’
Exactly as Eden had predicted, Lydia and Kate had formed an immediate friendship. Indeed, reflected Lydia later, his entire family had welcomed her warmly.
At their first and only completely private meeting, Dorothy had held her hands and talked to her for an emotionally charged hour, often with tears in her eyes; Tabitha had thanked her for caring for Tobias after he’d been shot – completely brushing aside Lydia’s confession that, but for her, he wouldn’t have been shot; and Ralph swept her off her feet in a bear-hug, then teased her until she blushed. Jude, having introduced his sister, bubbled over with questions about everything from the Yule baskets to the lorinery; and after a period of careful overtures on Lydia’s part, Mary began shyly seeking her out whenever Eden wasn’t there.
This, Lydia decided, needed to be put right. She waited for two days and then, drawing the girl to one side, said, ‘Mary, we don’t know each other very well yet but I thought … I was hoping you might be my attendant at the wedding. What do you think?’
The cornflower blue eyes lit with delight, then clouded again. In a flat little voice, the girl said politely, ‘Thank you, Mistress Lydia. But I don’t think Father would like that.’
