‘It isn’t always like this.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Well, it’s always good. But not...amazing, wonderful. You make it so, Caro.’
She smiled, her expression tender. ‘No, I’m quite sure it is you who make it so. Thank you, Max. I never expected to know such happiness. I...thank you.’ She kissed him gently.
Just then, Max heard the murmur of voices and the sharp strike of hoofs on the stone floor. ‘We’d better get presentable, lest we scandalise the grooms as we have the household staff.’
Grinning, he pulled her up. Kissing and touching delaying their efforts, she managed to button his trouser flap and tuck in his shirt while he retrieved her boots and helped her into her breeches. Hand in hand, nodding to the grooms as they passed them, they walked out of barn.
Max stood in the sunlight, breathing deeply of the soft country air, his senses replete, his mind filled with a sense of peace more profound than he could ever remember experiencing in London or back at Swynford Court.
Here there was no autocratic father to please, no hunting for a suitable position. Only his deeply sensual, straightforward Caro and days filled with the rhythm of challenging work. He had the odd thought that he could almost believe he would be content to stay here for ever, pleasuring and watching over Caro and her horses.
‘What next, my fair taskmaster?’ he asked, pulling a stray bit of straw from her hair.
Smiling, Caro had opened her kiss-swollen lips to answer, when suddenly her eyes widened at something she must have seen behind him. A look of incredulous delight lifting her face, she cried, ‘Harry!’
By the time Max recalled the identity of the person with that name, his wife had run over to throw herself into the arms of the man she’d told him she’d always intended to marry.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A jolt going through him, Max watched as a tall blond man in the uniform of the 33rd Foot caught his wife and swung her around before setting her back on the ground. ‘Caro! It’s so good to see you again!’
‘When did you get back?’ she demanded. ‘Why didn’t you write you were coming?’
Dropping a kiss on her hands before releasing them, the officer stepped back. His smile fading to a frown, he gave Max a hostile glance.
‘There wasn’t time,’ he replied, turning his attention back to Caro. ‘When I got your letter, I talked the colonel into letting me come back to take care of some battalion business he was going to entrust to another officer.’
‘My letter?’ she echoed, looking puzzled.
‘The one you wrote telling me that Woodbury had convinced the other trustees to sell the stud. You sounded so desperate, I thought I’d best get back here with all speed. I feared I’d find you distraught, maybe with the horses already gone. Instead,’ he said, his tone turning frosty as he inspected her, ‘you look like you’ve just been trysting in the barn. With him?’ He transferred his disapproving gaze to Max.
Caro’s cheeks flamed a guilty red, turning the lieutenant’s expression even grimmer. But before Max could intervene to tell the man a thing or two, Caro said, ‘I have a lot to explain. But first, let me introduce you. Max, as I imagine you have guessed, this is Lieutenant Harry Tremaine, my oldest and dearest friend. Harry, this is Max Ransleigh.’
After the two exchanged stiff bows, Harry said, ‘Earl of Swynford’s son, aren’t you? On a buying trip for him, I expect? Let me wish you well before you depart.’
‘Please, Harry...’ Caro protested. ‘With your permission, Max, I’d like to tell Harry what...has happened since I first discovered Woodbury meant to sell the stud. We’ll rejoin you in the house a bit later.’
‘Why do you ask for his leave?’ Tremaine demanded.
‘Because he’s my husband, Harry,’ she said quietly. ‘Did you not know?’
The stunned shock on Tremaine’s face announced quite clearly that he had not. ‘Husband!’ he echoed. ‘No, I hadn’t any idea. What the deuce has been going on?’
‘It’s...complicated,’ she allowed, giving him a strained smile. ‘With your leave, Max?’
He would have preferred to order the man off the property. Everything about Lieutenant Harry Tremaine made him bristle with outrage, from the proprietary manner in which he looked at Caro to the way he strutted about the paddock with an unconscious air of authority, as if he had every right to be at Denby Lodge, monopolising its mistress.
Still, though he’d much rather challenge Tremaine to a bout of fisticuffs, Max bowed to Caro’s wishes. He supposed her ‘oldest friend’ did deserve to receive an explanation of the radical change in Caro’s life—without an outsider listening in. ‘I shall see you later,’ he said grudgingly. ‘Not much later, though,’ he added in a warning tone.
‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘Come along to the paddock, Harry. While we talk, you can see the new mares I have just purchased.’
Max walked back towards the manor as his wife led the interloper into the paddock, trying to master the anger, resentment and, yes, jealousy nipping at him.
So this was the man she loved, the one she’d always thought to marry. He hadn’t much worried about Lieutenant Harry Tremaine while the soldier was halfway around the world.
Now that he was back in England, was Max playing the fool, letting his wife speak to her old lover in private?
After the last two days, Caro ought to be sated. But she’d shown herself to possess an incredibly sensual appetite.
Might she try satisfying it with Tremaine?
Stop it, he ordered himself. This way lay madness. Caro had made him a solemn promise before God and he knew down to his bones she meant to keep it. He’d talk to her about Tremaine when she came back to the manor, but he’d not insult her honour by going back to fetch her.
He reached the house, went to the library and poured himself a large glass of wine. He only hoped their talk would be of short duration.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the paddock, Caro distracted Harry for a short time as, with a true horseman’s interest, he inspected the new mares. Soon enough, though, he completed his appraisal and turned back to her.
‘Married!’ he exclaimed. ‘How is that possible?’
‘I think I’m offended. It’s not impossible someone would want to marry me,’ she said, trying to lighten Harry’s thundercloud expression.
‘You know what I meant,’ he said impatiently. ‘The marriage is final, then? You can’t get out of it?’
‘No. We wed in church, before God and witnesses. It’s fully binding.’
‘Why Ransleigh? I didn’t even know you were acquainted with the man.’
Omitting that she’d originally requested Max to ruin her, Caro briefly summarised what had happened at Barton Abbey, her refusal of Max’s first offer, then the desperation over the sale of the stud that led her to reconsider. Harry listened in grim silence.
‘I’m sorry, Harry, if you feel...betrayed,’ she said when she’d finished the account, ‘but truly, it was the only alternative—’
‘I understand,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t like it, but I understand. As soon slay you where you stand as take away the stud. Damn Woodbury! I just wish I had been here, so you could have turned to me. Or that India wasn’t so damned far away, that I could have returned here before it was too late.’
‘I wish you’d been here, too. But you weren’t. And that’s an end to it.’
‘An end...to us?’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘I can hardly imagine such a thing. I’ve never even considered marrying anyone else.’
Caro felt tears welling in her eyes. From the moment she’d decided to marry Max, she’d dreaded having to eventually face Harry and explain why she’d all but jilted him. She’d thought then that he would write her before returning from India, so she’d have time to prepare for the difficult reunion.
Groping to find the right words, she said, ‘I never had either, until circumstances forced me into it. But if I had to marry someone else
, I’m glad it was Max. You’ll like him, Harry; he’s a good man—kind, intelligent, sympathetic.’ Whose touch drives me wild, but she didn’t need to tell Harry that. ‘Most importantly, he understands how I feel about my horses and supports my continuing to work with them, much as Papa did.’
‘You must give me leave not to like him...now that he possesses all I’ve ever wanted.’
Caro felt another jolt of sadness and stiffened, fighting it. She couldn’t weaken; she owed Max more than that. ‘No. But some day you’ll find someone else worthy of you. Probably a lady better suited than me to be your wife.’
‘Forgive me if, at the moment, I don’t find your prediction very comforting,’ Harry said bitterly.
The pain and sadness of her best and oldest friend slicing her to the quick, Caro wished she could find something more soothing to say. But even in her distress, a subtle awareness distanced her from his pain.
Deep within her glowed the memory of Max’s kiss, his fierce possession, the shared passion that bound her to him and made them one. Much as she might regret Harry’s heartache and the fact that there could never be a future between them, she belonged to Max now.
‘I expect not. I had weeks to reconcile myself; being hit with the news all in an instant, it will take time for you to accept it.’
‘Or to persuade you to run away with me.’
She smiled. ‘I couldn’t and you know it, or you’d never have said such a thing. Well, that’s the whole of it. We’d best go back now.’
‘I suppose. I wouldn’t want your husband to get jealous.’
Caro laughed. ‘I sincerely doubt he would. But staying out here tête-à-tête is bound to cause gossip. And—’ the sudden realisation sent a pang of regret through her ‘—now that I’m married, I suppose you mustn’t run tame here any more.’
She looked up to find Harry watching her, his face bleak. ‘On the voyage back, I thought of all the changes I might find when I arrived. The stud sold, the horses scattered. You sunk into despair and depression. Never once did I dream I might have to give up the dearest friendship of my life.’
Not until this moment had it struck her that marrying Max inevitably meant the death of her closeness with Harry. Max could become an even better friend, a little voice said. She pushed aside that probably vain hope.
‘I’d never thought it, either. But there’s no use repining over facts that cannot be changed. We can only face the situation with honour, and go forwards.’
As she turned to walk towards the manor, Harry grabbed her shoulder. ‘Just once more, I want to hold you like you were still to be mine,’ he said. Before she could think to resist, he pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her.
At the shock of his lips brushing hers, she slammed her hands into his chest, shoving him away.
‘Last time you tried that, I planted you a facer!’ she cried angrily. ‘I ought to do so again.’
‘I’d deserve it, I suppose. But despite that lapse, I am a man of honour. I’ll not cross the line again.’
Reading the sincerity in his eyes, Caro knew he meant it. ‘Let us try to salvage something of friendship, then. Come in with me. I’d like you to become better acquainted with Max.’
Harry shook his head. ‘I couldn’t greet Ransleigh now with any appearance of courtesy. Perhaps later, before I return to India. I’ll send a note first...so you can ask your husband for permission to receive me.’
She nodded. ‘That would be helpful.’
‘Helpful. Devil take it!’ He closed his eyes, obviously trying to take in the enormous implications of her marriage. ‘Goodbye for now, then,’ he said when he opened them, his face now shuttered. ‘My sincerest wishes for your continued health and happiness.’
‘Goodbye, Harry. Give my best to your family.’
He bowed, then walked back to the stable to retrieve his mount. A moment later, she watched him ride by on the trail through the woods leading back to his father’s manor. A chapter in her life now closed for ever.
Sighing, she trudged towards the house. She must get back and reassure Max. Not that she thought he would truly be jealous, but it must be disconcerting to watch one’s wife fling herself into the arms of the man she’d once proclaimed she meant to marry. Even though said wife had vowed she’d given up all ties to her former lover and pledged her loyalty to him.
She wondered how long Max would stay...if she could entice him to linger. Sighing, she shook her head at her own idiocy. Two nights and days of delicious lovemaking and she was falling further than ever under the spell of her dynamic, sensual, compelling husband.
She probably ought to urge him to return to London...before she grew to long for his company even more keenly.
The thought struck her then, and unconsciously her hand strayed to her lips. She’d been shocked by Harry’s unexpected kiss, filled by an immediate sense, on a level deeper than reason or honour, that having him touch her was wrong. Beyond that sensation, though, she’d felt...nothing. No stirrings of desire, no immediate tingle of sensual arousal like that which suffused her whenever Max touched her.
Apparently she now belonged to Max even more completely than she’d known.
Despite that truth, forcing her oldest friend to ride away from the wreckage of their friendship left an aching pain in her breast, as decades of fond memories clashed with honour and commitment, splintering into sabre-sharp shards within her heart.
Her emotions in turmoil, slowly she walked back to the manor.
Where her husband waited.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Max paused in pacing the library to pour himself another glass of brandy. He glanced up at the steadily ticking mantel clock, then out the window again. How long could a simple talk take?
He had to clutch the glass and take another gulp, trying to resist the almost overwhelming urge to pace back to the stables and put his hands in a stranglehold grip around the neck about which his wife had recently clasped her arms. A furious, irrational rage boiled in him at the mere thought of the possessive look Tremaine had cast at Caro, a rage made even more inexplicable since, if he considered the situation rationally, he didn’t really doubt that his wife would do nothing more than explain to her childhood friend the tangled trail of events leading to their marriage.
Tremaine had been genuinely shocked to discover Caro wed. Max tried to force himself to dredge up some sympathy for the unhappiness and chagrin her old friend must be feeling.
He wasn’t having any luck.
The intensity of his instinctive response to Tremaine and his inability to reason it away disturbed Max. He’d vied for female attention before, and though admittedly he’d seldom had to yield a woman he wanted to another, he’d never experienced anything like this fierce, primal sense of ownership, this desire to maim and destroy any man who dared touch his lady. This must be what jealousy felt like and he didn’t much enjoy the emotion.
But then he’d never been married before, nor entered into any relationship with a woman meant to last longer than an affair.
For the first time, he began to understand the ferocity of the pain and rage that had driven his cousin Alastair after he’d lost the woman he’d loved.
Not, of course, that he loved Caro like that, he assured himself. He’d told her from the very beginning that he expected fidelity in a wife, though at the time he hadn’t dreamt how strongly even a hint of attention from another man would affect him.
He was still wrestling with this unprecedented tangle of emotions when a knock sounded at the door. His spirits leapt, but instead of Caro, the butler stood at the threshold, offering him a letter newly arrived from the post.
Recognising Colonel Brandon’s hand, he broke the seal and scanned it. The colonel wrote that he’d found a promising post in the War Department and wished Max to return to London and consult with him about it.
An honourable position where he might do some good, the Colonel described it. What he’d sought ever since returning from
Waterloo appeared now within his grasp.
He should leave immediately. But pleased as he was at the prospect of employment, he felt a curious reluctance to leave Denby Lodge. Max didn’t want to look too closely at how much Lieutenant Harry Tremaine’s unexpected return played in that hesitation.
Before he could examine the matter further, the door opened again and this time Caro herself walked in.
She gave him a tentative smile. Immensely happy to see her in a way he could not explain, Max walked over to kiss her forehead. ‘Lieutenant Tremaine is not joining us?’
‘No. He’s not yet been back to see his family.’
Guiltily aware of how delighted he was she’d returned alone, Max said, ‘I hope the interview wasn’t too painful.’
‘I hope you’re not angry I wished to see him alone. But I did feel I owed Harry an explanation.’
‘No, I’m not angry.’ As long as explanations were all she gave Tremaine, he was satisfied.
‘Being totally unprepared to see him, I’m afraid I greeted him with...rather too much enthusiasm, for which I apologise. I’d completely forgotten that I’d written to him the night I returned from the solicitor’s office, before I thought of coming to you. Elizabeth’s father still franks her letters; one of the servants must have put it into the post.’
‘How did he take the explanation?’
‘He...wasn’t happy, but he’s a man of honour, as you are. In any event, I made you a promise of loyalty and fidelity before we were married. I fully intend to keep it. That and my...affection belong to you now.’
He’d known as much, but having her reaffirm it eased the turmoil of emotions churning within him. Reassured on that front, he recalled the colonel’s letter.
Holding it up, he said, ‘I’ve just heard from Colonel Brandon. I must return to London to consult with him. Why not come with me? You could see a physician, buy whatever you need...’
Smiling, she shook her head. ‘I’ve already told you there is nothing a physician can do for me. And I have everything I need. It’s sweet of you to be concerned, but with the new mares just arrived and the stallion to work, plus all the training to supervise, I must stay here, where I belong. Doing the work that marrying you, dear Max, allowed me to continue.’
The Rake to Ruin Her Page 23
