by Janet Woods
She clutched her bodice against her. ‘Nothing … it’s nothing. I fell and hurt myself. It’s healed now.’
‘You’re lying to me, Del.’
‘Yes … I’m lying. I don’t want you to know what happened.’
Freeing the last of the buttons he pulled her bodice fully open and brought down the lantern, so her back was towards the light. There were other marks, old ones that had healed into threads, discoloured, so they could hardly be seen and barely felt. A whip had been used on her. He ran a finger down the longest one, anger growing in him. ‘If that evil bastard wasn’t already dead I’d kill him with my bare hands.’
She placed her hands over her ears. ‘Don’t, Ryder. I want to forget he ever existed.’
He hung the lantern back on its hook.
She lowered her head and her hair fell over her face, hiding her expression from him. Drawing her close he brushed her hair back and gazed at her. There were tears gleaming in her eyes but she wasn’t weeping. Adele had never been inclined towards self-pity.
For a moment she stiffened, then she shrugged away from him and dropped the rest of her gown and her jaconet chemise into the straw. She stood at arm’s length, naked, the flickering light from the lantern playing over the shadows and peaks of her body.
His mouth dried when she said, ‘Is this how you want me, Ryder?’
He’d never wanted anything more, yet his anger grew at this blatant offer. ‘You know I do.’
‘Then I’m yours. Just take me and get it over with. It will help me forget … him.’
Get it over with? It was as though she was offering a reward for something he’d endured … or realized she owed him something. Didn’t she know the difference between love and the act of expressing it … the slow build-up of tension before the urgency of a burning climax and the release?
It was as though she were offering a titbit to a dog. ‘Here, Gypsy, good dog … catch the reward and be grateful for it.’ Except he wasn’t any woman’s dog.
Forget the man who had ruined her, she’d said. If only he could.
He saw the confidence drain from her before she hung her head. ‘Don’t you … want me then?’
He snatched up the chemise and practically threw it at her, followed by her dry gown. This one buttoned down the front, so she could manage it by herself. He was sharper than he’d intended. ‘I don’t want you like this. Cover your body and stop cheapening yourself.’
She did as she was told, and without a murmur, and then sank into the hay and covered her face with her hands. ‘You’ve made me feel as though I’m worth nothing. I didn’t expect that from you.’
‘I’m the one person you should have expected it from. How do you think I feel? You’re not a trollop so don’t act like one.’
‘I’m sorry … I wanted to put things right between us.’
‘A tumble in the hay won’t do it.’
‘What will?’
‘I’ll let you know when I think of something suitable.’ He removed his damp coat, draping it, along with her discarded gown and pelisse, over a bale of hay to dry. Then he drew the pungent horse blanket over them both and turned his back on her.
Sneezing, she emerged from under it. ‘Ugh! That stinks.’
‘Then stop breathing, it will solve both our problems.’
That hurt. After a while she murmured, through chattering teeth, ‘You didn’t really mean that.’
‘Yes, I did.’
There was a stealthy movement and she inched closer. ‘Don’t be cross with me, Ryder. I’m hungry.’
‘What do you expect me to do, catch a rat and cook it over the candle flame?’
A giggle tore from her mouth, and then she said, ‘I’m cold as well.’
Sighing, Ryder turned and pulled her close, spooning her into his body. ‘Do something useful, like going to sleep.’
‘You were going to tell me what James Pelham said.’
The last thing he wanted to do was to discuss James Pelham. He could sort that out in the morning when he had more time. ‘Tomorrow will do.’
He recalled the image of Adele naked, the lightning flickering over her body, her firm jutting breasts and the shadowy pelt at the apex of her thighs. She’d been his for the taking … and he’d turned her down. His body reacted and he could have kicked himself. He hadn’t had a woman since he’d been home, and he was as horny as a March hare.
One thing was for certain – he was not going to be able to sleep while he was wrapped around Adele like a second skin … and neither would she, for he could feel the tension in her. He turned her towards him, smoothed the tumbled hair back from her face and saw uncertainty reflected in her eyes.
He didn’t care what she’d done to him. He loved her … he’d always loved her and always would. There was no other for him. Adele would become his wife and bear his children, as he’d always planned. He just had to change the plan to suit the situation.
But for the present he had a clear choice. It was either discuss with Adele his meeting with James Pelham, which would probably upset her. Or he could ravish her!
It took him two seconds to decide.
When Ryder’s cold hand slid through the aperture of her gown and his fingertips brushed over her warm breasts Adele jumped. ‘Your hands are cold.’
‘I know … and your breasts are warm.’
He nuzzled into the fabric and touched his tongue against her nipple.
‘Make love to me, Ryder.’
‘What do you think I’m doing? Be quiet, woman.’
Her nubs hardened and came erect, and then her breasts seemed to surge into his hands, as if eager to be handled. ‘A moment ago you called me a trollop.’
‘Damn it, Del, you know I didn’t mean it in that sense.’
‘What other sense is there?’
‘You can’t expect me to hold you like this and not go crazy. You don’t seem to be aware of what feelings you evoke in me … or perhaps you incite me on purpose.’
‘Like this?’ She slid her hand down his body and then used her finger to play lightly along the outline of his sheath before she cupped her palm over the bulge that presented itself for her inspection. The instant rise of his body, stiffened and strained upwards against the breeches that confined it.
He scrambled to loosen the flap and managed to pull aside her skirts at the same time.
There was a momentary silence, during which she took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth. It was a moment when love became more than just a word – when she understood she wasn’t trying to deny it, but rather to avoid the complications and the inevitable outcome of it.
His stomach, chest, and the smooth buttocks that curved beneath his breeches were shaped with a firm economy of flesh. He was the type of man who would avoid becoming portly in later years, and she remembered the portraits of previous earls on the staircase. They were graceful men, tautly muscled and confident in the positions they’d been born to. Ryder was made in the same mould.
‘I know things can never be the same between us, but I want you to know I never stopped loving you.’
‘Be quiet, woman,’ he growled, and his mouth closed over hers. The man in him sprang firmly into her hands.
Silky.
Alive.
Sliding into her warmth.
Spreading her wide.
A pulsing living thing …
They rested, limbs entangled, she inhaling his manly smell and her ears filled with the sound of his powerful, pounding heartbeat.
She gentled him, caressed him with soft kisses on his eyelids, his lips, the palms of his hands.
Their eyes opened and each absorbed the other’s being.
She gave an impatient little wriggle.
The sky roared, and then, after a moment of frustrated hesitation, her body arched to capture his powerful first thrust.
The wind increased in its rampaging fury and at one point gave what seemed to be a maniacal cackle of laughter that rose above the re
st.
‘Did you hear that odd noise?’ she whispered against his ear.
‘The one that sounded like a coven of witches flying past on their broomsticks?’
‘Yes, that one.’
‘No … I didn’t hear it.’
‘Neither did I.’
They looked at each other and laughed.
The barn rattled and shook, lightning renewed its flashy display of temper and the sky opened. Hailstones rattled on the roof, short, sharp bursts of ice.
Adele snuggled into Ryder’s body and he laughed, though it was more of a triumphant cry of release that rose above the thundering summer storm, and he kissed her, and then, as the night progressed, neither of them noticed the weather.
Sixteen
When Adele woke it was to the sound of whickering horses and male voices. One of the voices belonged to Luke Ashburn.
‘I’m relieved to find you safe, my lord.’
‘Quite safe, though I had a rather disturbed night.’
So did I, but a very satisfying one, Adele thought, stifling her laughter at Ryder’s smug observation.
‘I think the sluice has become blocked with debris. There are a couple of trees uprooted, one of which landed directly on the sluice, and I’ve come for the horses and some rope to pull the trunks off the road if we can get to it. I’ve alerted the gardeners and issued saws from the house.’
‘Has there been any damage to Madigan House?’
‘Not any damage that’s obvious … the garden is a mess, of course. Your valet and William Swift are doing a room by room inspection of the upper floors for signs of water intrusion or cracked windows.’
‘You seem to have everything in hand, Ashburn.’
‘The stream came up overnight. Duck Pond Cottage is flooded and the pond is three times its size. The stream has diverted into the meadow. It’s well under water, and the stream is running fast.’
‘We’ll sort it out. I’ll help you collar the horses and join you there.’
Adele quietly pulled her dishevelled clothing together, and then she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. There was nothing she could do to tidy it now.
Ryder was speaking again. ‘Are the Manning sisters safe?’
‘They managed to get to the church with the dog and a few other Brackenhurst residents. I dare say Mrs Pelham is with them, but I haven’t seen her. Miss Pelham is still at Madigan House. The housekeeper found her a bed in the servants’ quarters.’
‘I see … there will be room for them all in my home until the cottage is repaired. You go on ahead, Mr Ashburn.’
‘I need to get the ropes from the loft.’
‘I’ll get them. My coat is still up there.’
Ryder’s feet clattered on the rungs and his head appeared, followed by his body. He offered her a wide smile and whispered, ‘Good morning, my love,’ then taking a couple of lengths of coiled rope from a hook he tossed it down to his manager and grabbed his coat.
When he got downstairs, Ashburn said, ‘I’ll take the loft ladder, in case some branches need pruning.’
‘I’ll bring that too.’
‘No need, my lord. I can manage quite easily. I daresay you’d like to go home for some breakfast.’ The ladder was unhooked.
From the small window in the loft Adele saw Ashburn move off, carrying the ladder, and with the two farm horses plodding after him. A coil of rope hung from their collars.
She called, ‘Ryder, I can’t get down.’
‘Yes you can.’ He stood under the lip of the loft with Henry and held on to the supporting beam. ‘Use those wooden pegs; climb down to this beam and on to Henry’s back. I’ll catch you if you fall. Throw your bag down first.’
She did as she was told, though Henry turned his head and managed an exasperated sigh at being used for a stepladder.
She found herself safely on the ground. He placed her shawl around her shoulders and drew her closer by the ends. Eyes bluer than blue gazed into hers, and they had a teasing light in them when he enquired, ‘How do you feel this morning, my shameless hussy?’
As if she could repeat what had taken place between them, right here and now. A blush seemed to spread from her toes and climb upwards throughout her body. It settled on her face. ‘If you tease me I’ll bite you.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll drop you off at Madigan House and I’ll tell the aunts you’re safe.’
For a moment or two she hugged him tight, and then she said, ‘Everyone will suspect we were together.’
‘Most likely.’
‘You don’t seem to mind?’
He cocked his head to one side and regarded her. ‘It’s different for men, my dove. While they congratulate their fellow men over the conquest, the woman is condemned for the same reason.’
‘Do men talk about the women they’ve known, then?’
‘Some do.’
‘Did you talk about me?’
‘No …’ he said, shortly. ‘You must realize that our aborted wedding wasn’t an event I wished to remember with any pride.’
They fell silent, then after a while Ryder said, ‘Would you rather wait at the church with your aunts?’
‘And give Mary Bryson the opportunity to vent her spleen on me at every turn? She certainly has created a cause against me, though God only knows what I’ve done to personally upset her. I can’t help that, but I do feel sorry for her. She is so nasty and sharp-tongued, she must be filled with the most unhappy of thoughts, and I think her mind is twisted in torment for most of the time.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’
‘Besides that, I’m hungry, and your cook will supply me with some breakfast.’
‘There’s that … an egg and a slice or two of bacon between two knobs of buttered bread will set me up for the day. As will a kiss from you.’
Rather it was a kiss from him, fierce and possessive and leaving her breathless.
She remembered the note she’d left for him and nearly panicked. She couldn’t remember what it was about … an apology, she recalled. She would ask Sarah to retrieve it before he sat down for breakfast, since now they were reconciled she would no longer need to apologize formally.
Leading Henry outside Ryder lifted her up on the horse, closed the barn door and mounted behind her. They ambled through the countryside, relaxed with each other. The lanes were littered with bruised and ragged leaves and the grass stalks bent at angles against the ground. Limbs were torn from the trees and hung in awkward, splintered shapes – like shattered bones.
Yet the air had a clean, wet smell and a sharp silver brightness to polish the grey shreds of the morning. Over the hill Madigan House came into view.
Ryder reined Henry in. ‘I can’t believe it’s almost six months since I returned home. It was a good storm, one I’ll always remember.’
He sounded as though he was reading a journal entry rather than recalling a love affair, and she wondered if he would still pursue her now he’d achieved his desire. Had his remark about men talking about their conquests been a warning?
Oh Lord … she’d just remembered something! Her journals were missing as well as the will and the house deeds.
He said, ‘Most of the men have gone to see to the storm damage and the women will be busy in the kitchen, I expect. If you don’t want to be noticed, walk from here and keep to the shrubbery. I can keep the servants busy while you slip into the upstairs sleeping quarters and find a vacant room.’
She nodded, relieved by the thought. Her reputation wouldn’t survive another onslaught, and Ryder obviously didn’t want his association with her to become public knowledge.
‘Someone might see me?’
‘Use your imagination. Tell them you were walking in your sleep and ended up in my bed, where the evil lord of the manor ravished you … They might not believe it but they wouldn’t contradict you.’
Laughing, he swung her down and handed down her bag. ‘I’ll wait here until you get to the house. See if you can find so
mething to tidy your hair with, then you won’t look so thoroughly rumpled.’
She didn’t know how to take him. Last night he’d been so warm and loving. Now, in the light of day he was almost remote, as if nothing of importance had happened between them.
She headed for the house, keeping to the shadows. The front door was unlocked. Pushing it open she entered and fled up the wide, carpeted stairs. She’d just reached the upper landing when Ryder’s valet, John Moore, came out of a room and called down. ‘The earl is on his way.’
William Swift took up position near the front door to relieve the earl of his hat and cane.
Adele shrank into a dark alcove in the panelling that opened on to the servants’ stairs. The staircase circled up where another door opened out to a floor of guest bedrooms, then carried on up further. She stepped out onto a landing, still covered with dust sheets.
She heard someone humming a tune, and it sounded like Sarah.
Racing up a set of stairs to the servants’ quarters, Adele carefully opened the first door and nearly collapsed with relief when Sarah said, ‘So that’s where you’ve been.’
Adele jumped, saying the first thing that came into her head. ‘It was the storm … I slept in the barn … alone, of course.’
Sarah grinned. ‘Now the foliage has been thinned by the storm you can see quite a lot from here. Are you saying it wasn’t you I saw with the earl on his horse?’
Adele shrugged. ‘I think I was saying something like that … but there was no other choice. You know what people are like. They would make more of it than it was … which was a simple conveyance. So we decided to encourage the servants to think I’d been here all night … with you.’
‘Rather than have them think you were in the barn all night with the earl? I suppose the most naive amongst us might believe it.’
Adele’s face warmed. ‘There was nowhere else to go. The countryside, and that includes Duck Pond Cottage, is awash. People are gathering in the church because it’s on high ground. I heard Mr Ashburn and the earl talking about taking a look at the sluice to see if tree debris has blocked it. They’re taking the farm horses to help clear some trees that have fallen.’
