Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  “As you said, our marriage is one of convenience not affection,” she said in careful tones. “You might very well be attracted to another.”

  His feet were carrying him across the carpet before he could halt the movement. As much as he might secretly take pleasure at the thought of Addy burning with jealousy, he could not allow her to believe he would ever betray her trust.

  He halted directly behind her, his gaze stroking the rigid set of her profile.

  “No, I am not attracted to Mrs. Wilton or even Miss Bates,” he assured her firmly. “I far prefer raven haired, midnight-eyed minxes.”

  He could feel her muscles tense as she slowly turned to face him.

  “You are merely saying that.”

  “No, it is true, Addy.” His hand rose to softly stroke her cheek. “Do you recall when you use to paint the old ruins on the edge of your property?”

  Her lips softly parted. “Yes.”

  Adam found himself becoming lost in the soft darkness of her eyes. “I could see you from my window. I would stand there in fascination as the wind would blow your hair and your bright skirts would dance about you.”

  “You told me that I looked like a hoyden.”

  “No, you looked beautiful,” he said with a husky sincerity, fiercely regretting his foolish words. He had told himself that he was only being sensible, that his wife must be utterly proper and demur. But he was beginning to fear his motives were not nearly so pure. “But you were also very wild and free. I suppose I thought I must tame you or you would slip from my grasp.”

  “I thought I was an embarrassment to you.”

  This vibrant, beautiful woman an embarrassment? His heart felt as if it were being clenched by a ruthless fist.

  “Never that, Addy,” he muttered, his hands smoothing over the satin skin of her face before moving to undo the braid and allowing her hair to tumble freely about her shoulders. “You are so lovely.”

  As if sensing the growing heat that shimmered in the air, Addy regarded him with wide eyes.

  “Adam.”

  His fingers trailed through the raven curls, stirring to life the maddening scent of lilacs.

  “This hair drives me mad,” he whispered.

  A pink tongue reached out to touch her lips. “It is very common. Not at all like Mrs. Wilton’s red hair.”

  He gave a husky laugh. “Then why did I not spend the evening longing to see it tugged free and falling about her shoulders?”

  Her gaze narrowed slightly. “She would not have objected.”

  “But you would have, eh, Addy?”

  There was a long silence before she gave a sigh. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Nearly trembling with the powerful urge to sweep her into his arms and remove all doubts as to where his passions lay, Adam lowered his head and claimed a brief, searing kiss. Her lips instinctively parted in seductive promise, making Adam’s muscles tighten with a sharp, clamoring need. One tug, he told himself. One tug and she would be upon the carpet with his demanding body covering her soft form. Every quivering inch of him urged him to plunge into the desire arcing between them, but the rigid control that had ruled his life came to his belated rescue. With a deep groan he reluctantly lifted his head. She was still not certain of him. Still not capable of surrendering herself completely. Gazing down at her bemused expression he softly brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “Do not stay up too late, my dear.”

  Turning and walking away was the most difficult thing Adam had ever done.

  Only the knowledge that when Addy did come to him eagerly and without reservation that it would be the most glorious experience of his life kept him from tossing her over his shoulder and taking her to his bed.

  Patience.

  He groaned as he stepped through the door.

  Chapter Eight

  “This one, I believe,” Mr. Humbly announced, pointing to one of the numerous sketches spread across the table.

  Addy smiled in satisfaction. The sketch was a simple one with Mr. Humbly seated in a casual manner with his uniquely sweet smile upon his lips.

  “That is the one that I prefer as well,” she said. “It is dignified without being pretentious.”

  Folding his hands across his belly, Humbly gave a knowing nod of his head. “I knew that I could depend upon you, Addy. This is precisely what I desired.”

  Addy felt a flustered heat rise to her cheeks. It was strangely uplifting to know that she had not disappointed this dear man.

  “This is only the vaguest sketch,” she felt compelled to warn. “There is still a great deal of work to be done.”

  The Vicar heaved a deep sigh. “I feared that you might say that.”

  Addy could not help but laugh at his expression of martyrdom. He might very well have passed as Daniel being fed to the lions.

  “Do not worry. I shall ensure that Cook has plenty of lemon tarts on hand.”

  His expression miraculously lightened at the mention of his favorite treats.

  “And perhaps a few of those almond cakes? I do adore those.”

  “Is there anything you do not adore?” she teased.

  Humbly abruptly grimaced. “Cucumber sandwiches.”

  “Then I shall make very certain that they never appear on the tea tray.”

  He reached out to gently pat her hand. “Most thoughtful of you, my dear.”

  Picking up the chosen sketch, Addy briefly contemplated the work that still lay ahead of her. Work that sent a thrill of excitement through her, and gave her a reason to look forward to each day.

  “It will take a few days to transfer the sketch to the canvas,” she concluded. “And then I shall have to acquire the necessary supplies.”

  “Of course,” Humbly readily agreed. “That will give me an opportunity to visit the Bishop. I suppose I have put it off long enough.”

  Addy lifted her brows at the unmistakable hint of reluctance in his voice.

  “You do not appear particularly pleased.”

  “Oh, the Bishop is a fine gentleman,” the Vicar was swift to assure her. “Quite a formidable scholar and a worthy leader of the Church. There are few men that I admire more.”

  “Then what troubles you?”

  Humbly gave a rather sad shake of his head. “Somehow, no matter what my age, I always feel like a student being called to the headmaster’s office.”

  Addy felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor man. She knew all too well the sinking feeling of approaching a dominating personality. Did she not cringe when she was forced to call upon Adam each morning in the library?

  Not any longer, a renegade voice whispered in the back of her mind.

  The resentful, simmering anger that she always associated with Adam had slowly been tempered over the past few days. It was odd. Unexplainable. But she could not deny that while she still trembled when her husband was near, it had nothing to do with annoyance. Instead there was a breathless, shimmering magic that flooded through her body.

  Against her will the image of their embrace from the evening before rose to her mind.

  She had been so furious at the forward manner of Mrs. Wilton and Miss Bates. And even more so by Adam’s seeming enjoyment of their blatant advances.

  But her anger had swiftly turned to a searing need when Adam had taken her lips in a demanding kiss.

  For a mindless moment she had longed to press close against him. To beg him to end the frantic ache that clenched deep inside her.

  An ache that had lingered far into the night and still left her feeling restless and on edge.

  Pressing an unconscious hand to her stomach, Addy battled to control her shameful thoughts.

  Good heavens, she would soon be as bad as Mrs. Wilton with her seductive smiles and pleading glances.

  Hoping that the Vicar would not notice the revealing heat in her cheeks, Addy awkwardly cleared her throat.

  “It cannot be so bad,” she at last managed.

  “Oh, I assure you it is,” Mr. Humbly insisted with a pecul
iar glint in his eyes. “On the last occasion the Bishop visited the Vicarage I managed to spill an entire pot of tea in his lap and no doubt permanently maimed him when I tripped upon the stairs and sent the both of us tumbling to the bottom.”

  Thankfully distracted, Addy gave a choked laugh. “Oh, goodness.”

  “There is just something so horridly intimidating about the man,” Humbly rued.

  “Yes.” Addy gave a small grimace. “It is not pleasant to feel like an awkward child.”

  “Precisely.” Humbly suddenly smiled. “Still, I can not ignore my duty. I just must ensure that I do not hold anything sharp in my hands. Thus far I have avoided actually stabbing the poor man.”

  “I am certain you will be as gracious and charming as ever,” Addy said.

  “You are a good child.”

  The sound of the door to the salon being pushed open interrupted them and both turned to watch the housekeeper enter and place a large tray on the table next to the sofa. Straightening, the servant turned to Addy with a wooden expression.

  “Your tea, Mrs. Drake.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hall.” Addy moved forward. “Is Mr. Drake still at home?”

  Mrs. Hall shot her an oddly wary gaze. “I believe he is upstairs, although he requested not to be disturbed.”

  Addy frowned in surprise. It was strange enough that Adam had not yet left for the day. What could he possibly be doing that would demand he not be interrupted?

  “That will be all,” she at last murmured in distracted tones.

  Pausing long enough to offer Mr. Humbly a chastising frown, the housekeeper turned to make her way from the room. Once alone Mr. Humbly moved to stand at Addy’s side.

  “I fear that Mrs. Hall does not entirely approve of me.”

  Addy waved a dismissive hand. “You must forgive her. She has ludicrously concluded that Adam’s odd behavior is somehow connected to your visit.”

  “Oh?” The Vicar raised his bushy brows. “Is Adam behaving oddly?”

  “Surely you have noticed?” she demanded in surprise. Not even this vague, rather unworldly gentleman could fail to have noticed the changes in her husband. Especially after last evening. Her features hardened. Although Adam had assured her that he had no interest in the harpies, she was still infuriated by their reprehensible behavior. “He was allowing those women to flirt with him as if he were a common rogue.”

  “Certainly he was being polite, but a rogue?” Humbly protested with a searching gaze.

  Addy wrapped her arms about her waist. “You can not deny that he did nothing to discourage those . . . women.”

  Humbly’s smile became wry. “I do not believe that they were in need of encouragement.”

  “No,” she retorted in clipped tones. “They were shameless.”

  “Addy, you can hardly lay the blame for their behavior upon poor Adam. What gentleman could possibly hope to stop a determined lady?”

  She could not deny the truth in his words. The women had latched onto him with grim determination. It would have taken a team of oxen to pry them loose.

  But while she might logically be able to dismiss the fleeting encounter, a dark, rather unpleasant part of her still brooded upon the memory.

  It was little wonder that Adam had accused her of being jealous.

  Addy stiffened in shock. No. It was not possible. To be jealous would imply she cared for her husband.

  A husband she had not wanted and who furthermore possessed no feelings for her, she reminded herself sternly.

  Disconcerted by her unwelcome thoughts she gave a sharp shake of her head. It was no more than a dislike for the women’s lack of common decency, she tried to reassure herself. And a perfectly reasonable expectation for her husband to avoid creating undue gossip.

  She was far from comforted by the hollow, surprisingly priggish explanation, but it was preferable to digging too deeply into her confused maze of emotions.

  “He need not have appeared to be enjoying himself quite so enthusiastically,” she retorted weakly.

  A disturbing amusement suddenly glowed in the sherry eyes.

  “Well, at least he was not being dull or overbearing,” he murmured.

  Possessing a sneaking suspicion that he was laughing at her, Addy’s brows snapped together.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I should change before I call upon the Bishop.” The Vicar offered a hasty bow. “Excuse me.”

  Still frowning Addy watched her guest scurry from the room.

  What the devil was Humbly implying?

  That she would prefer her husband to devote his evenings to drink and women?

  That was ridiculous.

  Granted she had complained of Adam’s rigid habits and his lack of interest in anything beyond war strategies. And perhaps she had secretly longed for him to be more dashing.

  But...

  Addy bit her lower lip.

  But, what?

  Adam was obviously attempting to loosen his stiff composure to please her. He was even attending social events that she knew he despised.

  Surely his efforts should bring her pleasure?

  The very fact he was suddenly considering her feelings at all was a miracle.

  But Addy knew deep inside she was not pleased.

  No. She was not pleased at all.

  * * *

  Adam felt like a young boy.

  Or at least how he would imagine a young boy would feel if he had not possessed a father who sternly forbade any childish antics.

  With a barely contained sense of anticipation he slipped through the hallways, ushering merchants through side doors, and carrying crates to the storeroom that he had commanded to be cleaned and refurbished.

  He had never before attempted to surprise another and he was rather startled to discover just how pleasurable it was.

  In truth he could barely restrain his impatience as he ordered the footmen to unload the crates and the maids to finish hanging the curtains that matched the pale rose sofa and chairs.

  Only when he was certain that all was in readiness did he allow himself to make his way to the front salon.

  Entering the room he briefly feared that Addy had returned to her chambers or perhaps even left the house all together. He felt a sharp stab of disappointment, then his gaze suddenly discovered her lovely form in a corner chair where she was closely studying the sketch she held in her hand.

  He paused for a moment to simply drink in her beauty.

  Seated beside the window she was bathed in golden sunlight. The raven hair shimmered with the dark luster of polished ebony. Her skin glowed with a flawless perfection and the sheer muslin gown draped to her curves . . .

  No.

  Adam brought an abrupt and firm end to the dangerous thoughts.

  Heaven knew he had tormented himself enough through the night with images of those curves. He did not think his nerves could bear much more temptation.

  Forcing himself to recall his reason for seeking out his wife, Adam stepped forward.

  “Addy, may I have a moment?”

  Glancing up in surprise she set aside her sketch. “Of course. What is it?”

  “I have something I wish you to see.”

  It was not unexpected that she appeared taken aback by his request. “Very well,” she agreed at last, slowly rising to her feet.

  Offering his arm, Adam waited for Addy to place her fingers upon his sleeve lightly before leading her out of the room and up the staircase. For a time they moved in silence, then as he steered her toward the end of the long hall she shot him a questioning glance.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You shall see,” he murmured, not halting until they reached the end of the hall. Lifting his hand he pushed open the door and waved her inside. “In here.”

  Her brows drew together in puzzlement. “Is this not a storage room?”

  “It was.”

  She studied his well-guarded countenance for a long mom
ent before slowly stepping into the room. Adam followed closely behind, watching her delicate countenance as she came to an abrupt halt.

  Not even aware that he was holding his breath, Adam tensely waited as she gazed about the room. With wide eyes she studied the long shelves filled with every art supply that could be purchased in London, the pretty furnishings grouped close to the fireplace, and the stacks of canvases placed in a distant corner.

  “Oh,” she at last murmured, an unmistakable glow upon her face.

  Releasing the breath he held, Adam felt a warm burst of satisfaction rush through him.

  “What do you think?” he asked softly.

  Her eyes were filled with wonder as she turned to face him. “You did this?”

  He smiled faintly. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You are clearly in need of a place to work upon your portrait,” he said, although in truth he knew that the real reason was that he longed to see her face light with happiness. He missed the vibrant, spirited minx she had been before their marriage. He missed her smile. At the moment, however, he did not wish to make demands upon their fragile relationship. It was far better that his offer appear one of generosity rather than a need to regain what he had unwittingly destroyed. “I thought you would prefer a space that will be yours to do as you please.”

  She gave a shake of her head. “I do not know what to say.”

  Rather uneasy at his unaccustomed role as benefactor, Adam waved a hand toward the shelves.

  “I only purchased the most basic supplies, since I have little notion what an artist requires to paint her masterpiece.”

  She gave a sudden chuckle, her beautiful features luminous in the afternoon sunlight.

  “It appears that you have acquired enough supplies for a dozen portraits.”

  The world screeched to a halt.

  “You are pleased?”

  “I . . .” She turned to meet his searching gaze, her words lost upon her parted lips.

  “What?»

  “I just never expected anything like this,” she at last admitted. “It is very thoughtful.”

  A portion of his happiness dimmed. “You did not believe I was capable of being thoughtful?”