by Deborah Hale
“If you like.” The words came out in a tremulous whisper as she bent over him.
Her lips grazed over his brow, relishing the warm smoothness of his skin. She inhaled a deep draft of his spicy, smoky scent. Her well-honed sense of discretion warned her that she should not linger so close to Hadrian, but her body was slow to respond. After a brief struggle with herself, she tried to pull away, only to feel the hot mist of his breath and the velvet caress of his lips upon her throat. The unexpected thrill of those sensations held her captive there, hovering over him.
Though she could not break away, she was not entirely paralyzed, either. His overture called forth an answer from her. Before caution had a chance to intervene, her lips grazed the outer corner of one devilish dark brow, then trailed down to the crest of his high cheekbone. As she moved, his kisses swept along the sensitive flesh just below her jaw, moving over her chin and finally upward to meet her approaching lips.
She’d received enough kisses from Hadrian by now so that this one had a deliciously familiar feel. But it held a subtle thrill of novelty, too. She sensed a tender restraint on his part, which appealed not only to her physical desires but also to her wary heart.
Her heart had good reason to be wary, painful memories reminded her—all the more because she had allowed herself to feel something for her husband. It was only a compound of compassion, curiosity and admiration, spiced with reluctant desire. But that could be more than enough to scorch her if she risked playing with fire.
Abruptly she drew back, ignoring the protest of her pleasure-starved senses.
“Rest well.” She tried to pretend nothing of consequence had passed between them. But her ragged breath betrayed her.
Hadrian caught her hand. “Don’t go.”
It was not a command from the husband she’d vowed to obey, nor an order from the master of this fine house. It was an appeal to which she dared not respond, much as part of her longed to.
“I must.” It required an enormous effort to extract her fingers from his tantalizing grasp. “I do not want to.” She hadn’t meant to speak those words, for they revealed divided desires, which he might exploit. Yet she owed him the truth. “I do not want to, but I must.”
Chapter Eleven
Artemis hadn’t wanted to leave him. Hadrian savored that thought as sleep overcame him. He savored her response to his kiss as well. It had mingled ripe promise with touching innocence in a way that made him want her more than ever. After that kiss and her parting words, he was convinced she wanted him, too.
So what was holding her back? Why had she told him she must leave, against her obvious inclination to stay? Was it pride, not wanting to back down from her earlier profession that she had no interest in consummating their marriage? Or had something made her fear a man’s attentions?
He knew so little about her and understood even less. Part of him was inclined to resent that, after everything she’d discovered about him and none of it to his advantage. But his foremost reaction was tantalized curiosity. He longed to peel back her proud, proper facade every bit as much as he would like to unbutton one of her dark, dowdy gowns to explore the soft, fragrant woman beneath.
On that most appealing thought, he released his stubborn hold on consciousness and let himself slide into slumber.
He woke with a smile on his face, having dreamed of seducing Artemis, rather than of being trapped underground, as he’d feared he would after their trip to Fellbank.
The chorus of birdsong from outside and angle of light filtering around his window curtains told him it must be morning. The hollow ache in his belly confirmed that he had missed last night’s dinner and urged him to go in search of breakfast.
Too hungry to shave or dress, he reminded himself that this was his house. If he chose to appear for breakfast with a shadow of whisker stubble and no coat or neckcloth, it was nobody’s business but his own. So he pulled on his boots, raked his fingers through his disheveled hair then strode off to the dining room.
He found Artemis there, just finishing her breakfast.
“Good morning.” He hurried to the sideboard and poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. “I beg your pardon for leaving you to dine alone last evening. It was not an intentional slight, I assure you.”
“I was glad you were able to sleep.” Artemis had to raise her voice to carry down the long table. “I wondered whether I ought to have you called for dinner. I hope you don’t mind that I erred in favor of letting you rest.”
“Of course not.” Hadrian picked up his coffee cup and marched down to sit on the chair beside his wife. “There. Now we won’t need to shout ourselves hoarse to carry on a conversation.”
Artemis pursed her lips, as if fighting to suppress a grin. “I hope you slept well…with sweet dreams.”
“Sweet enough.” He made no effort to keep from smiling. “Thanks to you.”
One of the maidservants appeared just then with a plate of bacon, buttered eggs and kippered herring for his breakfast. She seemed surprised to find the master not occupying his traditional place at the head of the table.
When the girl headed back to the kitchen, bearing Artemis’s empty plate, Hadrian paused with a forkful of kippers halfway to his mouth. “I thought nothing could banish the memories that our visit to Fellbank revived. I am grateful to you for providing me with such a pleasant diversion.”
His words appeared to throw Artemis into confusion. She lowered her gaze and caught her lower lip between her teeth. And yet, he could not escape the conviction that some part of her was pleased.
That unaccountable certainty led him to add, “I did not mean to frighten or pressure you with the kiss we shared. But I must admit I am finding it more difficult than I expected to maintain a chaste marriage to such a beautiful lady.”
He forked the salty kippers into his mouth, then washed them down with a mouthful of coffee. All the time he kept his attention fixed on Artemis, curious to judge her reaction. What he saw and heard puzzled him exceedingly.
Her brows drew together and her lips tightened into a fine line. “You did nothing to frighten me. Pray think no more of it.”
She seemed offended rather than pleased by his mention of her beauty and the effect it had upon him. He would have to proceed carefully or he might put her off him altogether.
“As you wish.” He hastened to change the subject to one of which he was certain she would approve. “How is the wee lad settling in? Does this place suit him better than old Bramberley? Has Mrs. Matlock had any luck engaging a nurse for him?”
“I meant to discuss that with you,” replied Artemis in a brisk tone Hadrian was certain boded no good. “That was why I followed you to the churchyard the other day…and perhaps why I objected so strongly to your plans for Lee.”
“Is there a problem?” Hadrian tucked into his breakfast, though the prospect of another discussion about their nephew threatened to spoil his appetite.
Why was it that whenever he and Artemis seemed to be getting on well together, something always came along to tarnish it? Every time that happened, it troubled him more than the time before.
Artemis picked up her spoon and began to stir her coffee. Hadrian could not keep his eyes off her delicate wrist and slender fingers. Yesterday he had noticed how capable and caring her hands could be. Now he appreciated how she accomplished even the most commonplace actions with such natural grace.
“I don’t mean to complain, truly. This is a fine house. Everything is so new and well kept. I haven’t felt a single draft or smelled anything musty or moldy.”
“But…?” Hadrian prompted her, for he sensed it coming.
“But…Edenhall is so much bigger than I expected and Lee’s nursery is so far from my bedchamber. Since the night he was born, he has never slept farther from me than the next room. I wondered if I might move over to the east wing to be closer to him, in case he needs me in the night?”
Was that all? Hadrian was about to assure her she was welcome to occupy any room she
fancied, but he found he did not like the thought of her sleeping farther away from him than the next room. Indeed, he would prefer it if she slept closer still.
“There are empty rooms across the hallway from ours. Why not move the nursery there?”
When Artemis greeted his suggestion with a look of surprise, he added, “In case something serious arises and you need my help with the lad. Not that I doubt you can manage him on your own…”
“Do you mean it?” She rewarded him with a smile as dazzling as an unexpected ray of sunshine on new fallen raindrops. “I was going to ask if I might, but I did not want to risk Lee disturbing your sleep.”
Hadrian shrugged, gratified that such a small thing pleased her so. “I doubt there’s much chance of that. He and I are both sound sleepers.”
“So you are.” Her smile muted into something less brilliant, but warm and tender. “More and more I see how much alike the two of you are.”
That was high praise indeed, to be likened to the child she doted on. Hadrian was hard-pressed to recall the last time he’d felt so flattered.
“As to the question of a nurse for Lee…” His wife’s smile vanished. “Must we hire someone? The reason I agreed to our…arrangement was so I could care for Lee myself. I know you lacked for many things when you were growing up, but being raised by loving parents rather than servants was no deprivation, I can assure you.”
It staggered Hadrian to consider there might be anything about his childhood for a fine lady like Artemis to envy. But when he thought back over their trip to Fellbank, he recalled one or two happy memories it had revived in addition to the painful ones.
“You had a bad-tempered nurse when you were a child?” He tried not to betray too much interest for fear it might put her on her guard.
“Vile.” Her delicate features clenched. “She’d raised my father and made a fine job of it. He thought she could do no wrong. But she never got on with Mother. Looking back, I think she may have been jealous. She was a horrid old martinet. I was never so happy as when Father finally dismissed her.”
“What made him do that,” asked Hadrian, “if he was so devoted to her?”
Artemis started at his question, as if she suddenly realized she had revealed something private about her family. To Hadrian’s surprise, she gave him an answer. “Father overheard her saying something horrible about Mother, just after she died.”
From the look on her face, Hadrian knew those were not the first horrible words the embittered old woman had spoken. Though he was desperately curious to know more, he did not ask for fear Artemis might withdraw behind her barriers again.
Though he refrained from saying the wrong thing, he had no idea what the proper thing might be. Unlike Artemis, he had never been any good at offering comfort. Poor Margaret had proven that.
He tried to think what Artemis had said yesterday to make him feel better. But all he could remember was the comforting reassurance of her touch.
Hesitantly, he reached out and patted the back of her hand.
“She said,” Artemis continued in a choked murmur, “Mother had failed in her duty to the family by producing only one live heir in ten years of marriage.”
“I’d have done worse than sack the old sow,” growled Hadrian before he could stop himself.
Artemis gave a moist hiccough of laughter. “I’m sure you would.”
When she glanced up at him, her magnificent eyes brimmed with gratitude—and it was the most breathtaking shade of violet Hadrian had ever seen.
“Master Lee seems to like it here, don’t you think, Cassie?” Artemis popped a spoonful of porridge into her nephew’s mouth while the girl folded his clothes, clean and fragrant from the laundry line.
“Oh, aye, ma’am.” The girl beamed down at her small charge. “He’s a busy wee one, but good-natured and full of spirits. I shall be sorry to quit looking after him and go back to housework. The sitting room floor doesn’t reward ye with a smile like that after ye’ve scrubbed it.”
“What if I were to make your duties as nursemaid permanent?” said Artemis. “Would you like that?”
“Do ye mean it, ma’am?” Cassie dropped the short frock she was folding into the clothesbasket. “I would like it right well and all. Only…”
“Only?”
“I’m sure it’s not my place to say, ma’am.” Cassie grabbed a small nightgown from the basket and began to fold it with exaggerated care.
“It most certainly is,” said Artemis. “You are very good with Lee and I want you to continue helping me care for him. Does this have anything to do with Mrs. Matlock?”
For a moment Cassie did not answer. Artemis maintained an expectant silence, as Hadrian had done the day before. Somehow it had coaxed her to reveal more than she’d ever intended about her childhood at Bramberley. Afterward she’d felt foolish for making such a fuss about something that had happened so long ago. Considering what he had endured as a child, she was afraid he would think the whole matter a ridiculous trifle.
Cassie shook her head. “Mrs. Matlock works us hard and she likes everything done up proper, but she’s been good to me. It’s the woman Mrs. Matlock wants to put in charge of the nursery. She has a right sharp tongue and never spared the rod with her own brood.”
“If that is all, you needn’t worry.” Artemis was so glad she’d discussed the matter with Hadrian. “I told Mr. Northmore I don’t want a nurse hired for Lee because I mean to look after him myself, with your capable assistance. He told me I am free to do what I like. He also agreed to let me move the nursery to the west wing so I can be nearer to Lee at night. Wasn’t that good of him?”
“Oh, aye, ma’am.” Cassie’s furrowed brow belied her words.
“Then what is the trouble?” asked Artemis. “And don’t tell me it is not your place, because I want to know.”
“It’s just…have you told all this to Mrs. Matlock, ma’am?”
“Indeed I have.” Artemis scraped the last bit of porridge from the bottom of the bowl and offered it to Lee.
“What did she say?”
“Not much of anything.” It had been clear the housekeeper was not pleased with the change of plans, but what did that signify?
“I hope she doesn’t go to the Master.” Cassie began to stow the folded clothes in the wardrobe. “She was a friend of his mother’s when he were young. That’s how she got the position here. There’s been nobody but servants lived at Edenhall until you and the Master came. I reckon Mrs. Matlock fancied herself mistress of the place.”
Why had Hadrian not mentioned Mrs. Matlock’s connection to his family? Artemis wiped her nephew’s face, then handed him a rusk to chew on. “Give him his milk pudding when he’s done that, will you, Cassie? I just remembered something I must see to.”
“Aye, ma’am.” Cassie seemed to sense what her errand might be. “Good luck.” She sounded as if Artemis would need it.
It cost Artemis every ounce of restraint she could muster to walk out of the nursery and down the stairs rather than dash as fast as her legs would carry her.
What might Mrs. Matlock be saying to Hadrian at this very minute? Might she be asserting her experience and seniority in the household to argue against the plans of her young mistress? Might she be imposing on her past connection with his family to get her own way?
Artemis recalled a similar situation from her childhood. How often had Father’s old nurse made trouble between her parents? Because the woman was so strong-willed while they were both models of well-bred civility, the servant had often gained the upper hand over her master and mistress. Much as Artemis had revered her parents and lived in constant fear of disappointing them, she’d often wished Mother would raise her gentle voice or Father would put his foot down. When he’d finally exerted his authority, it had been too late.
But how could she expect Hadrian to take her part after she had insulted, misled and defied him? Especially against a woman of his own background and similar determined spirit, who represe
nted his last tie with his dead mother?
Hearing voices from the study, Artemis moved toward it. Finding the door slightly ajar, she paused for a moment to decide what she should do.
Her feelings for Lee urged her to march in and do whatever she must to protect him. But deep-seated doubts held her back, warning her any effort to intervene would be futile. It would not change Hadrian’s mind, but only damage the fragile bond they had begun to forge. And it would establish the housekeeper’s ascendancy in the household beyond question.
“It is all most irregular, I’m sure.” Mrs. Matlock’s sharp voice carried out into the hallway. “Turning the entire household on its ear to suit one child who is far too young to know what’s good for him. Where will that lead in time, I ask you?”
Put like that, her plans for Lee did sound like a foolish whim. Artemis shrank from hearing Hadrian’s reply.
Before he had a chance to say anything, Mrs. Matlock continued. “I have been happy to work for you these three years, Mr. Northmore, preparing Edenhall for your family’s return. It did my heart good to think of my old friend’s children and grandchildren being masters of this fine place. But I cannot stand by and watch this house thrown in an uproar for the sake of a child like that, while a woman like her flounces about giving orders to decent—”
“Enough!” Hadrian’s bellow made Artemis jump back with a muted gasp.
He must have made a conscious effort to lower his voice, for his next words came out much quieter, but no less firm. “I will not stand to hear my wife spoken of in that way, Mrs. Matlock. I am grateful for your loyal service and I will never forget what a good friend you were to my mother. But if you cannot show Lady Artemis the respect she deserves as mistress of this house, there is no place for you at Edenhall.”
“You would turn me out for speaking my mind?” Mrs. Matlock sounded as stunned by Hadrian’s decree as Artemis was. “I never thought I’d hear Eliza Northmore’s son make such a threat.”
“It is not a threat.” Hadrian sounded regretful but resolved. “I have just told you what’s what. Now I leave the decision to you. I shall be returning to Singapore in a few months’ time, with no idea how long I’ll be gone. I must be certain Lady Artemis can rely upon the people who will serve her in my absence.”
