by Annette Lyon
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Of course she didn’t want to be like his other wives, did she? Amelia wanted him to see her, to want her for who she was, not for a resemblance to Mary or for the possibility of passing his title, or even because she loved Lizbeth.
“It is most definitely a compliment.” He began walking again, Amelia at his side until they reached the end of the hall. Ethan hesitated, and she waited for him to bid her good eve as he had the past two nights.
“Would you care to walk in the gardens?” he asked. “The moon is full tonight, and it isn’t too cold out.”
Amelia’s heart beat faster. He’s requesting my company— without Lizbeth. Somehow she managed to keep her composure. “Your gardens are lovely, but I long to visit the shore. It’s been over five years since I walked near the ocean. I’ve missed it so.” Again, Ethan hesitated. Amelia prayed silently that she hadn’t ruined her chance.
“I’ve not been to the shore for many years myself,” he said, his tone more subdued than before. “Abigail, my second wife, drowned there.”
“I didn’t realize— I’m sorry.” Amelia meant it with her whole heart. Already she couldn’t imagine the grief she would feel were something to happen to Ethan.
“What was it you told me the other day when you’d gone riding?” he asked.
“I don’t remember.” Amelia felt her face color. She’d been far too bold that day, and she’d let her imagination run so wild, that for a moment, she’d almost thought Ethan had meant to kiss her.
“Something about missing the joy of life.” Ethan held out his arm. “I’ve missed the ocean too. I’d say we’re both overdue for a visit.”
Amelia took his arm, and they started down the stairs. She’d missed living near the coast but feared she had almost missed out on much, much more when she’d nearly refused to marry Ethan Moorleigh.
“Have you ever been there?” Amelia craned her neck, looking up at Bamburgh Castle towering above.
“A few times. The views from the top are magnificent, but other than that, it’s just an ordinary castle.”
Amelia snorted. “There is nothing ordinary about a castle. Someday you must take me. I should like very much to see the inside and the view.”
They’d picked their way through the rocks to the beach below, where she stopped, leaning against a boulder while removing her shoes.
“What are you doing?” Ethan asked, looking back at her.
“I intend to get the most from this experience,” she said, wresting a boot from her foot. “I want to feel the sand between my toes and the water lapping against my ankles.”
Did I really just say that? Amelia berated herself as she looked down, concentrating on the second boot. Ankles. A body part no respectable woman spoke of.
“You’re going to freeze,” Ethan predicted. And when she continued to tug at her stockings, he added, “You’d best hold your gown up, or you’ll really be soaked.”
“Of course,” she said, as if such a thing weren’t shameful. The harm was already done.
In for a penny… She pulled the stockings from her feet and stuffed them into one of her boots, all the while telling herself that she wasn’t twelve anymore. She could no longer skip along the beach as she had as a child. I’m a married woman now. But just this once, this first time in so long, she wanted the freedom she used to have.
Amelia tied her cloak strings tightly then gathered a handful of gown and cloak in each hand, lifting the hems so they wouldn’t drag along the shore. She sashayed past Ethan toward the water.
He shook his head in mock disparagement. “I’d have thought that, coming from a nunnery, my wife might show a bit more decorum.”
“Am I a disappointment, then?” Amelia laughed, making light of the question that had worried her since the moment he’d left her in the church.
“Not at all.” Ethan caught up with her, taking her arm and looking into her eyes. “You are a miracle— to Lizbeth and me.”
His sincerity made her breath catch and her eyes smart. Ethan stepped closer yet, and Amelia tilted her head back, certain this time that she didn’t misunderstand— he intended to kiss her.
He shouted instead, as the icy cold tide washed in, drenching them both. Her hem wasn’t nearly high enough, and his breeches were wet above his boots. She hopped around madly, trying to restore feeling to her frozen feet. Ethan swore as he poured water from one of his soaked boots.
Amelia burst out laughing. “I do find this a better way to be amused.”
“You want amusement, you say?” He reached for her, and Amelia ran, shrieking along the shoreline, sand squishing between her toes, and the water lapping at her feet. The cold was soon forgotten in her haste to get away— and again in his nearness when he caught up. Ethan grasped her from behind, holding her firmly around the waist. “If you’re going to laugh at me, you may end up swimming.”
She was about to beg mercy when he released her and stepped back. She whirled to face him and caught his stricken expression.
“I shouldn’t have teased. People drown—”
His wife. “Oh Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.” The tide washed in again, but this time, neither reacted. Amelia’s frozen feet were nothing to the anguish he must have felt, to the cold that must have enveloped him when death dealt him a second and then a third blow.
Amelia stepped forward and reached for his hands. She took them in hers and held tight. “I promise to never go swimming.” He didn’t respond, but she didn’t give up. “You must tell me of each of your wives. It will help us both. I’ll understand. I’ll know how to be more careful.”
He met her gaze finally, and the stoniness of his seemed to crumble a bit. Amelia moved to his side and tucked her arm into his. She began walking, dragging him along until his steps were sure and silent beside hers. She didn’t ask again. He would tell her if he wanted to. And if not, she would understand. Some memories were simply too painful to recall. She had a few of her own buried deep inside.
They walked a long time, until the rock sloped to the water and they were forced to climb or turn back. Silently, Ethan steered them the way they’d come; sometime in the past several minutes, he’d become the lead and she the subdued follower.
As I ought to have been to begin with, Amelia thought, regretting her childish behavior had reawakened his sorrow and ruined their evening.
He spoke suddenly. “Abigail and I were married for exactly one month— twenty-nine days longer than I was married to Clara, my first wife.”
Amelia considered her words with care. “Clara was thrown from a horse— on your wedding day?”
Ethan shook his head. “The day after. She hadn’t wanted to marry me; she was in love with another. But as is the lot of most women, she hadn’t much choice.”
What would have happened at the abbey if I had persisted in refusing Stuart?
“Clara had a large dowry,” Ethan continued. “I had a title and holdings that needed upkeep. As everyone else saw it, we were a perfect match.”
“Did you realize— before, I mean— that she didn’t want to marry you?”
“Yes.” Ethan looked out across the moonlit sea. “But I didn’t realize the depth of her feelings until our wedding night. By then it was too late to do anything about it. I tried to be kind. I told her I’d be patient and give her time to adjust to our marriage… Early the next morning, she fled.”
“Do you think… Did she take her life on purpose?” Amelia bit her lip, knowing she shouldn’t have asked the question. Ethan wouldn’t want to think of his wife burning in hell. Amelia had the hardest time curbing her thoughts around him. He was so easy to speak to, and he didn’t tell her to keep her peace as the nuns oft had.
“She didn’t take anything with her,” Ethan said. “But I believe Clara was running away to meet with her lover; she’d threatened as much the night before when I bid her goodnight and left her alone in her room. I think her accident was truly that. In her
haste to get away, she was careless and fell.”
Amelia didn’t know what to say, so she placed her other hand on his arm, as if that might somehow comfort him and convey the sorrow she felt on his behalf. The hurt she’d experienced when he’d left her at the church seemed insignificant when she imagined what Ethan must have felt at being left by his wife.
“Nine months later, I married Abigail. We were friends, at least, and I believed we were compatible. I was away for a few days, and the very night I returned, her body was found washed up on the beach. People began to talk, saying I’d killed two wives in less than a year. I was some kind of monster and murderer.” Ethan glanced at Amelia as if to see what she thought of him now.
“Utter nonsense,” she said, stamping her foot in the sand. Painful nonsense. How he must have hurt during that time.
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but Amelia guessed it did; it must. The rumors still abounded. She’d overheard them on her march up the aisle. “I hadn’t much hope of a future until Mary suggested we wed.”
“She asked you?” Amelia’s mouth hung open in astonishment.
“She did.” A smile played at the corners of Ethan’s mouth, and Amelia felt stung. She swallowed back her own hurt. He still loves Mary. He will always love Mary.
Ethan stopped, turning Amelia to him. “Every time I speak of her, I wound you. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, dismissing what must be the obvious truth on her face. “It’s all right. She was your wife. You love her.”
He didn’t deny it, but before speaking again, he took a deep breath and looked out at the ocean a long minute. “The past is painful— yours as well, I’m guessing.”
Amelia gave the barest nod. She’d no desire to speak of it. It wasn’t worth revisiting— ever.
“That time is also behind us,” Ethan said. “And it would serve us well to keep it that way. We’ve the present, and that’s—”
“A gift from God,” Amelia said. How many times had the abbess shared that same sentiment? Often, that first year or two at the abbey, when Amelia’s longing for the home and family she’d lost had been all consuming.
“A gift,” Ethan said, brushing his fingers along her cheek, “only becomes such when it is accepted.”
Accept me, Amelia longed to say. Strangely, she felt he was asking the same of her. She closed her eyes, savoring his touch and wishing it would never end.
“Look at me, Amelia.”
She obeyed, lifting her face to his.
Ethan placed his hands on her shoulders and bent closer, hesitating until she gave the barest nod. Her eyelids fluttered closed as his lips touched hers, warm and gentle. She stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe as his mouth caressed hers lovingly.
Heaven, she decided, could be no better than this.
After a moment, he stepped back. Disappointed that he’d stopped, Amelia opened her eyes and saw a slightly amused grin on his face. Worry surfaced through her haze of desire.
I’ve muddled something. Stricken, she gazed up at him, wishing she knew what to do, but feeling too weak to do it if she did, and still intoxicated by the desires his lips had awakened.
Ethan took her arms and looped them over his shoulders. “Hold on tight,” he instructed, a rakish gleam in his eyes.
His lips found hers again, this time not as gentle. His kiss felt possessive, as if he was claiming her for his own. Amelia had a sudden urge to claim him back.
The past is behind us. She belonged to him now, and he to her. She wanted him to know that. Tentatively, she moved her lips against his. He groaned, and she pulled back, afraid again that she’d done something wrong. But he wouldn’t let her go.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear. “It’s all right for you to kiss me too.” She hesitated, still unsure. He leaned back, searching her eyes. “Please, Amelia.”
The intensity of his request and his use of her name proved her undoing. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she placed her hands on the back of his neck, holding tight as he’d instructed. Rising up on her toes, she brushed her lips against his softly at first then more forcefully as she gave in to her passion. He followed her lead, mimicking her movements, drawing ever closer and deeper until she thought she’d faint from lack of breath.
At last they pulled apart, but Ethan kept an arm around her, and with his other hand drew her close to his heart.
The rapid beat made her smile. She had done that. No doubt her heart beat as frantically. He’d done that to her.
What a wondrous thing. She lifted her face to his, silently asking for more. The pain she’d seen in his eyes earlier had diminished, replaced by what she deemed a tentative hope. He bent to kiss her again. Amelia clung to him.
The moon was high by the time they finally started home. The air was colder, but every few steps along the beach found them in each other’s arms again. Amelia felt perfectly warm. When they reached the lane that led from shore to the street above, Ethan knelt before her, replacing her stockings and shoes, his touch on her ankles a new pleasure in and of itself.
He drove the carriage with one hand, his other arm wrapped securely, possessively, around her. They left the carriage to be attended to then made their way to the house and upstairs, never once letting go of each other. At the doorway to her room, Ethan kissed her yet again then looked past her through the open door to the bed beyond.
Amelia wasn’t certain what to do. She didn’t want him to leave. But neither was she completely ready for him to stay.
As if he sensed her uncertainty, Ethan bent his head to hers, placing a tender kiss on the top of her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For much better amusement.” His gaze held hers for a moment, the intensity of his look reassuring her that the evening had been about much more than seeking amusement. They were putting their pasts behind them and embracing a future together. And they would proceed at her pace.
“Goodnight, Amelia.” Ethan brushed his fingers along her cheek once more. “I think—” The heat in his gaze softened, turning to merriment. “—that you would have made a terrible nun.” With a grin, he turned and left her, going down the hall to his own room.
Amelia watched until he’d gone inside and closed the door. She retreated to her room, where she flopped across the bed, ignoring the nightgown laid out for her.
With hands flung wide, she looked up at the ceiling and uttered the happiest prayer of her life.
Chapter Eight
Amelia woke to someone snuggling next to her— though not the person she’d been dreaming of.
“Are you ready?” Lizbeth asked, crawling over Amelia and peeling back one of her eyelids.
“To tickle you?” Amelia teased, staring one-eyed into Lizbeth’s excited face nearly touching hers.
Lizbeth giggled. “No. To pick berries. You promised.”
“Did I?” Amelia marveled at the child’s memory. An outing to pick berries had been mentioned only once, over a week ago. At the time, it had sounded like great fun, but this morning, Amelia’s thoughts remained on a moonlit beach. She and Ethan had walked its shores again last night. Nothing she did today could prove better amusement than that.
Light flooded the room. Amelia rolled to her side, where her maid had drawn the curtains and was setting a breakfast tray on the night table.
I could grow accustomed to this. Amelia sighed, snuggling deeper into the covers, though Lizbeth did her best to pull them back. How lovely to wake in a big, comfortable bed with a fire already burning in the grate and a soft rug to walk on.
How delightful to have Lizbeth seeking my company. How amazing that her father does the same.
“Has Lord Moorleigh breakfasted yet?” Amelia sat up, deciding to forgo the tray in favor of a family meal in the dining room.
“Hours ago, ma’am. He left early this morning.”
“He’s gone?” Amelia tried to keep the alarm from her voice as she assisted Lizbeth in throwing back the quilt.
The maid nodded. “Hocksley may be able to tell you more.”
Amelia turned away from the maid and held her arms out to Lizbeth. “We shall have to pick berries on our own.” Amelia’s voice sounded over bright as she worked to conceal panic similar to what she’d felt when Ethan had left her at the church.
It was what she’d felt at twelve years when her father hadn’t returned for her and she’d hidden a day and a half by herself before she was found and told that he was dead.
She’d experienced it again just months later when Mother fell ill and died suddenly and again when Stuart had brought her to the abbey and drove off, leaving alone her at the gates before the nuns had even come to open them.
Amelia set Lizbeth on the ground and hurried to dress.
Ethan did not abandon me. He’ll return soon.
She repeated the sentiment throughout the whole morning they spent outside. The sun shifted overhead and stretched into the afternoon, and still she didn’t allow herself to doubt.
But when evening came— and a storm with it— and she was still alone, her fears began to win.
Chapter Nine
Amelia looked up from the book she’d been reading, in what she’d come to think of as her chair near the fire. Stuart entered the library, and, without greeting her, went straight to the sideboard and poured himself a generous glass of brandy.
She stood quickly. “What has happened? Where’s Ethan?”
“Dreadful weather outside.” Stuart shook his head, and drops of water flung outward.
“Stuart.” Amelia crossed the room and stood before him, certain he had terrible news. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were unfocused. “You’re drunk.” She reached for his glass, but he jerked it away.
“What is it about Ethan Moorleigh that women find so attractive? Is it because he owns everything for miles around?”
Amelia frowned. “You wanted me to marry Ethan.”
“Didn’t mean I wanted you to throw yourself at him,” Stuart said, his words slurred. “I’ve seen the two of you at night coming home from your trysts on the beach.”
