by Lori Foster
“I’m already garbed in your clothing! There’s nothing for me here!”
“Except me,” he answered, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. “I still have hopes that that will be enough.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and turned away, whispering, “You set your sights too high, John.”
She began to strip the bed. When the sheets and blankets were draped over her arms, she finally looked up at him with red, swollen eyes.
“Where should I shake these out?”
And he relented and helped her, cursing himself for these foolish emotions that made him ache for her acceptance. Could he be falling in love with her? God help him, for she would crush his heart.
When John awoke with Elizabeth warm and soft in his arms, he told himself the day would go well, that she would adjust to their marriage, that he would be able to take her home to his family soon. But she lifted her head off his chest and looked up through strands of her hair at him. Her eyes suddenly widening with realization, she slipped out of bed. Though her gown was still damp and filthy, she dressed in it, even putting that cursed farthingale back on.
The day only became worse. Everything she tried to do ended in failure—although at least she was trying. When she brought in wood for the fire, she ended up with a face full of ashes. When her wide skirt caught on fire, she was only saved from terrible burns because he saw the smoldering fabric near her heels. While he was out hunting, she pulled the growing vegetables out of the kitchen garden instead of the weeds. Plucking the partridge he’d killed made her teary-eyed, and she scorched her fingers when she overcooked it. But he ate every last bite and tried to keep up a cheerful conversation, while she sat in dejected silence.
“Elizabeth, you’ve done your best today,” he said, wanting to touch her hand, knowing she wouldn’t let him. “You can be proud of that.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head sadly.
Why couldn’t she see that trying to learn was a start, that things would get better? But for some reason every failure made her even more depressed.
That night after closing up the barn, John went inside the lodge and found his wife crying. He stood silently in the doorway, listening to her great sobs, and knew deep in his soul that she hated being married to him, that she would never adjust to the life of a country lady. How could she oversee his many estates and people when she couldn’t even handle this simple hunting lodge? He felt a bleak emptiness inside him as he imagined no longer touching Elizabeth, kissing her, trying to seduce her—trying to make her laugh.
Elizabeth covered her face and cried harder when she heard John enter the lodge. She was a complete failure at everything she tried, even this unconventional marriage.
From behind her, he said softly, “We’ll never make this work, will we?”
She wiped the tears from her face but couldn’t look at him.
“I thought I could find a wife like my brother has,” he continued. “Maybe no woman can live up to what I think a marriage should be.”
“You’re jealous of your brother?” she demanded, turning to face him, feeling nauseous inside that all along he’d been comparing her to another woman.
“No, I just wanted the same kind of life, with lots of children. They have five now.”
“Five! Who can live up to this paragon of womanliness and beauty?” Every word he uttered burned her failure deeper inside her.
“I never said she was beautiful. It’s about the kind of woman she is.”
She wanted to groan her misery. The only thing she had to give—beauty—was the one thing that didn’t matter to John. Elizabeth had foolishly hoped that that would be enough. But not for a man like John, a man who needed a different kind of woman.
“What did you expect out of our marriage?” he asked, stepping to her side and resting a hand on her shoulder.
She looked into the fire and sighed. “I don’t know. I wanted to make my husband proud, to be admired.”
“Like a piece of jewelry, Elizabeth? Is that all you want to be, a pretty object to look upon from afar, never to be a partner and share the joys and the sorrows of life?” He knelt down at her side.
The tears slipped down her cheeks and she didn’t bother to dash them away. “You want me to be the one to change, but you’re not willing to do the same. I will never be like your sister by marriage, no matter how much you want me to be! My parents told me the truth long ago, that my beauty is all I have. I have always accepted this.”
“Elizabeth—”
“My beauty and my dowry. Aren’t they what you wanted me for, after all? Don’t deny it—you’ll never convince me otherwise.”
She got shakily to her feet, glancing at John’s bewildered expression before she crawled into bed. Though it took awhile, she fell into an exhausted sleep and never knew if he joined her.
In the morning, Elizabeth awoke alone and halfheartedly ate the berries John had left on the table. After an hour of feeling sorry for herself and wondering what to do, she heard the jingle of many horses coming near and the shouts of men.
She opened the door to see at least a score of soldiers and servants, led by Lord Jasper Wyndham, who was dressed in court finery that glittered out of place in the cool green of the forest. His narrow, handsome face and blond hair usually made her sigh with delight. But something lodged in her throat and wouldn’t let go as John approached the traveling party. Her eyes began to sting when Lord Wyndham dismounted and the two men talked. She had forgotten all about the letter she had sent Wyndham. As John glanced at her with no expression on his face, she knew he was learning of it.
The two men approached the cottage, and Elizabeth saw Wyndham’s surprised gaze sweep down her body. She hadn’t bothered with her farthingale, so her dirty skirts trailed on the floor. Her hair and face hadn’t been properly washed, and she felt miserable. But worse was John’s calm stare. Why wasn’t he angry?
“Elizabeth,” John said, “Lord Wyndham received a letter from you on our departure from London, which made him decide to follow us. The villagers in these parts know me and it was easy enough for him to do.”
His voice seemed only tired to her, and her chest began to hurt. What could she say?
“He seems to think you would rather come with him than remain married to me.”
She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand.
“We both know it’s true.” His voice softened. “I want nothing more than your happiness, and now I know you cannot find it with me.”
“Lady Elizabeth,” Lord Wyndham began, sweeping into a deep bow, “I wish to marry you.”
These were the words she’d always wanted to hear. Why, then, could she barely keep her eyes off John’s face?
Lord Wyndham said, “Lord Malory assures me that your marriage has remained in name only. In fact, he has been so kind as to offer witnesses, your hired servants, who can verify such a thing.”
John met her gaze for only a moment before looking away. She didn’t know what to think; why wasn’t she reveling in achieving everything she’d wanted?
“I won’t contest an annulment,” John said shortly. “Go on, Elizabeth; there’s nothing here for you.”
She hesitated, then whispered, “Thank you.”
When Wyndham took her arm and drew her from the cottage, she felt like a doll being led about. She continued to stare over her shoulder at John until he went inside and shut the door. The sound of it startled her and she shook, but Lord Wyndham was there, helping her onto a horse, putting her into the care of maidservants. She didn’t look back at the cottage as they led her away.
John knew that it was time to leave the hunting lodge. He should go home, tell his family that he had failed to find a suitable wife, that he would have to try again.
But he couldn’t imagine wanting a wife who wasn’t Elizabeth.
He spent the day chopping wood to replace the stores they’d used since they arrived. With every stroke of the ax, he tried to make himself believe th
at he’d done the right thing letting her go. But he couldn’t forget what she’d said about her parents, that they’d told her all she had was her beauty. What kind of parents were they, to so devalue their daughter?
No wonder Elizabeth thought she could succeed at nothing else. And then he’d played the fool and compared her to his sister by marriage. God above, all he’d done was confirm in her eyes that she was only a beautiful woman, with little else to offer a man. It made him sick inside to know that maybe he was like her parents after all. He had wanted a certain kind of woman, and instead of learning to understand Elizabeth, he had tried to mold her into someone else.
As night descended he stood alone before the hearth, hearing only the distant animals in the forest, feeling a loneliness he’d never imagined before. Being with Elizabeth had filled an emptiness inside him. For he hadn’t just wanted to lie with her—he realized he’d wanted her love.
He still wanted her love. And he’d given up too easily.
John smacked his fist against the mantel. He could still see her face, the look of shock—not happiness—when she’d seen Wyndham. Without giving her a chance to make a choice, John had given her away like a necklace he no longer wanted.
He had to find her. He had to explain that he had done what he thought she wanted, not what he wanted. He wanted to love her until she finally understood that there were no conditions, that he could change as much as she could.
Morning would be too late. He packed the few supplies he needed—including the farthingale—saddled one of the horses, and set off by moonlight, knowing he had to win Elizabeth back or his life would be meaningless.
Elizabeth awoke in luxurious surroundings, in the best chamber at the inn, with maidservants sleeping on pallets at her feet. But although she was clean and comfortable for the first time in days, the sick feeling she’d gone to bed with had not left her.
During their slow journey south yesterday, as a cold rainstorm settled about them, she’d tried to tell herself that leaving John was for the best, that she could never live the kind of life he wanted her to live. But the truth was, she thought she could never make him happy. She’d been afraid to try, afraid to fail like she had failed at everything else.
But traveling at Lord Wyndham’s side had been a revelation. Now that she knew John, she felt as if she was seeing Wyndham with clear eyes for the first time. The man she’d so worshipped back in London treated his servants disdainfully, thoughtlessly, and had talked to the innkeeper in an arrogant manner. And the worst of it was wondering if she used to behave just as badly.
John was courteous even when he was angry with her, and he treated everyone down to the stable boys in a fair manner. He didn’t care how she looked; he enjoyed her beauty, but it wasn’t important to him. Society’s notion of fashionable ladies’ attire didn’t concern him as much as her comfort.
She remembered his sweet words of encouragement when she’d done nothing but fail at every task he’d asked of her.
But the worst punishment was trying to forget this yearning he had awakened inside her, which made even his nearness more exciting than any other man’s touch.
Could she have fallen in love with him?
She felt a prick of tears behind her eyelids as she thought of his gentle humor and goodness. If she went back to him, would he allow her to begin their marriage again? Could he grow to love her even if she wasn’t like his sister by marriage?
Somewhere deep inside herself, Elizabeth felt a reserve of strength she’d never called upon. She had to return to John. She had risked everything once, going out to that garden with him; she owed it to both of them to risk it all again.
After the maids helped her dress in the new gown Wyndham had brought for her, Elizabeth joined him in the inn’s private dining parlor. He glanced up at her with a nod but concentrated on his food. She couldn’t help but compare him to John, who would have risen to his feet with a frank smile and made her feel wanted.
When she didn’t sit down immediately, Wyndham looked up again. “We’re leaving soon, Lady Elizabeth. Do eat something.”
“Lord Wyndham, I need to speak with you.”
He nodded and continued eating.
She took a deep breath. “I have made a mistake. In all good conscience, I cannot marry you.”
Wyndham slowly set his knife down and sat back. “The annulment will not be a problem, Lady Elizabeth. And I’m certain my family can be persuaded to accept you.”
She felt a chill at just the thought. “But my lord, I am married, and I find I do not wish to end it. I—I miss my husband.”
He regarded her with narrowed eyes. “You miss that uncivilized country lord?”
“He and I suit one another, Lord Wyndham,” she said firmly. “With your permission, I would like an escort back to his cottage.”
Giving her a dismissive look, he went back to his food. “I think not, Lady Elizabeth. I went through much time and effort because of that ridiculous letter you wrote me. I cannot spare anyone now. And please give that gown back to the maidservants.”
She blinked in amazement, and her anger heated her words. “Are you saying you wish me to travel alone? In that ragged garment? That you begrudge me even one servant?”
“I am.” Though he didn’t look up, he smiled.
She shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry you feel the need to punish me for telling the truth. And I’m sorry that I played with your affections when I wrote that letter, but I have learned much about myself since then. I can do anything I set my mind to—even traveling alone. Farewell, my lord.”
CHAPTER 7
Elizabeth rode the horse she’d stolen from Lord Wyndham north along the road that would take her to John’s cottage. She was almost certain she would be able to find the wooded path once she came upon it.
The trees closed in around her as the village disappeared from view. She knew she had many hours of travel yet to go and she was alone. It was a foolish, dangerous thing to do, but she was beyond caring. She was so afraid John might have left the cottage to go looking for a new wife.
In the distance, she saw another traveler approaching her from the north. She was just entering the forest, and she felt small and vulnerable next to the towering trees—and the approaching stranger.
Surely he would ignore her. She looked like she was wearing a noblewoman’s old cast-offs. She bowed her head, tried to slump in the saddle, anything to appear old and tired and worn by work.
When she could hear the muffled sound of the other horse’s hooves striking dirt, she risked a glance from under her eyebrows. The man was still far enough away that she had to squint.
“Elizabeth?”
Straightening in stunned surprise, she called, “John?” Relief and gratitude and love swamped her, making her almost giddy.
With a quick tap of his heels, he guided the horse nearer. He seemed almost wide-eyed, uncertain, something she’d never seen in him—and she felt the same way.
“Did you get lost?” he asked as he came nearer.
She shook her head, feeling her happiness fade into apprehension. What if he still wished to end their marriage? How could she bear it?
“Did Wyndham—did he change his mind?”
Again she shook her head.
“Then I don’t under—”
“John, just stop speaking and listen to me.” She slid down off the horse and approached him. When she stood below him, she rested her hand on his knee, surprised that she wasn’t trembling. “I made a terrible mistake.”
He sighed. “The annulment—”
“No, not that!” She gripped his knee in desperation, reminding herself that she could make this work. “I made a terrible mistake in leaving you!”
His eyes went wide, and with the dawning of a smile he lifted his leg up over the horse and jumped down in front of her. “Elizabeth? What are you saying?”
He gripped her upper arms, and she rested her hands on the front of his chest. She could feel his
heart; how she ached to put her cheek there, to feel safe and loved. And his hopeful smile was like the sun to her.
“I knew from almost the moment I left yesterday that Lord Wyndham wasn’t the man for me—he wasn’t you.” She reached her hand up and touched his stubbled cheek. “I love you, John.”
His smile died, and for a moment, a feeling of terrible regret swept through her. It was too late.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then took her hand in both of his, and kissed her palm, cupping it to his mouth. “Elizabeth,” he murmured hoarsely.
The low sound of his voice and the feel of his lips on her skin made her shudder.
“Elizabeth, I made mistakes, too. I thought I was doing what was best for you by letting you go. But without you … I felt like half a man.”
Tears filled her eyes as he frantically kissed both her hands, then cupped her face.
“I love you, too,” he whispered. “I was coming to fight for you, to prove to you that we could make this marriage work.”
“And I was doing the same thing!” She stood on tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. “Can it be true? Oh, John, I promise I will learn everything you think I need to know! I will be such a good wife to you. I want to love you and have your children and share everything.”
He threw his head back and laughed, then swung her off the ground in a circle. “Elizabeth, I have so much to tell you, things you do not know.” He set her down and held her body close as he looked earnestly into her eyes. “But the most important thing is that I treated you unfairly, comparing you to another woman. That was no better than your parents’ behavior, and I regret the heartache I caused you. I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t forgive me.”
She felt giddy and free and wonderfully alive as she threw her arms around his neck and just held him, her cheek pressed to his, their hearts beating near each other.
