To Protect and to Cherish

by Becky Riker

  Slade opened his mouth to respond, looked at the door and shut his lips, “Please sit, Jillian,” he walked across the room and closed the door.

  He took the chair across from her, “I understand I made you uncomfortable when I came into your room this morning. It was natural that you needed some time to compose yourself.”

  She noticed, for the first time, that he was not dressed as usual. He had removed his coat and was only wearing his shirtsleeves and a waistcoat. She wondered if he was uncomfortable with her seeing him thus.

  “It was not simply that,” she admitted.

  He looked interested, but he did not push.

  “I am afraid our excursion yesterday has caused some discomfort today. I have been moving slowly today.”

  He realized instantly what she was talking about, “I am sorry, Jillian,” he took her hand in both of his own, “I did not even think of the possibility. Have you spoken to Mrs. Bailey about it?”

  “Mrs. Bailey?” Jillian was mortified at the very idea.

  “She may have a solution. A bath, perhaps.”

  Jillian colored, “Sir, I would prefer not to discuss this at length with you.”

  She saw her husband wince at her cold tone and her choice of words.

  Jillian closed her eyes momentarily. By the time she opened them, he had risen and moved to a position across the room.

  She stood, ignoring the pain in her thighs, and followed him, “I am sorry. I realize you were simply expressing your concern.”

  “Do you think me an oaf?” he was looking over the top of her head.

  “What?” she did not expect that, “No. I could never think that of you.”

  He turned away from her, “I seem to say and do things that appall you. I never mean to be crass, but it seems everything that comes out of my mouth offends you.”

  “Slade,” she reached up and touched his arm, surprised to feel the solidness beneath the fabric of his sleeve, “it isn’t you. I am not accustomed to speaking to people about. . .about my person.”

  Slade looked over his shoulder at her, “I have not been in the habit of speaking to anyone about your person either.”

  Jillian laughed softly, “I imagine not.”

  He turned and drew nearer to her, sliding a hand around her waist, “I would like you to feel comfortable talking with me.”

  “I am sure I will, eventually,” she assured him.

  “I am going to say something about your person now,” he gave her notice.

  She smiled at the warning.

  “I think you would find you ached less if you went out riding again.”

  Jillian barely suppressed a groan, “I am not sure I could mount the horse, much less tolerate a ride.”

  He slid his free hand up to her face and traced her jawline with his thumb, “I have had little experience with soreness of this kind, but I have heard it is better to repeat the action when you are sore.”

  Jillian still doubted the wisdom of the activity, but she nodded. What else could she do? His hands on her were mesmerizing her, and she was sure she could do nothing but agree with him.

  “Good,” he leaned toward her, “I’ll have Pete saddle the horses.”

  Jillian’s hands slid up Slade’s arms, tingling at the warmth beneath them.

  He lowered his head, “I’m going to kiss you, Jillian.”

  His lips had just touched hers when a knock sounded on the door. Jillian jumped back and dropped her hands, but Slade retained his grip on his wife’s waist even as he looked over his shoulder.

  “What?” he sounded angry.

  There was silence on the other side of the door.

  Jillian looked up at her husband’s face. Though he was still glaring at the closed door, she could see he wore a mask of irritation. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  Slade looked back at her.

  She felt the corners of her lips drawing up.

  “You are not laughing at this Lady Ashley,” he declared it to be impossible, but he knew the truth.

  A soft giggle escaped her lips. She put her hand to her mouth to stop it, but another slipped out.

  His grin was more wry than amused, “You find my advances entertaining?”

  “Oh, no,” she brought her hands to the front of his waistcoat without thinking, “never,” she swallowed, realizing the position she was now in. All humor fled as she ran her palms up his solid chest.

  Slade didn’t inform her of his intent this time. He just leaned down and kissed her. He didn’t hold her face either, but completely enfolded her in his arms.

  Jillian slid her hands back down his torso and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him still closer to herself.

  Slade’s lips trailed from hers to her cheek and then her ear, “Jillian,” he whispered against her hair, “I think I should go find Peter.”

  Jillian was trying desperately to catch her breath. She buried her face in his chest, “Why, Slade? Why do you need to find Peter?”

  A low growl rumbled from his chest.

  She pushed back and looked up at him.

  “Jillian,” he kissed her gently before pushing her away from him, “I’m just a man; I don’t have that kind of control.”

  She stepped away from him, “As long as you are going to talk to Peter, you should see if you can figure out who needed you earlier.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “They knocked,” she reminded him with a brief smile.

  “I know,” he assured her. “I was just thinking that you seem like you are upset with me.”

  She shook her head.

  “I didn’t want to stop, Jillian. I just didn’t think it was a good idea to continue in here,” he gestured to the room, “right now.”

  Jillian recognized the truth, but part of her wanted to go back to the same position – good idea or not.

  He stood a moment longer, watching her and then donned his coat before leaving her alone in his study.

  Jillian went up to change into her habit so she could be ready to ride when he was.

  She arrived in the foyer as Slade was coming from his study again, “You got ready quickly,” he commented, reaching for her hand.

  She took it, “I did not want to keep you waiting.”

  He looked pleased.

  Jillian was right. It was quite difficult to get into the saddle, and not a little painful to ride. However, she enjoyed her husband’s company enough to make up for the discomfort.

  “Perhaps we should plan to ride in the morning tomorrow,” he suggested as they walked back to the house together after returning the horses to Peter.

  “Slade,” she squeezed his fingers, “I do not expect you to play nursery maid to me. I do understand that you have responsibilities – especially at this time of year.”

  He quirked a smile, “I am almost positive they can manage tomorrow morning without me.”

  She shook her head, “I will breakfast with you, and then we will ride in the afternoon.”

  He laughed at her edict, “I did not realize I had married such a tyrant.”

  “Oh, but you did, sir. I am determined to dictate every aspect of your life.”

  Slade was beginning to think he would allow her to do just that. She was enchanting, intoxicating. He could not get his mind off her during the course of the day.

  Harvest time was as busy as planting for him. The only reason he was home this early was that Tellem and Gage were throwing looks of amusement and, later, annoyance at his inattentiveness.

  “It will slow down in a couple weeks,” his words were spoken as a promise.

  She followed him up the staircase toward their suite, “My uncle was not actively involved in the harvest, but I am aware of the time required during this period, Slade. It is admirable that you join your men in the work.”

  Slade felt his chest swell in pride at her words. He wondered if she would be so impressed, though, if she knew he was doing less this year because he preferred to be with her
.

  “My father was occasionally gone so early in the morning that Mother and I did not see him until he dragged himself in for dinner,” she laughed. “Then he went to bed early so he could do it again the next day.”

  Slade opened the door to the sitting room and allowed her to pass by him.

  “Thank you for insisting on the ride, Slade. I feel more able to walk.”

  “You may be sore again tomorrow,” he wanted to find something to say to her – just to keep her here with him.

  “I cannot imagine it will be worse than today,” she had her hand on the doorknob.

  “You will be joining me for dinner?” he hoped he didn’t sound desperate.

  She laughed softly, “Of course. I just need to change.”

  Slade forced himself to not ask her how long it would take her to change and get back out to him.

  “Very well,” he knew he could not keep her standing in the doorway indefinitely.

  He turned and went into his own room.

  Oswin had prepared a bath for him. The extra time required for it irked him, but he knew he smelled like the field, sweat, and a horse.

  “Thank you, Oswin, that will be all.”

  The valet bowed and left the room.

  Slade scrubbed himself quickly and made quick work of dressing. His hair was still damp by the time he returned to the sitting room, but he was determined not to miss Jillian. There was a chance she would remain in her room until dinner, but he would gladly wait with the hope that she would come out earlier.

  She did not disappoint him. He had only been attempting to read his book for about twenty minutes when she stepped into the room. He rose and stared at her.

  Erin had braided and twisted Jillian’s glorious mane into an intricate bun that rested at the nape of her neck. The lady’s gown was a deep gold color, overlaid with a sheer fabric Slade could not identify. There was intricate stitching around the neckline, but Slade forced himself not to study it.

  “You look beautiful,” he breathed out the words.

  She flushed – a response which only added to her loveliness.

  He wasn’t sure what to do now. They stood in indecision for a moment.

  Finally, she sat down, looking at him with an expression of confusion.

  He sat across from her, still unable to form any words.

  She looked down at her hands.

  He needed to say something, “I was hoping you would come out here.”

  She looked up.

  He wondered if he sounded like a child struck by puppy love, “I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy. . .getting dressed or, or,” he trailed off, wondering if he had offended her again.

  “I hurried so I could get out here,” the words rushed from her mouth.

  He felt himself smiling broadly. He was sure he looked a bit like a maniac, but he couldn’t stop. She wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

  “Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” he managed to get the sentence out, as mundane as it was.

  “Did you need to do something first?”

  “No,” he forced himself to lean back into the chair, hoping he appeared to be relaxed.

  “I was wondering,” her brow creased, “are you usually more involved in the harvest than you have been these past two days?”

  “I am usually out a bit earlier,” he admitted. “Why?”

  “I do not want to keep you from doing what you ought, Slade. If your men are accustomed to having you working alongside them, keeping their hours, it is unreasonable for me to take you from that.”

  He was amazed by her attitude, “You would not feel like I was abandoning you?”

  “I might be lonely,” she seemed to falter over the words, “but it will not last forever.”

  “Perhaps I will go out early tomorrow.”

  She smiled, “Will you be gone before the sun rises?”

  “Probably not. It does little good to get out there before the dew is off the ground. I arrived at the fields only a little later than the men today.”

  “Will you knock at my door when you rise?” she requested quietly.

  He wondered at her reasons for wanting to be wakened.

  “I am an early riser,” she pressed. “You may or may not be waking me, but I would like to bid you good morning before you leave for the day.”

  Slade could not have found words to say how she had made him feel by expressing her desire to see him.

  “I’ll knock, but I hope you will not feel it necessary to rise just for my sake.”

  She rose and smoothed her skirt, “I will be awake, if for no other reason than you, Slade.”

  He stood as well, “Are you ready to go to dinner?”

  She took his arm and allowed him to lead her downstairs.

  Slade knocked softly on his wife’s door the next morning, half hoping she would not respond.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Slade did not want a repeat of the previous day, “It’s Slade.”

  To his surprise, the door opened, “I was aware of that,” she laughed, “but thank you for the warning.”

  He smiled down at her. She looked fresh and ready for the day in a pale blue morning dress.

  “You have been up for a while,” he remarked.

  “I was hoping to breakfast with you. You have not eaten yet, have you?”

  He shook his head and took her hand. He knew it was not gentlemanly, but Slade found he vastly preferred holding his wife’s hand to having her taking his arm. Jillian did not seem to mind, so he was going to continue. Hopefully, he would not forget himself in public.

  Slade rose after eating and walked around the table to kiss his wife’s cheek, “I will see you this evening, my love.”

  She looked up at him, “Have a nice day.”

  Slade wished he could take her with him. It was certainly going to seem like a long day without her cheery presence.

  The following morning they followed the same routine.

  “You do not have to rise every morning, Jillian,” he informed her.

  “Then when will I see you?” she reasoned as she stirred cream into her coffee. “You need to be in bed early so you can rise. I have no purpose in keeping late hours if not to see you.”

  “You do not feel as though your life is too focused on me?”

  She laughed at that, “How could it be? You are not home most of the day.”

  She didn’t sound upset, but her words gave him pause, “You said you didn’t mind if I went about my business.”

  She raised an eyebrow at his tone, “And I don’t. I have all day to do as I wish, Slade. I could even take a nap if I wanted. I would be a terrible marriage partner if I did not accommodate my schedule to yours when you are working so many hours.”

  He smiled, “I think my own guilty feelings are coloring what I hear.”

  “It could be.”

  “You would have a right to be upset,” he pressed a little.

  “We discussed this before the wedding,” her reminder was accompanied by a smile.

  “I am sorry we did not ride yesterday.”

  She nodded, “I missed it, but you were on horseback most of the day.”

  “I will be today as well,” he paused before making a suggestion. “I will be in the northeast field today around the noon hour. Perhaps you would like to ride out and meet me.”

  She brightened, “I would enjoy that very much, but I am certain I could not find my way.”

  “I would not want you riding alone, at any rate. I can ask Pete to bring you to me.”

  Jillian’s smile grew, “That would be wonderful. Shall I ask Cook to pack a lunch or will that take too much of your time?”

  As much as he would have loved a private meeting with his wife, he thought it best for her to see how things worked in the field.

  “There will be plenty of food there. Do not worry on that account.”

  Jillian dressed for her ride and went to the stabl
es to find Peter. He was waiting with Gacela and a mount for him.

  He had a side saddle on Gacela.

  “Peter,” Jillian disliked conflict, but she needed to establish a proper relationship with him now, “I prefer a standard saddle.”

  “His grace specifically requested this saddle, milady.”

  Jillian was not sure what to do. Slade had said he believed it unsafe for women to ride side saddle. It would be even more so for her she had never learned. Why, then, would he desire her to ride to him in such a manner?

  It occurred to her that her husband did not wish her to be seen riding up to his men in such a hoydenish manner. The realization hurt, but she could do nothing about it at the moment.

  “Peter,” she struggled to keep the tremor from her voice, “please remove Gacela’s saddle. I will be back in a few moments.”

  She went inside to write a note to her husband.

  Slade,

  I find I am unable to meet you today as planned. Please forgive me the change in plans. I look forward to seeing you this evening.

  Jillian

  She sealed it and returned to the stable, “Peter,” she extended the letter to him, “I would appreciate it if you would deliver this to his grace as soon as possible.”

  Peter looked confused but didn’t comment, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Having looked forward to the outing all day, Jillian felt despondent over the loss.

  She tried to engage her mind in sewing, reading, and walking through the great house in an attempt to learn every corner. However, she had a great deal of difficulty raising her spirits.

  Slade did not make it home in time for dinner. Jillian wondered if he was upset with her. She dressed for bed and waited in her own room, leaving her door a bit ajar.

  He did not keep her waiting.

  As soon as she heard him in the sitting room, she went to find him.

  “Jillian,” he glanced over her attire.

  She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach at his expression of appreciation.

  “Did you get my message?”

  “I did,” he swallowed hard.

  She wasn’t sure what to say now. She had expected him to ask what had kept her.

  “I can’t ride side saddle,” she planted her fists on her hips.