The Marriage Truce

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  Her eyes took in his half-dressed appearance and widened. She took a step back. ‘I…I came to see if you were all right. Or needed something.’

  ‘I am well enough.’ He slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs and head. ‘Come in and shut the door.’

  She did, with her eyes on him the entire time as if she would bolt at any unexpected movement from him. ‘If…if you don’t need something, then perhaps I should go.’

  ‘There’s no need to worry, I’ve no intention of ravishing you.’ He sat down rather abruptly as a wave of dizziness overtook him. ‘I fear I am hardly capable of doing so at any rate.’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ Her expression quickly changed to concern. She crossed the room to his bed and looked down at him. ‘You are in pain.’

  ‘A little.’ He grimaced, the genuine concern in her face throwing him off. He had not expected that from her. ‘Nothing to worry about, my dear.’

  ‘How did you manage to get your boots and coat off?’ she asked.

  ‘Very slowly, I assure you.’

  She leaned forward a little and her shawl fell opened and he realised she was not in proper dress at all. He levelled a frown at her. ‘What the devil are you doing wandering about an inn in your nightdress?’

  Even in the dim light he could see the quick flush that stained her cheekbones. ‘I am hardly wandering around the inn,’ she informed him. ‘I merely walked from my room to yours.’

  ‘That’s dangerous enough. Where’s your maid?’

  ‘She is sleeping. At any rate, there is only one other family here and one single gentleman who is quite elderly. They seem quite respectable. I did not come to discuss the occupants of the inn, but to see if you are in need of assistance.’

  ‘I appreciate your concern, but I need nothing.’ He had no intention of allowing her to stay in his room any longer than necessary. Not with her dark, expressive eyes and soft inviting mouth and the candlelight making the room far too intimate.

  ‘But don’t you wish to remove your other boot and the…the rest of your clothing?’ Her colour increased as she stumbled over the words. ‘That is, your waistcoat and stock?’

  He raised his brow in his most sardonic fashion. ‘Are you offering to help me?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ She bit her lip. ‘Unless there is someone else in the inn.’

  ‘Unfortunately not. Mr Henwick is too busy and I hardly wish his wife or daughter to play valet. I will manage, my dear. If I need to, I’ll sleep in my clothing. Go to bed.’

  ‘But that is hardly comfortable.’ She seemed to make up her mind. ‘I can at least remove your other boot and help you with your other items.’ She sat down on the bed. ‘I will start with your boot.’

  He was too stunned to protest when she reached for his booted foot. Her grasp was surprisingly strong for such delicate hands and she somehow managed to pull the boot from his foot. She set it on the floor and then moved closer to him. ‘I think your cravat next.’

  ‘I think not—’ he began but she was already leaning over him.

  Her fingers fumbled with his cravat. He closed his eyes as her arm brushed his cheek and her soft scent enveloped him, and then bit back a groan as his body reacted with a desire that was hot and swift.

  He must have made some sound for she sat back, his cravat in her hands. ‘Did I hurt you? Are you in pain?’ Her voice was soft and full of concern.

  His eyes shot open, which was a mistake, for he was looking into her lovely, heart-shaped face. His eyes fell to her lips and he wanted nothing more than to pull her on top of him and kiss her until she lay soft and wanting in his arms. He forced himself to speak. ‘No, there’s no pain.’

  ‘Then let me help you with your waistcoat. You will need to lean forward. Can you do so?’

  ‘Yes.’ He shifted and she gently eased the garment over one arm and then reached around him to pull it down his other arm. The feel of her body against his was akin to torture. By the time she was done, his body was throbbing with more than the pain due to his injuries. She finally sat back, his waistcoat in her hands. ‘Is there anything else?’ Her own voice was rather faint.

  He tore his eyes away from her lips. ‘No, I think you’d best go.’ Before he did something he would regret.

  She stood. The shawl slipped from her shoulders. She quickly retrieved it. ‘Then I…I will bid you goodnight.’ She didn’t quite look at him.

  ‘Goodnight. Lock your door.’

  ‘I will.’ She laid his waistcoat on the chair over his coat and backed out of the room. Then closed the door swiftly behind her as if she’d just escaped from imminent danger.

  Which perhaps she had. He fell back against the pillows, stunned at the force of his desire. Perhaps he was merely delirious, as he surely had been the day of their wedding when he’d asked for a kiss. He realised his mistake as soon as her soft lips brushed his cheeks.

  He closed his eyes with a groan. The last thing he wanted was to lust after his wife. He’d best put as much distance between them as quickly as possible.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘We should be at Ravensheed within the next few minutes.’

  Dev’s voice aroused Sarah from her contemplation of the gentle, green countryside, something she’d been engaged in most of the two-hour journey from the White Pigeon, despite her now stiff neck. Her other choice had been to contemplate Dev sitting across from her in the carriage; after last night, the prospect seemed too alarming.

  She forced herself to look at him now. He looked better than he had yesterday, although she could tell he was still far from recovered. He had dressed himself today, although he’d omitted his cravat and waistcoat and wore his shirt open at the neck under his bottle-green coat. He had not bothered to shave and the dark shadow of beard around his mouth gave him a dangerous masculine aura.

  Whatever had possessed her to insist on helping him undress? She had only gone to his room in the first place because she had promised Jessica she would look after him. And then he had looked so tired and rather helpless as he lay there with one boot on. It wasn’t until she actually sat next to him that she realised she was about to perform a very intimate task. By then, it seemed too late to back down. The feel of his strong muscles, his masculine scent and her fingers contacting his strong cheekbones burned in her memory. She had experienced the most odd desire to brush a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead and tangle her hands in his thick hair.

  A desire she had no business feeling, especially for him.

  She realised from his expression that he was waiting for her to say something. ‘The countryside looks very nice,’ she stammered.

  His brow arched. ‘I am glad you think so since you have spent most of the journey watching it. Have you been to Kent before?’

  ‘Only once.’ She clasped her hands together, trying hard not to notice his long muscular legs stretched out in front of him. Whatever was wrong with her? She’d never felt so peculiar around a man before. She was grateful Liza was with them even if she had spent most of the trip sleeping, soft snores issuing from her slightly open mouth.

  He glanced out the window. ‘We have just turned into the drive. Ravensheed is around the next bend.’

  Sarah looked back out the window in time to see the house. Her stomach knotted as she saw the place that was now to be her home.

  It stood on a slight rise, a square house of red bricks with two symmetrical wings. In front of it spread a rolling green lawn. In the late afternoon sun, the house had a peaceful, mellow appearance. Ordinarily she would have thought it appealing, but at the moment it had all the appeal of a prison. A wave of homesickness washed over her. She moistened her lips and glanced back at Dev. ‘It…it is very lovely.’

  He fixed her with one of his penetrating looks. ‘I am glad you think so. However, I can see you are less than pleased at the prospect of stepping foot in it.’

  Was she really so transparent? She glanced down at her hands. ‘
It is just everything seems so strange. I imagine that once I am used to it, I shall like it very much.’

  ‘I hope so.’ His voice held an odd note.

  She looked quickly back at him and caught an expression that could almost be sympathy cross his face. But it was gone too quickly and then the carriage had rattled to a halt.

  Liza roused herself and looked out the window with sleepy eyes. The footman flung open the doors and Dev stepped down. He helped Sarah down. She stood for a moment, looking up at the house and then Dev took her elbow. ‘Come, it’s time to go in.’

  Her heart thudding, she went with him up the steps. The door was opened by a footman and she stepped into a spacious entry hall. A thin, middle-aged woman came out of one of the doors that opened into the hall. Her eyes widened in surprise and then she hurried forward. ‘My lord, Lady Jessica, I did not expect you.’ Then she peered more closely at Sarah and her face stiffened in shock.

  ‘This is my housekeeper, Mrs Humphries. May I present my wife, Lady Huntington?’

  ‘Your wife?’ Her mouth fell open and then she recovered herself. ‘How do you do, my lady?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ Sarah said awkwardly.

  Dev dropped his hand from her elbow. ‘Perhaps you could show Lady Huntington to the bedchamber in the family wing. We’ve had a long journey and she is undoubtedly tired.’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ Mrs Humphries’s face was impassive. ‘This way, then, Lady Huntington.’

  ‘I will see you at dinner, Sarah.’ His voice was clearly dismissive.

  She followed the housekeeper through a door that led into a long gallery with paintings on one wall. At the end of the gallery was a small square hallway with a door on either side. Mrs Humphries opened one and Sarah followed her into a large bedchamber with pale blue walls and a large tester bed against one wall.

  Mrs Humphries crossed the room and opened another door. ‘The dressing room is here. Lord Huntington’s own dressing room opens into it.’ She returned to the door of the bedchamber. ‘I will send your maid to help you unpack. Perhaps you would like to rest before dinner. His lordship generally dines at five, although tonight he will undoubtedly wish to dine later. Is there anything else you wish, my lady?’

  ‘No, I think not. Thank you.’ Sarah watched the housekeeper leave, and then she slowly removed her pelisse and bonnet and laid them on the bed, wondering what to do next.

  She finally sat in a chaise-longue near the bed and looked around the room, which was now to be hers. The blue walls and white curtains and bed-hangings gave it a light airy atmosphere, but the room had a curiously impersonal feel to it as if it carried no impression of any previous occupant. The dressing table was bare except for a small looking glass; the fireplace, with its white carved mantelpiece and iron grate, was clean and neat as if it had not seen a fire for an age. The only bit of life was a small painting of a large manor house set in a rolling, green park.

  This had undoubtedly been Mary’s room for the few brief weeks she had been Dev’s wife. Before she ran away with Nicholas. The thought of Mary made Sarah feel an intruder, almost as if she were appropriating Mary’s home, Mary’s place and worse, her husband. Except Mary had not wanted any of them. And it seemed almost that fate had had somehow decreed that Sarah was to take her place.

  Sarah took one last look at herself in the looking glass and squared her shoulders. There was no need for such apprehension, she was merely going to dinner, not an inquisition. Despite his impatient temper and dark scowls, the last two days had taught her that Dev was a gentleman. And, she reminded herself, she had dined with him alone last night so she had no reason to dread eating with him tonight.

  Except she did. And tonight was different. This time she was alone with him in his house.

  Liza had helped her dress in one of her favourite gowns, a pale peach silk with matching ribbon around the hem and rounded neckline. It was over a year old, but she had hoped wearing it would give her courage. Perhaps if they had a real marriage she would be concerned with trying to impress her husband but, under the circumstances, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She opened the door and nearly jumped when Dev stepped out of the door across the small hallway that separated them. He was also dressed for dinner in a black coat and dark pantaloons. He glanced up, an equally startled look on his face. ‘We seemed to be of a similar mind,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’ She willed herself to meet his eyes and managed to force a smile to her lips. ‘And quite fortuitous as well as I was not exactly certain where I was to go.’

  ‘I hardly expected you to, although I would have sent a servant for you.’ He held out his arm. ‘Shall we proceed to the dining room, then? Since we have no company tonight, we can dispense with the formalities in the drawing room.’

  She gingerly placed her fingers on his coat sleeve, careful to avoid any more extensive contact with him. Not that he seemed to desire it any more than she did. He held himself stiffly away from her as they passed down the picture gallery and through a small square hall where a staircase rose to the next floor, then crossed the entry hall to the dining room.

  The room was elegant with dark red walls and drapes. Dev dropped her arm and she moved to the window that framed a view of the park at the back of the house. An expanse of smooth green grass sloped gently away to a wooded area. She caught a glimpse of a small lake in the distance. It was quite different from Monteville’s formal gardens and well-planned paths.

  ‘The park was designed by Capability Brown,’ Dev said, coming to stand behind her. ‘However, my mother insisted that she must have a flower garden. So there is one at the side of the house outside your room. You can see it from the south window and, of course, you may use it as much as you like.’

  ‘I will. Thank you.’ She kept her eyes on the view, his words reminding her she was more than a guest.

  There was an awkward silence between them. ‘Perhaps we should eat,’ Dev said.

  He sat at the head of the large mahogany table and Sarah was seated to his right. The footman brought the first course. The soup smelled delicious, but the now familiar shaky nervousness in her stomach made it impossible to do more than take a few sips.

  She finally gave up after the cheese course. She glanced at Dev, who had been as silent and preoccupied as she had most of the meal. Occasionally she would catch him watching her, an impenetrable expression on his face that only served to unnerve her more.

  She had just reached for her wine when he spoke. ‘You are not eating much.’ She started. Her hand hit the glass and, in horror, she watched it spill across the tablecloth.

  ‘Oh, dear.’ She jumped up and reached for the glass and managed to knock her fork to the floor. Her hands went to her flaming cheeks. ‘Oh, drat! I…I am sorry.’

  ‘Drat?’ His mouth suddenly quirked. He stood and righted the glass. ‘Sarah, it is hardly a disaster. Sit down.’

  She quickly obeyed, feeling completely idiotic. She watched in mortified silence as the footman mopped up the spill and then placed another fork at her place.

  Dev waited until the footman finished before speaking. ‘Usually, I don’t frighten my dinner guests quite that much. Although,’ he added softly, ‘you are not a guest.’

  She looked quickly at him, still flustered. ‘I fear I was daydreaming. I am sorry.’

  ‘I will own the fault was mine,’ he said wryly. ‘If I had been a more attentive partner then you would not have found it necessary to retreat. I beg your pardon.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ she said quickly. ‘I imagine you must be very tired after the trip. I really did not expect you to entertain me with witty conversation.’

  His dark eyes fastened on her face, his expression unreadable. ‘Are you always this generous, Sarah?’

  She looked at him, puzzled. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

  ‘Only that, instead of taking me to task over my lack of manners, you find an excuse.’ His voice held a self-mocking edge.<
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  She frowned a little. ‘Is it an excuse? But I can see for myself that you are not quite well. I cannot think that travelling over the roads in a coach with injuries such as yours would be very comfortable.’

  ‘No.’ His hand tightened around his wineglass, his eyes still on her face. ‘Mary once told me you had a propensity for rescuing strays, whether animal or human.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Yes.’ His expression was forbidding. ‘I hope, my dear, that you do not see me as one of your strays. For I’ve no desire to be rescued and most certainly not by you.’

  ‘I…I have no intention of doing so.’ She stared at him, stung by the anger in his words.

  ‘Good.’ He suddenly rose. ‘But you are right about one thing, I am damnably tired. If you will excuse me, I am going to retire. I’ll send Mrs Humphries to you. If you need anything you may apply to her. Goodnight, Sarah.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered. She watched him stride out of the room and thought she had never felt so alone in her life.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Sarah stood at one of the tall windows of her bedchamber and watched the rain stream down the windowpane. The small private garden Dev had mentioned was outside the window, the lady’s mantle and gillyflowers looking rather forlorn with their heads hanging from the force of the rain. She turned away, not certain what she should do next. A maid had already brought her a steaming cup of chocolate and toast and then Liza had helped her into a long-sleeved gown of fawn muslin.

  As much as she might like, she could not hide in this room all day. She supposed she should inquire after Dev, but after last night she almost dreaded to do so. He’d made it quite clear he wanted nothing from her, most certainly not her concern. No matter what she had promised Jessica, she could not force herself on him. It would only serve to give him a greater disgust of her than he already had.