The Highwayman's Bride

by Beckenham Jane

  Then her gaze set on Alexander, and all that was cheerless dissolved as her mouth curved into a broad smile that lit up her face.

  Tess recognized that smile.

  Scrambling from the bed, she quickly donned a shawl around her shoulders and stepped toward the young woman. “I’m Tess,” she said. “Alexander came visiting.”

  “He shouldn’t. Aiden would not be happy.”

  “But Aiden is not here.” Was he out on the road again?

  “No, he’s out riding.”

  Her disappointment escalated. “My husband does a lot of riding, it seems,” she countered with a heavy sigh. “Are you Mary?”

  The young woman nodded, drawing Alexander into the folds of her skirt. He looked up at her with big eyes, his golden hair a curly halo reminiscent of drawings Tess had seen of angelic deities.

  “He said his papa was Aiden?” Tess said, hoping Mary would correct the boy’s statement.

  “That is something you will have to discuss with my brother.”

  “But—”

  “I’m sorry, I cannot stay. I have errands to run.”

  Tess watched Mary walk back down the hallway, taking Alexander with her, while the swirl of unease increased in the pit of her stomach. The child did not look one iota like Aiden, and yet professed to be his son. And then there was Aiden’s reaction to the child’s presence.

  Something was amiss.

  With the arrival of a maid, however, Tess had no time to ponder this new dimension to her life.

  “His Lordship requested me to attend to you, m’lady. My name is Maria.”

  “Well Maria, I do not have much for you to do, but perhaps you could arrange hot water for bathing.”

  “Already on its way. His Lordship ordered it before he left for the village.”

  Tess pressed a palm to her heart, surprised at the surge of relief. “The village? I thought he might have gone…” She halted mid-sentence. Did others know of Aiden’s activities?

  “He’s meeting the villagers to discuss the year’s harvest.”

  While Maria fussed with Tess’s luggage, unpacking her gowns and storing them away, Tess relished her bath. Every now and then she heard the young maid tut-tut and Tess presumed she thought her meager belongings were not up to that of a Lady of the manor.

  Dressed in a fawn-colored morning dress, Tess sat at her dressing table as Maria attended her hair. At last the maid stood back with a satisfied sigh, resting her hands on her hips. “There. ’Tis all done. You look beautiful.”

  Tess eyed herself in the cheval. Her reflection did indeed look different. Beautiful, in fact. While some of her hair hung loose in a cascade of ringlets that caressed the curve of her neck, the remainder had been drawn back into a series of curls, a few silk flowers pinned strategically to keep the curls in place.

  “Do you think his Lordship is back yet?” Tess asked, aware of the wash of hopefulness in her chest.

  Maria’s mouth thinned. “One would hope, m’lady. ’Tis your honeymoon, after all.”

  It was nothing of the sort. It was a farce.

  Left alone, the aroma of the bacon on her breakfast tray stirred her hunger and she tucked in. Fresh bread with golden butter accompanied by a compote of strawberry jam topped it off.

  Once she’d finished, she found herself staring out the window, grudgingly admitting to loneliness and wishing Aiden were with her.

  “Oh this is ridiculous.”

  But it was exactly as you wanted, Tess. To be alone.

  But staying upstairs, Tess realized, was simply a delaying tactic. Wrenching open the door, she strode down the hallway and stairs. Silence greeted her. “Where is everyone?” She searched each room. The library. The morning room. The dining room with its impressive gilded walls.

  No Mary, nor Alexander. And definitely, no Aiden.

  Annoyance took hold and she ran upstairs, grabbed her bonnet and cloak and put on sturdier boots. In minutes she was back downstairs, aware of the still silent house as she headed out into the dreary gray day.

  The chill hit her immediately, sucking the breath from her lungs and tempting her to turn around and walk back indoors.

  The moment lasted barely a heartbeat and she drew her cloak around her and stoically started to walk.

  It did not matter where. She simply walked and walked, over the fields that unfolded from the Hall, and though the chill seeped into her bones, she continued.

  Why?

  Because she had to think about the decisions she had made. About blackmailing Aiden to marry her and agreeing to come to Charnley Hall. And about her need to be free. About escaping—again.

  The longer she walked, the more the sensation of being involved in something she didn’t quite understand overwhelmed her. Aiden had asked her what she had planned to do, and her reply had been that she hadn’t planned. Her goal had been to escape marriage to Percy and her uncle’s bullying. Blackmailing Aiden had been a desperate means to an end until she could escape again.

  It was time to prepare. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to support herself, but tomorrow she would make discreet enquiries about any vacancies in some of the surrounding homes. Perhaps she could become a governess.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Her heart fluttered. So lost in thought, she hadn’t been aware of the thunder of horse hooves behind her. Aiden sat atop Phantom. So regal. Proud. His back ramrod straight, long muscular legs encased in fine wool trews, his black leather boots shined so that if she peered close enough she would probably be able to see her reflection.

  Eyes no longer dark and turbulent captured hers, a twinkle in them firing butterflies to dance in her belly.

  Tess swallowed back the flagrant emotion riding roughshod over common sense.

  She took a step back, determined to stifle the urgent need to reach out and touch him.

  Chapter Ten

  For long they have been our enemy across the water,

  but never fear, the Grand Dame Clicquot’s and her delectable bubbles may grace our shores…soon.

  Mirabelle’s Musings

  December 1813

  Frustration rode through Aiden like stampeding horses. Things were not going to plan.

  Gibbs had apparently taken possession of one of Nash’s deliveries, already finding buyers and making a tidy profit from all accounts.

  But every time Aiden had a lead, something went wrong. Too late. The wrong location. Someone, besides Nash himself, didn’t want Nash caught. Someone was leaking information to Nash of Aiden’s movements.

  From atop his horse, Aiden stared down at his wife.

  Innocent? Or guilty?

  “I decided to go for a walk,” she said, blinking long lashes over soft green eyes that to Aiden’s thinking were as deep as any pond. He could drown in those eyes.

  “’Tis freezing.”

  “It is no colder than the reception I have received at your home.”

  His brow creased. “What do you mean?”

  “That when I went downstairs the house appeared empty. I asked your staff regarding your whereabouts, but their surliness was barely concealed.”

  “They have no right to treat you that way.”

  “I have the feeling they think I am an encumbrance.”

  “You are my wife and as such deserve respect.”

  “Do I have yours, Aiden?”

  Did she?

  Aiden stared hard at the woman standing with her head held high, determination and strength glittering in the depths of her eyes. “You are a brave woman, Tess.”

  “For trying my hand at being a highwayman?”

  His mouth hitched. “Aye, for that, and for marrying me. You think me a dangerous criminal and yet you were prepared to marry me.”

  “Desperate times require desperate measures.”

  He held a hand out to her. “’Tis time to go home, Tess.”

  She took his outstretched hand and he drew her up so that she sat in front of him. Her skirts rose, expo
sing her legs, until she quickly drew her cloak across them.

  Aiden swallowed back instant lust, spurred Phantom on and at the same time wrapped a free arm around her waist.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, her mouth close and ripe for kissing. If he leaned forward he could kiss her. Taste her again.

  “I will not fall.”

  “Perhaps not, but I do not want to be responsible for your death. It would make your blackmail of little consequence.”

  As Phantom headed toward the Hall, Aiden could smell her essence, as he had last night. He’d been desperate to sleep. Desperate to shut her out, and the questions stirring constantly in his brain, but it had proved impossible. Instead he had feigned sleep until exhaustion finally took him.

  As the sun eked out its dim rays over the western horizon they arrived back at Charnley. Aiden reined in Phantom and dismounted. He raised outstretched arms to Tess. “Lady Charnley.”

  She slipped easily from the stallion and into his arms—and stayed there.

  He pulled her closer and her lips parted, her white whispered breath mingling with the frozen air.

  “You are a beautiful woman.”

  “And we keep doing this.”

  “Which is?”

  “Standing outside.”

  Aiden’s mouth hitched slightly, a brow rising. “And I thought you meant this.” His mouth found hers and he knew he could not stop kissing her. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer still. Her body caressed his, his arousal already woken and throbbing with need. “This is what we should be doing,” he whispered against her ear as he trailed kisses light as any snowflake along her jawline.

  Dear God, he’d thought about nothing else all day. Wanted this all day. His heart hammered and blood surged, spurring him on. He kissed her and kissed her, again and again.

  Finally, breathless, though he would die happily if this state of breathlessness continued because of kissing Tess, he drew back.

  Wide-eyed, the tip of her tongue slid temptingly across her lips. She clutched at his shoulders and nothing would force Aiden to move if it meant she held him so.

  “The house is so quiet. No one talks. It is as if it bears a mantle of sorrow.”

  Witnessing the sudden swell of her tears, guilt stirred anew. “Mary is…sad,” he said quietly, and then squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the visions of his sister the day she had returned. The battered face, the gut wrenching sobs. Sweet Jesus, why won’t they disappear? They were worse than the memories of war. Closer. Heartfelt.

  His eyes flashed open as if that would eradicate the visions and he fixed his attention back on Tess. “She has suffered greatly.”

  “How?”

  His mouth thinned. “’Tis not my story to tell, Tess. Just be gentle with her.” He cast his gaze toward the open fields. “If only I had been here.”

  “Why? What is it you could have done?”

  His boot scuffed across the uneven stony ground. “That damned war,” he bit out. “Too much death, too much separation.”

  “How long were you away?”

  Aiden scrubbed his gloved hands across his face as if it would stamp out the memories. “Too long.”

  Suddenly, the main door to the grand house was thrown open and Mary rushed out. “Did you find any more information?”

  Aiden grabbed at his sister. “Shush, you talk too much.”

  Mary went to speak but he silenced her with a nod of his head. “No one need know.” He glanced toward Tess. Had she heard? Did she know of whom they talked?

  If she did, she should be on the stage, for her expression remained uncensored.

  “Oh, Aiden, it is the nights that are the worst. I see him coming after me, the intent to kill written as clearly on his face as I see yours before me.” Tears streamed down Mary’s face, anguish ringing from her voice. “He hurt me. Hurt me. The babe killed before it took a breath.”

  “Shush, Mary. Shush.” Aiden wrapped his sister in his arms but her sobs continued, wails of pain wrenched from deep within. He caressed her blond head, offering soothing words, but nothing changed and his sense of ineffectiveness escalated as it always did.

  With firm hands on her shoulders, he pushed her away slightly. “Look at me, Mary. Look at me.”

  Her crying continued for a few seconds, then with a hiccupped sob it stopped. She lifted her tear-tipped lashes and looked at him.

  “I promise you he will pay. Nothing will stop me until the man has atoned for what he has done to you.”

  “I loved him. I thought…”

  The sudden touch of a hand on his sleeve drew him. He turned to Tess and witnessed tenderness in her expression and her gentle smile. She nodded to him and he stepped back.

  “Mary,” she said quietly and wrapped her arms around his sister’s shoulders. She offered him another sweet smile of reassurance. “Do you not think a roaring fire and a hot chocolate is required, right now, husband?” she said, diffusing the moment.

  Aiden chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. “Is that your answer to everything?”

  “It will help, and so can I,” she said with a quiet strength. Tess drew Mary toward the house. She didn’t look back and Aiden walked quietly behind them, his relief profound.

  While they took sanctuary in the morning room, he headed to the kitchen ordering Tess’s fix-all—hot chocolate.

  A few minutes later, carrying a tray of drinks, he entered the room and placed it on the table beside the sofa where Tess and Mary sat. His sister’s tears had ceased to a soft hiccup every now and again as she calmed.

  Aiden passed Mary a hot chocolate, but she didn’t even acknowledge him. “Mary. ’Tis a hot drink. It will warm you through.”

  “Is that of any use?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Inside I am frozen. Dead.”

  “You will wake again,” Tess intervened, caressing his sister’s blond hair.

  Her gaze shifted to Tess. “You can promise me that?”

  Aiden heard Mary’s desperation and again the guilt of his inability to cauterize her pain, to find Nash and punish him, castigated him with every breath he took.

  Loyalty. Honor. Family. The motto the Masters’s clan had lived by for generations—and he had failed it.

  “If you want to live, Mary, then you will. It is your heart that aches, but it is not broken or dead, for you still breathe and will live to see another day. Life is something you must grab onto and relish with all that it has to offer. We are the sum of our life’s experiences, not just one thing, not the bad things.”

  “You believe this?”

  “I do. And you must too. You must let go of the hurt and not let it destroy you.”

  Mary reached for Tess’s hands. “Will you help me? Will you be my friend?”

  “Of course. I would be delighted.”

  Did that mean Tess would stay?

  Until that moment, Aiden hadn’t been quite certain whether she would, nor had he realized how important it was to him that she did.

  As the hour chimed and darkness settled over the landscape, a maid entered and lit the candles. “Cook said to say that supper will be served shortly, m’lord.”

  Aiden glanced at his sister’s remoteness and then at Tess. “Tonight I think it appropriate we remain where we are and enjoy the continued warmth of the fire, Emma. Please inform cook we will eat in here.”

  The young maid’s eyes widened and Aiden’s countenance softened.

  “Yes, yes, I know ’tis not my routine, but I think we are all too relaxed to move.”

  “A picnic,” Mary said, suddenly brightening. “We could put a rug on the floor and eat as we did as children in the summer down by the river.”

  Aiden’s chuckle rumbled. “Don’t get too carried away. Age is catching up with me and if you have me sitting on the floor, it may be impossible to get me up again.”

  “Says the man who rides atop his horse all hours of the night,” Tess quipped.

  The room silenced.


  One heartbeat of silence. Then two. Then he smiled broadly, a sparkle filling his eyes, lightening their color. “Touché, sweet Tess. Touché.”

  “Do you remember those days, Aiden?” Mary sighed wistfully. “Jasper following you around like a lap dog, mimicking everything you did.”

  “Jasper?” Tess queried.

  “My brother.”

  A brother? “You’ve never mentioned him.” Tess looked to Aiden, but the joy of only seconds ago had dissolved.

  “He’s at Oxford,” Mary intervened.

  A derisive snort echoed from Aiden. “When he can be bothered.”

  “He’s young, Aiden, and yet to find his way.”

  “I wish he would hurry up.”

  The food was carried in shortly thereafter and they dined on a simple meal of chicken pie and cook’s famous fruit jelly. To Aiden it could have been a king’s banquet, and for the first time in what seemed many weeks, a sense of calm flowed through him. He felt normal.

  After supper, they wiled away the hours, Mary reading Tess’s copy of Austen, Aiden telling Tess stories of his childhood until the echo of the grandfather clock chimed ten.

  Mary stirred. “It is late,” she said with a barely stifled yawn. She turned to Tess, clutching the borrowed book to her chest. “Thank you for your kindness and understanding. It is something Aiden tries to offer, but I think sometimes only a woman can truly understand.”

  Aiden frowned at Mary’s words. Had he failed her again?

  Tess stood and hugged her sister-in-law. “No thanks are needed, but I am glad that you are feeling better.”

  “I am. It does but come and go. Some days are good. Some not so.”

  “It will take time, Mary.”

  With a kiss to Tess’s cheek, Mary waved to them both. “Adieu, brother—and sister. I need my bed.”

  Bed. The idea stirred him.

  Suddenly, however, Tess wouldn’t look at him. “I…I really need to sleep too. That walk tired me.”

  “A good idea.” Definitely. Aiden stood. Bed. And Tess.

  “No!” Her shriek echoed around the room.