Laura shielded her eyes with her hand. She could make out a small nest. “It’s almost near the top.”
Nathaniel grinned boyishly. “I’ve had plenty of practice climbing trees. Although not for some years.” He bent and scooped the fledgling up, cradling it in his palm. “Still has plenty of life in it.” He undid a button on his shirt and placed the little bird carefully inside.
He swung onto the lowest branch and began to climb. His strong legs carried him swiftly upward.
“Nathaniel, do be careful.” Laura watched him disappear into the thicker foliage near the top. She stepped back and craned her neck. Holding on to a branch with one hand, he reached into his shirt, removed the bird and placed it in the nest while the parent bird flew around him.
“Well done.” Laura applauded as he started down.
The olive-green and yellow male arrived to join the female, both fluttering near Nathaniel’s face.
“That’s not very grateful,” she heard him say as a bird flew at his head.
When he lifted his hand to shield his eyes, his foot slipped off the branch. Laura put her hand to her mouth, horror-struck. He swung by his hands high above her. She swallowed a cry, afraid she would distract him, while the dogs whined and scratched at the tree trunk. Nathaniel regained his footing and moments later jumped to the ground.
Once he’d found his feet, Laura launched herself at his chest, throwing her arms around him.
“What’s this?” he asked with a reserved smile.
“You frightened me. I thought you’d fall.”
“Goose.” He smiled and took her hand. “Don’t fuss, sweetheart. I was never in danger.”
As they continued down the lane, she sensed the easy warmth they’d shared earlier had waned slightly, and she wondered why her display of emotion had disturbed him.
* * *
Nathaniel watched Laura’s green eyes deepen with apprehension. She looked so young in her tan cape and hat with its absurd curling feather. As he had feared, she sought a close, intimate relationship. Although he could not give her what she wanted, he cautiously considered the possibility that despite the differences in their natures, they might still be happy. When they’d reached the house, Laura’s buoyant nature reasserted itself, and she giggled at something she had seen from the train. He couldn’t help grinning at her silly, nonsensical recollection, which served to banish the dark mood he fought his way out of. He breathed more easily.
Chapter Eight
The banquet-sized dining room featured an oak table long enough to seat King Henry VIII and all his courtiers. Laura dined with Nathaniel at one end, silver candelabra casting a soft glow over the polished table. The butler, Rudge, had returned from the village. A dark-haired gentleman of mid-years, he appeared to be of a reserved nature. He stood in attendance pouring the wine with a sharp eye on the staff as they brought in the courses. Delicate, flavorsome aromas filled the room. Fish was the main staple, roast bream, lobster in a cream sauce, limpets, oysters, vegetables and fresh salads from the castle gardens. Dessert was tesen aval, a deliciously light Cornish apple cake served with thick clotted cream.
Laura’s corset held her in a vice-like grip. After a few spoonfuls, she pushed away her dessert plate. “My figure will suffer, if I continue to eat like this.” She smiled at the butler. “Please compliment Mrs. Madge, Rudge. She has prepared a feast!”
Nathaniel chuckled and threw down his napkin to rise from the table. “We’ll work off some energy riding tomorrow.” He clasped her arm. “We’ll have port and coffee in the library, thank you, Rudge.”
Laura sank onto the comfortable leather sofa. She rested her cheek against her hand and stared into the fire while Rudge silently served their port wine and brandy. Her wine was velvety smooth and sweet. If only her mother could see her now. The thought brought an unexpected bout of homesickness that passed when she gazed into her husband’s smiling gray eyes as he sat beside her.
“You approve of the port?”
She licked her lips. “Delicious. Do we make port in England?”
“England doesn’t have a suitable climate for growing grapes. This comes from Portugal.” When his eyes rested on her mouth, warm desire and a thrill of expectation threaded through her.
Surely Nathaniel wouldn’t accept contraband goods? She’d heard smugglers still operated along this coast. Too relaxed to give the matter any thought, she took another deep sip, then slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her skirts. Outside, the wind from the sea moaned around the house. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the strong drink made her sink back against the squab.
Laura asked Nathaniel about village residents, those who might be in their social circle who could come to dinner. “Plenty of time for that, Laura. We’ll discuss it later.” He rested his head back against the leather and closed his eyes.
An hour passed in companionable silence. He was tired and so was she. It had been a long, exhausting day filled with discoveries. The port made her sleepy, and she yawned behind a hand.
“I believe we’ll retire.” Nathaniel put down his glass.
The pit of her stomach tingled. Somehow, in his mellow voice, the innocuous statement took on a more sensual meaning. Or was it just her? She slipped on her shoes.
Rudge waited at the foot of the stairs with a paraffin lamp and lit their candles. The shock of discovering the absence of electricity and running water returned with a spark of alarm. Not even a water closet. Could she bear to live without them?
Nathaniel paused at her bedroom door. “Your maid will be waiting to assist you.”
With a glance at his retreating back, she entered her room where a fire burned in the grate. Fireplaces were in constant use here. The old abbey would be chilly without them.
Agnes folded back the bedcover. “I’ve laid out your nightgown, milady. Do you require assistance to undress?”
“Just undo the buttons down the back. I’ll do the rest, thank you.”
“Yes, milady.” Agnes was a typical country girl with a friendly, open face and curly fair hair. She had efficiently organized Laura’s bath before dinner and proved herself an excellent lady’s maid.
After the maid left the room, Laura sat at her dressing table in her nightgown, plaiting her hair. A grating noise forced her to her feet, her heart leaping as a part of the timber paneling on one wall slid open. A dark head appeared.
“I’ve frightened you. I am sorry,” Nathaniel said with a rueful smile. “I hadn’t planned to enter this way, but as you can see my hands are occupied.” Dressed in a midnight blue silk dressing gown piped with gold, he carried a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes by their slender stems in the other.
Laura swallowed on a gasp of relief. “A secret panel! How fascinating!”
“The abbey is riddled with passages. I spent my childhood discovering them.”
“You must show them to me. I love such things.”
He poured her a glass of champagne and sat beside her on the bed to clink his glass against hers.
After the wine at dinner and the port, Laura feared the champagne would lull her to sleep. She laughed and shook her head.
He smiled. “Care to share the joke?”
“You, appearing like a ghost through the wall.”
His smile widened. “A welcome ghost?” He removed the glass from her hand, placing it on the table alongside him.
“Most welcome,” she whispered as he drew her to her feet.
He gathered her close against the hard length of his body, cradled her head in his hands and kissed her deeply. “Must you braid your hair?” he asked when he drew away.
She did but felt unable to argue with him when he turned her shoulders, and his long fingers unraveled her hair. He gathered up her tresses and held them to his face. “Silky and sweetly scented. Glorious.”
“I might wear a cap,” she teased.
“Don’t you dare,” he said huskily. “Your hair glows like fire in this light.
”
He slipped the dressing gown from her shoulders to slide into a pool of silk at her feet. “You’re so beautiful, Laura.”
Baring her shoulder, he kissed his way to the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. He eased her back onto the bed and slid his hand over her thigh, pushing her nightgown higher, slowly, as her naked body was revealed to him. Drawing the lacy garment over her head, he tossed it to the floor. So much for the care she’d taken choosing it, Laura thought, before his deft touch sent her thoughts whirling away.
“I’ve been thinking of this all day.” His low voice was muffled against her breast.
Tonight would bring them closer. She would make it so. When his hands strayed, finding her most sensitive spots, her body clamored for him, and she threw back her head with a moan.
After Nathaniel’s masterful lovemaking, Laura stretched like a cat. She lay tangled in the crisp linen sheets, her head resting against Nathaniel’s chest. Endeavoring to please him, she’d become bolder, pleased when she saw how she’d moved him. Her body was sated, but her heart and soul still yearned for something more. Confused, she pushed the thoughts away. He had been a consummate lover. No woman would complain. She was too impatient.
Nathaniel rolled away from her to sit up. He reached for the champagne bottle and topped up their glasses. She plumped up the pillows and sat, feasting her eyes on the gorgeous man in her bed. It was so gloriously decadent sipping champagne beneath a festoon of gold cloth, the bed curtains caught up with golden tassels.
“We’ll ride after breakfast,” Nathaniel said. “In the afternoon, I’ll take you to meet Miss Cilla Gain. I believe she will be good company for you.”
“Does she live in the village?”
“No, in a cottage out on the point. She is an artist.”
“An artist! How wonderful.”
“With your interest in art you may find common ground.”
“How does Miss Gain come to live at Wolfram?”
“We knew each other years ago. She arrived one day and asked me if she could turn one of the empty cottages into a studio. She isn’t well off, so I allow her to live there.”
“How generous, Nathaniel,” Laura said with a warm rush of feeling. “Is she from these parts?”
He patted her cheek. “All these questions. I’ll allow her to tell you her story herself.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
Laura gazed at her husband. She was getting to know this man slowly, which didn’t suit her impatient nature, but she loved all that she’d learned about him.
Some hours later, Laura woke to find Nathaniel’s side of the bed empty. Her head swam a little when she raised it from the pillow. He’d refilled her glass more than once before she’d fallen asleep. Brilliant moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains. Laura donned her nightgown. She had no need for a candle when she rose to use the chamber pot. A privy was one convenience she sorely missed and was determined to rectify. Pouring water from the jug, she washed in the basin. As she dried her hands, she thought she heard a soft footfall in the corridor outside. She paused, hoping Nathaniel would return. When he didn’t, she went to open her door. The corridor was dark where the moonlight couldn’t reach and chilly.
She cleared her throat. “Is someone there?”
No answer. Her skin prickled as she searched the shadows. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found it empty, the only movement a huge tapestry on the wall stirring in the draft.
With a shiver, Laura returned to her room. She ran her fingers along the panels in the wall hoping to open the secret door. Failing to find the catch, she grabbed a shawl and slipped into the corridor again. She hesitated outside Nathaniel’s room wondering whether to knock. How ridiculous. She was his wife! She needed warmth and reassurance. Surely that wasn’t unreasonable. Opening the door, she found the room in darkness, the curtains closed.
Laura paused, not wishing to wake him, but there was no soft snore, no sign of movement. She groped her way over to the bed and reached down to touch his pillow. The sheets were cold, the bed empty.
“Nathaniel?” Even as she said it, she knew Nathaniel wasn’t there. He must have gone downstairs.
Stumbling to the window, she scraped her knee painfully against what must have been the corner of the bureau. She pulled back the curtains. Moonlight swept into the room, confirming that the bed was indeed empty. The pillow was smooth, the bedclothes unrumpled. It had never been slept in. Where was he then?
She paused to catch her breath, and then hurried from the room. Farther down the corridor, candlelight flowed from beneath a door. Laura crept toward it.
Hadn’t Nathaniel told her that the staff was on the floor above? As she reached for the doorknob, a shadow crossed the light. Laura hesitated. She could hardly enter someone’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Knocking would be embarrassing to say the least. Have you seen my lost husband? She grinned despite her discomfort. It would be such a bad beginning. But why hadn’t he mentioned someone was just down the corridor? Had she mistaken him when he’d said only guest chambers were in this wing?
She trailed her hand along the wall to hasten her walk back to her room. Odd to feel a trespasser in her own home. Her bedroom seemed a haven of warmth as she hurried inside.
Shivering, more from unease than cold, Laura climbed back into bed and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. She sank down and closed her eyes, with the hope that sleep would ease her concerns, at least until daylight. An hour passed. She thrashed about unable to quiet her mind, alert for any sound. Could it have been Nathaniel in that room? If not, then who was it? And if not Nathaniel, where had he gone?
***
There was nothing to make Nathaniel suspect danger still lurked at Wolfram. Yet he could not discount it. Surefooted, he ran over the grounds. If he had to, he could negotiate the land blindfolded, but tonight a moonlit sky made his way easier. Not just him, perhaps, for it was on a night like that that… He shook the dispiriting thoughts from his head and glanced up at Laura’s window. It remained in darkness, making him confident she still slept safely in her bed. He had stayed longer than he intended, watching her sleep. Such an innocent with her thick golden lashes resting on her creamy cheek. She had spirit though. Those remarkable green eyes of hers could flash, and she was a passionate, generous lover. He admired her intelligence and her curiosity, while at the same time, felt discomfited by them.
Cilla’s friendship might prevent Laura from becoming too lonely here. But he had no idea what she would make of the artist. Cilla was, well, Cilla.
An owl hooted. The shrubbery along the wall shook, probably a badger or a fox. A brisk, salt-laden breeze blew into his face, helping to clear his fatigue. Moving slowly, ever on the alert, Nathaniel reached the water.
Nothing but the slap of waves against the seawall.
Chapter Nine
The following morning, the weather changed dramatically. Gazing from her window, Laura saw a clear azure blue sky and sunlight sparkling on an indigo sea. She was happy and eager to see more of her new home despite her restless night. On the way to the staircase, even the stone corridors appeared more welcoming than on the previous day.
Nathaniel had returned at daylight and told her he’d gone to check on something in his study and had fallen asleep. He was often restless at night. It seemed so plausible she was ashamed of herself and decided to delay questioning him about the candlelight in the room down from hers.
At the breakfast table, the warmth of his smile echoed in his voice as he suggested they ride over the estate. Laura returned his smile and agreed, while being a little uneasy about her riding skills. She was good at sport, but her riding had been restricted to a pony when she was a child. She was determined to master it. In her bedroom, she adjusted her riding hat before the mirror. It was a handsome green-gold felt adorned with net and a graceful feather. Her mother had chosen it for Laura’s trousseau to match her new riding habit. Laura smiled to herself. They might not
always agree, but in matters of fashion, her mother’s taste was unerring.
Laura raised the watch that hung on a slender gold chain at her breast. Half past ten. Nathaniel had left the house after breakfast to attend to business. He promised to return at eleven o’clock for their ride. With half an hour to spare, she wandered about restlessly. Should she go downstairs and seek out Rudge? There was still so much of the house to view. She wanted to learn her duties and begin as soon as possible.
Leaving her chamber, with barely a thought, Laura turned right instead of left and found herself standing before the door which had been occupied the night before. With a steadying breath, she knocked. When no sound came from within, she tried the handle. The door opened.
She leaned back against the open door and blinked. The walls of the luxurious bedroom were of deep magenta overlaid in gold. The bed had ruby satin bed hangings and a matching silk coverlet. A rose-pink velvet armchair perched by the window. Laura shivered and rubbed her arms. The chilly room smelled musty, as though shut up for a long time. But overlaid was a scent she failed to identify. The candle in a glass candlestick on the dresser had burned down to a stub. It was tallow. Odd when she’d been told that only beeswax candles were used in the house. Laura crossed the crimson rug to open the two matching mahogany armoires.
“Good heavens!” Her voice sounded loud in the still room. Both cupboards were crammed with dresses of every hue. Taffeta silk, appliquéd velvets, organdie and India muslin, capes trimmed with ostrich or fur, and silk tea gowns of the finest quality. Silk underthings and nightgowns were folded neatly in the drawers. Laura picked up a dainty, soft gray chemise trimmed with Valenciennes lace. A delicate perfume wafted into the air.
The realization almost buckled her knees. This could only be Amanda’s bedchamber. Laura quickly folded the chemise and returned it to the drawer, as if she had no right to be there. She couldn’t rush away though. She was held captive by a need to understand more about the woman who had been Nathaniel’s wife.
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