Suddenly, she pulled away from him. “I can’t do this. We’re in the middle of the courtyard. Anyone could see us!” She pulled in a ragged breath.
“Lady Blythe, I have Satin for you,” Harold called as he came around the corner of the barn.
“Blythe,” Michael whispered. Every muscle in his body tensed, as the urge, the need to feel her skin against him overwhelmed him. “Don’t go. Stay here, with me.”
She shook her head. “I have to go. You may not understand it, but it’s something I have to do.”
He straightened to his full height and shoved the desire down. “Then I’m going with you. I’m not letting you do this alone, Blythe. You can either stay here, or leave with me. Those are your choices.”
She looked as if she was going argue, and then all the fight seemed to leave her body. “All right.” She turned toward Harold as he stopped Satin next to her. She glanced back at him. “But no more kisses.”
“No more kisses,” he replied solemnly.
For now, anyway.
****
“There it is,” Blythe said, a mix of dread and anticipation in her chest.
Michael reined in his horse next to Blythe.
They stood across the street from 16 Alcove Lane, a quaint, pretty house with a small, white picket fence surrounding the small yard.
“Let’s turn around, Blythe.” Michael had done nothing but try to dissuade her from this excursion from the moment they’d left Rosemead.
She stared at the pretty house. It looked like a home. A small home. If this is where Thomas’ mistress lived, what had happened to all the money he’d stolen from her? The dowry would have been sufficient to keep his mistress in a much larger house, with servants, for a long time to come.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured.
“What doesn’t make sense?” Michael asked.
“Oh…Well, this doesn’t.”
“Being here? I wholeheartedly concur.” Michael grabbed his reins. “Let’s go home.”
“No.” Blythe was certain she didn’t want to leave. She’d come all this way for answers, and she wasn’t leaving without them. “I just need a moment.”
“You are really going through with this, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “I have to.”
“I had hoped you would change your mind as soon as you got here.”
She looked at him. “Will you help me down?”
Michael stared at her for a moment and with a sigh, he slid from his horse and reached up for her. His arms held tightly to her waist as she slid to the ground, and he didn’t let go.
“Michael?” He looked at her with such uneasy resolution.
“I have to tell you something, about Anne Cathaway.”
“I beg your pardon, but I heard my name. Is there something I can help you with?” a feminine voice called out.
Michael groaned.
Blythe turned around to see a beautiful woman, blonde and petite…and obviously pregnant, only a few steps away from them. She held a covered basket in her hands.
“Oh, my lord.” Blythe stared at the woman’s stomach, and felt as if someone had punched her own.
“I am Anne Cathaway. Or rather, I was,” the woman said, a smile across her heart-shaped face.
Blythe couldn’t turn her gaze away. The woman wore a black gown and her belly extended out, indicating that she was far along in her pregnancy.
Thomas’s child.
Suddenly, Blythe wanted to be as far away from here as she could get.
Michael reached out a hand to take Anne Cathaway’s. “Good to meet you, Miss Cathaway. I am…” He paused, then seeming to make up his mind, told her, “Michael Ashton, Duke of Ravensdale.”
Anne gasped. “You are Thomas’ cousin.”
Michael looked astonished. “You know of me?”
“Yes, of course. My husband spoke of you often.”
“Your husband?” Blythe asked, unable to stop herself. Thomas’ mistress was married? She felt like she’d been dropped in the middle of someone else’s life with no understanding of the world around her.
“Well, yes, Thomas was very fond of His Grace,” Anne replied with a questioning smile.
Her husband. Thomas. Anne Cathaway’s husband.
Blythe’s head reeled, and air eluded her as she tried to breathe.
Michael reached out and put an arm around her waist. “Dearest, let us continue on our way. We’ve kept…Miss Cath—Mrs. Ashton long enough.”
“Is she all right?” Anne asked.
Blythe continued to gasp in what air she could, but her world seemed to filter in and out.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll just get her to the nearest posting inn.”
Everything around Blythe seemed fuzzy until she slipped into blessed darkness.
****
“Is your wife all right?”
Michael glanced up at Anne, who stood at the end of the bed. When Blythe had fainted, Michael had pulled her into his arms and let Anne lead him into her house, into her bedroom so he could place Blythe on the bed.
“I believe she’s just overtired from our trip,” he told Anne, not correcting her on her assumption that Blythe was his wife. It just seemed easier. “We didn’t rest much on our way here.”
“She looked so distraught. Is there anything I can do, Your Grace?” Anne asked.
“You’ve been more than kind.”
Michael held a dampened cloth against Blythe’s forehead.
He should have done more to stop her from coming here. He’d assumed she’d change her mind.
He would have told her the truth before she knocked on Anne’s door: that somewhere along the way, Thomas had also married Anne Cathaway. Keenan’s report had uncovered that but he had yet to find a marriage certificate.
So Michael didn’t know if Anne’s marriage or Blythe’s marriage to Thomas was invalid. And either option would devastate Blythe, he had no doubt.
One thing was certain: Blythe had nothing to do with his cousin’s schemes. Michael would never have imagined how happy that made him.
“Thomas hadn’t mentioned you were married,” Anne said.
“It was…very recent,” Michael lied. He stood up, careful not to disturb Blythe. “But perhaps it’s best if I do take her to the nearest inn and let her rest.”
“Your wife is more than welcome to stay here until she wakes up,” she said. “She looks like she could use the rest.”
Michael took in Anne’s nervous fidgeting, her difficulty looking him in the eye. She was hiding something, he was sure of it. He glanced at Blythe. Her chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths. The chance that she’d wake up seemed slim, and this might be the only opportunity he had to talk with Anne.
“I appreciate it. Perhaps I’ll let her be just a moment. You can tell me about you and Thomas.”
Anne’s brown eyes grew panicky, but she turned and led him into the front room.
“Would you care for some tea?” she asked.
Michael shook his head. “No, thank you.” He sat down on a comfortable chair. “Please, I’d love to hear about how you met Thomas, your marriage, anything.” If he just pushed enough, perhaps he could trip her up and expose whatever secrets she held.
Anne sank slowly into the chair across from him, and as she leaned back, laid her hands on her belly.
“How far along are you?” Michael asked.
“Seven months.” She smiled slightly as she rubbed her belly. “Thomas is excited about the baby.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, he was excited. Please forgive me, it’s so…difficult to think that he’ll never meet his child.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss. There must be something I can do for you.”
She looked away. “You are very kind, but there is no need. We’re well provided for.”
“And if I insisted?” Michael urged. He leaned forward. He had to take a risk, or he’d never find out what he needed to know. “How well provided for could
you be? Thomas is gone. I imagine anything he left you wasn’t much for you to be still living in this house.”
“We are doing just fine, thank you, Your Grace.”
“Ravensdale, please. We are family, as you married my cousin.”
“It is nice to talk to someone who knows…knew Thomas, as well.”
Michael leaned forward. There was no time to be gentle about this. “Thomas isn’t dead, is he?”
Anne’s face paled. “W—why would you think something like that?”
Michael shoved down the impatience inside him and took her hands in his. They were cold, clammy. “Anne, I just want to help. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He kept his eyes focused on hers. “Yes, you do. It’s quite all right, you know. I admire you for protecting him so. Let me help you both get out of this. Don’t you want your husband back?”
“Yes, but….”
“Whatever it is, I can help. I have funds at my disposal. I have connections.”
Uncertainty swam in her eyes.
“Thomas could be here to see his child born.”
“You could really help?” she whispered. “Perhaps it would be all right….”
He could almost smell his victory. “Of course it will. Now tell me, where is he?”
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me where he goes. He only tells me when he’ll be back.”
“And when will that be?”
She stared at him, unsure whether or not to trust his help.
“What happened? What are you afraid of?”
“He is in danger,” she whispered. “There are men looking to kill him.”
“Why?” Michael would bet his holdings she didn’t know the true reason.
“He saw something…a murder. The killer found out who he was and threatened to kill him. So he has gone into hiding, and we stay here.” She smiled slightly. “He promised to buy me a castle when things were better, somewhere far away and exotic. But I don’t mind this house.”
Michael wondered if it was just another lie, or if it meant that he still had the money safe somewhere.
“I can help keep you both safe,” he urged. “Just tell me where to find him.”
“I honestly don’t know. He thought it would keep him safer that way.”
“When do you expect him back?”
She sighed. “Three weeks from today. He’ll arrive in the middle of the night as usual and leave the following night.” Hope flared in her eyes. “Can you help him?”
“I’ll be here when Thomas arrives, and we’ll figure out a plan together.”
He had one other thing to figure out as well. Who was truly married to him?
Sounds from the other room filtered in, and Michael glanced toward the doorway. Blythe was stirring awake.
He had to know the truth. “Anne, I need to know when you married Thomas.”
Chapter Fourteen
“We’ll stay here for the night. I sent a messenger to Rosemead to let them know.” Michael closed the door behind him and turned to look at Blythe. She wore only the nightgown and robe borrowed from the proprietor’s wife. It was very demure, white and covered her more completely than some of the gowns he’d seen her wear.
And yet it seemed like the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
Blythe continued to look out the window at the grounds around the small inn they’d stopped at. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t think it’s wise to try and make the trip home right now,” Michael said, then realized she hadn’t argued with him. “Blythe?”
“I didn’t think he could hurt me. I thought I’d see her and it would be over. Done. I could just move on.”
“Move on with what?”
“Move on from feeling sad. From feeling angry at myself for being such a stupid, naïve girl that I didn’t see through his lies.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Actually allow myself to love again, to believe.”
“In time-”
“Time won’t change anything, Michael.” Her gaze turned questioning, almost accusatory. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Michael didn’t pretend. “Yes. That’s why I tried to stop you from going. Why I wouldn’t let you go alone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before now? How long have you known?”
“I found out just before we left, Blythe. A letter I received from a friend.” At least that was true.
Blythe frowned. “Why would a friend send you a letter about that?”
It was idiotic to think she wouldn’t ask questions. She was intelligent, observant, and looked more beautiful than any woman had a right to after spending an hour crying.
“I had investigated Thomas’ whereabouts, just as you told me Adam had done.” True enough. “That letter was the last report on Thomas. My friend had gone to his gravesite and run into Anne there.”
She nodded, accepting his lies without a second thought.
“I’m sorry, Blythe.” For so much more than I can say. “Thomas didn’t deserve you.”
“That poor woman,” she commented. “Her marriage isn’t even real, and she doesn’t know it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.” She gasped. “Oh my lord, I didn’t even think to question…What if her marriage is valid? What if mine wasn’t?”
The horror that crossed her face was more than he could take. He reached out to cup her cheek with his hand. “I asked her when she married Thomas, and it was five days after your wedding. Your marriage was valid.”
Even though he’d prayed for exactly the opposite.
“What will she do? With a babe on the way. He obviously didn’t give her the money he took from my dowry.”
He ran his thumb over her cheek gently and felt her lean into his touch. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. I told her I would be coming back to ensure of that.”
Lies seemed to just roll off his tongue today, he thought. Yet he didn’t know any other way around it. He couldn’t tell her the truth.
He couldn’t risk seeing those sea-colored eyes fill with more betrayal, anger and likely hatred. The only thing he wanted to see in her eyes was love.
He blinked.
Love?
The idea flew through his mind, circled his heart and settled with a permanency that felt good.
Yes, he loved her. The moment he realized she was everything she seemed, his heart had let go and dropped itself at her feet.
His hand curved around her neck, skimmed down her back until he had both arms pulling her against him. He loved the way she didn’t argue, didn’t fight it, just settled in against his chest and laid her head on his shoulder.
“It will be all right.” He didn’t know who he was reassuring.
Blythe sighed against his chest, the warmth of her breath permeating through his shirt and sending a ripple of desire through him. “I cannot believe I ever trusted him.”
Michael sighed and held her tighter. She’d hate him for lying to her all this time. As much as it would have devastated Blythe to learn her marriage hadn’t been real, it would have been so much more simple if their marriage hadn’t been valid.
Damn Thomas for being alive. For being her husband. Because it meant that, somehow, Michael had to tell her the truth.
She tipped her head back and looked up at him, tears glistening in her sea-colored eyes. “Michael, what is wrong?”
He hesitated. “Blythe, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Her gaze was so full of trust, of belief in him, he hated the idea of seeing those eyes turn cold, betrayed.
He was a coward.
But he couldn’t do it.
Maybe if she loved him, she’d forgive him. He needed her to know how he felt. He knew he was ten kinds of a fool to do it now, after she’d suffered such a blow, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to love him.
And maybe if she trusted his love, she could find it in
her heart to forgive his deception.
He brought his head down until he touched his lips to hers in a whisper of a kiss.
“Michael,” she said in surprise.
He reached up to cup her chin in his hand. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. That feeling has only gotten stronger. I love you, Blythe.”
“What…what do you mean?” Confusion filled her eyes.
“I mean that I love you.”
She pulled out of his arms and stepped away. “I don’t need your pity, Michael.”
“This isn’t pity. I love you.”
“And you just realized this?” she asked, skepticism etched in her face. Fear flared in her eyes, though she tried to look away.
He held her gaze. “Isn’t there always a moment when you realize you love someone? Why couldn’t this be my moment?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but just stared at him.
Michael took a step closer and held out his hand. “You can believe me.”
Blythe stared at his hand, fighting the impulse to fling herself into his arms and forget everything. He loved her? Her head couldn’t stop reeling from all she learned about Thomas, and now this?
“Why? Why this moment?” she asked him, desperate to believe in what he said but terrified at the hope that wound its way through her heart. She didn’t want to hope, to believe, only to be crushed again. Because what she felt for Michael was already so much more than what she had ever felt for Thomas.
“This moment, because with all you have just learned, you still care about the other woman. This moment, because you came into my arms to let me comfort you. This moment, because of all the other moments that came before it from the very first one we met.”
“When you thought I was a servant,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“But a beautiful one,” he countered. He put a hand out to stop her from commenting. “I love you, Blythe. I want to be with you. Now. Forever.”
Her heart raced around in her chest. “Forever?”
“Yes. Yes, I want forever and nothing less.” Even as he sounded surprised at his own words, he grinned. “Will you be my duchess?”
Willoughby 01 - Something About Her Page 11
