When the sun never sets, she thought and glanced at the man, ready to tell him so, until she saw the glare in his amber-colored eyes. God in heaven, one need only view the man’s eyes to gauge the depth of his emotions. He relaxed against the carriage back with his legs widely spread. The gesture made her uncomfortable. She folded her arms across her chest, swallowed and stared out the window.
She needed time to think of yet another reason for what truly had to appear odd to him—a woman in friar’s garb.
“Please. I’m so tired. Can it not wait until morn? I beg you, please.” She gave him what she hoped was her most pathetic face.
He let out a heavy breath. “It can wait. I warn you, though. You’ll be my prisoner until you tell me everything—until you are totally honest with me.”
“Aye, Mr. Traynor,” she amicably answered, “And I will be.” But not just yet. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the side panel of the carriage, confident that by morn his prisoner would be gone.
A short while later, the carriage stopped. She opened her eyes, and Christian motioned for her to exit the carriage before him.
It was deadly quiet outdoors. The earlier mist had turned to a soft rain. She hurriedly followed Christian up the stairs and almost bumped into him when he abruptly halted, once they were inside.
“I’ve given my housekeeper and manservant some time off. We’ll be alone. Follow me. You can stay in my room.”
She hesitated.
He apparently understood her concern for he said, “Your virtue is safe with me, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
It wasn’t exactly what she was concerned about. Yet, he need not know that his mere presence set her nerves on edge. The idea of being in a man’s room was another notion. Certainly, he had to know it wasn’t proper. Was dressing as a friar who gallivanted around the city at all ungodly hours proper? Nay. She deserved his improper suggestion. She sighed and followed him to his bedchamber.
“Wait,” he ordered and left the room.
Seconds later he returned with nightwear for her.
“Here. In case there’s nothing in your trunk, you’ll be more comfortable in this.”
She stared at the lacy nightgown, suddenly embarrassed. “Thank you, I do have something, but I’m too tired to change. What I have on will do me. Good night,” she said and plopped onto his bed.
He stared at her a moment. “Good night,” he said and closed the door.
Christian was too handsome for his own good. Though she was certain his intentions were strictly platonic. The idea of being in nightwear with him nearby was much too uncomfortable a situation for her. Besides, if she were to leave in a hurry, she couldn’t stop to change clothes.
She snuggled into the pillows and breathed in deeply. Instantly, she regretted the action, for they smelled the same manly scent of Christian—a pleasant scent that somehow made her feel euphoric. She remembered his kiss and how she wanted him to kiss her again. She was so tired. She was not thinking wisely.
When she was certain Christian was asleep, she would flee. She rolled to her side and studied his bedchamber. It was a richly decorated, masculine room with ash paneling and draperies in forest green and gold. The bed linens and coverings she rested upon, though trimmed in a wide eyelet lace in the same forest green, exuded manliness no less than the wood-handled hairbrush and brass razor she spotted on a corner washstand. There were paintings of the sea and tropical places in various sizes on every wall. A marble statue of an unusual bird balanced on one foot occupied an obvious place of honor on a small side table near the bed. Another large, green glass creature, that resembled a small whale, sparkled in the semi-dark room from atop his wardrobe closet. She guessed he must have been a traveler, for the items reminded her of nothing she had seen in Ireland.
She yawned and struggled to keep her eyes open. The second she decided to rest them for a mere moment, she was sound asleep.
Chapter Six
Christian paced the floor in the passageway outside his bedchamber. An hour had passed. Should he go inside, or not? He didn’t trust Sister Friar. First chance she got, she’d try to escape him. Surely, she was asleep by now. Hell. He swung around and quietly opened the door. He listened a moment. When no form of protest greeted him—it would, too, from the feisty lady—he closed the door behind him and took up a morocco leather armchair that faced the bed. He’d stay where he was until she woke in the morn.
Having decided this, he made himself comfortable and untucked his shirt from his breeches. Next he undid the cravat, opened his shirt, and tugged off his boots. Christ! He was damned tired himself, he thought and sat back in the chair.
Elizabeth slept so soundly, her breathing could barely be heard as she lay face down on the bed. His gaze wandered over her slim shape and stopped at her posterior. One of her knees was brought up close to her chest which caused the wooly friar’s robe to stretch across the fullness of her well-defined bottom.
He recalled the time he’d kissed her and held her close to him. There wasn’t much to the lady, but she definitely had appeal.
Christ! He stood and tugged his breeches away from his sudden arousal. Had he lost his mind? The wench was here because he didn’t trust her. She had lied to him and the sooner he found out why, and where Adam was, the better.
He reseated himself and rested his head against the back of the armchair. His gaze returned to Elizabeth. Why couldn’t she have a wart on her nose or be minus a few teeth? And, her damned reddish hair ... He closed his eyes and forced images of Mary Margaret’s sensual body to appear.
“Much better,” he spoke aloud and next instant opened one eye to check if his voice had disturbed Elizabeth. It hadn’t. He closed his eye and returned to his visions.
After a while, he decided this action only left him wanting and longing for Mary Margaret in his arms. A short nap was in order. He’d succumb to his sleepiness. He was a light sleeper, so he was certain he’d hear if Elizabeth awoke.
* * * *
The sound of the birds chirping outdoors a few moments earlier alerted Christian to dawn. Still, he opted to keep his eyes shut until a floorboard creaked. Instantly, his eyes popped open to glare across the room at Elizabeth ‘s own surprised look, before she charged for the door. In seconds, he was on his feet to block her escape.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Sister Friar?” he asked. He yanked her by the wrist to remove her hand from the door handle.
She clawed at his grip to free herself. He grabbed her other wrist and dragged her back to his bed. Roughly, he pushed her until she fell down onto it. To keep her in place, he covered her body with his in a most intimate fashion.
She yelped and stared up at him with terror in her eyes.
“What are you doing? Get off me, you buffoon!”
“Is this any way to treat your host? You were going to leave without one word of farewell. Not even a little thank-you.” He moved against her. The pleasurable feel of her hips against his own startled him even through the heavy wool of her robe.
She squirmed beneath him and apparently understood her mistake, for she froze a mere seconds afterwards, yet her voice worked remarkably well.
“You bug-licking ... beast! Get off me this instant.” She shoved at his shoulders.
He leaned closer. His face was inches from hers. He smiled, and said, “Speaking of licking.” He let his gaze linger on her lips before he stared boldly into her eyes.
“You wouldn’t?” she said, uncertainly.
“Aye. I would. Unless you have some information to share about Adam.”
His lips faintly brushed over hers. Amazingly, she only gazed up at him with eyes that no longer showed fear. Yet, she lay beneath him as still as a cold winter’s night. Christ, the woman appealed to him—the same woman Adam had planned to wed.
He uttered a disgusted sigh and was about to rise from his position atop her when the bedchamber door slammed open. A woman’s shrill voice penetrated the air
.
“Chris, love, your manservant was gone so ...” Mary Margaret, his mistress, stopped in mid-sentence and in mid-stride into the room.
“Holy Mother of God! What is going on in here?” the woman asked, clearly stunned by the scene before her.
He jumped to his feet. Elizabeth followed suit to hide behind him while she hurriedly concealed her head in the hood of the robe.
“ ‘Tis not what you think, Mary Margaret,” he said. “There’s a good explanation for all of this.”
“Oh, there better be. I enter your bedchamber to find you coupling with a friar. Oh, there better be a good explanation. I’m no naive school lass. I’ve been around, and as you’re well aware of, I’m certainly willing to try new experiences, but really, Chris, a friar—a holy man? ‘Tis all so troubling.” She rubbed her forehead as someone extremely anguished would.
“I told you. ‘Tis not what you think.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth, cowering with her head down behind him.
Mary Margaret started to move closer to them when he spoke up. “Nay. Stay back.” Damnation, what a time for Mary Margaret to make a surprise appearance.
“I’ll do no such thing. You,” Mary Margaret addressed the friar and advanced a few steps closer to the both of them alongside the bed. She placed her hands on her well-rounded hips and assumed an indignant stance as her ample breasts heaved. “It is my turn with this man. Be gone with you right now, or I’ll report you to the monastery.”
“Wait,” he started to protest and understood it would do no good. Mary Margaret meant to discuss this peculiar situation she had found him in, and he had no choice but to allow Elizabeth to leave. Mary Margaret need not get involved in his suspicions about Elizabeth or the disappearance of his brother.
Even as he thought about it, Elizabeth, with her hooded head down, as if in tremendous shame, grabbed her portmanteau from the floor near the foot of his bed and raced out the door to freedom.
Mary Margaret waited until Elizabeth left before she spoke again. “Now tell me. Why was a friar in your bed?” Her dark brown eyes softened. She silently implored him.
“I cannot answer that at this time. I ‘will explain all of this to you at a later date.” He moved from her to sit on the side of the bed. He was irritated as hell, but Mary Margaret was not to blame. He’d at least listen to her concerns. She deserved his attention.
She sat next to him and reached for one of his hands.
He’d allow her to hold it—a small comfort and consideration to her.
“Why can’t you tell me now?” she prodded. “ ‘Tis awful to find the man you love in bed with another woman, I’m sure, but a man—a friar—is doubly painful for my spirits to bear.”
“You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you all is not what it appears.” He briefly squeezed her hand and stood. “I must bathe and change.”
“I’ll not leave until you explain.” She rose from the edge of the bed and stomped her foot to emphasize her words.
Her dark eyes narrowed and her lips took on a firm line.
“Don’t push me,” he sharply turned on her. “I said I’d explain when I can and not before. This conversation is over.”
She appeared so angry that if it were possible, smoke would have escaped from her ears. She clutched her satchel tightly to her side. She was about to speak, paused and did so. “Don’t take too long. I may not be around to hear, when you finally explain.” She spun around so quickly, a lock from her dark hair tumbled out of place. With a haughty air, she left his town house.
“Hell,” he muttered and started to strip off his clothes, when he was reminded his manservant was not around.
He hadn’t known what to anticipate where Adam and Elizabeth were concerned. Consequently, he had given his servants some time off. He was glad he had. Not that any of his servants would have questioned a friar in his bedchamber. Still, there was no need for any speculation on their part—hell, look how Mary Margaret had reacted. The fewer people were involved, the better for all parties concerned.
He raked his hair with both hands before he headed downstairs to bring up a bath for himself. Elizabeth had escaped him this time, but next time she wouldn’t be so lucky. She’d talk to him or ... He smiled to himself as thoughts of how he might coerce her into confession perked his spirits. With that, he jumped the last three steps of the stairs and proceeded to arrange his bath.
* * * *
Not until Elizabeth had reached Exchequer Street, four blocks from Dawson Street and the Traynor town house, did she slow her pace to consider what just happened. Mary Margaret, as Christian had addressed the woman, had unexpectedly stormed into the bedchamber. Her fortunate and timely arrival had spared her an inquisition and perhaps more.
Never had she lain with a man so intimately. What was even more disgraceful was the fact that he had aroused emotions in her that she wasn’t supposed to experience— she was sure—with anyone, but her husband. Unfortunately, unusual circumstances and coincidence had forced them together. She knew she might be able to avoid a confrontation for another day, but Christian would seek her out—of that she was certain, especially if he had spied on her when she was at Liffey Supply.
She at last stopped in front of a tobacco shop to plan the quickest route home. It was awkward to parade in the friar’s robe at dark, but in daylight, she was even more conspicuous. Worse yet, she’d have to change before she returned home. But where?
She continued along the street and at once decided she’d find a secluded green with numerous trees and shrubbery. There she could change before she hailed a ride to take her directly home. She determined that her location was south of the River Liffey and too far to walk. First, she needed a park.
To save time, she asked two matronly women whose husbands were strolling several yards behind them. “Pardon me. Might there be a green nearby where I can rest?”
They reacted as if she had spoken something obscene. Both ladies’ eyebrows rose in mild shock.
Then she remembered she’d failed to disguise her voice. She cleared her throat and said in a much deeper tone, “Forgive me. Sometimes my voice goes high soprano on me. Don’t know why.” Elizabeth kept her head lowered when she noticed the close scrutiny the women gave her.
“Poor soul,” one lady said.
“You caught us by surprise,” said the other who wore an enormous hat with artificial fruit and flowers. “We’ve just come from the green ourselves on this lovely morn. Go a few blocks further. You’ll see it.”
The gentlemen had caught up to their women. To avoid further delay, Elizabeth said, “Many thanks,” and scurried away.
“One of the most unusual friars I’ve ever seen.” She heard one man exclaim. The other gentleman mumbled some comment, and the foursome laughed.
Elizabeth smiled. She hadn’t heard the remark, but she could imagine. She really had to be more careful and act more friarly.
Minutes later a park appeared, with a fountain in a center courtyard. Surrounding the fountain, at equal intervals, were four wooden benches. Beyond the courtyard was a garden with graveled paths, trees, and assorted shrubbery. She stepped from the path through the shrubbery until she found an area that allowed enough space to change from her robe to her day gown and cloak.
Hurriedly, she did so and was relieved no one was nearby to see her exit from the garden. Once back on the street, she hailed a noddy and was home within half an hour.
The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. Hannah was busy in the kitchen and didn’t hear her until she approached. “Bethy, you’re back. How was your evening?” She wiped her hands on a towel.
“It went well,” Elizabeth answered. She tried hard not to lie completely. As far as drawing the coin was concerned, it had gone well.
“Are ye hungry?”
“Aye.” Elizabeth spotted several loaves of brown bread on a rack, “A couple slices of bread, if it’s ready, will do.” Unfortunately, she couldn’
t afford the luxury of a leisurely breakfast. She needed to be gone before Christian called on her and created a scene.
Hannah cut the bread and spread it with butter. “The tea is still hot.” She brought a cup along with the plate of bread over to where Elizabeth took up a position at the small wooden table.
“Thank you, Hannah. Any messages or news?” she asked before she bit into the warm, dark bread.
“Nay. We’ll simply have to carry on and pray all will turn out well with your da.” Hannah poured herself a cup of tea and sat down across from Elizabeth. “I have to tell ye. The more time that passes, the more worried I become for your father’s safety. This aside. How long do ye think it will be before his colleagues and friends are asking for him?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to be firm. No visitors. Try not to worry. It doesn’t help.” Elizabeth patted her hand. To say not to worry was easier said than done, though Roderick had said her father was still alive. Again, guilt touched her heart.
“What is it, Bethy? What are you thinking?”
She studied Hannah’s face. Her warm brown eyes flickered with concern and her mouth pulled down in a frown. She wanted to let her emotions pour out to Hannah, but to do so would involve the woman in a way that would only jeopardize her. Hannah would be tight-lipped, but Elizabeth couldn’t take the chance. If she didn’t know anything, she would never have to lie like herself. Besides, Hannah would then have her to worry about.
“Tell me,” Hannah urged. “I know ye’re upset over yer da. Is there something else troubling ye?”
“Nay.”
Hannah shook her head. “If ye say so. Just remember, I’m here if ye need me.”
“I know.” Elizabeth stared into her teacup. “I think I’ll go to church.”
“That’s a grand idea. I’ll go with ...”
“Nay.” Elizabeth cut her off and from the hurt expression on Hannah’s face, she regretted her abruptness. “I’m sorry. What I meant is, I’d love your company, but this time I’d like to be alone.”
Hannah still was hurt. Elizabeth stood and walked the few steps around the table over to where Hannah was sitting. She bent over and hugged her. “When I return, you and I will do something special. How would that be?”
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