The Hired Wife

by Cari Hislop

  To celebrate his scheme Morley poured himself another glass of wine and sipped it slowly as he imagined Lord Adderbury’s horror on learning that his youngest son had been found dead naked in the arms of a young lady of the ton. The beautiful saintly man would have apoplexy. The thought made Morley smile with pleasure. Tomorrow there’d be one less Smirke in the world; reason enough to celebrate. He poured himself another glass and raised it to his grisly reflection in the mirror over the mantel. “You may be bruised Henry Fitzalan, but you’ll have the last laugh; you always do.” After another mouthful of wine his head was feeling pleasantly fuzzy. With a steady hand he emptied the first bottle and started on the second. The devil-eyed Smirkes were all going to pay for the humiliations suffered by his mother after she was rudely jilted at the eleventh hour by the previous Lord Adderbury. When he’d finished with the Smirkes, Buckingham was going beg for mercy and then die in an unfortunate accident; something painful.

  Morley’s heart beat faster as his thoughts drifted back to Mary’s terror. He’d never wanted a woman so badly. His numerous attempts to momentarily relieve the hunger had done nothing, but make him want the plain woman all the more. He growled in impotent fury. He had to possess her, own her, feel her writhing in fear underneath him or he’d go mad. It was almost unbelievable that Marshall Godfrey had broken his resolve to wait; the beast was normally as predictable as clockwork. It wasn’t like the stupid man to change midcourse, but it didn’t matter. Marshall would soon be dead and the delicious Mary Godfrey would be too frightened and pregnant to refuse the honour of being the next Lady Morley. Thoughts of the slender woman were making his heart rate quicken further. There was something inexplicably pleasing about the plain woman. She had no beauty, yet there was something about her that made her seem beautiful. She looked like she’d stepped out of a Dutch masterpiece as if oil and canvas couldn’t hold her. An unstudied grace in her movements made the blood boil, but it was the fear in her eyes that made his knees weak with longing. She knew he was evil; she’d fight him to the death. There would be no marital boredom with Mary Godfrey as his wife.

  Morley washed out his mouth with another mouthful of wine. He wanted the woman so bad he was salivating like a starving dog. His heart racing, he felt drenched in sweat. He needed to immerse himself in cold water. It was illogical to order a bath when there was a lake to swim in. Morley allowed himself one more mouthful of wine before dropping the glass and setting off. He felt pleasantly dizzy, but his head was clear. It took more than a few bottles of wine to topple a Fitzalan.

  The air smelled clean and fresh; the rain had been pushed on by a brisk breeze leaving the night sky exposed. The wet treacherous steps down to the lake were made difficult by the spinning moonlight, but Morley was too excited by the idea of being in the water to slow his pace. Reaching the shore he waded in without disrobing. Sighing with pleasure, light waves lapped at his naked chest and gushed under his silk robe washing away his salty sweat. He closed his eyes to block out the dizzy moonlight, but it accentuated the strange ache in his head. Immersing himself brought momentary relief and after a few minutes his heart slowed. Lifting his feet from the lakebed he floated onto his back. Relaxed he stared at the spinning stars and spat out another mouthful of saliva. The cool water was getting colder, but the thought of climbing back up the hill in sopping a wet robe made him groan with irritation. Battered, sore and growing colder by the minute; his body needed to be in a soft warm bed. Even his burning desire for revenge couldn’t dull the need for sleep.

  Thoughts of curling up with a hot water bottle at his feet and Marshall’s wife in his arms made him shiver with longing. He might not get to hold Mary, but having several hot water bottles tucked around his body would feel exquisite. Turning towards the shore he tried to swim the ten feet back to safety, but his legs wouldn’t move.

  Splashing hard towards shore he realised he could no longer feel his feet. Panic cramped his muscles as the ice crept up to his knees. Diving head first, he thrashed his arms simultaneously through the water like paddles. His lungs bursting with emptiness, he dragged his legs behind him into the shallows. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t feel his legs. Face down in the water, he pressed up off the lake bed with his arms and lifted his head out of the water for much needed air. Panic was intensified by a terrifying new emotion that filled his eyes with tears. He was going to drown if he couldn’t get out of the water. He screamed for help, but his bruised throat could only manage a horse cry before he fell back into the water. Thrashing harder with his arms, he kept his head above the water, but he couldn’t feel his hips. Fear clamped his mind in a sickening vice; he’d never been afraid of death when inflicting it on others.

  The taste of fear made him nauseous as he sobbed in terror of the unknown as he gasped for air. His head was throbbing, but his mind was clear. He wasn’t drunk; his valet had poisoned the wrong bottles. The symptoms all pointed to a deadly dose of hemlock. The ice creeping up his trunk would soon freeze his heart. Another energetic thrashing against the cold clingy water allowed him to fill his lungs with air. Fear was compressed by rage. He’d never possess Mary Godfrey or see her belly swollen with a Fitzalan babe. His hoarse scream of fury faded as his heart convulsed with icy pain. The Marquis of Morley had no more need for air as he fell face forward into the lake. The soft waves eagerly swallowed the dead man and carried him away into the inky darkness.

  Chapter 21

  The wooden oars sliced serenely through the water compelling the boat forward while its two occupants sat in companionable silence. Late morning sunlight dazzled the calm lake mirroring surrounding hillsides. Mary peered from under her pink parasol at the strong man in his shirtsleeves rowing her with a smug knowing grin. He appeared to be admiring the scenery, but every few minutes the brim of his straw hat would tip down and dark sapphires would smile at her. He knew he was being admired. She blushed as his piercing blue eyes raked her with apparent pleasure and pulled her parasol down to shield her face from her companion causing noises of discontent from the other end of the boat.

  Mary shuddered with pleasure as she struggled to convince herself not to be a hasty fool. She was tempted to tell him she’d happily remain Mrs Godfrey forever, but did she love him? She’d painted herself into a corner. If she agreed to remain his wife he’d now expect her to be in love with him. Peering around the edge of her parasol the left sapphire winked at her as the sounds of discontent turned into cheerful humming making her laugh. Whatever his feelings, Marshall appeared willing to make a fool of himself if it meant winning her heart. The endearing thought made her sigh with pleasure.

  Uncovering her face, she returned the parasol behind her head and spun it in her hands. The warmth of the sun, the beauty of the lake, the soft dreamy sounds of oars raking through water, the sight of her husband’s bare forearms as they moved the oars; the day would have been perfect but for Morley’s threats. Tensing, she blinked away tears at the awful thought of sapphire eyes losing life. Thankfully the evil man hadn’t appeared at breakfast. Lady Alyce had happily reported that the Marquis of Morley was probably in a laudanum induced slumber after being pummelled senseless by his host. Mary hoped Morley would be incapacitated until his enforced departure.

  Eying the vast sheet of water that separated her from the hateful man, Mary sighed with relief and allowed her thoughts to return to her companion. That morning she’d opened her eyes and heard him whisper in her ear, ‘Good morning Sweetheart!’ In her sleepy brain the words had been a gentle caress filled with love. She’d barely resisted an urge to roll into his arms and comb her fingers through his wild hair. After barricading both doors with heavy furniture, he’d slept the night fully dressed at her side with a loaded pistol next to the bed. The Earl of Morley would have had to use an axe to get into her chamber and even then he wouldn’t have reached the bed alive.

  A brisk breeze rattled down the hillside and across the water filling her nostrils with the sickly sweet scent of death. Mary pinched he
r nose as Marshall coughed in disgust. “Something’s dead!” He continued rowing the boat as if to make another loop around the lake, but the unpleasant scent seemed to follow them. “I’m going to row back to the house.” Mary merely nodded as she kept her fingers on her nose as the boat was turned towards the steps. “This stench is going to ruin my appetite.” Mary’s stomach rumbled in disagreement as she wished she’d brought a picnic basket. Lunch would now involve facing Morley whose presence would sour the sweetest pudding. With any luck he’d be too ill to leave his bed. Mary pushed the hateful man from her thoughts and concentrated on enjoying the present. With his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows and his cravat untied, her burly Lord looked more like a courting smithy in his Sunday best. “I believe my Lady is admiring my naked arms.” The loud words rumbled across the water causing Mary’s cheeks to colour as she looked away towards the castle on the island causing more noises of discontent until she returned her gaze to her companion who smiled in triumph and winked at her again making her laugh. How could she not fall in love with the man? Fears of Morley were forgotten as her eyes were held firmly by adoring sapphires. Time slowed as the boat slid along its projected course without interference from the resting oars. “Ah Merry, if you knew how you’ve undone me…” The husky words reverberated down her spine lighting up a heart shaped candle in her chest. Bowing his broad brimmed hat, Marshall released her from the spell and ploughed the oars into the water.

  There was nothing she could say that he’d hear. It felt like an hour before he lifted his head. Dangling her hand into the lake she smiled and winked before flicking a handful of water at him. Momentarily startled, his gleaming eyes narrowed as he carefully lowered one of the oars into the water and drenched her in turn. She sent another handful of water towards his face and laughed as she used her parasol to shield her from his next deluge. “You’re lucky you can’t swim Mrs Godfrey or I’d tip you into the lake. That would teach you…” Her next handful of water splattered him in the eye. “Impudent wife! So you think that’s funny? Wait till we reach the shore…” His ominous tone was softened by a suppressed grin. He flicked another oar into the water and drenched the front of her dress. “…we’re going to see once and for all whether you’re human or mermaid. Oh you think that’s funny too do you? You wait till I throw you in the lake and don’t think that parasol is going to save you! I don’t know why I bought it. I hate parasols.” He rowed harder as he watched his laughing wife twirl her parasol blissfully indifferent to her impending fate. The boat slid to an abrupt halt as it hit land. Waving her parasol in victory, Mary jumped up and leapt overboard into knee deep water and splashed towards the shore, but Marshall was right behind her. She shrieked in protest as he scooped her out of the water and held her horizontal. “Were you going somewhere Sweetheart?”

  Mary lifted the parasol so it shaded them from anyone looking down the hill. “You do not want to throw me in the lake.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “No. Your wife would smell like trout.”

  “I like trout; especially with capers…”

  “Mermaids don’t come garnished! If you throw me in I’ll come up gasping for air smelling like a trout fresh off the lake bed.”

  “Hmmm…I’ve never tried mermaid and capers. Hold up a leg. Let me see if it’s turned into a mermaid’s tail.” Mary held up a single sodden slipper and waited while her ankle received a thorough appraisal. “Hmmm…charming; I find everything about you magical.” The heart shaped candle in Mary’s chest flickered with a bluish flame. How would she know if she fell in love with him when his eyes made her feel like she’d been dropped on her head? Clutching a handful of linen, warm masculine breath fanned the flame in her chest. Fire surged through her veins spreading to her stomach. Curling closer to the masculine heart celebrating her nearness, the warm moist lips withdrew without warning and she was plonked on her feet in the water. Dizzy with disappointment she watched her husband inexplicably wade out into the lake and disappear under the water. “Marshall?” Dropping her parasol, she chewed on her fist as her heart started pounding as she waited. She burst into tears of relief as he appeared gasping for air and then sank back into the cold depths. A few seconds later he bobbed back to the surface and opened his eyes. Seeing her tears he quickly swam back to the shallows and waded to her side. “I thought you’d never come back up for air!”

  “I was in need of a cold swim.”

  Mary tried to sniff back her tears. “You could have told me you were going to dive to the bottom.”

  “Be careful your tears don’t fall into the lake Sweetheart, not unless you plan to ask the Lady of the Lake to grant a wish that your heart will love me forever.”

  Mary watched her last tear land in the water near her knees and ripple tiny circles before looking into her husband’s eyes. “I’d ask her to make you fall in love with me.”

  The man went still as if he’d forgotten how to breathe and then his elastic lips stretched into a smile as his chest echoed with amused laughter. “Why would my Lady want this boring old heart? No one else wants it.”

  “Because…” A cynical single masculine eyebrow lifted to query her non-answer. Mary eyes filled with more tears as wet fingers caressed her throat. “…if I fall in love with you…well why would you fall in love me? I’m going to suffer unrequited love…”

  “You underestimate your charms Merry Wife. If you choose to waste a magic wish on the old boot in my chest you have my permission to do so…do you love me?”

  Mary flinched at the soft question and answered without thinking. “I don’t know what I feel; I don’t want to hurt you. What if I persuade myself that I love you because I enjoy your company and love your kisses? I want to love you, so how will I know I love you?”

  Two trembling wet hands lovingly captured her face, “I don’t want to wait two months to know my fate. Tell me you wish to remain my wife and I’ll accept it.”

  “But Marshall…”

  “Of course I want you to love me, but I’d rather have something than nothing. The fact you want to love me is almost as sweet…”

  Mary shivered with longing; with a few simple words she’d be assured a future void of hunger or loneliness. He wouldn’t be able to change his mind or legally cast her from his garden. “I don’t think even Eve was tempted with such an apple…”

  Marshall’s lips explored her right ear causing seductive chills, “Take a bite and I’ll carry you to my room and consummate the marriage. It’ll be enough. Say it will?”

  Mary closed her eyes and tried to think through the pleasurable haze caused by lips on her earlobe. Why did she have to be in love with him to be his wife? If she was going to fall in love with him, she’d fall in love with him anyway. If the man didn’t care if she loved him or not, what difference did it make? It was his life. She couldn’t force him to choose love. She’d give him children and work hard to make his house a home, but would it be enough? He’d give her everything, even the children; what would she give him in return? What would she be to him, a warm body in his bed? That wasn’t what he wanted, or was it? And if she wanted to be the warm body in his bed, did it matter? The temptation to continue their last kiss in private made her head spin. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d stay, but nothing came out. Hopeful blue eyes held her heart captive as she exhaled her selfish longing. She couldn’t sell her body for future meals or kisses and he deserved more than a bed warmer. The man deserved to be adored by his wife; to wake up every morning in his own love poem. If she crawled into his bed for her own physical comfort she’d hate herself and he’d probably end up hating her too. The thought of seeing contempt in the living sapphires made her feel physically ill. She shook her head. “I can’t eat that apple…it’s tempting, but it has a worm in it.”

  Hope evaporated into hurt. “I’m a worm?”

  The pain in his words hit her in the stomach. “No! You’re not the worm! You don’t want a mistress Marshall, you want a love poem. I don’t
want to be a bed warmer, I want to love you. I want to hold your children in my arms and adore them because they’re yours. I don’t want to feel like I owe you lifelong gratitude because you feed me and put a roof over my head. I want to be your wife because there’s no other place I want to be.”