The Chaperon Bride (Harlequin Historical)

by Nicola Cornick

  Adam frowned. Innocence was not the first quality that one expected to find in a widowed chaperon, particularly a lady who had travelled as widely as Annis Wycherley and had also been her own mistress from a young age. If it came to that, innocence was not an attribute one came across very often at all, particularly not in the circles in which he moved. It was not that Annis Wycherley was naïve—far from it. There was simply some bright, open quality about her that attracted him. When he had seen her by the river in her pale pink muslin dress with the wind ruffling the ribbons of her straw hat…

  ‘Ash? Ash, your concentration is wandering,’ Edward chided. ‘You have just discarded the Queen of diamonds, which I’ll wager you need, and you have ignored my repeated question into the bargain!’

  Adam grinned. ‘I am sorry, Ned. What was it you were asking me?’

  ‘Nothing of importance. I was merely enquiring whether you would be returning to Eynhallow within the next few days.’ Edward picked up the brandy bottle and refilled their glasses.

  ‘I imagine so.’ Adam sighed, his mind turning from Annis to less pleasant thoughts. ‘I need hardly tell you, Ned, that there is much work to be done there and, since paying off Humphrey’s debt to Ingram, I have had precious little spare money to spend. Still, that does not excuse the greater neglect. I am sorry I have been such an absentee landlord these nine years past.’

  Edward gave him a straight look. ‘I understand your reasons, Ash. Do you feel you have put enough distance between yourself and the past now?’

  Adam shifted uncomfortably. His life with Mary had been bound up in the hills and the moors of Yorkshire, and after she had died it had seemed that every view held a painful memory. London, with its impersonal bustle, had been a far easier place for him to live. He had neglected Eynhallow for nine long years because he had not wanted to be reminded of his wife. Yet today, when he had walked beside the river, though he had still felt an ache of memory, the pain was gone.

  ‘I believe I have,’ he said slowly.

  Edward smiled in wordless satisfaction and raised his glass in a toast. ‘Here is to Eynhallow, then!’

  They drank the toast.

  ‘And to the future,’ Edward added.

  Adam smiled. He thought again of Annis Wycherley. When he had first met her he had thought casually that it would be interesting to know her better. Since then he had seen her a handful of times, yet already his feelings were stronger. Already he wanted more. That required some serious thought.

  He got to his feet and drew back the curtain, unlatching the long doors that led on to the terrace. They swung open with a gust of summer breeze. ‘I need some fresh air before I go to bed. I will see you in the morning.’

  ‘Good night, Ash,’ Edward said, draining his brandy glass.

  Adam stepped over the threshold and went out into the dark.

  It was a clear July night. The wind was blowing down from the moors again, chasing rags of cloud across the full moon. The trees that lined the gardens of the town houses tossed their branches and cast long shadows in the moonlight.

  Annis had searched the whole garden by the light of the moon and had found no sign of the amorous couple. She was a little surprised, for the walled gardens of the town houses provided excellent cover for a pair of lovers. She could scarcely imagine Fanny being so lost to propriety that she would hold an assignation in the street. The thought troubled her, for it pointed to the likelihood of the girl having eloped after all. She was about to go back inside the house and raise the alarm, when a scrap of white on the grass caught her attention.

  It was a handkerchief and it lay by the back gate. Annis picked it up. It was crisp white cambric and it held a faint trace of the lavender water that Fanny habitually wore. Annis sighed and unfastened the gate. It unlatched with a soft click that was lost in the soughing of the wind. Outside, in the lane that ran between the gardens, the shadows were deeper and the light of the moon barely penetrated between the high walls. Annis hesitated, not because she was nervous, but because, in spite of the evidence of the handkerchief, it seemed so unlikely that Fanny would be out here. She was a girl who liked all the comfort that money could buy, and a fumbled tryst in a dark alleyway seemed quite out of character in Annis’s opinion. She took a few steps down the lane, peering into the darkness, then decided to go back. Fanny was not here, and Annis was becoming quite out of patience with the whole business. When she finally caught up with the girl she would give her a piece of her mind. She turned abruptly, took a step forward into the dark, and quite unexpectedly collided with someone who had been standing almost directly behind her.

  ‘Ooof!’ The air was knocked out of Annis’s body. This was definitely not Fanny’s diminutive figure, nor indeed did it appear to be Lieutenant Greaves, who was a willowy gentleman who looked as though a puff of wind might blow him over and disarrange his dandyish finery. This man—and Annis was quite aware that it was a man—was large and decidedly more unyielding. She tried to take a step back to free herself, but he had both arms about her and she could not put any space between their bodies. She could see nothing of him in the darkness, but she could hear his breathing above the thud of her own heart and feel the warmth of his hands through the thickness of her cloak. Despite the darkness and the suddenness of her ambush, his touch conveyed reassurance and she felt herself start to relax. The smell of him, the mingled scent of brandy and sandalwood and masculinity, wrapped up in the cold fresh night air, was insidiously attractive. He felt familiar, which gave her a wholly inappropriate sense of intimacy.

  This was dangerous. Annis knew that she had to act, before her traitorous body failed her completely. Sharply, and completely against her instincts, she raised her knee and felt it make a satisfyingly accurate contact with his groin.

  Adam felt sick and cold and breathless. The whole encounter, so unexpected and so startling, had lasted only a few seconds. One minute he had been holding a woman in his arms—a woman he had already mysteriously managed to identify as Annis Wycherley—and the next moment she had released herself in the most efficient way imaginable. He wondered vaguely who on earth had taught her that trick.

  ‘Lord Ashwick? Lord Ashwick! Are you injured at all?’ Her urgent tones cut through his pain. Adam leaned one hand against the garden wall and tried to regain his breath. The wave of nausea was receding a little now but he still felt damnably uncomfortable. He raised his head.

  ‘Of course I’m damn well injured, Lady Wycherley! I thought that was your intention?’

  There was a silence.

  ‘I am most dreadfully sorry,’ Annis said. Adam grudgingly allowed that she did sound genuinely remorseful. ‘I did not realise that it was you, Lord Ashwick. Had I done so, I would not have hurt you.’

  There was a pause whilst Adam’s better nature slowly asserted itself. ‘You did the right thing,’ he said, still grudging. He straightened up slowly. ‘Why wait to be sure? By then it might be too late.’

  ‘That is exactly what my papa used to say.’ Annis sounded relieved. ‘He told me not to hesitate.’

  ‘You evidently took his advice to heart.’ Adam still felt bruised and bad-tempered. ‘You were precisely on target.’

  ‘I am grateful that you have taken the matter so well, my lord.’ Annis was briskly practical now. ‘Of course you really should not have grabbed me so roughly in the first place, and then it would never have happened. It was entirely your own fault.’

  Adam gritted his teeth. He knew that there was an element of truth in what she said, but he had been taken by surprise as much as she. ‘Thank you. I shall remember not to grab you should the occasion arise again.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I apologise, Lady Wycherley. I believe I swore at you.’

  ‘Your apology is accepted.’ Now she sounded almost prim. ‘After all, I suppose I dealt you quite an injury.’

  ‘You did.’

  There was silence but for the wind in the trees. A night coach rattled past on the cobbles of the street, then there
was a deep quiet.

  ‘How did you know that it was me? It is too dark here to see clearly.’ There was an odd tone in Annis’s voice, as though she was asking against her will. She sounded intrigued but also wary, as though she did not really want to know the answer. Adam thought that he knew why. Whatever she had claimed, she had recognised him in the dark, just as he had known her. She did not understand why and it troubled her, but even so she could not resist asking…

  Adam hesitated. The truth was that it had been one part deduction and nine parts intuition. When he had first caught hold of her his senses had been swamped with information, despite the darkness. A strand of her hair had brushed his face and it was soft and smelled faintly of honey. Her breathing had been light and quick, feathering his cheek. Her body had felt soft and yielding beneath the velvet slipperiness of the cloak. All these thoughts had gone through his head in a split second and his senses had stirred in response to her nearness. Then her knee had made contact with his groin and any stirrings had died a swift death.

  Until now. Now he felt stirred all over again, disturbed by her proximity, thrown off balance by her presence there in the dark with him. It was unexpected. And exciting.

  ‘I recognised you as soon as I touched you, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam smiled a little as he heard the quick, indrawn breath Annis could not hide. ‘Having once held you in my arms, I was bound to recognise you again. You have a most deliciously curved shape—’

  ‘Lord Ashwick!’

  Adam laughed. ‘Surely all chaperons are aware that men are all the same, Lady Wycherley?’

  He heard Annis smother a laugh. ‘Oh! I should be angry with you, but…Anyhow, I have warned my charges many a time about men like you!’

  ‘Well, then…’ Adam’s voice dropped ‘…no doubt you know exactly how to deal with me, ma’am.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Annis sounded a little breathless and Adam smiled to himself. ‘I have no personal experience of fending off rakes, my lord.’

  ‘No? Well, I am not a rake.’

  ‘Indeed?’ She sounded doubtful. Adam was charmed. The Annis Wycherley he had met before had been in control. Now she sounded younger and less sure of herself. It intrigued him that the proper chaperon should have a softer edge.

  ‘I confess I had seen no evidence of your rakishness in the daylight, sir, but—’

  ‘But?’

  ‘One cannot be too careful. I do not know you well.’

  ‘I assure you that I am utterly harmless.’ Adam took her hand in his. His fingers, long and strong, interlocked with hers. ‘You may remember that when we met at Eynhallow I suggested that all chaperons should have the relevant experience to advise their charges. Tell me, Lady Wycherley…’ he spoke very softly ‘…if you were advising one of your young ladies on how to deal with this situation, what would you suggest?’

  He heard Annis take a deep breath. ‘Firstly I would tell her that she should step into the light, sir. The darkness is altogether too intimate.’

  ‘Ah. It is indeed.’

  ‘Then…’ her voice faltered a little ‘…I would tell her to bid you a brisk goodnight.’

  ‘That is eminently sensible advice.’ Adam smiled. The longer they talked, the more acutely conscious he became of her physical proximity and he was certain that she felt the same way, in spite of her wariness. Something was holding her there in the darkness, talking to him. He was determined to prolong the encounter.

  ‘Perhaps you might also have taught her the elements of self-defence? Nothing is so ruinous to the intentions of a potential rake than the blow you dealt me just now.’

  ‘Oh…’ He heard a breath of a laugh as Annis answered him. ‘It is a useful if extreme strategy, my lord. It was all I could think of at the time. If I had had my pistol I might have shot you, of course.’

  ‘That might also be a useful deterrent, I suppose. Except that you do not have it with you now.’

  ‘Fortunately for you.’

  Adam sighed. ‘I am only sorry that you felt you needed to defend yourself against me in the first place. If you had already recognised me, you must have known that I would not have harmed you.’

  There was an odd pause. The darkness was indeed creating an atmosphere of intimacy between them and Adam felt instinctively that Annis would be honest with him.

  ‘I did not know it was you, Lord Ashwick. I thought perhaps it might be, although how I knew…’ She sounded confused. ‘I did not feel that I was in danger, but one cannot always trust to intuition.’

  Adam took her hand and drew out of the shadows and into the moonlight by the garden gate. The pale silver light fell on her face. She looked absurdly young to him, despite her composure. All her features were as neat and precise as she was herself, except for her mouth, which was the most unconsciously sensual thing that he had ever seen. He found it was all he could do to stop himself kissing her. His pulse quickened. He brought his hand up to touch her hair, a fleeting touch, there one moment, gone the next. It felt soft and silky beneath his fingers. He wanted to tangle his hands in it and tilt her face up to his. Her eyes were dark and wide in the moonlight.

  From their first meeting at the inn there had been something between them, some affinity. He remembered that encounter now—that moment when their eyes had met and she had looked hastily away. And whenever he met her there was the same pull of awareness, though he knew she had tried very hard to repress it. This sensation, though…this was something else entirely. Now he felt an attraction stronger than anything he had ever experienced. Perhaps it was the fact that they had bumped into each other in the dark and he had therefore had no preconceptions about chaperons, or frumpish dresses or her being Charles Lafoy’s cousin. Perhaps it was her perfume, honey and cinnamon, teasing his senses. It brought to mind soft skin and tumbled sheets. He thought of the matchmaking matrons in ton society. Never in his life had he responded to a chaperon in the way he was reacting to Annis Wycherley now. He wanted to catch hold of her and crush her to him.

  ‘You did not tell me why you were out here in the first place.’ Adam spoke a little abruptly. He knew that he was going to have to let her go soon, but he did not want to do so. He saw something in her face change, as though she had suddenly remembered something very important. She pressed a hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh! I had forgot! I am out here because I am looking for someone.’

  Adam raised his brows. ‘One of your charges?’

  ‘Yes…’ Annis whisked through the garden gate, clearly recalled to a sense of duty. ‘Please excuse me, my lord. I must go.’

  Still she hesitated, standing under the spreading branches of the apple trees whilst the moonlight, filtering through the dancing leaves, patterned her in black and white. It was as though she could not quite tear herself away.

  Adam put out a hand.

  ‘Wait!’

  She paused. ‘My lord?’

  ‘May I call upon you tomorrow?’

  He saw her frown. ‘I think not.’ She hesitated, on the edge of flight. ‘You are aware that I am a chaperon.’

  ‘Yes. So?’ It seemed irrelevant to him.

  ‘So it would cause conjecture if you were to visit. People would judge me to be flighty, entertaining gentlemen callers. It is simply not appropriate.’

  Adam was not inclined to give up so easily. ‘I cannot see why it should be unsuitable for me to call,’ he said. ‘Surely you must have some time to yourself?’

  Annis gave him a faint smile. ‘Unfortunately not. A chaperon always needs to be vigilant. Which is why I am out here in the first place. Now, please excuse me. I really must go.’

  ‘Wait.’ This time Adam spoke in a murmur. One of her hands was resting on the top of the gate and now he put his hand over hers. Before she could divine his intention he leaned forward, drew her closer and kissed her very lightly on the mouth.

  She felt sweet and soft, and, as soon as his lips touched hers, Adam wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breat
hless. She seemed frozen with surprise, as though she had never been kissed before. Without pausing to think or, more importantly, to allow her to do so, he slid an arm about her waist, drawing her hard against the wooden panels of the gate, and kissed her again.

  This kiss was deliberate and skilful. His lips teased hers, coaxing them apart, moving with persuasive insistence. He felt her yield and drew her closer still, cursing the cold solidity of the gate between them. This was far, far more intoxicating than he had ever imagined. As he felt her tentative response to him, desire exploded within him. He ran one hand into her hair and held her head still, plundering her mouth with his. Then he felt a shudder go through her and she stepped back from him, her hands against his chest, warding him off.

  ‘No, please…’ Her face was bemused in the moonlight, her breathing ragged. ‘I cannot do this.’

  He sought to recapture her hands. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because…’ her expression showed her uncertainty ‘…I do not do things like that.’

  ‘You just did. And I dare swear that you enjoyed it.’

  ‘I…Yes…No. That is nothing to the purpose.’ She was regaining control. He wanted to kiss her until she lost it again.

  ‘Why did you kiss me?’ She sounded genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Because I wanted to.’ Adam shifted a little, releasing her. He felt bereft without the touch of her hand. ‘And also because I was afraid that if I asked you first, you would say that it was inappropriate for a chaperon to be kissed.’

  She laughed a little disbelievingly. ‘Why, so it is, sir. I cannot quite believe that you did it.’

  ‘Believe it. And that I would like to do it again.’