by Cari Hislop
“Why?”
“Because I’d have to admit I was jealous of a pudding.”
Her laughter somehow seemed to make him look even more beautiful. “I was thinking of you.”
“Good.” He caressed her cheek and leaned towards her as if to kiss her, but stopped and stared into her eyes. “Your emerald bracelets…may I return them? You don’t have to wear them. If they hold bad memories…”
“Of course I’ll wear them.”
His eyes looked like a clear night sky. “Oh Lily…wait here!” He rushed to his desk and back again. She watched his earnest expression as he ceremoniously clasped the jewels around her wrists and brought each hand to his lips.
Lily looked at the heavy green fire and blinked back tears. “They look happy.”
“They’re happy because they’re touching you.” Lily blushed at his fervent tone and stared into eyes wide with an intense emotion. He lifted the hand he was still holding and kissed her palm. “I swear when I put them away, after our shared rejection, they looked as dull and miserable as I felt.” Lily shivered as he reached out and caressed her neck. “That should have convinced me that Lady Gillingham was right; that I was in love with my wife, but I didn’t want to be in love.” Lily stared wide eyed at the handsome man as her brain tried to process the words, but the only conclusion was impossible. “Love complicates everything. It makes life difficult. It makes one vulnerable. Fighting it makes one an ass. That’s my confession…”
Lily’s eyes were drawn to the fascinating triangle of hairy skin revealed by the open neck of his nightshirt as her brain refused to believe the impossible. “That you’re an ass?”
“I shouldn’t think that needs confessing. Yr wyf fi’n eich caru chi means I love you.”
Warm air that smelled of Mr Bowen filled Lily’s heart. She was floating away up into moonlit clouds. She looked down at her feet in disbelief through distorting tears to see if her feet had left the ground and caught sight of the emeralds around her arm hanging at her side. Flashing green fire forged in the heart of the earth by some unknown magic; the emeralds had been set into a repeating Greek symbol of eternity. She looked up to find dark eyes smiling with happiness. “You love me?”
“Ei!” His free hand gently untied the bow of her cap and lifted it off. It landed forgotten in his nearby chair. “And this temperamental creature on your head…” He ran his fingers over her cropped hair.
“Why?”
“Do you remember that time I came to call on Rosamund and it was four hours until she was ready to receive me? I chased you through the gardens and out into the deer park. You made me laugh ‘til my sides ached with the most outlandish list of possible reasons why Rosamund was making me wait again and then you started throwing leaves at me. I have this mental image of you in green, your orange hair flowing free around your hips like a living cloak in a shower of leaves. I’ll never forget the look on your face when I found a pretty leaf and gave it to you. Your gratitude was exquisite, as if I’d given you orange diamonds set in gold. That’s why I love you. You appreciate even the most insignificant kindness and that makes me feel…blissfully content.”
“I loved that leaf. Rosamund found me looking at it and threw it in the fire. She knew you’d given it to me. She knew I loved you; that’s why she made me come beg you to be her mistress.”
“She was a buwch, but I’m glad she sent you.” His free hand caressed her earlobe and then slid down her neck and over her collarbone to the first button on her dressing gown. “And I’m glad you accepted my impudent marriage proposal.” The top button undone his hand slid on to the second one. “That was very wicked of me to tease you and let you think I was going to hire you.” His hand slid on to the next button. “To be honest I was afraid if I barged into your chamber waving the wedding license you’d reject me. My original plan was to get you in the carriage by letting you think I was going to hire you and then drag you to the church altar where I hoped you’d be so dazed by the prospect of marrying me that you’d say yes, but when I stepped into your room you looked so cold and miserable I didn’t think you’d survive much more dazing.” He finished undoing the last button and slid his arm under the robe. Lily blushed as his warm hand blindly admired her curves through thin silk. “That night you knocked on my door, I was sitting up with my last pipe wishing I was in bed holding you in my arms. Cariadon, that was supposed to make you blush not cry…”
“I’m sorry Mr Bowen…sniff…I can’t help it. I’m happy!” She carefully pressed her wet eyes against his shoulder, well away from the bruise on his chest.
“I think we can dispense the use of formal address in private don’t you Beloved?”
The words whispered in her ear were followed by warm adoring lips sending gooseflesh down the right side of her body. “I’m going to wake up and find this was all a magical dream. I’ll open my eyes and find Rosamund leaning over me waiting to slap me as soon as I open my eyes.”
“No, no, no…you’re going to wake up safe in my arms and then we’re going to fly away together…as soon as you return my stolen feathers.” The words were perfectly serious. “That was very clever of you to take only three…much easier to hide.”
Lily lifted her head off his shoulder. “How do you know I have them?”
His wandering hand slid around her waist and pulled her close as he leaned forward taunting her with lips just out of reach. “Because I long for you, more than the sky.”
Lily sniffed away her tears as she stared mesmerized into dark eyes adoring eyes. “I’ll tell you where I hid them…if you kiss me.”
He stared into her eyes as if she wasn’t already mesmerized before gracefully bowing his head with a smile that made it impossible to think. “Yr wyf fi’n eich caru chi.” The husky words cast a spell on her heart, swelling it to bursting.
A soft groan rumbled through her parted lips and followed one of his hands down her spine. Wrapping her arms around his neck she could feel them transforming into wings as he pulled her closer to keep her from floating away. She could hear echoes of Mr Bowen laughing as he chased her through her father’s deer park and then the smell of damp leaves as she was showered in shades of gold, red and green. She could feel his ragged breath on her lips as his dark eyes smouldered like coal. “Where are my feathers?”
Her eyes were drawn towards the bed. “In the mattress.”
“Clever; hiding feathers in a feather mattress. That reminds me of a song…”
She sighed with pleasure as he stared into her eyes and then the high ceiling echoed the sound of a heartfelt baritone braying Welsh like a lovesick ram for his beloved ewe trapped out of reach in another field. She convulsed with laughter until tears gushed from her eyes into white linen as arms held her close. Several minutes later she caught her breath and sighed with pleasure as the braying became a cheerful deep humming in her ear. “Penryth?”
“Yes Cariadon?”
She tried to blink back her tears, but they slid down her cheeks enlarging the wet patch on his nightshirt. “That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”
“If you enjoy my vile singing you’re sure to find my other talents, which I’ve studiously developed, even more enchanting.” His smile hovered above her and then softly settled on her lips to silently convey his appreciation.
Epilogue 1
Three weeks later at Lady Gillingham’s London town house
Lady Gillingham was at her dressing table having her hair done when she was informed that a male caller, a Mr Penryth Bowen was requesting a private interview. She admired herself in the mirror as she smirked in triumph. Her boot boy had learned from Mr Bowen’s boot boy that the fat Mrs Bowen had indeed been attacked by the stupid William and had her long orange wool sawed off. The fact William had fallen over and hit his head and couldn’t remember anything prior to waking was an unexpected piece of good luck. It meant she was safe from Mr Bowen’s wrath. Her old lover could hardly blame her for the antics of his drunken nephew.
He was probably calling to beg her to take him back after finding his wife’s over voluptuous charms unwieldy. “Tell Mr Bowen he may have five minutes.” She’d ensure his disappointment was heightened by a glimpse of what he’d rejected for a whale. The familiar footsteps were neither eager nor reticent. If he thought she’d change her mind he’d be rudely disappointed. The thought made her smile with pleasure as he was shown into her dressing room. “Return in five minutes Millie; leave the door ajar.” The maid curtsied and obeyed her mistress. “You wished to see me Mr Bowen? This is unexpected. I thought you’d still be honeymooning…” She lowered her voice, “…or have you found that bedding a whale isn’t as pleasurable or easy as you hoped?”
“Good morning Lady Gillingham, Mrs Bowen sends her compliments.”
“Does she? Well that’s very thoughtful of Mrs Bowen I’m sure. Not every wife would be so understanding of a man’s needs, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go unfulfilled Mr Bowen. I’d rather sail to India then touch you.”
“Your husband may miss you, but I certainly don’t. I merely called to give you a gift. Think of it as a souvenir of our spent mutual pleasure.” The handsome man took a long flat jewelry case out of his coat pocket and set it before her on the dressing table. She met his eyes in the mirror over the reflection of her shoulder. His face was an unreadable mask. “Mrs Bowen picked them out. She tried to dissuade me of course, but I was determined and after a few kisses she relented. It’s quite pleasurable being loved by one’s wife; one of the most pleasurable sensations I’ve ever known.”
“How nice for you. Your wife must be mad to willingly choose a gift for your old lover. I won’t be surprised to hear your children all end up in an attic.”
“Perhaps you should open it before you question Mrs Bowen’s sanity. They were quite expensive. She insisted on spending more than I intended, but then she is by nature a generous soul.”
“She’s certainly generously proportioned. You must be so proud to have finally married a Leigh. It took you nearly twenty years…to think I was just a small child when you failed your first attempt. Better late then never…”
“Yes, I should have married Lily years ago. I could have been happy, but instead I was rolling about with heartless jades who took my every kindness for granted. That was rather stupid of me.”
Lady Gillingham gave the man in the mirror her most disdainful expression before picking up the case. Opening it she found a pair of silver scissors inlaid with swirls of gold. “You bought me a pair of scissors? How thoughtful…” Her sarcastic tone was matched by her look of disdain. “…you know I live for needlework.”
“I didn’t say they were intended for needlework. You will have heard that your scheme was successful.”
“What scheme would that be?”
“Your scheme to convince William to cut off my wife’s hair.”
“I did hear something about that, but if your stupid nephew comes home drunk and attacks your wife with a penknife it’s nothing to do with me.”
“No? He was mumbling your name. He stank of your love nest.”
“Of course he did. He spent the night there sleeping off however many bottles of port he poured down his throat. A friend of mind sent me a note saying your nephew was trying to find someone who’d accept his heart as collateral in a game of dice. He was making a complete ass of himself. You should thank me for rescuing him. You can’t blame me if he woke up, drank all my port and then attacked your wife in a fit of insanity.”
“No? While attacking my wife, William was mumbling that Lily was a witch, that she’d enchanted me. He said he was going to save me by cutting off her hair…he kept swearing by your breasts that he’d save me and win back Grace. I’ll wager you smiled when you heard you’d succeeded. You’re smiling now.”
“Why shouldn’t I smile? It’s a beautiful day and you’re weaving the most ridiculous story. I had no idea you were so creative.” She tossed her head and laughed in amusement as the man’s mask cracked showing anger. “Poor Penryth, his whale has lost her hair and now she looks like a fat nun. Some men would find that titillating…”
“If I’d been held up in traffic another ten minutes my wife would have died of fright. She was insensible and as cold as a corpse when I found her covered with blood.”
“How unlucky, her death would have saved you a fortune in food bills.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes as he reached over her and picked up the small clock sitting among her pots of paint, ribbons and hair pins and plonked it down directly in front of her. “You have five minutes to cut off your hair. If you fail to crop it to at least two inches within that time I’ll be sending an anonymous letter to your husband detailing your unwifely activities along with a list of known and possible lovers. I’ve included myself of course. If your husband wishes me to testify in divorce court I will happily do so. I’ll be sure to mention that one of your breasts is larger than the other to ensure the jury knows we really were intimate.” She stared in horror at the smiling face in the mirror. “I’d start cutting if I were you Melisande. There’s a chance Gillingham might be dead, but what if he’s hale and hearty? I’ve already written the letter. It’s on my desk ready to be sent. You may only have less than five minutes between you and divorce…cut, cut, cut…”
“I hate you!”
“You’ll hate me more if I send that letter; snip, snip, cut, cut.”
“You’ll regret this!”
“I don’t think so. If anything happens to my family, anything that I think you might have schemed…I’ll publish the letter in Gentleman’s Magazine and you’ll be ruined.” The smiling man in the mirror crossed his arms and raised a single eyebrow.
“Gillingham will call you out…he’ll kill you!”
“Perhaps…perhaps he’ll kill you and end up swinging from the gallows. Start cutting!”
“I don’t know what I ever saw in you…you stinking Welsh turd.” She picked up the scissors, grabbed a handful of her hair and started savaging her crowning glory. Penryth Bowen was notorious for being exact in his word. If he said he’d send the letter, he would. She stared at the hair in her hand and felt the blood drain from her face.
“If you faint and fail to cut it off in time I will post the letter; you have just under three minutes.” His eyes were smiling with cold amusement as he watched her savage her own hair. “You missed several strands at the back…half a minute…pity…the last lock snipped off just in time. Well, at least if you get nits they’ll be easy to comb out.” Lady Gillingham sat there staring at the awful sight of her long chestnut brown hair cropped to a short jagged rug. There was blood trickling down her forehead where she’d stabbed herself in her haste. The man behind her leaned towards her and whispered. “You were right; I do love my wife.” She screamed in fury and threw the scissors at her old lover, but missed. His parting gift smacked the wall and fell to the floor as she raced to find a cap to cover her head and burn her hair. If the servants talked…if anyone guessed her cropped hair had anything to do with Penryth Bowen she’d be ruined.
…
Lily was alone at the breakfast table when her smiling husband returned home with a suspicious bulge in his coat pocket and a spring in his step. Humming a cheerful tune, he draped himself over her chair and whispered in her ear, “Good morning Beloved.”
“Good morning Mr Bowen…” She raised her lips and was rewarded with an adoring kiss that made her forget what she’d intended to say. “…you’re looking very handsome.”
“That’s because I’ve been thinking of you.”
“Thinking of me can’t make your legs more beautiful Mr Bowen, I’m afraid that honor goes to your tailor.”
