by Kate Pearce
“My apologies.” He scooted away from her, color rising in his cheeks.
At one time, she’d be delighted to have garnered such a sheepish response from him. But now it felt… Well, she couldn’t place it, really. It was just different than before. When they’d first married more than two years earlier his face colored that way every time he felt desire for her. Now it seemed to be more out of unease and discomfort. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Would they ever have such a relationship again?
Just then, the door of their traveling coach swung open, sending in an icy blast of air that stole away her thoughts along with any warmth within the coach.
“Road’s closed,” Mr. Leeds, one of the parishioners at Paul’s church who’d agreed to drive their coach, announced without preamble or any hint of apology.
“How many others have we left to try?” Paul asked more calmly than Liberty felt. They’d departed before sunup and she had the oddest feeling they were no closer to her sister Brooke’s house than when they’d left this morning.
“None,” Mr. Leeds said, studying the wooden floor of the coach.
“It’s all right, Leeds,” Paul said quietly. “Just take us back home.”
Liberty nodded her agreement, not trusting her voice. She’d wanted so desperately to see her sisters at Christmas. It had been four months since she’d been to London to visit Brooke and Madison along with their husbands at the end of the Season. So many things had happened since then and well, to be frank, if Liberty didn’t speak to one or both of them—and soon—nothing else would be happening between Paul and Liberty again. Ever.
She sighed.
“Are you cold?” Paul extended another lap blanket to her. Concern and perhaps pity in his moss-green eyes.
Reluctantly, Liberty took it from him. She hated that look. The helpless, I’m married to a lady made of fine glass look. Heaving another sigh, she spread it out and used her stockinged feet to help her stretch it out over herself as much as she could. If Paul wasn’t going to sit next to her, at least she’d use the bench for something she supposed.
“Are your feet cold?”
Liberty started. Was that excitement in his voice?
His blank face and piercing eyes gave nothing away.
“A little.”
Paul patted his knee. “Let’s see those—icicles!” he said likely a little more loudly than he’d intended when she placed her toes against the back of his hand.
Despite herself, Liberty giggled.
Paul chaf ed her frigid foot between his two large hands and racked his brain for what to say to his wife. At one time he’d been able to talk to her about anything. Not that he still couldn’t talk to her. It was more that he didn’t know what to say about certain things and he was truly at a loss for how to be around her physically. It hadn’t always been that way. Sure, when they’d first met the pair didn’t get along too well. But things were different then. He, himself, Paul was the gulf between them and once he’d got her to admit she rather fancied him just a slight bit, they’d fallen in love.
He still loved her and he was certain she still loved him, but it was different. He sighed and reached for her other frosty foot.
She easily let him take it and they both froze, quite literally, when the carriage stopped again.
“I knew we were no closer to Brooke’s than when we left,” Liberty said behind a brittle smile.
Paul laughed and craned his neck to see outside the carriage. There wasn’t much to see, but it was enough to know they were not home.
Just then the carriage door opened yet again.
“Please, tell me you’re watering the horses,” Paul said between clenched teeth. Truly, the air was so cold he could ether clench them closed or risk chewing off his own tongue by violent chattering. Grinding them to powder seemed safer.
“I can tell you that, sir, but it won’t make it true and the ninth commandment says—”
Paul raised a hand into the air. “No need to lie to your vicar, Leeds. Why are we stopped?”
“The road to go back home is closed, sir.”
“Of course it is,” Paul muttered under his breath. “Looks like we’ll be spending our Christmas at the inn.”
“Hopefully there’s room,” Liberty teased.
Paul’s heart cracked at the tears he heard clogging his wife’s throat and was vaguely aware of Leeds saying he’d go look for a place for them to stay and would be back soon.
“I’m sorry you won’t be with your sisters for Christmas,” Paul said. “I know how much family means to you. If I had one worthy of spending more than two minutes with I’d…” He cocked his head to the side. “Actually, no I don’t know what I’d do because I don’t have a family worthy of spending more than two minutes around.”
“Surely your father and mother were…”
Paul shrugged. “My mother was all right, I suppose. My father was just like my brother Sam. He had enough by-blows to populate a small island.”
Liberty poked him with the tip of her toe. “Now, now, Jesus loves those little bastards as much as he loves you and me.”
“I know He does,” Paul said vehemently. Did she realize how close to the groin her toes were? At that, his groin grew in size, putting her just that much closer to him. He repressed a groan and carefully moved her foot a hand’s width away. He met his wife’s brown eyes. Within them was that same sparkle that had held his heart since they’d met. He wanted so badly to lean forward and take her into his arms and—
“I think I hear Leeds,” she said, pulling her feet right off of his lap and jamming them into her leather half-boots.
Once more, the door to their coach swung open and Paul prayed Leeds wouldn’t tell him anything else was closed.
“Did you find us a place?” Paul asked the shivering coachmen.
“Yes.” The man looked anywhere and everywhere except at Paul or Liberty.
“All right. Where is it?”
“It’s not the where you should be so worried about,” Leeds all but whispered. “It’s the what.”
“A brothel!” Liberty sputtered, trying to conceal the cascade of giggles that threatened to erupt from her lips. What irony.
“I’m sorry,” Leeds rushed. “I checked at every inn and boarding house I could find. They were all full.
“Leeds,” Paul hissed. “I cannot stay in a brothel! My reputation as a vicar will be ruined.”
“Er… Sir.” Leeds fiddled with the brim of his grey felt hat. “If I may be so bold, your reputation was ruined within two days of you being appointed our vicar. It hasn’t improved much with news of your brother’s small army of illegitimate children or your marriage to an American hoyden.” He bobbed his head in Liberty’s direction. “My apologies, madam, I’m just pointing out the facts. The ninth commandment and all.”
“Not to worry,” Liberty said with a snap of her fingers. “I am a walking scandal and I bear no guilt about it.” She reached for Paul’s gloved hand. “Come, dear husband, I think our room awaits.”
“Liberty, I cannot go into a whorehouse. If I’m seen I could lose my post.”
“Then I suppose we’ll just have to spend the whole time in our room,” Liberty said pointedly.
Blood roared in Paul’s ears. Did that mean… Did she desire him the way he still desired her? Was it possible she still saw him as a lover? Pulse racing, he helped her descend the carriage; then together they followed Leeds to their most unusual accommodations.
“I asked the madam if you could enter the back door,” Leeds said, his chest puffing out with pride at his accomplishment. “She said considering your profession, she’d prefer that.”
“I bet she would,” Paul said, keenly aware of the way his wife was shaking with mirth.
“Hullo again, Madam Frau Klaus,” Leeds said, blushing.
Madam Frau Klaus greeted Paul and Liberty. “You two might feel most comfortable in the east boudoir as it’s the furthest away from the other guests.”
<
br /> “I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable anywhere in here,” Paul muttered beneath his breath.
Liberty nudged him in the side with her elbow before following Madam Frau Klaus down the hall.
“We’ve had quite an array of guests today,” Madam Frau Klaus explained as the noise grew louder. “I was just about to go read by the Tannenbaum, if you two would like to come join us and meet the others.”
“Thank you, but we’ll just be staying in our room,” Paul said quickly.
Madam Frau Klaus arched a brow. “For your entire visit?”
“Yes,” Paul said automatically and it had nothing to do with protecting his already soiled reputation. He wanted his wife. Now. And unless he was mistaken, she wanted him and that made his desire almost unbearable.
“Well, I suppose you were given direct instructions to be fruitful and multiply,” Madam Frau Klaus said with a throaty laugh that doused Paul’s ardor more effectively than the icy air outside.
Painfully aware of the way his wife’s body had turned to marble next to him, he reached for her hand and led her into the room Madam Frau Klaus had indicated as theirs.
Madam Frau Klaus must have come lit the candles while Leeds was bringing them in, he concluded while looking around at the lightly furnished room. Along the walls were four sconces and two bawdy pictures, in the far corner of the room was a stout, scuffed up bureau and in the middle of the room was the crown jewel: the large, four-poster bed. Then again, what else was needed for the activities that usually went on in this room?
He glanced over at his ashen wife and knew her appearance had nothing to do with the contents of the room, but rather Madam Frau Klaus’ statement.
“Liberty—” Paul broke off. There was truly nothing more to say. In the three and a half months since their son had passed away, they’d both apologized to one another, taken the guilt upon themselves, cried, gone through phases of silence and had somehow learned how to exist with one another after losing such a large chunk of their heart. What they hadn’t learned to do was be intimate.
Wordlessly, Paul helped his wife out of her thick fur coat.
At this very moment, Liberty was glad they hadn’t made it to Brooke’s. She hadn’t considered how hard it’d be for her to be around both of her sisters and their healthy, very much alive babies when she’d buried hers since the last time they’d all been together. Paul had been her rock since then. So kind and gentle. He’d hugged her and held her, he’d assured her she’d done nothing wrong, it was just the fever and that God had a plan. He’d likely never admit it, but she was certain she'd even seen a tear roll down his cheek a time or two.
Their loss had certainly made their relationship stronger in almost every regard. But then there was the one area it had ruined, no destroyed.
At first, Liberty didn’t think she’d ever be able to find Paul desirable that way again. Not that he wasn’t a good husband, he was. And a most excellent lover, if one wanted to know. But the idea of burying another baby had put a damper on any flicker of desire at first.
Then about a month or so ago, the attraction to her husband’s handsome face, irresistible charm, and chiseled body had drawn her like a moth to a flame and she was willing to risk her heart again. Only he didn't seem interested. Always moving away from her or nonchalantly rebuffing her.
She thought maybe he could be interested in her once again, but then he’d gone back to the same rigid, unreadable man she’d lived with since Jacob had died.
Sighing, she put her hands on his, staying his fingers. “I best leave my gown on.” Lest I make a fool of myself in the night. She flushed at that thought and cleared her throat. “Who knows when the last time those sheets were laundered.”
“Isn’t that a delightful thought for Christmas,” Paul quipped, shrugging out of his coat.
“I’m sure some of the other guests might think so.”
Paul laughed. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I didn’t marry a man I barely knew after being caught half-naked with him in the woods like Brooke or wed a slightly dangerous chap who ravished me in a closet like Madison. It’s nice to have a story to share to compete with my sisters.”
Paul snorted. “Your memory has clearly been altered by this weather.” He fought his urge to cringe and climbed onto the top of the bed. He was not going to take a chance at turning down those sheets. Gesturing toward his wife, he patted the bed next to him. When she climbed in next to him, he wrapped his arm around her and said, “I don’t think Brooke was half-naked and I also don’t recall Madison being ravished by Gateway. I do, however, recall a young lady who snuck into my room while I was taking a bath and stole all of my clothes so she could peek at my privates.”
“I did no such thing!”
“No?” He brushed a kiss on her neck. “I seem to also recollect you making me chase you around the room naked until you stopped to catch your breath.” He kissed her again. “Was your shortness of breath due to your running or because I took your breath away with what you saw, I wonder.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “I love you, Liberty. Goodnight.”
“I love you, too, Paul. Goodnight.”
The night was not good for either one. Both had lain awake with a dozen things on their minds: How were they going to eat without being recognized the next day? Just when was the last time these sheets had been laundered? Would they be able to get back home on the morrow? What truly would her sisters say if Liberty told them she spent Christmas at a brothel! Would the person they each shared the bed with find them desirable again?
Morning came with the speed of a tortoise dragging an elephant.
“Considering our unusual circumstances, perhaps we should sneak out the back door and find somewhere else to break our fast,” Liberty offered.
“Capital idea,” Paul agreed. He quickly helped her into her coat, then pulled on his boots, gloves, coat, and hat. He padded over to the door and cracked it open about two inches. Peeking out into the hallway, he waved his hand in a come-hither motion.
Eager to get out of this little room in search of food, and perhaps a necessary, she scampered cross the room to his side, then joined him in a light-footed walk down the hall and to the back door.
Outside, the wind was just as blustery as it had been the day before as it whirled and hissed around their heads. The ground was covered in a thick blanket of snow and sharp icicles of various lengths hung from every surface possible.
“I suppose it’s for the best the road was closed,” Paul ventured. He pointed to a building a stone’s throw away with a twist of smoke coming up from the chimney. “Let’s see if they have any food.”
At one time in her life, Liberty would have taken this opportunity to voice an unkind remark about the fact that the shop he’d indicated appeared to be a blacksmith’s shop. Either she was becoming more wise and serious with age or she was just as desperate for sustenance as her husband.
She looped her arm through his. “Shall we race?”
Something flashed in Paul’s emerald orbs. “You think you can win?”
Offering no immediate answer, she pulled her arm away and started running. “Come catch me.” She hiked her skirt up an inch and futilely tried to pick up her pace. “If you think you can.”
“Oh I think I can,” he said against her ear, his two strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her to the ground.
They fell together in the snowbank in a fit of laughter. “I didn’t have a chance,” Liberty said, gasping for breath.
“No, you didn’t,” her husband agreed. He met her eyes. “I caught you once and I’ll never let you go.”
A warm feeling settled within her. “Do you promise?”
Using his fingertips, Paul pushed her hair away from her eyes. “I did and I do.” His throat worked. “No matter what happens to us, I will always love you and be right by your side.”
“I know.” And she did
know. He’d proven that over and over these past few months. “Paul, have you ever…”
Paul stiffened. “Liberty, do you know any other man who’d spend a night in a brothel holding his own wife?” He pulled away a fraction. “If I had any interest in that I could have satisfied that need many times over last night.”
Liberty went numb from her head to her toes and it had nothing to do with the fact she was all but swimming in snow. “We should go see about breaking our fast.”
To their good fortune, the smithy did have food. It wasn’t what anyone would term as delicious, mind you, but after not having a single crumb since yesterday morning, his burnt biscuits were quite the treat.
“My, my, you two are up quite early,” Madam Frau Klaus greeted when they returned to the back steps of the brothel.
“We were out breaking our fast,” Liberty explained.
“And how was that?” Madam Frau Klaus inquired, a smile pulling on her lips.
“Unmatched,” Paul replied, holding the door open for Liberty.
“I imagine so.” Madam Frau Klaus rubbed her upper arms with her hands. “I understand your predicament being a man of the cloth and all, however, there are other gentlemen who have reputations to protect here as well, and I doubt any of them would like to share that you were here anymore than they’d like for you to share that they were here.” She sighed. “Not that I personally find anything wrong with my house.” She shrugged. “Mr. Grimes, please go down to the kitchen and enjoy some breakfast while I help your wife out of her sodden clothes.”
Panic welled up in Liberty’s chest. Why did Madam Frau Klaus want to help disrobe her? She forced a brittle smile. “I’ll be all right.”
Madam Frau Klaus waved her hand through the air. “Poppycock.” She shooed Paul, then leaned toward Liberty. “You’re safe, I prefer tallywags.”
Liberty almost choked on her own tongue. “Pardon?”
“You look as if I plan to ravish you,” Madam Frau Klaus said airily as she escorted Liberty into her room. “I want to settle your nerves on that score. There are some women who have such a persuasion who have visited here, however, that is not my preference.” She gave Liberty a pointed look. “Nor do I plan to try to recruit you for work. I just merely wanted to talk to you.”
