“Nothing?” he asked lowly, looking at her pointedly as her heart swelled within her breast. “I will have you. Is that not enough?”
“Your stay at Rottborne needn't be permanent. Come back to London once things blow over, as they are sure to do,” Jasper encouraged, “while I attempt to keep the empire your father built afloat. That'll be to your advantage as well, seeing as how ten percent of all future earnings go to you and another ten to Beatrice for her care.”
“Father has been generous,” Bridget stated, though a hint of sadness marred her lovely features. “Do you think we'll ever learn what happened to him? His body, I mean?”
Colin's hand reached for hers. “Perhaps not, my dear, perhaps not.”
With a deep sigh, that Colin knew she used to fortify her emotions, Bridget exclaimed, “Then let us make arrangements to go to Rottborne. Do you think we can be ready to depart in a se'nnight? And what of Ruth? Do you think she'll agree to go with? Beatrice has grown quite attached, and it would be rather helpful to have her to assist with her care. And what of...”
Colin silenced her with a chaste kiss. “Dearest, I will arrange everything. You just concern yourself with packing. We will depart by the end of the week.”
Bridget collapsed with
relief against his chest. His arms naturally went around her waist. “Is it happening too fast?” he whispered in her ear.
Her eyes gazed into his. “In some ways, not fast enough.”
“I quite agree, my love. I quite agree.”
He'd happily arranged it all, arranging Ruth to move with them as well as hiring additional staff for Rottborne, the closing of his own Townhouse for the time being, and perhaps hardest of all, but most important in his mind, the acquiring of a special license. Colin had carefully seen to every last detail, ensuring their life together would start on good footing.
The wedding had been small, with only Jasper, Beatrice, and Ruth in attendance, but it was perfect. Colin would hold the image of Bridget in her peach silk gown trimmed in yards of fine lace for the rest of his life. The tiny white rosebuds adorning her hair stood out in stark contrast to her raven locks, and her skin looked as radiant as a bright summer morning.
He'd arranged for Beatrice to stay in London with Ruth for a spell while he and Bridget advanced to Rottborne where they could enjoy the start of their married life in private. After spending their wedding night in an upscale inn between London and East Sussex, they traveled the remainder of the way to their new home, both anticipating life together as well as a fresh start.
“There it is,” Bridget exclaimed excitedly as a gray stone home came into view. It reminded Colin of a cottage, only much, much larger. “I haven't been here for ages. I worried I wouldn't recognize it.”
Colin continued to stare out the window as they approached. The outer gardens leading up to the house were surrounded by an immaculately trimmed hedge. There was a stone fountain in the middle of the drive that featured two cherubs dancing in the water that poured between them. Colin couldn't help but smile at the quaint scene.
“Home,” he whispered under his breath, trying hard to imagine what it would be like to live there with Bridget at his side, the thought making him grow warm with desire. She'd been at his side the last two nights, her soft body fitting perfectly against his own. A lifetime of intimacy with her would never be enough.
The staff that greeted them was small, as only the bare minimum had been in residence over the years to see to the general upkeep of the home. Colin greeted them and informed them more staff would be arriving within the fortnight, but in the meantime, he planned on enjoying his new bride's company without the distraction of others.
The pair advanced into the house as sunlight streamed through the large windows. The décor was cheerful and bright, matching both of their moods.
“Mother had it redecorated two years ago. Father grumbled about the cost and told her it was frivolous since we never spent more than a week here every year, but she insisted it was her right. She always managed to get her way,” she added with a hint of sadness. Colin could tell by the faraway look on her face that she was thinking about her father's demise.
“If you wish to redecorate to avoid the memories of her, I will understand.”
Bridget looked once more at her surroundings and proclaimed practically, “Now that would be frivolous. It's quite beautiful, and I believe we'll make plenty of memories here that will distract me from her memory.”
Colin took her into his arms while servants hastened past them, carrying their trunks up to their bedchamber. “You needn't forget her completely, my dear.”
“But she's an odious creature.”
“Indeed, she's done some detestable things, but a wise man once told me that not all people are all good or all bad, we're all a combination of both. Whichever traits we chose to foster will determine what we become. Yes, your mother's virtues were few, but she still had them.”
“Oh, you truly believe that?” Bridget asked, half-joking, half-serious.
“But of course. How else could she have raised such a delightful daughter?”
Bridget laughed as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “You're an eternal optimist, aren't you? Just promise you'll always see the good in me once the excitement of marriage wears off, and my flaws are on full display.”
“Only if you promise me the same, my dear, for I can assure you I'm not nearly as saintly as you like to believe.”
She snorted as she nuzzled into his chest. “I doubt that Mr. Ravenworthe, I highly doubt that.”
“Then come, let me prove to you by telling you all about the wicked fantasies I've been harboring the entire carriage ride here.”
Though her cheeks colored, Bridget's eyes twinkled with anticipation as she whispered huskily, “I'd rather you show me than tell me.”
“That can be arranged.” Scooping her into his arms, he carried her towards the grand staircase as she laughed. “Tell me where our bedchamber is so I can oblige you, Mrs. Ravenworthe.”
“Second door on the left.”
Despite carrying her in his arms, Colin dashed up the stairs two at a time, eager to be alone with his bride. Her bright laughter buoyed him onward as he continued to run to their new bedchamber. He entered with a flourish then kicked the door closed behind him before sliding her from his arms. With a quick flick of the wrist, he successfully locked the door then laid the small brass key atop the armoire.
Bridget wandered around the large room, inspecting it with pleasure. There were three large windows hung with brocade drapes in primrose that faced the back of the house, giving a glorious view of the gardens below. In the middle of the room was a large canopied bed with rich velvet hangings in mazarine blue with a luxurious coverpane in the same primrose color as the drapes.
“Do you like it?” Colin asked behind her ear. She jumped slightly, not realizing he had approached.
“Very much so. The room is so elegant.”
“I wasn't referring to the room, but your dress.” His eyes dipped down over the bodice of her white day dress sprigged with pale pink rosebuds.
“I suppose,” she admitted, confusion marring her brow. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want it gone.”
“Then, by all means, rid me of it, husband,” she said sultrily, offering herself to him to do as he wished.
In one deft movement, he untied the ribbons of her bonnet holding it in place, and with the flick of his wrist, he threw it across the room. Next, his hands slid to the neckline of her gown, where his fingers dipped beneath and slowly caressed the tops of her rounded breasts while her eyes fluttered closed.
He took a moment to gaze upon her perfectly sculpted face, still utterly surprised no one had snagged her up before now, yet utterly delighted they hadn't. Then, wanting to lay claim to her and unwilling to deal with the annoyance of ribbons and laces, he balled the fabric in his hands and gave it a hefty tug ripping it open to expose her thin
chemise beneath, barely disguising her glorious body.
Bridget gasped while Colin smiled. “You said I could rid you of it,” he justified. “Besides, you have gowns aplenty.”
“Well, I won't if you make this a habit,” she said with a grin.
“There are no guarantees,” he said with a shrug and absolutely no contrition in his voice. “Now come, let me finish what I started.”
In a matter of minutes, they were entwined in each other's embrace; all clothes discarded haphazardly on the floor. Colin kissed her sweet skin as his hands roamed over every inch of her body. She was so soft, so smooth, so perfect, and when her own hands began exploring his body, he shuddered with delight. Their coupling was tender, yet ardent as both clung to the other as if they couldn't get enough. The urgency ebbed and flowed as Colin brought her to the brink of passion then slowly retreated, allowing her body time to relax. He did this over and over again until she couldn't stand it any longer and was left begging him for more, which he happily obliged.
Afterward, he laid on his back with Bridget strewn across his chest, both breathing heavily. Her face was flush with passion, but she looked content and well-loved. He twirled a lock of silky hair around his fingers, just watching her adoringly.
“I quite like your wicked side,” she confessed when her breathing evened out. Her sooty lashes batted as she raised her head to look at him.
“And I quite like exposing it to you, vixen,” he said with a low chuckle.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering something. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
Colin rolled onto his side, propped his head on his hand, and watched with delight as Bridget scurried across the room, draped in nothing but a white sheet. She knelt before her trunk and lifted the lid and began rummaging around, looking for whatever it was she wanted to give him.
Several minutes later, she returned, seemingly empty-handed. “You couldn't find it?” he asked with an amused smile on his face.
“Oh, I found it,” she assured him as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Open your hand.”
Colin curiously held out his hand and waited as she placed a small ivory button into his palm. He looked at it strangely then began to laugh heartily, shaking the mattress. “Is this what I think it is?”
Bridget smiled. “Indeed, it is. The very button you gave me when we first met. I've kept it all these years, and I must apologize for lying to you that night. I wasn't truly in need of a button.”
“I knew that,” he said. “The gown you wore that night had none.”
“Very astute, detective. It was indeed only an excuse, but I wanted to return it to you weeks ago when I finally remembered we had, in fact, met before, but things occurred that distracted me from the task.”
“I don't need it,” he said, trying to hand it back to her.
She refused to take it, instead forcing his fingers to clasp around it, holding it tightly. “Let it be a symbol of fate, a token of our first meeting, and a sign of things to come.”
“I never knew a button could be so sentimental,” he said through a grin.
Bridget playfully slugged him on the shoulder. “Well, to me it is, so stop mocking me.”
Colin's face turned serious. “Never, my love. Anything that has meaning to you is of great value to me, even this button. I shall treasure it forever.” He rolled over and slid it safely into the drawer of the nightstand before taking her once more into his arms. “Why don't we have refreshments sent up? I have no desire to leave this bed, or you, for a very long time.”
Bridget let the sheet slide leisurely from her body. “Food can wait, at least for now. I'd much rather feast on my delectable husband.”
Colin nipped at her collarbone, “Then, by all means, indulge yourself.”
Nearly a fortnight had passed since they'd arrived at Rottborne, and it had been some of the best days of Bridget's life. They'd spent hours playing whist in the game room or walking in the gardens while discussing life and what they envisioned their future to be, and at night they continued to explore each other and reveled in the passion that burned between them.
They'd been soaking in the solitude knowing that any day now Beatrice and Ruth would arrive, along with Finch and the rest of the staff Colin had hired. Soon, endless disruptions would become their common lot in life. But for now, it was just the two of them, and Bridget found she quite preferred it that way.
After another long, yet delightful evening of vigorous lovemaking, Bridget was sleeping so soundly, her body fully exhausted that it startled her immensely when she was awoken by a high-pitched scream. Next to her, Colin was thrashing back and forth, perspiration beading on his forehead.
Fingers of fear wound around her heart as she tried to shake him awake. She'd never seen him so frightened, and it caused her great alarm. “Colin, wake up. You must be dreaming,” she said, trying to snap him out of his nightmare.
He continued to scream, heightening her fear. She quickly jumped from the bed and lit a candle in the grate, hoping to flood the room with light so he'd wake up. Holding the candle just above his face, she brushed his hair back and gently patted his cheeks. Colin's eyes flew open, but she could tell he didn't understand where he was and what was happening.
“Shhh, my love, you were only dreaming. I am here now, and you are safe.”
The gold flecks in his eyes were nearly muted as he gazed off in the distance, his chest heaving with his uncontrolled breathing. Bridget continued to soothe him by running her hands threw his hair, across his cheek, then along his jaw.
“You're really here?” he finally asked, his voice breaking as he did so.
“Of course, I'm here, and I'll never leave you either.”
His eyes focused on her face then. “The nightmare was different this time, so different.”
Bridget set the candle down and slid in the bed next to him, clinging furiously to his side. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No.”
“But perhaps it'll help you feel better,” she urged.
Colin wiped his hand across his eyes and sighed before explaining with trepidation, “On occasion, I have nightmares about my mother, about the night I found her in the attic.”
“Oh, love, I'm so sorry,” she whispered tenderly, aching for him while also realizing with a measure of surprise that she'd not once had a nightmare about her father's death.
Ignoring her sympathy, he continued, “But tonight it wasn't my mother I found hanging in the attic, it was you.”
Bridget gasped. “Look at me, Colin. Feel me,” she said, taking his hands and placing them on the curve of her hip. “I'm alive, and I am here. It was simply a horrible dream.”
“It felt so real,” he said with raw emotion that caused her heart to ache.
“Dreams are like that, but you know what helps me?” He shook his head. Her heart twisted a little as she noticed the gleaming in his magnificent eyes, knowing he was holding back tears. “You have to find the strange in the dream, the moments that are so bizarre and unrealistic. It helps you to realize it's not real, that it'll never be real.”
Colin was thoughtful, and she could tell he was mulling her suggestion around in his mind. “I don't want to think about it,” he confessed.
“But it might help.”
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and began talking. “It started off like it always does, with me in my room at Ravenworthe Manor, but I was an adult, just like I am now. I remember rolling over thinking I'd find you and hold you then panicked when you weren't there.”
“That's an excellent start. You see, we will never, ever go to Ravenworthe Manor, so that is very much unrealistic.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a sigh. “Then when I got out of bed to go look for you, I was no longer an adult, I was a boy of seven, the same age I was when mother died.”
“See, your mind just mingled your worst nightmare with your biggest fear. It wasn't some sort of premonition at all.”
Colin laid his head against her chest, and relaxed as she ran her fingers threw his hair. “I don't know how I'd cope if I lost you. I've already lost too much.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” she promised, hoping and praying that God would allow them a long life together.
Two days later, they were out in the gardens enjoying the pleasant weather when Bridget reached for the scissors attached to her waist by a ribbon to cut a bloom then placed it in the basket on her arm. She was collecting fresh flowers to place in vases around the house, something she loved and often did.
“Look, I think I see a carriage in the distance,” Colin said, shielding his eyes from the sun as he pointed down the long drive.
Bridget squinted, barely making out the carriage. “I think you're right,” she said excitedly. Though she adored her time with just Colin, she was looking forward to seeing Beatrice.
The pair casually strolled through the gardens while they waited for the carriage to approach. As it neared, it became apparent that it wasn't one either of them recognized.
Bridget turned to Colin, a curious look on her face, and asked, “Who else would be coming to pay a visit?”
Colin shrugged as he offered her his arm and led her to the equipage. The pair stood, arms interlinked waiting expectantly as the footman jumped down from his perch, lowered the step, then opened the door with a flourish. Both of them stared as an older gentleman with a white mustache and brows alighted. A head of thick white hair was revealed when he removed his beaver top hat.
“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Ravenworthe,” he cooed in a rather pleasant voice. “I'm glad I was able to locate you.”
“Pardon, sir, but who are you and what business do you have with us?” Colin asked, his eyes never leaving the man's face.
“I good question to be sure. I suggest we advance inside where I will happily tell you of my purpose.”
Ravenworthe Page 13
