She’d expected him to be in a rush to return to London. Bronwyn knew many sought out his wisdom on various matters. For their entire journey to Scotland, he had given her his complete focus. Guilt at having occupied all his time spurred her answer. “I wish to return to London.”
His eyes brightened as he asked, “Are you certain?”
She had already taken up too much of his time. “Yes, quite.”
“Then it’s decided.” With a hand on her bottom, he pressed her closer. His arousal slid between her legs. “But first, it might be prudent on my part to prove again how certain I am that you are more than capable of meeting my every need. Shall we delay our departure until later in the day?”
Bronwyn moaned as he rotated his hips in a circular motion. She closed her eyes and said, “As you wish.”
Landon peered up from the stack of correspondence he’d diligently worked on since they entered the traveling coach. His teasing gaze lowered to her chest and then wandered back up to meet her eyes. Her cheeks flushed, but she remained silent. She glanced down at his impressive penmanship—neat and precise as if he had written his responses at his old desk at the offices of Neale & Sons and not jostled about traveling along a Scottish road. Having departed late in the day, they wouldn’t make it far before having to stop. Bronwyn crossed her arms and pushed the swell of her bosom up. Her nipples threatened to peek out from her décolleté. “Will we be traveling past dusk?”
Landon folded up his traveling desk and hastily placed it on the seat next to him. He slid over to sit next to her. “No. I’d not dare take the risk and place you in danger.”
Bronwyn frowned and turned to face her husband. The Network had inns strategically placed within a solid day’s travel of each other. “But the next suitable inn is at least another half day’s travel.”
“Lord and Countess Waterford reside not far from here. They will be delighted to host us for a night.”
Landon dipped his head, and she leaned in to meet his lips. The man created an insatiable need within her. Hiking up her skirts, she straddled him.
Settled upon his lap, she cupped his face and said, “Lord Waterford’s family is the only one within the Network to have served PORFs longer than mine. I’m told his wife is the daughter of a duke and possesses unusual talents.”
“Lady Mary is an angel.”
The admiration in her husband’s tone set her blood to boil. Sorry she had mentioned the lady’s name, Bronwyn set out to banish Lady Mary from Landon’s mind. She lowered her mouth to kiss him, and in doing so, her gown slid lower, displaying her pert nipples. Landon cupped her breast and rolled her tender nipples between his forefinger and thumb while his tongue invaded her mouth. A low moan escaped her throat as his left hand ran along the back of her calf and then rested on the top of her thigh.
Bronwyn pulled back and gasped for air. “I’m nervous about meeting the couple. What if they…”
“There is no need to be worried. They will adore you as I do.” Landon gave her a hard-searing kiss. “As wife to the PORF who possesses the rondure, they have pledged their loyalty and allegiance to you.”
That was the problem. Going forward, many would treat her with respect and reverence merely due to the fact she was Landon’s wife, and not because she had earned their regard.
The horses’ hooves slowed to a walk, and the crunch of pebbles beneath the wheels indicated they had turned off the dirt path and onto Waterford’s estate. Bronwyn scrambled off Landon’s lap and fell back onto his traveling desk. Sliding to the seat, she adjusted her dress and was smoothing out her skirts as the coach came to a halt. The door swung open. Landon exited and turned to assist her.
Landon took her hand and said, “Waterford can be a burr, but I’m certain you will find Lady Mary to be most kind and generous.”
On the portico, the entire staff was lined up to greet them. Where were Lord Waterford and his wife? The butler stepped forward. A sealed parchment lay in the center of a silver tray, which he presented to Landon.
Her husband said, “Duncan. Where are Waterford and Mary?”
Bronwyn was no expert in etiquette, but even she knew Landon should have addressed the lady of the house by her title, not by her given name. Such familiarity was usually reserved for family members. Whatever relationship Landon had developed with Lady Mary, it had blossomed quickly, for he hadn’t even been acquainted with her prior to his inheriting the earldom. The Network had kept an eye on the woman for years since Waterford, a council elder, was betrothed to the blasted lady.
The butler replied, “Countess Waterford instructed me that all will be explained.” He nodded to the missive.
Was it a love note? Her heart raced once again as Landon retrieved the letter. He shifted to allow her to read it with him.
Landon -
Since you failed to make the appropriate arrangements, I have taken it upon myself to prepare them for you.
Waterford and I will be residing with Aunt Agnes for a fortnight.
We will not be far should you need our assistance.
* * *
Countess of Hadfield –
Our congratulations. I sincerely hope to make your acquaintance before you depart.
In the meantime, the staff are at your disposal; however, if you should have any issues, advise Duncan to send for me.
Best wishes
Mary
Not a love note.
In fact, Lady Mary’s tone was rather forward, given she was addressing the most senior-ranking PORF.
Landon chucked as he refolded the parchment. “Lady Mary may take credit, but I’d wager it was Lady Frances’s doing.”
“Who is Lady Frances?”
“A close companion and advisor to Lady Mary.”
“Does she reside with them? Will I meet her?”
“Hmm... Yes, she does reside with them, but no one—not even Waterford—has technically had the pleasure of meeting the extremely wise and meddling Lady Frances.”
Bronwyn’s knowledge of Lady Mary was limited to a few facts. Daughter of a duke. Her brother closest in age and Waterford’s best friend had died upon the battlefield. She recently brought Waterford up to snuff and married him. And, ah, yes…the rumors. “It’s true? Lady Mary can see and talk to the dead?”
Landon needn’t answer. The stiffening of the staff’s posture told Bronwyn they did not care for her shocking statement regarding their mistress.
Landon took her elbow and guided her to the front door. “Yes, Mary has the gift.”
“Oh, I’ve never met anyone with such a talent. I’m ever so glad Lady Mary invited us to stay. I do wish to meet her.”
From behind, Duncan mumbled, “Be careful what ye wish for.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bed linens tangled about his legs, Landon stretched out and wiggled until his feet came free. Three days, he’d laid about with his beguiling wife—three long nights of pleasuring her until they fell asleep with exhaustion. Bronwyn was eager to please him in and out of bed. He had shared the tale of how he came to be in possession of the rondure, and she shared the details of cases she and Christopher had dealt with since his departure from the firm.
In all the hours they spent together, he hadn’t managed to find an appropriate time to confess his love for her. The woman excelled at directing and redirecting conversations. Not once had she indicated she might return his regard. While they were indisputably compatible in bed, he believed it had the potential to be much more. The one element missing was love. But as time passed, Landon became increasingly wary. The fear of her not returning the words of endearment caused him to postpone sharing his deepest feelings for her.
Bronwyn twisted to look over her shoulder at him. “I’d like to explore the castle and the grounds today.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“Don’t you have other matters to attend to? I’m sure there is a stack of correspondence somewhere that needs your attention.”
“Have you tired of my company already?” His question got her full attention.
She turned and to face him. “I’d happily lie abed with you all day, but I am aware that you have been neglecting your duties. I can’t bear the guilt of occupying all your time any longer.”
“Is that what has been bothering you?”
She stared at him hard. “Aren’t you bored of my company?”
“Definitely not.” Unable to resist, he placed a chaste kiss upon her lips.
“Really. Most people tire of my constant debating after an hour or less.”
“Your ability to systematically point out the flaws of any argument is one of the things I adore about you.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty rose color. “In any case, I know what it is like to be the one waiting for a decision on a matter to be made. Attend to your responsibilities, and I shall go on an adventure.”
If they tackled the mountain of letters awaiting him together, the sooner he could return to more pleasurable pursuits with his wife. “Would you like to assist me?”
“Are you certain you want my help?”
“It would be like before, at the firm.”
A smirk appeared on Bronwyn’s otherwise serious features. “My thanks for the offer, but I think the sunshine will do me good.”
Odd. Landon had been confident Bronwyn would leap at the opportunity. Instead, his wife placed a kiss upon his forehead and disappeared into the adjoining chamber.
With impeccable timing, Jacobs appeared in the doorway with a lawn shirt at the ready. Stepping into his breeches, Landon fastened his falls and padded over to the door. “What is it, Jacobs?”
“A missive from your brother arrived this morn.”
Landon punched his arms into the shirtsleeves. Whatever the matter was, it must be of import, for Christopher was fully aware that Archbroke was in charge until his return.
Bronwyn stepped in front of the large looking glass as she wrapped the lovely tartan Lady Mary had left as a wedding gift for her about her shoulders. The prickle of the fine wool against her skin reminded Bronwyn that this was to be her new life. Glorious gowns made from expensive silks and material, staff to wait upon her every need, and meals that burst with flavors she’d not thought possible. This was the life of a lady, not one she’d ever envisioned for herself. Hadn’t her parents always warned: Never forget your station in life. Best to keep your head on straight. Be happy with your lot. Like a good and dutiful daughter, she’d never debated her parents’ thinking.
She narrowed her gaze at the woman staring back at her. How had Landon described her eyes? A shade of aquamarine with shards of sparkling sunlight. No, the man was wrong. Her eyes were a dull shade of sky blue. She reached up to place a wayward wisp of her mouse-brown hair behind her ear. It was definitely not the vibrant, varied chestnut-brown color Landon had proclaimed it. Turning away in disgust, she regained her senses. She was no beauty, but when Landon’s intense gaze landed upon her, she felt like a diamond of the first water. Landon was a rogue in disguise, constantly feeding her mind with crazy images of herself. Nightly she pondered the question that continued to plague her. Why her? Why had Landon deemed her worthy over the elegant ladies of the ton or any other woman of his acquaintance? She was no extraordinary beauty. She wasn’t any more intelligent than Emma or any of the other women in the Network, and she certainly wasn’t as brilliant or as brave as Theo. Bronwyn glanced back in the looking glass and shook her head.
She scanned the bedchamber for her husband. Her eyes fixed upon the rumpled bed linens—why had she even suggested leaving the bed today?
Gripping the tartan at the center of her chest, she sighed. Guilt. She couldn’t go on pretending. Landon’s nightly confessions of his love for her and mumblings of worry at having abandoned his responsibilities weighed heavily upon her chest.
Tip-toeing down the hall, she slinked out the front door and escaped into the fresh air. That was easier than expected. The slew of carefully crafted arguments to escape the castle unaccompanied went unused. Not a single day had passed since Landon’s proposal that she had managed to venture out of doors without a team of footmen trailing her.
With her face tilted sunwards, Bronwyn basked in its warmth. She loosened her tight hold on her shawl, relaxing the muscles in her shoulders. A good brisk walk would help her clear her cloudy thoughts. Stopped, at a fork in the path, Landon’s suggestion to assist him like before replayed in her mind. How could he even suggest a thing?
Much had changed. Two years had passed.
He had changed. Landon was no longer solely focused on his occupation as a barrister, happily unaware of his family’s ties to the Crown, and unmarked. He was a peer with unparalleled duties to the Crown and the Network.
She had changed. No longer merely a shopkeeper’s daughter. She was a valued legal assistant and reveled in working in the legal offices of Neale & Sons.
Bronwyn kicked a small pebble over and over, punctuating each thought until it disappeared into the long grass. Walking aimlessly, she ventured into the woods and mulled over her new circumstance. Years of studying legal matters alongside Landon, and then Christopher, were no longer of value. She lacked the knowledge to run a successful household—meal planning, selection of décor, which charities to support. Frustrated, Bronwyn increased her pace. She would be expected to hire and train servants. People who were once her friends would become members of her household staff. She was no better than any of them. No more important.
Bronwyn clutched her shawl tighter. The heat of the sun fled as she continued deeper into the woods. Tall, broad trees cast dark shadows that mirrored her mood.
Landon alluded to his need for a partner. Her mum and dad were partners. Her mum had assisted her dad in running the store while she carried and raised five children. And her dad made no qualms about declaring he’d be lost without her mum’s assistance. Bronwyn’s shoulders sagged. Would Landon ever be able to make such a claim?
Increasing her pace, she stomped farther into the woods. With each step, Bronwyn’s resolve deepened—one way or another, she was going to aid Landon. But how?
A tree limb hidden beneath fallen leaves caught her foot, toppling Bronwyn onto her knees. Rolling to her side, she brushed the crumpled leaves from her injured ankle and gingerly pressed around the joint. No broken bones, but it was tender to the touch and beginning to swell. Through the tree branches, the sun was barely visible. With her injury, it would take her twice as long to return to the castle. Holding her breath, she placed her foot flat upon the ground and tried to stand. Shooting pain caused her to fall back on to her bottom. Blast!
Bronwyn searched the ground for a stick thick enough to provide support. Luck was not on her side today. Nothing but small twigs and dry leaves lay on the trail floor. Born and raised in town, she’d imagined the woods peaceful, but now they were eerily quiet. She was all alone and absolutely out of her element. Heaving in deep breaths, she calmed her mind.
The crunch of boots behind her sent her scrambling on her knees.
Red leather slippers appeared before her. “Lady Bronwyn. May I be of assistance?”
The woman wore skirts of sturdy blue velvet. A tartan comprised of forest green and dark navy squares separated by bright yellow yarn was draped across one of the lady’s shoulders and around her waist. The material mirrored the design of Bronwyn’s shawl. She must be at the feet of her hostess—Lady Mary, the Countess of Waterford.
Bronwyn raised her gaze inch by inch until the warmth of Lady Mary’s friendly smile called forth an answering grin. It was no wonder Landon spoke of Lady Mary with awe. She was a gorgeous woman.
Lady Mary crouched down. “Would you prefer Gilbert carry you back?”
Barely above a whisper, Bronwyn asked, “How did you find me?”
“Aunt Agnes lives a good two hours’ ride from here. We set out when I was informed you were lost. They made no mention of you being hurt. I apologize for not arriving sooner; we had a tad bit of
trouble locating you.”
“Why didn’t they advise you of my location?”
Lady Mary frowned. “My sources aggravatingly only share what they believe is pertinent.”
Bronwyn couldn’t help but laugh at Lady Mary’s response and exasperated look. She swallowed the last half of a laugh as a tall, athletically built man came into sight. “I’d like to try and walk on my own and not be carried like a babe.”
Placing a hand on the man’s arm for leverage, Lady Mary rose. “Can you assist Lady Bronwyn to her feet?”
“Certainly. Countess Hadfield, please allow me to assist.” He bent and placed an arm about her waist. “Place your arm along my shoulders, behind my neck.”
In one swift motion, he lifted her to stand, but the pain in her ankle had her grimacing. One quick side glance at her, and Lord Waterford bent, placed an arm under her knees, and lifted her.
Lady Mary picked up Bronwyn’s tartan and brushed off the leaves clinging to it. Placing the material about Bronwyn’s shoulders, Lady Mary said, “We will have you safely home soon, and it will be bed rest for you for a few days.”
Days! Bronwyn shook her head. Landon’s sleepy mumbling of guilt at having left Archbroke with an enormous burden filled her mind. “I’m certain I’ll be fine by morn,” Bronwyn declared. “I’ll not be a burden to Landon.” A wife was to assist and aid her husband, not become a hindrance.
The couple glanced at each other with a manner that suggested an entire conversation had occurred between the two in mere seconds.
Lord Waterford smiled down at her. “Lassie, you’re no’ a burden to anyone.”
In a matter of fact tone, Lady Mary said, “Landon won’t let you out of his sight once he sees you’ve been hurt.”
“Then you will assist me in ensuring he doesn’t find out.”
Eyebrows raised, Lady Mary asked, “Is that an order, Countess Hadfield?”
Was her first order going to be one to deceive her husband?
Revealing a Rogue Page 9