‘I see. What will you do now?’
‘Make Richard Grey regret the day he agreed to help Atwood dispose of me.’
‘And if he murdered Martin?’
‘I will notify Lord Taverner of what you have told me and he will have him sent to the Tower for questioning. It is my intention to see to it right away. I want to leave for Yorkshire while you are able to travel.’ He grinned, his gaze travelling to her swollen abdomen. ‘At the rate you are expanding, my love, I think you are to give birth to an elephant or triplets.’
Relieved that he had introduced a lightness into the conversation, Eleanor’s expression was one of mock-horror and she laughed softly. ‘I sincerely hope not. One baby at a time is quite sufficient.’
Taking her hands and drawing her to her feet, William placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘We’ll talk about this later. Just now I’m more concerned with getting you to Chelsea and settled in.’
‘And Catherine?’
‘Catherine will surprise you. She’s genuinely looking forward to having you stay with her. Godfrey has had a strange affect on her. She is a changed person, as you’ll see for yourself.’ He looked at her gently, but there was no wavering in him. ‘Eleanor, there is something I want you to understand. Never, not even in my weakest moments, have I considered letting you go.’
Tipping her chin up, he forced her troubled gaze to meet his implacable one. ‘It’s as impossible to put you out of my mind as it is to stop breathing. I want you with an intensity that seeps into the very deepest part of me. I want you, all of you, all of the time. I want to feel the smooth naked flesh of you, your slender waist, hip and thigh, which I can only imagine beneath your gown, the lift of your peaked breasts, which are round and full beneath your bodice.’
A little smile tweaked her lips. ‘That snaps of greed to me, my lord.’
‘Ah, but my greedy mind isn’t alone, for I want more than the physical act of loving, I want your friendship, your companionship, to know your innermost thoughts. You asked for time. I cannot give it to you. You have to face the inevitability of our marriage, because you have a child to consider—my child—and that child will not be born out of wedlock. I assure you the marriage is going to take place. You must realise there is no going back, that there is no escaping what is to happen. Accept it. What have you to say?’
His voice was firm and Eleanor hated his words. Accept it! She really didn’t have any choice. She turned away, not daring to look at him, and she knew she would have to submit to his decision and his authority. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her round to face him. His lips touched her cheek, his free hand moving about her waist possessively. She wanted to push him away, to argue with him, but when she felt the strength of his muscles as he held her tightly and his lips closed over hers as he gathered her to him, there really was nothing more to say.
Chapter Twelve
The water of the River Thames moved gently past without a ripple, with swans floating on its glassy surface. The day was pleasantly warm, the sky blue and giving an added beauty to the river. Boats went back and forth, their oars, dipping and rising in unison, dripping water.
Eleanor strolled along the embankment with Catherine in companionable silence, each content to be in the other’s company after so many years of discord, which they had both agreed to put behind them.
‘Eleanor, I’m sorry about the things I said to you that day you visited me,’ Catherine murmured, sighing ruefully.
Eleanor gave her a look of reproach. ‘I thought we’d agreed to put all that behind us, Catherine.’
‘I know, but I just want to say this. I didn’t make you very welcome, and I apologise for that. I was ill mannered and extremely rude. I let—no, I made you believe William and I were—well, you know…and I really shouldn’t have. It’s plagued me ever since, for I know that it was my fault that you went and married Martin Taverner—and because of that I am responsible for the dreadful chain of events that followed.’
‘I agree. It really was quite wrong of you to make me believe that you and William were back together,’ Eleanor said, speaking softly and without rancour. ‘But it is over now, so there is no point in resurrecting something that is painful to us both.’
‘I know, it’s just that I was terribly hurt when William went away, and when he came back and I was married to Henry, I didn’t want him to notice you, to look at you, as he had once looked at me. I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly, finally glancing across at her. ‘Things were intolerable for you at Fryston Hall, I knew that, and I carry a heavy burden of guilt at not defending you or supporting you when you most needed it. Can we be friends?’
‘Friends—and sisters,’ Eleanor said, smiling her forgiveness and reaching out her hand. Catherine took it in her own and tucked it in the crook of her arm.
‘Thank you. That means a lot to me. This is a new beginning for both of us, no matter what happens in the future, we will stay in touch. When we are apart we will write to each other.’
‘Yes, we will, and you must come to Staxton Hall to stay. Tell me about you and Godfrey, Catherine. I was most surprised when William told me how close you’ve become—lovers, in fact,’ she said, giving Catherine a knowing, approving look.
Catherine sighed and looked wistfully into the distance, a happy smile playing on her lips. ‘We became lovers almost immediately. Godfrey! I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He makes me feel so alive and reckless and I don’t care. For the first time in my life I have met someone I want to be with always, a man I want so much it makes me ache—someone who loves me for myself. He may not be from noble stock or fabulously rich—although I do believe he came back from the Americas with his own booty,’ she remarked laughingly, her eyes twinkling merrily, ‘but he will do for me.’
‘I doubt your father would have approved of him.’
‘I know that. We both know how my father liked to live in the style as grandiose as the royal Court itself, but he is dead and such things are beyond my consideration.’
‘How did his death affect you, Catherine? Were you saddened by it?’
Catherine’s lips curled in a bitter smile. ‘I can’t say that I was affected by it—more the manner of it. That he could hang himself surprised me, but I was not stricken by grief, if that’s what you are asking. As you know, he never behaved like a father to me. I had hoped for some degree of affection as I was growing up, but received none at his hands—which instilled an unforgivable bitterness in me. Love was a rare commodity when I was a child.’
‘I don’t think your father knew how to love.’
‘No. He surprised me when I married Henry, that lavish banquet and everything, but after that there was nothing. Your leaving didn’t help.’ She smiled. ‘He didn’t get over that—in fact, I would say it was the death of him.’
‘I hope not. I certainly didn’t intend it to be. I was merely looking out for myself.’
‘Of course you were and I don’t blame you, but things began going downhill after that. His business associates and fellow aldermen began to avoid him. No longer popular, he lost money—and his dream of ever becoming Lord Mayor of London crumbled to nothing. He must have been very disturbed to do what he did. But none of that matters to me anymore. I’m looking forward to a new and better life with Godfrey.’
Eleanor looked at her, glad that they were able to talk like friends at last. ‘I am surprised. There was a time when these things were as important to you as they were to your father.’
‘True, but Godfrey has taught me much—such as having understanding and consideration for others. Nothing matters as long as I have him and we are together. I have all I want.’
‘And will you marry him?’
‘I hope so, but for now we are happy as we are.’ Catherine glanced at her stepsister enquiringly. Since Eleanor had come to Chelsea, Catherine had noted how withdrawn she was. Clearly something preyed on her mind and she suspected that that something had much to do with William.
‘But what about you and William? I expect you will marry quite soon.’
Eleanor smiled and looked down at her swollen abdomen, feeling the child move vigorously—in fact, it was never still. ‘I think we’d better,’ she laughed, ‘otherwise this little one will be born illegitimate, and that would never do.’
‘But you do love William?’
‘Absolutely,’ she answered quietly, honestly. ‘He is my life. I’m—I’m just not sure…’
Catherine heard the catch in her voice and looked at her with concern. ‘What? If he loves you?’
‘Yes.’ Her face became expressionless and Catherine observed a deep sadness in her eyes. ‘He—he hasn’t said—and then he stayed away when I most needed him—when Martin was killed and I suffered so much. Why did he do it? If he loved me, he would have come to see me—wouldn’t he?’
‘Eleanor, he couldn’t. How could he when he was so ill?’
Eleanor came to an abrupt halt, her eyes suddenly alert. ‘Ill?’ A wave of anguish broke through her. Her face was carved into a pale mask and her amber eyes were huge and unblinking. There was a dreadful silence, then, ‘How ill? Catherine, what are you talking about?’
‘William contracted a fever, Eleanor—after going on board a ship where it had been rife for weeks, Godfrey told me. He was laid low for a long time. It was touch and go for a while and we really thought he might not recover. When he did get better, he couldn’t go to you for fear that you might become infected.’
Catherine’s words tore into her brain with a rending impact that fairly staggered her. ‘But why was I not told? It should not have been kept from me.’
‘It’s supposed to be a secret. He didn’t want to worry you, so he’s going to be very angry with me for telling you.’
‘Not half as angry as I will be when I speak to him.’
Her frenzied thoughts must have shown in her face, for Catherine looked at her worriedly.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Eleanor was incensed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me that a confrontation with William Marston won’t put right. Where is he, Catherine? I must see him.’
‘I believe he’s with Godfrey, preparing to leave shortly for Whitehall before dark. But don’t worry. He won’t go without seeing you.’
‘No, he will not. Excuse me Catherine. I have a few choice words to say to him that will not wait.’
Blind to everything but her intention to find William and give him a piece of her mind, she stormed into the stable. With her hands plunked on her hips, she paused to allow her eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. William and Godfrey were saddling their horses, William squatting down as he examined his mount’s hoof.
On seeing Eleanor in her angry stance, his long, lean, handsome body uncurled to its full height. Eleanor felt her heart contract with pain and tremors of it seemed to flow into every part of her body. The internal war between her heart and her mind escalated to tumultuous proportions as she absorbed the strength and the power of him. She loved this man so much, more than anything she had known, and without him she would wither and die, but she was not about to become distracted by that crooked, wicked smile he was giving her now that made her legs go weak.
‘Eleanor! I was just coming to find you.’
‘I’ve saved you the trouble.’
One brow raised in arrogant enquiry, William tightened the girth on his horse, looking not only casual but supremely unconcerned. ‘I’m about to leave for Whitehall. I want to be there before dark.’
‘This won’t take a moment.’
‘Hell’s teeth! What the devil’s happened?’
‘As if you didn’t know,’ she burst out furiously, and then, with a superhuman effort, she took control of her rampaging ire. Lifting her chin, she looked straight into his enigmatic silver-grey eyes, but he seemed unaffected as he casually rested his arms on his horse’s back and fixed his steady gaze on her face.
William waited for her to tell him why she was here in such a temper, noting a soft flush beneath the fine creamy smoothness of her skin. ‘May I ask the reason for this temper you are in?’ he asked unwisely when she failed to speak.
‘Temper? Temper, you say?’ she flared, feeling her control slide once more into fury. Moving to stand at the other side of his horse, she glowered at him across its back, before looking sideways at Godfrey. ‘Be so good as to leave us, Godfrey. There is something I have to say to your good friend that might offend your ears.’
Throwing his hands in the air and laughing deeply with outright amusement, shaking his head in bemusement, Godfrey left them alone.
‘So,’ she said scornfully when they were alone, giving him a haughty stare, ‘you have been ill, William—close to death’s door, I hear, and you wanted it kept from me. How could you? How could you do that? Am I or am I not to be your wife, the woman you are to share things with? Did you really think I wouldn’t want to know—that I didn’t want to know everything there is to know about you?’
‘You had enough troubles of your own to contend with at the time. I didn’t want to add to them. But if it’s any consolation, I felt a great deal of concern for you.’
‘Concern?’ His infuriating calm made Eleanor long to kick him in the shin. ‘Guilt more like. Guilt for getting me with child.’
He cocked an amused brow. ‘It does takes two.’
Eleanor’s amber eyes blazed at him across the horse’s back. ‘I do know that. In my foolish, gullible disbelief, I thought you wanted me—it was that same stupid streak of naïvety that led me to sacrifice my virginity and my pride to you. I let myself believe that you wanted me, that you loved me.’
‘I’m going to marry you, aren’t I?’ he drawled.
‘You proposed—no, of course you didn’t—you told me we were going to be married, not because you cannot live with me or you worship the ground I walk on, not because I make the blood sing in your veins when we are together. I now know you are doing it out of pity and guilt and responsibility—and, yes, obligation—and for a hundred other reasons, but not the one that matters to me.’
‘Which is?’ He was watching her closely.
‘That you love me—or would even want to marry me if it were not for the child.’
‘Really? Then it was very bad of me to put it like that. But when you told me you were pregnant, I had no doubt you would marry me.’
‘You didn’t have to doubt,’ she snarled. ‘You see, I am a complete and utter fool when it comes to you.’
Laughing lightly, William sauntered round the horse to stand in front of her, towering over her. ‘I expected you to be angry and upset when you found out about my illness, but I hadn’t expected it to begin with the angry aggression of a duel,’ he said, chuckling softly, seeming to be amused by her ire, which infuriated Eleanor even more. ‘I would have preferred sympathy and concern and enquiries as to how I am feeling now.’
‘Of all the arrogant, selfish beasts!’ she burst out angrily.
She was magnificent, even when she was being defiant, William thought, as he looked at her, wisps of hair caressing her cheek and the rest of it bouncing about as her head bobbed in her anger. Her lips were soft and sensuous, her eyes a clear and sparkling shade of deep amber, fringed by thick, black lashes. Courageous, proud, impertinent, adorable, beautiful in the undisguised fullness of impending motherhood—yes, she was all of these and he fully intended that she would be his. This delectable woman, whose stormy eyes were spitting fire, would be his wife, grace his house and bear his children, and pit her will against his whenever she saw fit.
‘Eleanor, you know how I feel about you.’
‘No, William, I don’t how you feel. That’s just it.’
‘Why? I’ve told you often enough.’
‘Really?’ she scoffed. ‘Then my ears must be going deaf, because I have failed to hear you.’
‘Eleanor, I want to look after you, take care of you and know that you are safe—in my home, as my wife and the mother of my
children. Dear Lord, you act as though I’d offered you some insult instead of an honourable proposal of marriage.’
‘Honourable?’ She gasped. ‘Why, your arrogance stupefies me—your stubborn belief that you are right, and that you only have to snap your fingers and I will do your bidding without murmur or complaint.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to marry me? You are to bear my child, don’t forget.’
‘How could I forget? Look at me. I’m as fat as a cow already and I’m only halfway through my pregnancy.’
William’s lips curled in a roguish grin and his eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘I’m very partial to cows.’
His propensity to make a joke of it only served to increase her ire. ‘That’s beside the point, William—and don’t be flippant. You decided, not me.’
Even as she continued to berate him, William’s mind and senses were bemused by the way the sunlight penetrated the wooden slats at the windows and tangled in her bright hair, streaking the copper and gold with silver light that gave it a halo affect. It curled vigorously over her shoulders, twisting and tumbling to her thickening waist.
Closing the distance between them, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and, tenderly cupping her chin in his hand, looked deep into her stormy eyes. His brows pulled together as an astonishing realisation struck him, for, despite her magnificent show of courage, Eleanor was apparently on the brink of tears.
‘Why are you behaving like this, Eleanor? I was ill and now I am well. Why are you cavilling over a trifle?’
‘Oh, you—you insensitive, insufferable, heartless man,’ she cried, pounding his chest with her fists in frustration. ‘I do not consider you being so ill that you almost expired a trifle,’ she said, wanting to close her eyes against the scalding tears that threatened, but keeping them open and looking at him through a bleary haze, aware of his closeness and feeling her weak woman’s body straining towards him. ‘When you didn’t come to Cantly Manor, I truly believed you didn’t care enough—for me, when all the time—you were… You might have been dying. How do you think that makes me feel? I could not have borne it if you had died.’
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