"About what?" Marcus glowered at her.
"About George Dart."
"Ahh." His fingers drummed thoughtfully on the table. "Yes, I would certainly be interested in that topic."
"Very well." She moved to the door. "If you would come with me..."
He rose. "But don't think to change the subject that easily, my love. You will lie beneath me again and you will do so for the rest of both our lives."
Mariah snorted. "You are quite shameless. I'm going to ignore it." She turned away, leading him into the hall and toward a door at the end. "This way."
The room they entered was large, lit by tall windows filling one wall and allowing the morning sunshine to filter through the trees. There were several large couches arranged comfortably on the worn rug and although it was clearly old and well-used, it was clean and tidy.
All but for one couch, where a pile of mussed blankets tumbled next to a woman who attempted to straighten her dress as they entered.
"Good morning, Nell." Mariah went to her immediately. "Are you all right?"
"I 'spect I shall be, Mrs. Dean."
Gently Mariah lifted a hand to the woman's chin and turned it to the light. "That's a nasty one, dear. But nothing broken by the looks of it."
Swollen and bruised, one side of Nell's face bore the clear imprint of a man's hand.
Nell sniffled. "Weren't his fault, ma'am. He were at the bottle again."
"I know, dear. I know."
Peg came in, bearing a tray and more tea. "Here's something to get you right as a trivet, Nell. Then we'll be having a nice chat and working this all out." She noticed Marcus. "Oh, excuse me, sir. Would you be wantin' something?"
"An explanation would be a good place to start."
Mariah wrinkled her nose at Nell. "Have a cup of Peg's tea, a bite to eat and then I'll be back. If anyone else is coming this morning, they'll probably be here soon. I have to go and take care of a certain gentlemen's curiosity."
"Is he—is he the authorities, Mrs. Dean? He's not gonna take George away, is he?" Nell shuddered and tried to back herself into the couch cushions.
"Of course not. He's just a friend, that's all. He'll be leaving soon anyway." Mariah ignored the irritated sound Marcus made at her words. "You just relax and tell the others I'll be with you all before too long."
She stepped back and nodded, smiling at Nell with confidence. "It'll be all right. Really."
Still flicking nervous glances at Marcus, Nell nodded back. "If you say so, ma'am."
Mariah moved to Marcus and grasped his arm, none too gently. "Come, sir. There's nothing to be done here for the moment. Let's go to the small parlor and we can talk before you head out on your journey."
"Very well." Marcus smiled at Nell. "You are in the best of hands, it would seem."
"Oh yes, sir." Nell unbent under the force of Marcus' smile. "Mrs. Dean is ever so good."
"Right. Come on, then." Mariah gripped Marcus even more firmly and all but dragged him behind her out of the room.
"Good grief, woman. I might need that arm at some point soon." Marcus sounded aggrieved as he stumbled a little. "Especially when I've got you—"
"Be quiet." Mariah hissed at him as she pulled him through a smaller door into what was obviously her own private parlor. "Do you want to advertise the fact that we've been...intimate?" It took her a moment to find the right word. "I would prefer we keep that between the two of us. It's private."
Marcus rubbed his arm as she released it and looked around him. "So's this." He deliberately snapped the lock tightly. "Come here."
"Why?" Mariah tried to ignore the slight flutter of something around her heart. Or possibly lower.
"Damn it, you are the most argumentative woman." He strode to her and seized her, pulling her slap into his chest and knocking her breath out of her lungs. "This is why."
His mouth descended on hers with hungry force, even as his arms enfolded her to keep her pressed tightly against him.
Oh, dear God in heaven. She was getting to like this.
Far too much.
Marcus found his brain shattering once again as he kissed Mariah. All his thoughts fled to somewhere else and his body took over, responding as before to the feel of her in his embrace, tucked hotly against him and kissing him back without reservation.
There was no artifice in this woman—what she enjoyed, she showed. Completely.
And clearly she enjoyed his kisses.
She melted into him like butter in the sunshine, a flowing of her curves along his chest, a sensuous slide of her arms up over his shoulders to his neck and his head. Her palms burned against his ears as she held his face and eagerly played her tongue to his.
One of his hands found her bottom and squeezed it roughly, forcing her hips hard against his groin and his needy cock, which could easily have thrust its way past his breeches, her skirt and into her without check.
He wanted her, desired her, trembled with the need to whisk her annoying gown out of the way and sink into her until he came, against her womb, with her shuddering and crying out around him.
Goddammit. Marcus crushed her so hard he felt her very bones shake in his grasp. She met his urgency with a low sound in her throat and parted her lips wider, devouring him in her turn, rubbing herself against him, surrendering totally to what lay between them.
A flash of fire ignited by the mere touch of their lips.
Then she tore herself away, holding him at arm's length, panting and staring at him. Her lips were reddened, her cheeks flushed and her eyelids heavy with desire.
Marcus had never seen a woman more beautiful than Mariah at that moment, in a simple gown, hair askew and with the sheen of his kisses still dewing her mouth. His heart lurched and it was with difficulty that he released her.
He swallowed. "Now we've got that out of the way, supposing we clear up the other details."
"What?" She blinked at him, the pulse in her throat fluttering wildly. "What other details?" Her eyes were still vague and gazing at him as she struggled to collect her wits.
Perhaps she could find his while she was about it. He'd certainly misplaced them. Somewhere between her legs, most probably. Marcus ruthlessly dredged his mind back into some kind of order.
"Tell me about that woman, Nell. What's she doing here?" He walked awkwardly away from her to the window and stared from it, seeing nothing but her face as it betrayed her desire for him. His cock ached painfully, but he knew he had to get to the bottom of things before he got—well, to her bottom.
Grimacing at his own terrible pun, he waited.
Behind him there was a rustle of her skirts and then she was beside him, staring in turn at the fields and hills stretching beyond the farmhouse. There were ragged pockets of trees, bent slightly against the wind from the ocean. Even this far inland, there was no question that the sea held sway, rough clouds scudding through the sky and birds wheeling high overhead.
Mariah began hesitantly. "It might sound strange to you."
Given his recent experiences with life, death and creatures of darkness, Marcus wanted to laugh. He didn't, though, contenting himself with a simple response. "Try me."
"Very well." Mariah squared her shoulders. "For hundreds of years, this particular area was sacred ground." She glanced at him. "I'm not sure if you understand what that means to country folk."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Of course I do."
"Good." She nodded and turned back to her contemplation of the scenery outside. "There was once some kind of holy place here, stones or something. There's lots of them in Hampshire and the surrounding counties. Anyway, to simplify matters, this place—and now this farm—is a sanctuary. A place for anyone who is injured or in trouble to come and receive..." Her voice tailed off for a moment or two. "Well, I suppose they receive whatever they need really."
"Money?"
Mariah huffed. "Good grief. Not everything can be solved by the deliverance of a few coins, you know."
Marcus'
lips twisted. "In my experience it can, but that's neither here nor there. Go on."
"When I arrived here as a new bride, I found my husband had let that whole myth slide into obscurity. Along with quite a few other things."
Marcus couldn't miss the edge to her voice, but was loath to interrupt her narrative. There would be time to explore that edge later.
"Anyway," she recalled herself almost immediately, "I started to find that people were coming by, visiting, sort of checking me out. And when I learned of the legend associated with the farm, it got me thinking."
"Thinking that you could reestablish the sanctuary?"
"It was my chance to help. Especially to help women in their time of need." She sighed. "More often than not, it was simply a case of listening, Marcus. Just being there when they needed someone to talk to. Bringing several women together for an hour or two, letting them find solace and share their burdens. They're not looking for a handout or a guinea. They're looking for fellowship, for a chance to open up about their worries and frustrations to others who can truly understand."
Marcus nodded. "Makes sense."
"So many of these women are strong, committed to their families and work like dogs to hold everything together. They've had to, with their men at war. There's little in the way of joy or pleasure for them, other than knowing their children are surviving against sometimes terrible odds."
"And now?"
"With the end of the war and the return of the soldiers, another, less pleasant issue began to raise its head." Mariah's mouth hardened. "We began to see one or two women bearing evidence of their husband's tempers."
"Like Nell this morning."
Mariah nodded. "Like Nell. And worse on occasion." Her eyes were unreadable. "I cannot tolerate violence against women. It-it disturbs me greatly. The helplessness one feels when confronted by a greater force, a greater strength. The agony of knowing that the one person who should be the most reliable and trustworthy turns out to be the one person who—"
She bit off the words and shrugged a little. "No matter. I think you can understand what we are trying to do here."
Marcus stared at her. There was so much more he sensed that remained unspoken.
"I'm happy to say that these instances are diminishing. As more men find work and are able to recover their sense of family, of worth, less are abusive to their wives. It's a good thing." She turned and flashed him a quick smile. "If I could close the inn, I'd probably eliminate it all together. But men will be men and a few tankards of ale still inflame one or two of them."
Marcus choked down the thousand or so questions he wanted to ask, merely smiling back at her. There was time. He'd make sure there was time. "Good point."
"So, as you can see," Mariah shifted her head and moved away from the window, "I have reinitiated the concept of a sanctuary, opened that room for anyone who wants to come and stay in it and even set aside a little time each week or so for women to simply gather and chat." She cleared her throat. "Er...all kinds of women."
Marcus pounced on that, lured by her expression and her curious words. "What do you mean all kinds of women?"
"Just that. All kinds of women." She refused to meet his gaze, fussing with her skirts and anything else she could lay her hands on.
"Mariah?" Marcus gripped her wrist firmly and made her look at him. "What kinds of women?"
Her chin jerked up. "I do not believe in judging people by what they do, Marcus. Know that right now. If you treat me well, I shall do the same to you." She eased her arm from his grasp. "You're not a fool. You must know that not all the women in this area are wives and mothers. And you must also know, or at least have an inkling about, women sharing confidences. So when a woman comes to this door for an hour's rest and conversation, we don't ask what she does. Nor do we make decisions on whether she's welcome or not."
Marcus blinked. "Whores?"
Mariah snapped straight. "We do not use that word in this house, Sir Marcus."
Marcus acknowledged the rebuke with a nod. "My apologies." He kept his gaze on her face, noting the emotions that raced across it. "But I would be correct in assuming that women—of dubious virtue, shall we say—attend your weekly...meetings?"
Mariah stared him in the eye. "All women are welcomed here. We are fundamentally the same. Sisters, if you wish. Whatever we do, or are forced to do by circumstance and the need to survive—that's left at the door."
Marcus couldn't help a quick grin from quirking his lips, hard though he tried to suppress it. "I'd love to be a fly on the wall for some of these meetings."
Mariah blushed and looked quickly away. "Yes, well. I can't lie to you and say it's all about children and crops."
"Some talk of men, perhaps?"
"Perhaps." The color deepened in Mariah's cheeks.
"Some talk of pleasure? Of ways to share and satisfy that desire for ecstasy in bed?"
She snorted. "Oh please. Don't be such a man about this." Her quick temper flared. Unwisely as it turned out. "One of the first things I learned was that men are not necessary for pleasure."
Mariah's eyes widened as she realized what she'd blurted out and a hand quickly lifted to clap across her mouth. "Oh dear." She mumbled the words and hurriedly turned her back on him.
Marcus, whose cock had stiffened into immediate life at the mere idea of his Mariah taking her pleasure by herself, let alone the consequent mental images, managed a painful chuckle.
"True, my love. Someday you must show me what you've learned."
"Hah. When pigs fly." She growled the words. "Never mind all that." Her shoulders moved as she sucked in a breath and regained her equilibrium. "The only thing you need to know is that this place is a safe environment for those who need it. A meeting place for like-minded women to come and leave their worries behind them for an hour or so."
Taking pity on her embarrassment, Marcus nodded. "I understand. It's a good thing you're doing here, Mariah."
She risked a quick look at him. "I think so." Her eyes roamed over his face. "I'll admit I'm surprised to hear you say it, though."
"Why?" Unable to resist the temptation, Marcus reached out and twirled a coil of her hair between his fingers.
"In my experience, men cannot understand that women sometimes don't need them. At all. For anything."
"Then you've met the wrong men, darling." His hand moved to her neck and gripped it softly, stroking the silky skin. "Any man worth his salt knows that women are strange and mysterious creatures, sent to tempt us into madness and smile all the way there. Why should we question their need to enjoy time with each other?"
Mariah's eyelids drooped as she leaned into his caress. "You are a strange man."
"Am I?" Marcus was fast losing track of the conversation as her fragrance hammered its way back into his nostrils and the feel of her skin against his fingers lured his brain into other, more decadent, trains of thought. "In what way?"
"You-you—" She sighed and tilted her head, giving him greater access to the tender flesh. "You touch me in ways I don't understand."
"Like this?" Seductively, he just brushed his lips against her neck.
"Oh yes..."
"Or this?" His teeth nipped delicately at the base, nuzzling in to where the curve of her shoulder began.
"I shouldn't—"
"Yes, you should. You should take pleasure from this, just as I do." Marcus let his hands roam over her body, pliant and surrendering to his caresses.
"I don't understand what you do to me." It was a whisper, a question and a little cry of need all rolled into one complex sentence. "I don't understand why all I can think of is being with you, desiring you. It's—not—not what I'm accustomed to."
"It's fate, sweetheart. Destiny. Call it what you will, but it's there between us, like a fire waiting to be stirred back to life."
She turned, leaning her back against him from buttock to shoulders, sighing as his palms cupped her breasts tenderly. And she moaned a little as his fingers found he
r nipples through the cloth of her dress and began to arouse them.
"This isn't me." She swallowed roughly. "I'm not a woman with such needs."
Marcus smiled against her hair. "Your body is telling me otherwise. Don't lie to yourself, Mariah. You're a sensual woman with all the normal passions every woman possesses."
"I never knew it could be like this." Her breasts seemed to swell into his hands as she spoke. "Never understood...never guessed...all these years..."
"We have a lifetime to explore each other, love. A whole lifetime together." Marcus tightened his grasp, as if by doing so he could secure her to his heart.
She jerked in his embrace and hurriedly stepped away. "Nonsense."
Marcus stared at her, cock hard, body aching. "What?"
"Enough of this silliness. You will be gone soon. Today, probably. I'm sure you have business elsewhere." Mariah pushed crossly at her hair, tidying it back into place. "Now I have things to do. You probably should feed your horse or something. Peg will pack you some supplies for your journey."
She finally met his gaze, expression bland. "It's been a wonderful experience, Marcus, being with you this way. And I thank you for it. But we both know it must end. And the sooner the better, I'm thinking." She spun and headed for the door, her skirts swirling and her spine stiff. "You are Sir Marcus Camberley, with a name and a title and—I'm sure—many responsibilities. It's time you resumed them."
She wrenched the door open after a few moments of struggling with the lock. "I am a simple countrywoman with matters to attend to. Best we go our separate ways now. Again, thank you for—er—everything."
And she was gone, leaving Marcus with his mouth agape, his cock hard and empty hands that only seconds ago had held his woman's breasts so snugly.
His woman.
Marcus grinned, knowing his face probably showed more savage desire than humor at that moment.
It would seem he had a battle ahead of him to secure Mariah as his bride. He found himself eagerly anticipating it. The resultant prize would be all the sweeter for the fight that lay ahead.
Of one thing he was certain.
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