by Rose Gordon
Regina stared at him as if he were cracked.
Cringing at the awkward feeling of mud squishing between his toes, he said, “As I'm sure you've noticed by now, words have a way of tumbling right out of my mouth.”
“Yes, I've noticed.”
“And you like it, too, don't you?”
She offered him a wobbly smile. “Perhaps.” Her right shoulder went up in a shrug. “It's so much different from what I'm accustomed to, I suppose.”
“Good. I'm glad you like it. I do, too. In fact, my favorite thing to do is scandalize you whenever possible.”
“You're the kind who would,” she said, shaking her head.
“Of course, I would. It makes your cheeks turn a ravishing shade of pink.”
Regina snarled in the most comical way he'd ever seen, only adding to his amusement. “All right, what secret is Lord Watson keeping that makes him feel he might perish if he doesn't reveal it soon?”
He dropped his boots to the ground. “First, I must ask you another question.”
“Which is?”
“How adventurous are you feeling?”
~Chapter Twenty-Four~
Regina honestly had no idea how much more adventure she could handle. Her hair had fallen and was becoming more tangled as the minutes passed. Her long gown was still wet, cold, and heavy, making keeping pace with Edward a struggle. Had she been alone, that dress would have been abandoned no less than an hour ago, her modesty only stretched so far. And then, there were her feet. Between her stiff slippers and the rocks and twigs that littered the ground, they hurt more than anything else. It would forever remain a mystery to her how Edward had been able to walk barefooted all this way.
“Uh, do I have a choice?”
He shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry, but given that the sun has begun to set and we're just now to the Y in the creek, I don't think we have any other option than to stay out here tonight and continue walking back tomorrow. We must have been further out than I thought or talked too long on the shore.”
“I think you've just earned yourself another helping of gruel,” she muttered. “I know it's not that. I was walking too slowly.”
“Just as well,” he said with a shrug. “We wouldn't have made it before dark, anyway. At least here, we'll have shelter.”
“Shelter?”
He moved to the other side of her and pointed through the trees. “Over there; my brothers and I built a fortress.”
“A fortress?” she asked with a slight laugh.
He scooped up his boots and led her in the direction of his second home at Watson Estate. “Well, fortress might be a bit ambitious,” he admitted when it came into view. “But, to us boys, that's exactly what it was, a place of refuge.”
“When your parents were quarreling?” She followed him to the little shelter built of rope and boards strategically placed around a knot of trees and berry bushes.
Edward stepped aside to let her go in first. “Exactly. It was either here or the conservatory.”
“But you like the conservatory,” she murmured, taking in her surroundings. It wasn't much larger than the boat they'd been in earlier, and it was possible to see out through the breaks in the bushes. But for a brood of young boys to have built this, it was quite good.
“I like the conservatory now,” he said, coming to sit beside her. “But until Timothy died, I liked being out here better.”
“Who is Timothy?” she asked, to distract herself from Edward's closeness.
“One of my other brothers.” The sadness in his voice unmistakable.
“Oh, Edward, I'm sorry, I didn't mean...”
“It's all right.” He turned away from Regina and started digging through a pile of debris on the other side of him. “As you might guess by our age difference, John is the youngest,” Edward said, his voice unusually serious, quiet. “Timothy was two years older than John and died six months after Mother. He had a high fever that I tried to control by growing certain plants I'd heard had properties to reduce fevers. A year older than him was Simon. He died three years ago when he was bucked off a horse he was riding and broke his neck.”
Regina's heart clenched for her husband. Other than her mother's death when she was too young to understand it, she hadn't lost anyone she loved. Edward had lost so many. She didn't know why he was telling her this, but she was glad he was. She'd wanted to know about his family but had been fearful to ask.
“I have two other brothers,” he continued. Though she couldn't see his face for confirmation, the tone of his voice told her enough; the subject of family, particularly his brothers, was painful for him. “Jarred and Thomas. Both left a month before Father died to go to America and fight against the rebellion. I sent word to their commanding officer about Father’s death but never heard anything back.”
The unspoken possibility that they, too, might be dead, hung in the air between them.
“I'll be right back,” he said, crawling out of the shelter and leaving her behind.
Alone, she kicked her slippers off and reached down to rub her aching feet. She flinched at her own touch. Unless there was a miracle performed tonight, she'd never be able to walk back to Watson Estate tomorrow.
A few minutes later, Edward came back into view, carrying two thick logs under each arm. He placed the first one down so it was standing straight up on top of a short stump then took the axe he'd left with and brought it down, splitting the log. Systematically, he did the same with the other logs, never once stopping in his work.
When he was done, he set down his axe and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow with his forearm. His breathing heavier than normal, but not labored, he bent down and pushed a small pile of dead leaves and twigs together. Satisfied, he retrieved a little block of flint and a knife from the log near where he'd laid his axe. Holding the bar of flint next to the little pile, he scratched the knife against the flint, creating a spark with each scratch.
A spark hit his pile of kindling and caught. He dropped his knife and leaned lower, blowing on the little embers until they became a small, but strong flame.
A surge of pride for her husband shot through Regina as he moved other twigs closer to the flame to give the fire more strength. He then reached over, grabbed three pieces of cut wood, and built a triangular pyramid around the fire.
He watched it for a minute, presumably to make sure his logs would catch, then stood and dusted off his breeches. He bent down and picked up the knife and flint and put them back on the log, exchanging them for a small coil of rope.
No wonder he enjoyed being out here so much. It suited him.
“Regina,” he called, bracing his hand on a tree and coming to stand on a fallen log. He reached up as high as he could reach and tied one end of the rope in his hand around a branch where it met the tree trunk.
She climbed out of the shelter. “Yes?”
He jumped off the log he'd been on and walked over to stand on a nearby rock. He climbed onto the rock and started to tie the other end of the rope around another branch. “Is your gown still wet?”
She frowned at him. “You know that it is. It's made of enough fabric to re-cover all the furniture presently in the drawing room at Watson Townhouse.” That wouldn't be true in a few days though when all the new furniture would be delivered. She just prayed—
“I know,” he said with a grunt. “I just wanted to make sure you were out here where I could see you.”
“What does that matter?” Heat crept up her face before he could even put words to the thoughts they must both be sharing: he was about to suggest she remove her gown and hang it over the line to dry. “Don't even say it,” she warned with a laugh.
He jumped down off the rock, grinning. “I didn't even have to; you've already given me the reaction I wanted.” He placed his hands on either side of her flaming face and brushed his thum
bs across her cheeks. “I know better than to expect that particular suggestion to be met with desirable results. I actually thought to invite you to sit by the fire while I go check the traps I set earlier.”
“Oh.” She wouldn't have been more surprised by his words if he had asked her to remove her gown.
He helped her find a comfortable seat on a fallen log, then walked over to the rope he'd hung, and, in one swift motion, pulled his shirt over his head then tossed it over the line. “I'll be back in about ten minutes.”
Regina spread her skirt out the best she could. Between all the yards of red fabric that made up the exterior of the skirt and the layers of petticoats underneath, it would take a week to dry if she continued to wear it. But, taking her gown off in front of Edward wasn't a possibility. He'd think she was a trollop!
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree behind her. The fire felt good on her stockinged feet, warming them. The weather was warm enough so she wouldn't catch the ague, but it was still hard to be comfortable in her damp gown. No sense dwelling on it, she told herself as she extended her hands toward the fire.
A twig snapped behind her, startling her.
“It's just me,” Edward murmured. In his hand, he carried a small brown cloth sack. “I caught dinner.”
“Already?”
He sat down on the long log across the fire from her. Even with the sun almost faded from the sky and only the low glow of the fire, she could see every contour of his broad chest. She tore her gaze away.
“Do you like rabbit?”
Regina gulped. “In stew.”
He started to open the bag he'd set down in front of him. “How about—Are you all right? You look like you're about to swoon.”
“Is there a rabbit in there?” She expected him to make a jest by peering into the bag then telling her he believed so. But he surprised her when he moved the bag out of her sight.
“How about if I see if I can catch a few fish?”
“I'm sorry. I just don't think I can eat that.” Let alone watch him skin and cook it.
He stood. “There's no need to apologize. I should have given that more thought before I acted.” He stepped over the log he'd been sitting on and went into the shelter, returning with a little box. Wordlessly, he sat down and opened the box. By the light of the fire, he found what he was looking for. “I'll be back in a few minutes.” He glanced up at the moon that was now showering them with light and then walked down to the creek.
Regina leaned her head against the tree again. She was such a ninny. Now Edward would never want to take her on another adventure. At least, he hadn't voiced his irritation with her as Father would have done. How different the two of them were. Father hated it when she attempted to jest. Edward didn't seem to mind. In fact, he encouraged it. Everything Father said or did was to charm his way into circles in which he wasn't wanted. Edward didn't give a hang what the ton thought of him. While he didn't neglect his duties as baron, he didn't neglect his family in favor of them, either.
Her chest constricted. That was the biggest difference between the two. The difference that drew her to Edward and made her love him all the more: his sense of family duty included multiple trips to Eton to salvage his young brother's reputation and education; it also included taking his five younger brothers on an overnight adventure in the woods to get them away from their parents' arguing. And then, there was his friendship with Lord Sinclair.
While Lady Sinclair was not among one of Regina's favorite people, she admired the way Edward had remained an “always friend” to Lord Sinclair. Never once had he been cruel in his discussion of the man; frank, perhaps, but not cruel. And, he was always quick to take up Lord Sinclair's defense or explain his actions and how they helped Lord Sinclair to understand his duty.
What an admirable man she'd married.
What was there that was admirable about her father? He had money? That wasn't admirable, especially when he used it only to benefit himself. It was sickening.
“I hope you don't mind brown trout,” Edward said, banishing all thoughts of her father.
She smiled up at him. “I think I'll manage.”
~Chapter Twenty-Five~
A coil of desire twisted in Edward's gut. How did she not know what she did to him?
The rabbit was not a good idea, but the way she smiled at him when he'd come back to the fire holding the fish made him feel as if he were some Crusader who'd just returned from war alive.
He tried not to stare at her, but her sitting position with her skirt spread like a giant fan around her, her brown hair slipping from its pins, and her relaxed face as she leaned her head against the tree was so seductive, he couldn't help himself.
He took his eyes off her just long enough to skewer the fish he'd caught. He held them over the fire, but not too close—he didn't wish to burn their only source of dinner.
“Here,” he said, handing one of the fish to Regina when it was done.
“Thank you.”
In the morning, he'd be able to catch more fish or pick berries for them before they walked home. Likely, she'd never wish to go on another adventure with him after this one. Even so, this one had been well worth it. Even for as uncomfortable as it was to walk in soaked breeches with splintered feet, he'd enjoyed the second part of their adventure far better than the first; and if he could relive it all over again, he'd have done everything the same.
“I think I'll retire,” Regina said after she'd finished her trout.
Edward stood and helped her to her unsteady feet. “Would you like to sleep in my shirt?” As soon as the words were out, he wished he could swallow them again. But he couldn't, they'd already been spoken.
“Will you think less of me if I do?” Her words barely more than an uneven whisper.
“Why would you think that?” She tried to pull free, but he wouldn't let her. “Regina, why would I think less of you?”
“Because I won't be—” she waved her hand through the air— “completely covered.”
“You mean because you won't be wearing enough fabric to clothe the both of us while in my presence?”
She nodded.
“No, Regina.” Still supporting her with his left arm, he reached his right arm around to her back and undid the first button on her gown. Then the second. The more he undid, the more she relaxed in his hold. “I thought I suggested you not wear stays,” he murmured against her ear when he'd released the last button and ran his hand along her back only to find another row of laces.
“You said paniers. There's a difference.”
He loosed the top knot. “Which is?”
“When you said paniers, I thought you meant one of my gowns that requires iron hoop stays. I didn't realize you meant I couldn't wear stays at all. Not that it'd matter. I don't have a single gown I could wear without stays.”
He tugged another knot loose. How fortunate he was to be born a man. When he'd freed the last knot, he separated the fabric, noting how the chemise she wore under her gown was wet like he'd thought it might be when he offered her his shirt.
Edward stepped behind her, placing one hand just inside each of her capped sleeves. Slowly, he began peeling her sodden gown from her clammy body. Nervous excitement, similar to how he'd felt on their wedding night, coursed through him. He'd never undressed a lady before. His lips longed to kiss the slope of her neck. His fingers wanted to touch her bare flesh and explore her everywhere.
He took a deep breath through his nose, but the scent of her hair so close only excited him more. He swallowed. He had to control himself. She'd come so far since those first few nights he'd visited her after she'd learned the truth. If he went too fast, he'd shatter all the trust he'd built between them.
His hands stilled. When had he come to care so much what someone else thought about him? Normally, he did or said whatever he wa
nted, heedless of anyone's opinion of him. Why was it different with Regina?
A shiver racked Regina's body, reminding him of his task. “Almost there.”
She shivered again.
He moved the top of her gown down past her waist and released his grip, letting it fall into a large pool at her feet. The glow of the fire in front of Regina illuminated her form under her damp chemise. Blood pounded in his ears.
Too excited at the sight of her to trust his voice not to betray him, he slipped away and went to the rope he'd hung to dry their clothes. He pulled his shirt down. Good, it was dry. He carried it to her.
“If you'll step out of your gown, I'll go hang it up while you change into this.”
Trembling, whether from cold or nerves, he didn't know, Regina stepped out of the puddle of fabric that surrounded her feet and took the shirt from him.
Trying his damnedest not to peek at her again now that he could see the front of her, he swooped up her discarded clothes and took them over to the rope.
He'd just finished throwing her stays over the line when Regina came up to him and shoved her balled up chemise against his bare chest, walking off as soon as he touched the fabric.
He frowned. “Regina?” He turned in time to see her dashing toward the shelter as fast as her stockinged legs could carry her, the bottom of his shirt barely covering her bare derriere. He tossed her chemise over the rope and started after her. “Regina.”
“Urp.” She misstepped and almost fell to the ground.
His hands landed on her shoulders to stay her. “Are you hurt?”
“N—”
“Remember, you're only allowed one falsehood per year. You wouldn't want to waste it on something so trivial, would you?”
She sighed. “It's my feet. They started to hurt when we were walking. So I took off my slippers while you were out chopping wood for the fire. But they hurt too much when I tried to put them back on, so I left them off. And now, I seem to have stepped on something sharp.”