The Renegade Wife

by Warfield, Caroline

  “Every bit as beautiful as I dreamed,” he said. She hesitated then, uncertain.

  He opened his arms. “Arise my beloved, my beautiful one and come . . .”

  She knelt on the bed and straddled him. Her black hair fell forward, sheltering her face and flowing down to tickle his chest. “How can I resist a man who quotes scripture naked?” she asked with a smile and leaned forward to kiss softly, then with heat, and finally entering his mouth to taste deeply. He felt her breasts against his chest and lost himself in her passion, knowing from the moans deep inside her that she rode the same wave.

  She rolled to her back in the end and pulled him over to cover her. “Now,” she demanded, and he obeyed. He slid into her moist heat and knew that, in every way that mattered, he had come home.

  When they descended from their shattering height, her body melted against him. He stared at the ceiling of his boyhood home and considered the irony.

  “What are you thinking?” Meggy whispered. He hesitated to tell her.

  Too soon? He wondered. She deserves the truth, though. “I’m thinking about home,” he said.

  “Isn’t this your home?” she asked.

  He leaned over and kissed her deeply, drawing her body closer. “Oh yes,” he said against her mouth and kissed her again. “Home.”

  “Will you want to live here when we’re married?” she asked.

  Joy bubbled up from his depths. He didn’t have to ask. Didn’t have to worry about “soon.” He couldn’t resist teasing, however. “Married? Are you proposing?”

  She ducked her head against his chest and gave him a half-hearted punch.

  He put two fingers under her chin and pulled her head up gently so he could gaze into her eyes. “If you’ll marry me, I will live wherever you choose. Home will always be you, Meggy—you, the children, and God willing, however many more we have.”

  Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with moisture.

  “Dear God, Meggy, please tell me I didn’t make you cry,” he begged.

  “Only joyful tears, my beloved one, only joy. But Rand? Would you mind if we went back?”

  “To Canada? Of course not. We were happy there, weren’t we? Before the trouble started?”

  She nodded.

  “Home it is then, Meggy my love. Home it is,” he whispered, and he kissed her again as if he never intended to stop.

  It took a month of laughter and excitement, joys and bedlam, but in that time the banns were called, barriers of religious differences overcome, flowers arranged, breakfast planned, and family gathered. Catherine dragged a reluctant Meggy to London for bride clothes, leaving Rand at the mercy of Will and Charles who distracted him with endless card games, often involving the children, and long rides across his land—Meggy’s land—and his cousin’s.

  The women returned to join in the festivities, bringing the Duke of Sudbury with his Lily and expanding brood, and a note of regret from the Mallets, Andrew being still too ill to travel. Will’s sisters followed in a parade of carriages. The resulting confusion made it easier for Rand and Meggy to slip away afternoons to “check on the cottage” and return smug and satisfied hours later. They roamed through each day in each other’s shadow, hands reaching out to touch, lungs taking in the same air, drawing amused looks from the elders.

  The month passed, and Rand found himself perfectly calm when he led Drew into the sacristy of the little church in Wheatton village with Charles and Will close behind. Drew pulled away to wave to Toby and Jonny who were trussed in dress suits like the one he wore and waving back from their place in the pews. He had been disappointed to hear they planned to return to Canada but mollified he could come back for school with Toby in a few years.

  “Aren’t you the slightest bit nervous?” Charles asked Rand.

  “No,” he replied. “Why should I be?” The rightness of it wrapped around him and so did a sense of wonder. He shut the door and reached out to put a hand on Drew’s head, but Drew pulled away, tugging on his cravat. In a short while, in every way that mattered, he would be the boy’s father.

  “It won’t be long now,” Rand told him.

  “May I take this off after church?” the boy asked.

  Will chuckled at that. “He sounds like you, Randy.”

  Rand glared at the childish nickname but couldn’t pretend irritation for long. “So he does. I’ll tell you what my sister used to tell me,” he said to Drew. “Behave perfectly, and you may remove it after the wedding breakfast.”

  The door opened, and Sudbury poked his head in. “Ah, there he is. Your mother needs you, Drew,” he said.

  The boy gazed up at Rand. “The women must be done fussing,” he said. “See you in a minute.” Drew followed the duke out.

  An organ chord alerted them, and Will clapped Rand on the shoulder. “Ready?” Charles opened the door to the nave. They trooped out to stand before the altar, Rand first with Charles and Will at his side to lend support. He felt a fleeting wish his brother wasn’t so far away, but it fled quickly.

  Lena paused at the head of the aisle, taking in the sight before she began to walk toward him, grinning and dropping petals along the way. Mary followed her and then Catherine.

  His breath caught when Meggy entered the church on her son’s arm.

  “I wonder where he found all that dignity?” Charles whispered in his ear, but Rand didn’t notice. His eyes fixed on the bride who wore a gown of copper-colored lace, some exotic shade Rand had never seen, one that complemented her skin and eyes perfectly. Camellias the color of peaches formed a coronet in her black hair, and he had to swallow twice. His eyes never left her, even when she reached the front.

  The vicar cleared his throat and asked the traditional question. “Who gives this woman to be married?” Drew craned his neck until he found his sister standing next to Mary and Catherine. He looked the vicar straight in the eye and said, “My sister and I do, sir. She’s our mother, and Rand is going to be our papa.”

  A chuckle rippled through the little church, and more than one person wiped tears away when Drew gave his mother’s hand to Rand. He started to turn away, but Rand reached out a hand and pulled him close.

  They stood at the altar, Meggy’s arm on Rand’s sleeve, his other arm around Drew. Lena came and ducked under Rand’s arm as well. The vicar hesitated as if he might object, but something in Rand’s expression changed his mind. He smiled down at the children and began the ceremony that would make them a family.

  Rand remembered none of it except the instructions at the end. He needed both arms for that part. He pulled Meggy to him and kissed his bride. He smiled against her lips and kissed her again to laughter and applause. Then he turned, grasping her hand, and walked toward the sun streaming in from the door with their children following. “Home at last,” he said to anyone who cared to listen. “Home at last.”

  Epilogue

  Silence settled over Eversham Hall deep into the night. The bride and groom left for their cottage while the sun still shown, but the celebration had gone on, more raucous than ever with the adults’ minds on the ancient rites taking place at Songbird and the children running free. Now the last child had been tucked into bed, the last cake crumb sprinkled across the carpet, and the last champagne flute emptied. The guests had wandered home or up to guest rooms in twos and threes. Catherine had been dispatched before she nodded off in the parlor with the promise that her husband would follow in due time.

  Will propped his feet up in Charles’s library and sighed the sigh of a contented man.

  “I thought we’d never get those two sorted,” he said when Charles handed him a whisky.

  “I had more faith,” his nephew replied, taking a seat across from him.

  “You’re relieved, though,” Will said with a shrewd look.

  “That he’s finally
happy? After what Julia did to him? Hell yes.” Charles downed his drink in one swallow and reached for the bottle.

  “No negative thoughts tonight,” Will cautioned, sipping his slowly.

  “Good idea,” Sudbury muttered from the shadows.

  “I thought you were asleep.” Will said in his direction.

  A snore was the only reply. “He is now,” Charles laughed.

  Laughter heals, Will thought. Charles needs more of it. Sorting his problems out will take more time.

  The two men drank quietly for a spell, each lost in thought.

  “It would have been good to have Fred here, though,” Charles said at last.

  “Indeed,” Will responded. Perhaps he should get Fred sorted next. It might be easier. He raised his glass to the Almighty. “To Life,” he said, and Charles echoed, “To life!”

  Author’s Note

  I hope you have enjoyed Meggy and Rand’s story. Meggy went through more than any of my previous heroines in the pursuit of her happily ever after, but the more she revealed herself to me while writing, the more I admired her strength. Her world is very close to the world my grandparents came from. Perhaps that’s why I had a particular affinity for her.

  You may wonder about Jonny’s illness. What his physician called a deficiency of the heart, we now call aortic stenosis. It is a condition involving a constriction of the aorta and, often, malformation of the aortic valve that restricts blood flow from the heart to the body resulting in heart failure in severe cases such as Jonny’s. Surgical techniques for correcting the problem did not exist until the early 1960s, but surgery can now be performed on very small children, something for which my own family has reason to be grateful.

  I began my research for this story by asking questions about Canada in the 1830s and requesting everything my countywide public library system owned on the subject. A librarian at the East Cheltenham Free Library suggested I explore the building of the Rideau Canal and the land around it. What I found when I did gave me my setting, the Rideau River watershed. I pushed Rand’s cabin above Perth, well up the Tay, which flows into the Rideau.

  The Rideau Canal was originally conceived as a military solution. The army wanted a secure supply route from Kingston on Lake Ontario and Montreal, one easier to defend than the St. Lawrence route with those pesky Americans on the other side. It came to light after the War of 1812 that the Americans had, in fact, been planning to cut off access to the St. Lawrence. As such things do, the building of the canal took a decade to get under way and several more years to complete. Construction began in 1826 and ended in 1832, just before The Renegade Wife opens. By that time, its military importance had greatly diminished.

  The construction brought thousands of workers, the bulk of them Irish and French Canadian into Upper Canada—present-day Ontario. While the finished canal with its twenty-three locks is an engineering marvel, the actual building of it was long, difficult, and largely accomplished with manual labor. It is estimated that over a thousand people died of malaria alone during the construction. The corps of engineers created Bytown where the Rideau meets the Ottawa as a settlement for workers. It grew quickly and eventually became the capital of Canada, renamed Ottawa.

  The canal may have begun as a military necessity, but it soon became a commercial success and a pipeline for settlement of that part of Canada. It is now a World Heritage Site and a recreation area, and certainly worth a visit, particularly for the massive eight-lock flight at Ottawa where it flows next to the Canadian Parliament buildings into the Ottawa River.

  I am always happy to hear from readers. You can reach me in a variety of ways, listed below.

  Thank you for reading my books,

  Caroline Warfield

  Web http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

  Facebook https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7

  Twitter @CaroWarfield

  Email warfieldcaro@gmail.com

  Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/

  Good Reads http://bit.ly/1C5blTm

  Also from Soul Mate Publishing and Caroline Warfield:

  DANGEROUS WORKS

  A little Greek is one thing; the art of love is another. Only one man has ever tried to teach Lady Georgiana Hayden both. She learned very young to keep her heart safe. She learned to keep loneliness at bay through work. If it takes a scandalous affair to teach her what she needs to complete her work, she will risk it. If the man in question chooses not to teach her, she will use any means at her disposal to change his mind. She is determined to give voice to the ancient women whose poetry has long been neglected.

  Some scars cut deeper than others. Major Andrew Mallet returns to Cambridge a battle-scarred hero. He dared to love Georgiana once and suffered swift retribution from her powerful family. The encounter cost him eleven years of his life. Determined to avoid her, he seeks work to heal his soul and make his scholarly father proud. The work she offers risks his career, his peace of mind, and (worst of all) his heart. Can he protect himself from a woman who almost destroyed him? Does he want to?

  Even poetry is dangerous when you partner with the love of your life. In Regency, Cambridge, it can lead a lady quickly past improper to positively scandalous.

  Available now on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/zxvyw5k

  DANGEROUS SECRETS

  When a little brown wren of an Englishwoman bursts into Jamie Heyworth's private Hell and asks for help he mistakes her for the black crow of death. Why not? He fled to Rome and sits in despair with nothing left to sell and no reason to get up in the morning. Behind him lie disgrace, shame, and secrets he is desperate to keep.

  Nora Haley comes to Rome at the bidding of her dying brother who has an unexpected legacy. Never in her sunniest dreams did Nora expect Robert to leave her a treasure, a tiny black-eyed niece with curly hair and warm hugs. Nora will do anything to keep her, even hire a shabby, drunken major as an interpreter.

  Jamie can't let Nora know the secrets he has hidden from everyone, even his closest friends. Nora can't trust any man who drinks. She had enough of that in her marriage. Either one, however, will dare anything for the little imp that keeps them together, even enter a sham marriage to protect her.

  And don't miss Dangerous Works, where Jamie first appeared.

  Available now on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/hq89rmu

  DANGEROUS WEAKNESS

  If women were as easily managed as the affairs of state—or the recalcitrant Ottoman Empire—Richard Hayden, Marquess of Glenaire, would be a happier man. As it was, the creatures—one woman in particular—made hash of his well-laid plans and bedeviled him on all sides.

  Lily Thornton came home from Saint Petersburg in pursuit of marriage. She wants a husband and a partner, not an overbearing, managing man. She may be “the least likely candidate to be Marchioness of Glenaire,” but her problems are her own to fix, even if those problems include both a Russian villain and an interfering Ottoman official.

  Given enough facts, Richard can fix anything. But protecting that impossible woman is proving almost as hard as protecting his heart, especially when Lily’s problems bring her dangerously close to an Ottoman revolution. As Lily’s personal problems entangle with Richard’s professional ones, and she pits her will against his, he chases her across the pirate-infested Mediterranean. Will she discover surrender isn’t defeat? That it might even have its own sweet reward.

  Available now on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/zz5jhr3

  Coming from Soul Mate Publishing, April 2017

  The Reluctant Wife: Children of Empire Book 2

  A preview

  Chapter 1

  Dehrapur, India, Early Summer 1835

  The captain leaned against an ornately carved pillar, around which numerous identical elephants marched in an orderly line, and blinked at the
chaos in his inner courtyard. His rumpled clothing, obviously slept in, gave him the appearance of a care-for-nothing—at least they should have in Clare Armbruster’s opinion. As it was, they hung loosely on his powerful frame and only added to a rakish air, as did the disordered, over-long auburn hair. Clare suspected the sun hurt his eyes and found it impossible to dredge up sympathy for the drunken lout. She pitied any woman who fell for his too obvious attractions.

  The dispute in his garden threatened to become physical and had already cost the captain some lovely spider lilies, which had been trampled. Two little girls, the ostensible causes of the contending parties’ care and concern, cowered in a corner where the elder tried to comfort the younger. Both looked terrified.

  Clare wanted to scream, “Do something!” at the worthless captain, but the shouting of the house steward, the retorts of the cook, and the wailing of the children would only drown her out. Reverend McKinsey’s attempts to preach above the fray didn’t help. She edged cautiously around the gesticulating steward, the irate cook, and the reverend, in an attempt to get to the girls. A gunshot stopped her in her tracks and made her heart stutter in her chest. She avoided dropping to her knees by sheer force of will, dove for the girls, and pulled both into her arms. They clung like limpets.

  In the silence that followed, only the quiet sobs of the younger girl, where she buried her face in Clare’s shoulder, could be heard. All eyes turned to the figure of the captain, one arm held high, smoke still rising from the horse pistol in his upraised hand.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

  The house steward stepped forward and bowed respectfully, hands pressed together. “Your woman is dead, Sahib,” he said woefully. Clare found the wizened old man’s sad posturing to be entirely false.