Cachet

by Shannah Biondine

  His Adam's apple bobbed. "What woman in her right mind would trade that palace for this?" He waved his hand to indicate their bedchamber.

  "I don't recall ever boasting about being in my right mind," she teased, caressing his unshaven cheek. "Morgan, this cottage is my home. Chrissy and Boyd have become my close friends, too. My heart is here in Crowshaven because you're here! I choose to walk beside you. I still have a healthy portion of my inheritance in a London bank. I decided to let the money grow until our son is a few years old, then offer it to the council for the schoolhouse you've always wanted. I even thought I might accept your offer to be schoolmistress, if the rest of the council members agree."

  "You're serious about this." It wasn't a question.

  She nodded. "I meant to discuss it with you later, when you were feeling better. I intend to live the rest of my natural life here. I'll give you whatever years I have remaining, Bargainer—but at a very steep price." She wagged her finger in his face. "And we'll not negotiate. This time it's you who must pledge to me."

  Morgan's eyes clouded. "What do you want from me? You know this is all I have." He glanced again about the room.

  She turned his chin back to face her. "In return for my life and my love, I want the one thing you have in shortest supply—therefore, the most valuable commodity you can offer. Faith. You must trust me now, and let me be your tutor in this. You can learn to make your heart strong, just as I learned to let my body respond freely. But you must trust me as I've trusted you."

  Morgan felt something that had always been constricted inside loosen a fraction. Richelle's eyes said she meant every word. "It strikes terror in my soul to know you're keeping something from me," he whispered. He squeezed her fingers. "Please be honest with me, Richelle. I've been painfully honest with you."

  "All right."

  His fingers nearly crushed hers. "I'm not going to walk again, am I?"

  She didn't flinch. "The doctor can't predict with certainty either way yet. There is a chance you may not."

  He squeezed his eyes shut again. "Another truthful answer, please. If not—" The gray eyes opened and peered closely into hers. "Would it matter? Don't say it doesn't alter your feelings. It must, on some level. I want to know if...if you could feel as you did before my accident."

  "Perhaps not. A man can look most debonair with a cane. He can get around with a crutch under his arm and still outsmart a whole crew of pirates or the next clever merchant. If your mind healed but not your leg, I would love you more deeply than I do now. I'd have all the more reason to look up to you."

  "How the hell could you be proud of me, hobbling about on a damned wooden crutch? You Colonials speak in riddles!"

  "I make perfect sense, sir, if you listen with your heart. You told me once you hoped your wife would respect and admire you. Look into my eyes, Morgan. Don't you see pride there, even now that you're bedridden? When have I ever refused to take your arm or stand at your side?"

  "Only when you were my insolent clerk," he replied with chagrin. "But I've been whole, Richelle. We were speaking of the consequences if that's no longer the case."

  "I'll love you no matter what becomes of your leg. But if your heart and mind don't mend, you'll cheat us both of what we might have had together. You've taught me what love is between man and wife. You've earned the affection and passion I feel for you. You've earned my respect. Don't let a wagon take that from you."

  He was silent for a long time before he responded to her words.

  "My heart is not broken, for the wife I adore with every fiber of my being speaks of respect and admiration for me. This has astonished me since she was only my lowly office clerk, for I've no experience that could prepare me for such immense charity of spirit. She freely gives me her esteem, even as she gave me her money, though I commanded her not to. And she's amazing in her persistence."

  She grinned. "I see we Colonials are not so mysterious, after all."

  He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. "My beautiful wife carries my child, despite her past struggles with pregnancy and motherhood. She speaks of my home and my life as also being hers. I've bullied her, wounded her pride, behaved like a drunken idiot, and blackened men's eyes just for speaking to her—yet the wench steadfastly claims to be proud of me. She's my wellspring of love and hope. Before you, Richelle, my heart was empty. Now it overflows."

  He kissed her softly. "I can't be a merchant or the Bargainer or the village mayor without you, Richelle. But I can be a cripple with you, if that's God's will."

  "The mayor?"

  "When I went to Entwistle's to get the cradle, several local gentlemen arrived to meet with us. I'm to be nominated at the next council meeting. Vote's due any day. I told them I'd consider it, but I'd like to have your blessing. Or your thoughts, if you disagree with the notion."

  "Of course you have my blessing! I think it's a wonderful idea." She gave him a tight squeeze.

  "You may not think so when you hear the stipulation. As you just pointed out, everything has its price. You know the council meetings are held at the inn. They produce significant sales. I'd have to sell the inn to take the mayor's office."

  "You've owned it since you were eighteen, Morgan. Is that what you want?"

  "I don't know," he admitted truthfully. "I'm flattered to be their choice, of course. We could build the schoolhouse that much sooner. Certainly as mayor, I'd finally have more influence in such matters. It's a chance to leave my mark."

  "Yes," she nodded, watching and waiting.

  "Please don't look at me like that," he groaned. "It should be a simple decision, but it's the most difficult I've ever faced. Selling my granary to have you was easy by comparison. You've just restored my assets and salvaged the inn. Wouldn't you now be dismayed to see me abandon it?"

  "You fought Cameron and Elaine to help me obtain my father's estate. You weren't distressed when I was forced to liquidate. You were angry I wasn't more anxious to do it!" Suddenly her teasing manner was gone. "Oh Morgan, you're so pale and tired. You should rest."

  She ordered Lorella to fix a supper tray and they retired early that evening. Richelle sensed that Morgan only feigned sleep, but she wasn't disturbed or particularly surprised. He was considering all he'd learned—about her, about himself, and their future. He needed time with his private thoughts.

  But she noted hours later when she stirred in her sleep that his arm wasn't wrapped around her. Yet his steady, even breathing told her he slumbered soundly.

  He never felt the brush of her lips on his face or heard the desperation in her whispered prayers.

  Chapter 32

  Richelle cracked open the door just after nine the following morning. Morgan was in his robe, seated in the armchair. "You're up! I was going to let you sleep. You look much better."

  "I got the best night's sleep I've had in ages." She crossed behind him and went to the windows, opening the lacy curtains to admit the pale sunshine.

  "You didn't toss and turn with indecision about the inn."

  "Nay, I didn't. I was genuinely exhausted after yesterday's ordeal. I came very close to losing the dearest person in my life. Yet having said that, I've never felt the powerful kinship I feel towards her today. It's odd, isn't it? Even odder that she's offered no preference about the inn."

  "You openly admitted you wanted a son, but would have taken precautions against ever having one if I'd asked. You observed, quite correctly, that pregnancy and labor are the woman's risk. You allowed me to reach my own conclusion whether the risk was worth taking."

  "You made the choice I hoped you would, though. I admire your courage, Richelle."

  "And I've always admired yours, sir. After all, you're the one who knowingly married Richelle Nash—accused murderess from the wild and woolly frontier."

  "You know, it's really quite remarkable that I did that. I've always been known for a cool head and rational judgment. Whatever could I have been thinking?"

  She folded her arms. "Tha
t I'm very much like you, Morgan."

  "Ha! You're a Colonial!" he scoffed.

  "An American," she corrected. "By accident of birth. My blood's as English as yours."

  His expression grew stern. "You're far too outspoken for a female."

  "And you need to match wits with someone of intelligence," she shot back.

  "Absolutely brazen in your displays of affection."

  She gave him a sultry look. "Are you saying that's a flaw, Sir Lion?"

  "Not as long as I'm the sole recipient of those displays. The elders expect a certain decorum from the mayor. It would help if my wife maintained a bit more reserve."

  They glared at each until they both burst into rollicking laughter. Morgan sobered first. "Please come here a moment, Richelle."

  She approached his chair, frowning. "Are you feeling weaker? Heavens, you must be starving! Lorella has breakfast for you. I'll go down and fetch the tray."

  "Nay, it's not my gut bothering me." He reached for her hand, pressing it to his chest. "Higher. Right about here. There's something important I forgot to say. There's never been a moment when I haven't been honored to be your husband, Richelle. I stand tall with you beside me. I'm proud you bear my name, and that pride in you has never faltered. Not even when I learned of the charge against you."

  She instantly burst into tears. "Now I've gone and done it," he sighed, cradling her against his upper body. He held her while she writhed and sobbed.

  "Mercy!" came her muffled gasp. "My stomach's gone hard as a rock. I think..." Her words trailed off as they both stared at the spreading damp spot on the front of her dress. "Your child's decided to make his appearance."

  Morgan bellowed for Lorella to summon the doctor, then hobbled beside Richelle, helping her into bed. She struggled to pull off her wet garments before covering herself with the quilt. "Have her go...right away," she panted. "Dr. Rowe said to send for him immediately. Baby hasn't turned. Only a chance, but there could be trouble this time, too."

  "Rowe told you the babe hadn't turned? Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?"

  Richelle waited until the contraction eased. "He told me the same morning as your accident. I honestly forgot, I was so worried about you, and with everything else going on, I didn't want to worry you about—"

  "Richelle, I'm a grown man! I'm perfectly capable of—"

  Lorella burst in, her features mottled with an angry flush. "If you two don't stop carrying on like a pair of hissing cats, I swear I'll toss a basin of dishwater over you both! You got a baby coming, and he's not going to wait until you iron out your petty differences. You sir," she carped, shaking a forefinger at Morgan, "either take this chair and talk nicely to her, or I'll help you down to the kitchen. There's a fresh bottle of brandy behind the sugar in the pantry."

  Richelle looked from one to the other and began to giggle helplessly. Soon the giggles became whooping peals of laughter, cut off abruptly as the next pain hit.

  "Your mistress could use a spot of that brandy in some hot tea," Morgan told the maid. "Bring some on a tray before you go. And take Patrick with you. I'll look after my wife until the doctor comes."

  Richelle inhaled deeply as Morgan reached for her hand. "I'm sorry I forgot to tell you about the baby. I've honestly been so worried about you and that leg..."

  Morgan smoothed the thick auburn locks from her forehead. "Rowe will turn the child, should it be necessary. He's done it before. You've a tough fight ahead, but I'm right here at your side as promised, Colonial." His eyes were a soft, shimmering gray in the stove's firelight.

  "How is it you're so calm about this? Most expectant fathers bolt from the room when their wives go into labor."

  "Ah, but remember, I spent my boyhood working on farms. This isn't precisely unfamiliar to me."

  "I didn't realize a farm boy's chores extended to helping the farmers' wives give birth. Just what did you do to earn your pay?"

  He flashed her a look of mock indignation. "You're always suspecting me of improper behavior."

  "If you never engaged in any, I'd hardly be in this situation, would I?"

  He patted her hand and beamed at her. "That's my girl. Keep your sense of humor. Phantom and a good many other heads of valuable livestock have me to thank for their arrivals."

  "Now I'm certain you're jesting with me."

  "Madam, you know very well I never jest. Besides sweeping out manure and stacking hay, I often found myself helping a cow bring forth a new calf. I've turned newborns in the tunnel more than once. Always had strong, slender fingers and arms."

  "Please don't elaborate." Richelle felt slightly queasy.

  "Sorry for the indelicacy. However," he frowned, "It occurs to me that our good doctor lives a fair distance beyond the outskirts of the village, and this is not your first." He hobbled to the washstand and rolled up his sleeves. Then he began vigorously scrubbing his hands and forearms.

  "Morgan! You can't mean to suggest you're going to—" Her words were cut off by another sharp pain.

  "I've sworn to provide any and all necessary assistance. Don't ask me to break my oath now. I'm deeply indebted to you, my love, in ways I'll never be able to fully repay. This would be but a small comfort." His eyes held hers. "You know I'd never hurt you, Richelle. I thought we'd established your trust in me." She nodded and held her breath.

  He was extremely gentle. He probed cautiously and a smile broke across his face. "That babe's not turned wrong, Richelle! I felt the head. You're doing fine!"

  "Oh Morgan, honestly?"

  "Aye. Now take a sip of the tea Lorella made you," he directed, bringing the cup to her lips. Lorella had also provided a sandwich for him. He took a bite and began talking as he chewed. "Remember the pirates? You were afraid for your very life then, but you listened to me and made it through. Listen again now. You'll come through this fine, and so will the babe."

  She panted, clinging tightly to his hand and resisting the urge to bear down. Morgan never winced, never adjusted his hand, just let her crush his fingers when she needed to and continued to smile.

  At last the doctor appeared. "How's she doing?"

  "Fine, Doc," Morgan grinned. "Normal presentation, head's pretty low. She's opening up nicely. Won't be long."

  Richelle felt her face redden. "Morgan!" she hissed. "I think the doctor can decide for himself how matters are progressing."

  "Right as rain!" the doctor pronounced as he examined her. "You're fortunate to have this fellow for your midwife, you know." Dr. Rowe gave Richelle a wink and grinned at Morgan. "He's delivered some of the finest animals in Northern England. Never lost a foal or calf yet."

  "When I begin munching oats, I'll take comfort in that."

  "I see I'm no longer appreciated," Morgan sniffed in mock offense. "I'll go have some of that brandy, then." He started toward the doorway.

  Richelle shook her head violently, seizing the doctor's arm. "The stairs! He can't make it down alone."

  The doctor glanced at Morgan. "She's got a ways to go yet." He'd left a crutch by the door, and handed Morgan the padded end. He ran his hand along the damaged thigh. "Thought I told you to stay off that leg. How's it feeling?"

  "Never better," Morgan replied, staring into his wife's dark eyes. "Might I have a word alone with my wife before you help me downstairs?"

  Dr. Rowe nodded and quit the room. Morgan eased onto the edge of the bed and spoke in a serious tone. "You were right about the marriage aboard the ship. Before I arrived at your aunt's house, I'd already set my mind to do whatever was required to keep you in my life. I misled you about passage knowing full well I'd never let you go anywhere without me. I did purposely deceive you to get what I wanted. My own goal was all that mattered."

  "I've forgiven you, remember?"

  "I did it because I longed to make you mine from the first moment I held you in my arms and kissed you. Even though marriage terrified me. I wanted you so much." He reached for her hand. "Other than wanting you for myself then, I've n
ever wanted anything as much as I now pray to watch you suckle a healthy child. Son or daughter, makes no difference. Just so long as the babe's healthy and you're blessed at last, Richelle. Because you've been denied motherhood for so long."

  She grimaced again with a fresh wave of pain. Morgan's voice lowered. "I never understood about your inheritance and why you defied me, spending it to restore my assets. I thought you meant to pay me to forget how you'd hidden the pregnancy. And it hurt my businessman's pride to accept that you had so much, while I was barely able to keep even this modest little place. Your wealth made me feel a failure."

  "Only in your eyes, Morgan. Never in mine."

  "I suppose part of it was my own guilt, for tricking you into a marriage you didn't want. I couldn't also lay claim to your inheritance. But I've sorted things out in my mind, and I know it wasn't my assets you salvaged, Richelle. It was my hopes and dreams. You've understood from the first what trade means to me. It's more than money. It's my whole future."

  Tears trickled from her eyes as she gazed at him. "My father believed that, too. If only you could have known him."

  He caressed her cheek with his palm, wiping the tears with his thumb. "I'm sorry I never got the chance. He was a fine man. Everyone I met said as much. And I don't know his perception of his business interests, but you're mistaken about mine."

  "Mistaken?"

  "I'd throw away everything I have for you, Richelle. You are the one asset beyond price—the only asset my future and dreams can ever be built upon. I can't explain how completely you've changed my life. I owe you such a debt, and now I've got the chance to repay it.

  "Morgan, you don't owe me. We're together, that's all that matters to me."

  "Nay, this child matters. Push hard when it's time to bear down. Believe in your Bargainer and don't be afraid." He moved unsteadily from the bed to the door.

  "Not that I don't want to believe in you, but—"