Like Chaff in the Wind (The Graham Saga)

by Belfrage, Anna

  “It’s not as if we’re starving, and with your odd jobs and my sewing we’re almost paying our way.” She rolled her eyes, admitting that it still astounded her that anyone would be willing to pay for her efforts with needle and thread.

  “Aye well,” he teased. “It’s good you can sew, you wouldn’t keep us in anything with your knitting.”

  “Huh,” she snorted, making him laugh.

  They walked down the wharves, detouring round carts loaded sky high with bales of tobacco. Matthew made a face and increased their pace. Just the smell of it brought back far too many memories, and when he caught sight of Jones’ broad back, he gritted his teeth and set off at a half run, dragging Alex behind him.

  A quick turn, and Matthew came to an abrupt halt. Kate, here! He hadn’t seen her since sometime in February, and the last time he’d spoken to her was that January afternoon when she tended to his lacerated back. A wave of gratitude mingled with tenderness rushed through him, and when she raised her hand in greeting, he did the same, his face breaking into a wide smile.

  “Kate!” He waved again, hurrying towards her.

  “Kate? Who’s Kate?” Alex’s voice was the equivalent of a bucket of ice-cold water. Matthew slowed his pace to a casual stroll, rearranged his features into an expression less effusive than before.

  “Why Matthew Graham! I scarcely recognised you.” Kate smiled, dark eyes softening when they met his. He bowed, froze at the sight of her protruding stomach. Sweetest Lord! His eyes flew to meet hers.

  “You don’t need to worry,” Kate laughed. “I’m not going to claim on you for its upkeep. I’m not even going to ask you for a name.”

  Beside him, Alex inhaled noisily. Matthew closed his eyes, his stomach contracting as if he had the runs. His wife disengaged her hand from his hold and took a step back, eyes glued to Kate’s swelling belly.

  “Matthew?” Her voice quavered. “Is… Have you…” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Oh God.” She wheeled and walked away in the general direction of the water.

  “Alex!”

  She stumbled, her arms flew out, but she regained her balance and when he set off after her she broke into a run. He caught up with her and took her by the arm.

  “Don’t! Take your double-crossing hands off me, you bastard!”

  “Alex,” he pleaded, but she shook her head.

  “Not now, just leave me alone.” When he remained standing beside her, she added a please and turned her back on him, staring stubbornly at the water until he retreated a couple of paces. With an inarticulate sound she rushed off and he let her go, his heart plunging rapidly towards the ground. The look in her eyes, the absolute shock and disappointment written all across her face…

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said, appearing at his side. “I had no intention to—”

  “Aye you did,” he cut her off. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

  Kate twisted a bit. “Well, maybe she should know.”

  “Why?” Matthew said coldly. “Why should she be hurt? You always knew I had a wife, I never promised you anything – I couldn’t promise you anything.”

  “You should know at least.” She placed a hand on her stomach.

  “Know what? That you’re with child? That you think it might be mine?” He looked her up and down. “How far along are you?”

  “Six, seven months.”

  “Oh, aye? So you don’t know then, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” She put a hand on his arm. “I’m marrying today, by tonight I’ll be Mrs Jones. He thinks it’s his.”

  Matthew extricated himself from her hold. “I wish you the best in your marriage,” he said formally and swivelled on his feet to go after his wife. He didn’t look back, not once.

  He found Alex in their room, throwing her things together. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m moving my stuff out,” she said, “I’ll be sleeping with Mrs Gordon for some time. Forever, perhaps – I don’t feel like sharing a bed with a man who’s been unfaithful to me.”

  He looked away, shamed by the look in her eyes.

  “Tell me,” she said nastily. “Was she the only one? Or did you find far more comfort than I could imagine, going from one set of arms to the other?”

  “You know me better than that.” He heard himself how weak that sounded given the present facts.

  “I do? Apparently not! You see, I thought you’d hold to your marriage vows, that you’d be true. But then, I suppose I’m the fool, huh? Men are simple creatures, ruled by their base instincts and we, their wives, must understand and forgive.” She took a step towards him, brandishing a knitting needle. “What would you have done if it had been me sleeping with another man?”

  The thought made him grimace and she nodded.

  “I thought so. Hypocrite!” She thrust the needle through a ball of yarn and dropped it on top of her other items. A quick twist, and she lifted the bundle.

  He stood to block her way.

  “Excuse me,” she said coldly.

  “You’re not going anywhere. You’ll stay and talk this through.”

  “I don’t want to talk, in fact, I don’t very much want to see you either. You disgust me.” Her words tore chunks out of him.

  He lowered his face to eyeball her. “You’ll stay and listen.”

  “Make me,” she hissed, her eyes spewing blue fire.

  He clamped a hand on her nape and kissed her, ignoring her muffled protests, her attempts to stamp him on his foot. He kissed her until she opened her mouth to his. They broke apart, chests heaving.

  “It won’t work,” she told him, licking her lips. “Just because you can kiss my breath away, that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you.”

  “Nay, but it helps.” He made a grab for her and brought them down on the protesting bed. “Now,” he said, pinning her under him. “Will you please listen?”

  She fought like a spitting cat, her linen cap falling to the floor and her hair a mass of escaped curls on the pillows. He grunted when she landed a punch on his nose. For an instant he raised his hand to hit her back, but instead he kissed her, holding her captive with his weight, and suddenly she was struggling not to heave him off but to bring him close; as close as he could possibly get.

  Skirts were shoved aside, his fingers found the velvety skin on the inside of her thigh, and Alex yanked at his lacings, her hands rough and uncaring when they found his member. That way, hey? He pushed her down and entered her, one forceful movement sheathing his entire length inside of her.

  She exhaled, softening below him. Again, all the way in, and she flexed her hips to meet his. He slowed his pace and kissed her. She made urgent sounds, but he was having none of it, taking his time to explore her mouth. Slowly; his cock strained inwards, upwards, his balls pressed against her flesh. Oh, so slowly, and Alex near on yowled, hands clutching at his ears, his hair, breath hot against his cheek as she begged him to finish, to not torture her like this. His cock agreed, roaring that it was near on bursting, and could he please get on with it?

  He lay in silence afterwards, listening to the sound of their combined heavy breathing. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Matthew inhaled, licked his lips.

  “I was very ill, I was near death and she saved me.” He described those weeks in October, his face hidden in her hair. “It was wrong, and I betrayed you doing it. But you see…” He sighed and propped himself up to look at her. “Without her, I think I might have died.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Alex asked, an expression he couldn’t quite decipher flying over her face.

  “I hoped you would never have to know.”

  She stroked his head, fingering the bare inch of hair. “And is it yours?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t? So she was comforting others as well?” That made Kate sound like a whore, and Matthew gave her a reproving look.

  “You have no notion, aye? She did what she had to do to survive.” He lay back d
own, pillowing his head on her chest. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Yes,” she said after what felt like an eternity. She groped for his hand and placed it on her stomach. “This one is definitely yours, so say hello to your next child.”

  For a couple of heartbeats he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. He spread his fingers over her stomach and closed his eyes; thank you Lord, for this miraculous woman, for the life that grows in her. He shifted downwards and placed his lips in a soft kiss on her belly. My bairn. A daughter, mayhap a son; my bairn.

  *

  All that night Alex lay wide-eyed beside him. Twice she turned towards him to shake him awake and tell him about Fairfax, but twice her nerve failed her, and she slumped back sleepless against the pillow. By morning she knew she had to tell him, however hurtful to them both, because as long as she didn’t, there was no honesty between them – not the honesty there should be. Besides, it was probably only a matter of time before dear Dominic Jones let drop the odd, insinuating comment or two.

  She didn’t know how to start, but decided to tell him when they were both out of bed, because she didn’t want the images of Fairfax to superimpose themselves on that aspect of their life. So she waited until they were down by the water, sitting in the speckled shade of a small oak.

  “I have something to tell you as well.” Something in her voice alerted him and he sat up straighter. “He made me,” she said, trying to avoid his eyes. “He said that there was an official price and then there was an unofficial service that had to be delivered.”

  Matthew looked at her blankly, wary incomprehension in his eyes.

  “If I didn’t let him, he wouldn’t guarantee that you’d be alive,” she went on, her tongue thickening with every word. She could see when he put two and two together, an expression of absolute disgust flashing across his face. He slumped in front of her, dragging his hands through his short hair.

  “No,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Oh Lord…”

  She had expected him to rage, to perhaps hit at something, and this totally different reaction disconcerted her. She sat beside him, wanting very much to touch him, take his hand. Matthew fiddled with some stones, turning them over and studying them intently. He stood and walked down to the water’s edge, sending stone after stone flying to land with a soft plop. The last one he threw to skip across the rippling surface before turning to face her.

  “Tell me.”

  Alex bit her lip and shook her head. “What would it serve?”

  Matthew was at her side so swiftly she reared back when he fell to his knees before her.

  “I have to know,” he said, taking her hands. “I must know. This is not yours to carry alone.”

  Alex leaned towards him. “It wasn’t too bad, I’m okay.”

  Matthew embraced her and kissed her ear. “You’re a bad liar, lass, and I’ll have you tell me.”

  He released her, but kept hold of her hands, his thumbs running in caressing circles over her wrists. She hung her head and began to talk. She described slug-like fingers touching her, how he smelled of cloying eau-de-rose, and what he had done to her from the moment he threw her over the desk to the moment he exited the room.

  “I was so scared that somehow you’d notice, or that I wouldn’t bear to have you touch me.” She gave a strangled little laugh and met his eyes for the first time since she had begun to tell. “The moment I saw you, I knew that wouldn’t be an issue. In rags and barely able to walk, you were still my Matthew and whatever price I’d had to pay was worth it.”

  “Will it matter?” she asked in a small voice. His continued silence was making her nervous.

  Matthew tightened his hold on her hands and drew her close enough that she could rest her head against his chest. They sat like that for a long time, she with her ear to his heart, listening to how his heartbeat thudded its way into her, how his rhythm merged with hers, multiplying itself through her bloodstream to echo in her head.

  “Nay,” he finally said, kissing her cheek. “It won’t.”

  *

  “You told him?” Mrs Gordon sat down with a thump. “Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know, it felt as if I should.” But she probably never would have if it hadn’t been for Kate showing up. Something dived inside of her at the look on Mrs Gordon’s face.

  “What have you done?” Mrs Gordon gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Dear Lord, lass, what have you done? Have you no idea? He’s a man, aye? And you have just told him you’ve been abused by a man he already had reason to hate.”

  Alex froze inside. “He wouldn’t!”

  Mrs Gordon huffed. “You think not?” She shook her head. “He will make Fairfax pay, and God help us when he does, aye?”

  Chapter 28

  Alex exclaimed with pleasure when she read the slip of paper presented to her by one of the Governor’s doormen. Just the distraction she needed from her constant surveillance of her husband, her fear that the moment her back was turned, he’d set off to kill Fairfax.

  “Look,” she said, waving it at Matthew. “We’ve been invited to a reception.”

  Matthew seemed less than thrilled, making Alex sigh. He disapproved of the friendship that had sprung up between her and Sir William, and made no secret of it. Well tough; she enjoyed Sir William’s company, and if anything the incident with Jones down at the waterfront had intensified the relationship, with Alex a regular guest whenever the Governor was in town.

  On the evening of the reception, they walked arm in arm towards the Assembly House. Alex had overruled Matthew’s objections and was wearing a borrowed deep blue bodice with a rather daring neckline that had both James and Matthew ogling her before they left, one with appreciation, the other with a scowl.

  Matthew was in sober black, with dark silk stockings and blindingly white linen at cuff and neck of the long well-cut coat – all of it courtesy of Mr Parson. Alex threw Matthew an irritated glance. She was looking forward to this evening, and had no intention of seeing it ruined due to him being a possessive jerk. He met her eyes, his mouth curving into the slightest of smiles.

  “You look lovely,” he said, drawing her to a stop to kiss her hand. They walked the remaining yards hand in hand.

  Alex almost died when the first person she came face to face with, after having queued her way down the receiving line, was Fairfax. In an embroidered coat, greens and reds on pale yellow silk, with a green sash around his waist, and matching silk ribbons at the knees of his breeches, he looked quite the courtier, bowing over her hand.

  Her initial reaction was to slap him, or pull out one of her hairpins and stab it through his piggy eye, but she managed to retain some composure, her eyes fleeing to Matthew for support. A muddy green eye captured hers – an eye that spoke of the intent to murder, here, now, should she ask it of him. I’m okay, she assured him silently, but his eyes flitted to her clenched fists, and one large hand came down to envelop hers. That was enough. His touch, his reassuring presence, made her capable of breathing again.

  *

  When Sir William popped up by Alex’s side, Matthew retreated to stand by the wall. Most of the guests were men, most of them as soberly dressed as himself. Only Fairfax stuck out in his gaudy coat, reminding Matthew of a giant blowfly – and just as nasty to boot. He frowned and stretched, sauntered over to stand only a yard or so from Fairfax, close enough that he could pick up the overpowering smell – no, stench – of rosewater. Fairfax threw him a look over his shoulder and paled, taking a few steps further into the throng. Matthew just smiled and followed.

  Once again, Fairfax gave him a look, and with a strained laugh excused himself from the man he was talking to, moving away. Matthew strolled after. This vermin of a man had trespassed where no man was allowed, and Matthew spent an enjoyable hour hounding Fairfax round the room, laughing silently as the fat, bewigged, and increasingly nervous man, attempted to evade him. Ah no, Fairfax; nowhere to run, not here. When Fairfax turned his way, Matthew s
miled, displaying all his teeth. Fairfax shivered visibly and shuffled away.

  Matthew nodded his thanks to one of the footmen and drained the offered cup in one swallow. The sweetened wine was going to his head, and he retreated to stand in a corner, considering just what he was going to do to Fairfax once he got him alone. One agreeable alternative after the other presented itself, all of them ending with a squealing, begging Fairfax. Oh aye; he caught Fairfax’s eyes and ostentatiously cracked his knuckles.

  “Matthew!” Alex said, appearing by his side.

  “Hmm?” He relaxed his hands, tore his eyes away from Fairfax.

  “I want to go home,” Alex whispered, slipping her hand into his. “I’m not feeling well.”

  “No?” Matthew kissed her on her rosy cheek. “You look radiant.”

  She flushed, but insisted that she wanted them to leave. “It’s him, I don’t like seeing him.”

  No; nor did he. After bidding their host a hasty goodbye, they were soon making their way through the silent darkened town.

  *

  Alex woke with a start in the predawn darkness, and without checking she knew that Matthew’s side of their bed was empty. She also knew immediately where he’d gone, and she nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to go after him. Why, oh why had she told him, she gulped, why hadn’t she listened to Mrs Gordon’s advice?

  “James!” she shook him hard. “Please James, I need your help.”

  James scrunched his eyes together in protest, but sat up, listening to Alex somewhat garbled tale.

  “So you think he’s gone to kill him?” he asked, tightening his breeches round his narrow frame.

  “Yes,” Alex hiccupped. “And then they’ll hang him and I will die.”

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that,” James answered.

  Alex insisted that James should ride the mule and walked, no ran, at his side, one hand on the saddle to hold her steady. The three hour walk was covered in slightly more than half the time, and by the time Fairfax’s plantation rose out of the shadows before them, the eastern sky was shifting into lighter hues of grey, dashed with pink.