by Cathy Duke
Chapter 5
Brightmore Manor 1830
It was morning. At least it seemed so. Amy opened her eyes and tried to focus. The room was sunny and bright and her eyes took a moment to adjust.
“Good morning,” a deep resonate voice that seemed to vibrate off every wall said. That was the voice. The voice in her head. It mesmerized her. It was like a hypnotic spell. Amy turned her face toward the voice and blinked several times to help her focus on the massive form sitting next to the bed. He smiled at her and she saw the bright white smile against the dark tanned skin of an incredibly handsome man.
There was a dark lock of hair that hung across his forehead that gave him a rakish appearance. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His arms were thick and muscular with black hair defining the all-male presence. This must be him. Arden Lambrick, fourth Duke of Brightmore, her husband. She felt a strong attraction to this man who was a stranger to her. This man could take care of her. He was that wondrous mixture of all male and something sensitive that captured her senses and made porridge of her mind. After he took care of her in such a sensitive manner he was already her hero. She had been prepared to be skeptical, but found no reason now to give credence to doubt.
Amy cleared her throat to respond, but just a croak came out. She was blushing at the sad attempt to speak. He leaned toward her and picked up her hand and felt for a pulse. He nodded as if satisfied and sat back.
“Don't try to speak as yet. Drink some water.” He took a glass of water from the table next to the bed and lifted her head up with one arm while he tipped the glass toward her dry lips. She swallowed several sips and he lowered her head again. She caught his scent, a spicy smell that was fresh with a hint of citrus and clean smelling. She took a deep breath to capture some more of the intoxicating fragrance.
Then she tried her voice again and it came out as a whisper, breathy and not quite what she had expected. “Millie?”
Arden nodded. “Miss Balston is well. She checked on you just an hour ago. Miss Balston is inspecting our gardens at the moment. She said she wanted to venture on some solid ground.” His lips twitched as if he was hoarding a smile. “I am happy you are recovering and safe. You had me worried when you didn't take my ship.” Amy blushed and looked down to avoid his direct gaze.
“I am sorry. Obviously, I made a mistake in that decision.” Arden acknowledged her apology with a nod of his head. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use.
“You are forgiven, but only because you are well and safe, as well as your companion.” I will have cook prepare you some breakfast. You are in need of some nourishment. You have slept now for two days and finally look rested.” He leaned over and softly kissed her cheek and then left the room.
Two days. She had not missed that time. Amy touched her cheek where he kissed it. His lips had been soft and she liked how it had felt. Just a brush like a flutter of butterfly wings. She felt a thrill when he was near that sent palpitations to her stomach. Was her face red? She felt heated. Maybe that was what an attraction was. She had read about that and had discussed the subject with Millie, although never had experienced an attraction to a man before. She thought about Millie and wondered what Millie thought of her husband. How strange it all was.
As Amy scooted up to a sitting position awaiting something to eat she saw her door move just a little. Not enough to be Millie who would have swung open the door with no great ceremony. No, the door moved slightly back and forth as if a breeze had haunted the hinges and forced the door to dance. Then a small cherub face peeped around the door and starred at Amy for the longest moment. The small child's face was surrounded by a halo of red curls that appeared to be flames afire around an angel's innocent face.
“Come in, if you please, and introduce yourself,” Amy whispered to the child. Eva came tentatively into the room and stood on the carpet beside the huge four-poster bed. The child was obviously nervous and starred at Amy. “You must have a voice, do you not?” Amy asked. “I cannot speak very well right now so you must help.”
The child nodded. “I am Eva. I am just a child.”
“I see that. And whose child are you?” Amy inquired as she straightened her bed
clothes. The action took more of her limited energy. “Who is your mother Eva?”
“I have no mother. My papa is a Duke.” Eva responded proudly. “Are you to be my mother? You are very beautiful.”
Amy frowned in confusion…studying the child to find some resemblance to her husband, but saw none. Had he fathered this child…a wife before her, or a mistress…Amy realized she didn't know very much about her husband at all. This was truly a surprise and one her father had not mentioned.
“Would you like to come up here and we can get better acquainted?” Amy patted the space beside her. Eva nodded happily and crawled up to join Amy in the bed. Eva settled in pulling the covers to her tiny waist and then looked seriously at Amy,
“You mustn't tell my papa,” she whispered to Amy.
“Tell him what, love?” Amy responded.
“I'm supposed to be properly intro…intro…”
“Introduced?” Amy asked.
Eva nodded with enthusiasm. “I am supposed to be patient and I am not. I could not wait to see you.”
Just then a knock sounded at the door. Eva slithered under the covers to hide. Amy looked at the bump under the covers and smiled. How like a child to think if they can't see you, then you can't see them. Amy had a hard time not breaking into a laugh.
“Come in,” Amy responded.
Arden opened the door with one hand and with the other he balanced a tray with breakfast on it. The fragrance permeated the room with fresh biscuits. He warmly smiled at Amy.
“There is porridge, eggs, biscuits….fruit and I brought American coffee and chocolate. I wasn't certain what your preference was.” He walked toward the bed with the tray and a slight frown formed on his brow when he noticed the lump in the bed that moved just a little. Amy followed his eyes and saw the lump move a little too. Her lips twitched with the promise of a laugh. Arden settled the tray on her lap and pulled a large linen napkin out and placed it on her chest. It was a familiar gesture that created the opportunity to smell his spicy scent once more. What a natural thing to do. Place a napkin on her chest and yet it seemed an intimate gesture. One of familiarity. He was at ease taking care of others.
“I have someone special I would like to introduce you to, but she seems to be missing,” he announced as he watched the lump move again. Suddenly the lump moved to the top of the covers and a face popped out.
“Here I am, Papa. Can you properly intro...”
“Introduce. Nurse has been looking high and low for you, poppet. She was quite worried, poppet.”
“I didn't mean to worry her, Papa. I wanted to see the beautiful lady,” Eva offered as her excuse.
Arden tried to look stern, but it was impossible for him to remain angry for long with his little poppet. There was sunshine wherever she was and Arden was happier for it. He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to Amy about his child and now wondered how she would react. He had to admit to himself, that Amy had already gained the trust of Eva. After all, the child was in bed with her. He wanted a chance to discuss this with Amy in case the child was curious about how to address Amy. It needed some immediate attention before introductions could be made.
“Let us wait for proper introductions until after you have seen nurse and had your bath and lessons. Her Grace will need to rest after she has eaten. Now, off with you before I turn into an ogre and take a bite of you.” Eva scampered off the bed and ran for the door. She turned just as she was about to disappear to the other side of the door.
“I want to meet her proper.” Arden nodded in response.
“And so you shall. Soon.” They were alone now and Arden turned to study Amy's face. She seemed enchanted. Her face was alight with humor. A good sign.
“I have a child,” he simply said.
“
I know. She is quite adorable,” Amy responded.
He watched her expression. No judgment. She had some expressions cross her face that were a combination of curiosity, an eagerness to ask something…or perhaps she was just testing the water. “Your wife…”
“You are my wife,” he interrupted before she could say anymore. He waited studying her expression.
“The child…she...” Amy stumbled with words trying to be sensitive and appropriate in her wording.
Arden had no problem with honesty. He must tell his wife the truth, but he had no intention of giving up Eva or sending her away. Amy would have to adjust to this reality. Some women he knew in the ton would not accept this. “The child was my brother's by blow that he left in a foundling home for orphans and then died participating in a duel….but no matter. She is mine now.” He was firm. Again he watched her for her reaction.
“And you rescued her,” Amy stated with some admiration.
He studied her again and there was silence while both people gathered their thoughts. She had surprised him with her attitude. This was something he had learned to appreciate of Americans and their acceptance of things that could not be changed. Sort of making the best of things…something John had taught him. The ton was not so accepting and he now realized how fortunate he was to be married to someone in tune with his thoughts and needs.
“I don't know what to call you, or how to address you,” Amy ventured.
“Call me Arden, my given name. I would like that best. In public you should address me as Your Grace, just as I will address you as Your Grace,” he responded. Arden shook his head as if clearing it of webs. “I am a hypocrite since I have no use for the ton and their customs…however, it is the way of things if one wants to be accepted.”
“I…I wanted to ask you if you wanted an …this is so hard to say,…annulment.” Arden stared at her with amazement and then he suddenly seemed bit angry. His face was flushed red and she could see a twitch at his temple. His dark brows were nearly touching, his frown so intense. Not a good sign, and yet she felt compelled to put the offer out there.
“Why would you ask that? Is it so terrible being married to me?”
She nodded her head in a negative response, surprised by his reaction. “Is there another man, perhaps? A beau in America that you left?” he asked her suddenly with concern written on his face. He had never considered that she might have someone else in her life that she might have married had her father not made this demand to marry him of her.
“Oh, my…no. I don't even know any gentlemen. I was in an all-girls school and then with my father. No…there is no one,” she said in defense of his concern. “I just thought there may be someone for you…We are strangers, after all and maybe…”
“No. We will stay married. We will get to know each other and make the best of it. Do you disregard the promise you made to your father so easily?”
She looked stricken by his words and tears appeared and slid down her cheeks. “I loved my father more than anything…and I resent your assumption that...”
“I know you loved him and he loved you more than anything in the world. That is why he made the arrangements for us to marry. He no doubt wanted to protect you and he needed to know that you would be provided for….I am certain because he loved us both that he felt sure we would suit each other.”
She dried her tears on the linen napkin and took a sip of the chocolate to distract her need to weep and gather her wits. “The chocolate is quite a treat for me.”
After being so serious with his explanation, he now smiled at her sudden effort to take another subject in hand. He observed her interest in looking over the breakfast selection. She wanted to change the subject it seems and did so with relish. That suited him fine. He would think more on her serious offer and the why of it later. It did not sit well with him and he needed space for the thoughts to settle. Yet she rambled on like it was just a little insignificant topic to drop like a bomb on his toe and then forget it. He wasn't always comfortable with how a woman's mind worked. She now chattered like a magpie to cover the unpleasant moment they shared.
Jumping in on her game of changing subjects, he said, “The ring on your finger…” he pointed to her hand as he watched her with some interest buttering her biscuit. She took a brief glance at the ring, as if she needed to see it to relate to his comment.
“It was my mother's wedding band and means a great deal to me.”
He nodded his understanding.
“I never knew her, but feel connected with this ring.” She took a small bit of the buttered biscuit and a drip of butter oozed out the corner of her sensuous lips to drip down her chin.
His heart just stopped and a wave of lust grasped him unexpectedly. Bloody hell. He wanted to lick the sweet butter from her mouth, but she quickly blotted the drip with her linen and was onto her second bite. He was stunned and starred at her in disbelief at her innocence in performing such a gesture. He had to think a moment of what the hell he was talking about. She licked the corner of her mouth without understanding that she caused Arden to be muddled and confused. Not so common for him. Was this some grand joke? That was the irony. She was just Amy and it was causing him havoc. Then he got ahold of himself and got his thoughts in order. Blast it all. She was going to cause him to go mad. She was just eating her morning meal for God's sake. He gathered his thoughts and started over. “I am having a special ring made for you. Perhaps you might wear your mother's ring on the other hand,” he offered as he watched her eat a little of everything with gusto.
“Yes. That would be fine. I haven't tasted anything so good in…well, before we left Boston. I guess I am hungry.”
There she goes again. Another subject. Was the last one of no importance? No comment about the ring? But he could play this game too. “You haven't had any decent food to eat in weeks. Thanks to that bloody Ellis…er, I apologize… With being ill, that was a dangerous combination.” He took a finger and removed another drop of butter than had escaped from the side of her mouth. He licked his finger and tasted the sweet butter that was driving him straight to Bedlam. He couldn't afford to allow his mind to take another stab at her pump lips asking to be kissed.
She licked her lips to remove the crumbs from the biscuit she so eagerly bit into. Arden never thought that a single gesture could stir his loins as much as that one little action had done. Blast and damn. He was like a young boy with his first taste of lust. And Amy had no idea how she stirred his desires just eating as she was. The most experienced prostitute could not do this to him. “After you have rested, maybe a day or two, I will have the housekeeper take you on a tour of the house, you and Miss Balston if you would like.” Ah, he had to change the subject just to get control of himself.
“I would love to see the house. I am anxious to see Millie too. I must thank her for taking care of me. I don't know what I would have done without her.”
“I must also thank her for your care.”
Amy put her napkin on the tray and set down her utensils.
Ahh, Arden thought. Done finally with this tortuous task of eating that caused his britches to tighten uncomfortably.
“I thought I could eat it all, but I find I am filled with just a few bites as it turns out.” Arden bent over and removed the tray. Her scent was fresh and clean with a touch of lavender. Never had he smelled anything so good. “Your stomach cannot hold as much food since you have essentially starved yourself for weeks. It will take some time to recover to normal eating habits. I prescribe a rest now and then maybe some fruit to build up your appetite…how does that sound, wife?” He smiled at her as if he was teasing.
Amy blushed with his affectionate use of “wife” reminding her of her status and the fact that he was her husband. “Thank you for your care and concern. I am very grateful, husband,” Amy responded breathlessly.
Arden smiled again as he left the room, giving her a salute with his finger to his temple.
Amy lay back down and
yawned. How could she sleep so much and yet still be tired? She sighed with satisfaction. He was so handsome and attentive. He did stir her blood. But she didn't want to think about that now. She was in need of something, she was not certain what. But she did know Arden was at the center of it. It was a sort of craving for his touch again, or to have his strong arms wrapped around her.
The girl's school had not offered books or any education on what to expect married life to be like and since she and Millie had no mothers to converse with they had speculated some things on their own. Amy had hoped to read some of the medical books about sex and gender when she came home from school, but her plans changed when her father became ill.
What she did discover was that the first time is painful and a husband tended to perform the act by raising a women's skirts and quickly getting the unpleasant act over with, which would be just as well with her. There were all sorts of gossip about what happens between a man and woman coming from the girls at school. Some had stories coming from servants and other stories from girls that had some experience with boys they had secretly met. One girl had told her to stand in a bucket of cold water after having relations with a man and one wouldn't get with child. Amy was uncertain what was meant by “relations,” and so how does one have a bucket ready? It seems there would be buckets in every woman's rooms if that were true. She was uncertain with the patchwork quilt of understanding she had formed. This is when she would raise her head to the skies and ask her mother what she should do. Of course there was never an answer coming from that effort.
Since Arden had been a doctor perhaps she could visit his library in search of reading material and seek out the kind of book she was curious about. Not unless he planned to exercise his rights tonight, that is. Surely he wouldn't expect that of her tonight just after knowing him a few days? Oh my. Would she be able to nap now with that thought troubling her now in her mind? She was not afraid, but the unknown was something to worry about and of course, she would worry.