“Why?”
Surprised that he had to ask, she answered with some asperity, “Because I cannot be certain that you will not make me angry, of course. I’d as lief not have to worry about what the inn servants might hear us say to each other.”
He chuckled.
“That’s not funny!”
“Very well,” he said, stifling his amusement with disconcerting ease, “I’ll say exactly what I think. You acted impulsively, and unwisely. No, don’t argue with me yet. You asked me to tell you, and I will, but I’m tired and so are you, and the last thing I want to do is to quarrel.” He paused, clearly to see if she would reply, and when she did not, he said, “You should have brought someone with you, angel, if only Teddy. I don’t say that because you are female, either, or for any reason other than that you would have been safer that way. I’d say the same thing to a man.”
She doubted the last, but she said, “I expect you are right about its being the safer course, but I wanted Teddy to go with Letty and Jenifry to help Jeb protect them, and I did not know whom else I could trust.”
“You sent Teddy with Letty because you knew he would try to talk you out of leaving the house,” Antony said. When she glanced guiltily at him, he added, “Now, explain to me why you felt you could not trust Hodson.”
She sighed. “I did think he ought to be where you expected him to be, in case you had need of him. You would not send to me for help, I knew, and in truth, I had no plan, sir. I was worried about your safety, and I thought I could get help in Fowey, but I knew I would have to have a convincing tale to tell. I rode out to see what I could see, that’s all.”
After a moment, he said gently, “Well, I’m not angry anymore, angel, but I was.”
“I know.” Again she remembered the fierce way he had shaken her. “I have never killed anyone before.”
“That was not your fault. Gabriel was right. Michael would have shot us both.”
“I know. I just think I ought to feel something, and I don’t. Not so much as a tremor of remorse. You don’t suppose that I am going to suffer a huge reaction later, do you, like I did after Papa and Mama died?”
She half expected him to laugh, and was relieved when he replied flatly, “No, I don’t. What happened then was perfectly normal, because you had not allowed yourself time to grieve for them. You kept telling yourself that you had more important things to worry about. Moreover, you loved your parents, angel, and in a way, I think you were protecting yourself against your deep feelings for them. You don’t care the same way about Peryllys, only as you would about any chap who died, and less about him than most. You can say a prayer for his soul, and I daresay that will exorcise any sense of guilt that might linger.”
If she did not do as he suggested, she did send a silent prayer of thanks that she had been able to pull the trigger when she did. Just the thought that Michael Peryllys might have killed Antony sent ripples of horror through her even now.
Their conversation was desultory after that until they reached the inn. Inside, however, they met with an unexpected obstacle when they woke the landlord to request two rooms for the night. Though mine host did no more than blink at Antony’s drab jacket and breeches, he proved unable to fulfill their request.
“I regret having to disoblige you, sir,” he said, rubbing his forehead in apparent distress, “but I’ve kept only the one bedchamber free, as your man asked me to do. It’s got a small adjoining sitting room, which he said would serve you and her ladyship well enough, since you wasn’t expecting to stay the night but would use the rooms only to change your clothing. We didn’t expect to see the pair of you tonight.”
“Our plans changed,” Antony said, “Now, be a good fellow and see what you can arrange for us. You need not to be choosy, you know. I can sleep anywhere.”
“But I’ve got nowhere else,” the landlord said helplessly. “I give you my word, sir. What with the Duke of Wellington in town tomorrow, folks have come from miles around to see him. I’ve got bodies lying cheek by jowl in every attic and stable loft. ’Tis the same at the Lugger, across the way, and Fowey’s only got the two inns. Surely, since you’re married, sharing the bed won’t matter. ’Tis a fine, large one.”
Before Antony could reply, Charley said quietly, “That will do perfectly well, thank you. Indeed, sir,” she added, smiling at her husband, “I shall not complain, I promise you. The Ship is said to be one of the best inns in Cornwall, after all.”
Though the landlord smiled gratefully, she thought her husband nearly grimaced, but he said with Sir Antony’s customary hauteur, “Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish.” However, when a sleepy chambermaid showed them to their bedchamber, he waited only until she had stirred up the fire and departed again before he said, “I will not sleep on that spindly sofa in the next room, or on the carpet by the hearth. I scarcely closed my eyes last night. My lodgings were extremely rough.”
“We are married,” she said, flicking an amused look at him from beneath her lashes. “Surely, married persons occasionally occupy the same bed without … uh, without—” She broke off when she saw that he was grinning at her. “You know perfectly well what I mean!”
“I do,” he said, untying her bonnet and casting it onto the top of the bare dressing table. As he reached to untie the black stock she wore around her neck, he added, “Shall I help you unfasten your dress?”
Without a maidservant at hand, unless she chose to sleep in her cumbersome riding habit, she had no choice but to allow him to undo the tiny buttons at the back of the bodice. She removed her coat and the stock, and turned her back, while he stripped off his gloves and tossed them onto the table with her bonnet.
Antony undid the first buttons quickly. Then his progress slowed, and each time his fingers moved to a new one, they caressed her through the thin cambric chemisette she wore under her habit. At last he stopped, his hands resting lightly against her back. His presence behind her was disturbing, his light touch teasing. She wanted to see his expression, but there was something in the moment, a sense of intimacy, that she did not want to disturb. She could scarcely breathe. She wanted to lean back against him, to touch him, to feel his strong arms close around her, but she was afraid any movement would break the spell. When one of his fingers touched bare skin at the nape of her neck, above the narrow lace frill, she shivered, but she was not cold.
The little fire crackled on the hearth, its light joining that of several candles to fill the room with a reddish, golden glow. She could hear him breathe. She could smell the salty scent of ocean waves and coastal wind that clung to his damp wool jacket and breeches. She wanted to look at him, to judge what he must be thinking by the expression on his face, but she did not dare let him see hers. He would think her wanton if he could read her thoughts.
One of his hands, then the other, slipped gently around to the tiny chemisette buttons at her throat, buttons that her stock had hidden. As a finger tickled her chin, stroking gently, the other hand nimbly unfastened the top button. Two more followed, and still she said not a word.
She felt his breath against her right ear before he murmured, “You are not wearing stays, are you?”
“I never do,” she said simply.
“Excellent.” Two more buttons dealt with. These were larger than the ones that held the frill in place, and soon he reached the curved edge of the habit bodice. So intent was she on his progress in front that she did not realize his left hand had moved until she felt it touch the small of her back.
“Why do ladies wear so much clothing nowadays?” he asked.
“’Tis the fashion, of course.” The voice sounded unlike her own.
“A damned inconvenient fashion, if you ask me.”
In front, one finger dipped under the edge of her habit bodice, into the opening of the chemisette, touching bare skin between her breasts. She held her breath. If he did not think she was capable of undoing the front buttons herself, she was not going to tell him otherwise. But he knew
she was, of course. She began breathing again, a little rapidly, wondering how far he meant to go and if he expected her to stop him.
In back, he dealt with the fastening at her waist, releasing it deftly. She felt the weight of her skirt tugging the bodice. Only her arms in their wide sleeves kept the habit from slipping to the floor. His hand returned to her waist, then moved lower and stopped. In a voice of amusement, he said, “More pantaloons?”
“When was the last time you undressed a lady who wore a riding habit?”
He choked on a laugh and turned her at last to face him. Dancing firelight enhanced the twinkle in his eyes. “What makes you think I make a habit of undressing ladies?”
“You do not seem unpracticed at this, but I only wondered because ladies have worn pantaloons or heavy stockings under their riding habits for a long time. All my life, certainly.”
“I prefer those things you wear that have lace edging round the bottom. Very enticing, I thought them, like a well-constructed invitation.” His gaze met hers and held it. He looked as if he were trying to read her thoughts.
She wondered what he saw and hoped it was nothing that would deter him. Wanton behavior or not, this might be her last chance to learn what married people did in bed, for now that Wellington was safe, they would soon have to arrange their annulment. Indeed, for all she knew, Antony had already arranged for the bishop to deal with it in Truro after the consecration. The thought made her sad, so she did not dwell on it, fixing her gaze on him instead, willing him to continue what he had begun. When he did not do so immediately, she reached out and put her hand inside the rough jacket he wore, stroking the fine lawn shirt beneath it. When her hand moved lower, toward the top of his breeches, she heard his breath catch. “Aren’t you getting hot in that jacket?” she asked, still looking into his eyes.
“If I am, what do you propose to do about it?” His voice was low in his throat.
“I want to learn what married people do, Antony. Teach me.
Shrugging off his jacket, trying to control the surge of desire he felt for her, Antony told himself that he would take care. He reminded himself that she was his wife and he had every right to do as he pleased with her, that even if he should let his instincts rule his better judgment, he would do her no great harm so long as she did not become pregnant. And if she did … Even as the thought crossed his mind, she slipped her hand through the opening in his shirt to his bare skin. He stifled a groan. The wanton little baggage intended to seduce him.
Salving his conscience with the knowledge that he had warned her of the consequences, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her gently, beginning slowly to explore her body with his hands, pushing clothing aside as he encountered it. She responded at once, reaching for him, and he wondered if she was in some way reacting to the fear she must have felt before she had pulled the trigger and shot Michael, or if she was merely curious, as she had said. In either case, he had no wish to stop her.
He had wanted to hold her again, and to do much more than that, ever since the night of the storm, when she had come to his bedchamber. Reassuring himself yet again that he would do her no harm, he plunged his tongue into her mouth.
She moaned and pressed toward him, her hungry passion nearly overwhelming him. His fingers seemed to take on a life of their own as he stripped her clothing from her, and without another thought for consequences, he carried her to the bed. His shirt was open, and he knew she must have unbuttoned it, but he had no memory of it. His mind filled with the scent of her, the silken softness of her skin, and the feelings her slightest touch produced within his body. At first he wanted only to stroke her, to kiss her, to enjoy her passion.
She was silent except for the little moans and cries of pleasure she made in response to his touch, but her reactions produced stirrings within him that he had never experienced before. He was not unskilled, but his experiences had been casual, without emotional ties. Had he tried, he would have found it hard to remember a single partner’s name. Charley was different. She made him feel different, more alive than he had ever felt before. He kept his eyes open at first, watching her, enjoying the play of the firelight on her beautiful body.
As his hands moved gently over her breasts, making her gasp, her eyes opened wide, and firelight ignited flames of passion in their dark depths. She smiled and murmured, “May I kiss your body, too, the way you are kissing mine?”
“You may,” he murmured, his throat nearly closing on the words, “but take care. I’m having all I can do not to ravish you here and now.”
“But I want you to ravish me,” she replied. “I’ve never felt like this before, Antony, and I shall probably never feel like this again. I don’t want it to stop.”
“You do understand that this is how people get pregnant.”
“Yes, of course, I do. You know I do. But it won’t happen, and even if it does,” she added, looking mischievously at him, “the worst that will occur is that we shall have to stay married. I daresay even that will not be as bad as I thought, so long as you will engage not to interfere with me. You can do as you please, and I shall remain here and raise my child, and everything will go on as it did before we met.” Her gaze slid from his as she said the last words, and he knew she did not mean them, that she simply (and quite foolishly) assumed she would not become pregnant through a single incident. Still, anger that she could think even for a moment that he would abandon her to raise his child alone made him want to shake her again.
The anger ebbed swiftly when she began to explore his body with her lips and tongue. Her hand slipped lower, and he soon forgot his objections. When he could take no more, he moved to possess her, hesitating only at the last minute. Afraid to hurt her, he took great care when he entered her, but aside from a moan deeper than those that had preceded it, she did not protest. Taking her, he found it surprisingly easy to read her responses and to stimulate her until she writhed with passion beneath him. His senses reeled, soaring to a peak beyond any he had ever experienced before.
When it was over, he helped her clean herself, surprised but delighted that she did not seem at all shy of him.
“I thought it would hurt more,” she said.
“I’m no expert, despite what you think, but I’m told that women often differ in that respect,” he said.
Apparently content with the answer, she let him take her in his arms again and carry her back to bed. Not until sometime later, as they lay side by side, utterly sated, did he wonder when it would occur to her that, if she did get pregnant, he would not be the biddable husband of her fantasies. And if she did not become pregnant and still wanted an annulment, he wondered if she thought he would lie to the bishop when the small question of consummation arose. He would not, but he found himself looking forward to the moment, and imagining how she would react. It occurred to him then that, in his mind at least, they were married forever now, whether they liked it or not. The thought warmed him considerably.
Chapter Twenty-three
CHARLEY AND ANTONY WERE still asleep the following morning when Hodson arrived in a carriage with a driver and Kerra, but when they learned that Wellington’s ship was safe in the harbor, they made haste to dress and to break their fast. Upon learning that Hodson and Kerra both wanted to attend the consecration, Antony said with a smile, “Why don’t you ride our horses then, if you like, since we don’t have our grooms with us? Will that suit you, angel?”
“Yes, certainly,” Charley agreed as she stirred sugar into her tea. “Kerra, I will tell you what you must do to make Dancer let you ride him.” When they all were ready, they went to the harbor. There was not a cloud in the sky.
To Charley’s surprise, they found Rockland and Elizabeth awaiting them near the long dock. Rockland greeted them with his usual mischievous smile, but she sensed at once that something was different between the two. The way Elizabeth looked at Rockland would have given them away even if he had not been looking (in Charley’s opinion, at least) like the cock of the walk
.
“You’re betrothed,” she exclaimed.
Elizabeth looked disappointed, and Rockland said with disgust, “If that ain’t just like you! By Jove, you’re as bad as Lady Ophelia. She took one look at us, too, and said exactly the same thing. I ask you, what’s the use of having a grand announcement to make if no one allows us to make it?”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you oughtn’t to go about looking like a pair of cats that shared a cream cake if you don’t want people to guess things. Where are the others?”
“On their way to Truro, of course,” Rockland said. “They were going by way of the Bodmin turnpike, in several carriages. Alfred made one of his usual dogmatic declarations, saying we would take the front seat in that great traveling carriage of his, with him and Edythe, but I thought not. The alternative was to ride with Lady Ophelia and Lady St. Merryn and the paralyzingly dull Miss Davies, or to take Letty with us. Alfred kept saying he did not see any reason for us to ride in a separate carriage. In all truthfulness, I think he believes it’s indecent of us, but I told him it was quite all right since we’re now betrothed, and that you had asked me to meet you here. I also said,” he added with an oblique look at Antony, “that you had promised to introduce Elizabeth to His Grace. Hope that don’t put you out. I thought it likely he wouldn’t mind, for by what I hear of him …” He paused with uncharacteristic delicacy.
Charley chuckled. “You mean that meeting one more pretty female won’t make a particle of difference to Wellington. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“By heaven, I thought marriage would tame that tongue of yours,” Rockland said, glaring at her, “but I can see that it’s done no such thing. I daresay that in another month you’ll have put a ring through poor Antony’s nose.”
Heat flooding her cheeks, Charley opened her mouth to deliver a hot retort, but Antony laughed and said, “Wellington has never yet refused to meet a lady, and if I present Miss Elizabeth on the occasion of her betrothal, he will be delighted.”
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