Kendra was still sleeping soundly when he returned, and Joseph couldn’t resist the temptation to lie back down beside her. He took up her hand and set it on his chest again, and reveled in the odd comfort of its warmth. So lovely, she was.
He was watching her when she stirred against him.
Her eyes widened in a surprise that touched him, eyes quickly dropping to the hand that trapped hers. “How are you feeling?” she asked. In a discreet maneuver she tried reclaiming possession of her hand.
He bit back a smile at the attempt. “I believe I shall live, after all.” Her face, flushed with sleep, had him rethinking his strategy of a quick departure. Perhaps he could kiss her into a gentle submission. Surely they weren’t in that much of a hurry? Might they spare two…even three…hours?
A fresh scent of soap had desire surging through him. All rational thought fled. He tugged her atop his body. Oui, he could spare four hours if need be. His lips grazed her forehead.
“W-what are you about, sir? You’ve been quite ill.”
“I seem to be much better now,” he murmured. “Due to your ministrations, I’m sure.”
A soft mewling cry erupted from her. Oh, he liked that. His lips found hers. He braced her body, straddled, over his. His tongue teased her mouth apart. ’Twas all the invitation he needed. With soft strokes he suckled, possessed, indulged in the sweet offerings. He cupped one hand on her nape, the other pushing aside the shoulder of her night rail. Skin as soft as silk tempted him beyond measure. He dragged his lips from hers to touch the contours of her collarbone.
Mon Dieu! How had he made it past two days married to such an allurement?
“My lord, are you certain you are well enough for such activity?”
“Just try and stop me, my lady,” he growled against her neck. Her slight body quivered against him. Pounding throbbed in his head.
“Someone’s knocking, my lord…”
“What?” he whispered against her ear. She tasted delicious, and he was ravenous.
“The door,” she squeaked, somewhat adorably breathless.
“The door?” he repeated. What was it about the door? She made it sound incredibly sensuous.
Kendra shoved against his chest with flattened palms, but he held fast.
“We must answer.” She broke away, panting. “The door.”
Joseph blinked as her words sunk in. The door. Someone was knocking on the door. Soundly.
He groaned. “I suppose someone should answer it, lest they think we did ourselves in,” he said against her now puffy lips.
“I’m afraid so,” she whispered. “I fear they were quite concerned for you last evening.”
“Oui, oui. By all means, see to the blasted door. Rest assured, madam wife, we are not finished here,” he growled, releasing her, however reluctantly.
Chapter Ten
The spectacular weather was an anomaly, Kendra knew. She refused to worry that not every hair was in place, with the gentle breeze stirring about. Stretches of green sprawling hills, dotted with livestock, did much to calm the tumultuous thoughts of Joseph’s incandescent touches earlier that morning.
From her peripheral vision, it was clear he’d recovered from his aberrant attack of that mysterious illness. The cheerful anecdotes he dished out served well in passing the long hours on the road. His questions appeared genuine, but she couldn’t quite stave off the niggles of doubt swirling through her mind.
“…and you believe that same?” he asked.
Same? Lord, she’d missed every word. “Well, of course,” she said slowly.
“Mmm. That the Egyptians wore cosmetics for their healing powers? And, yet you don’t appear to don them yourself.”
She scowled. “I once discovered my governess’s hidden rouge. Papa nearly locked me in the nursery when he saw those two red spots on my cheeks.” She looked out over the horizon, inhaling the fresh summer air. “Actually, their cosmetics were originally used as protection from the sun rather than as adornment. Or for hiding scars. Some women use them for that today.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think they smell bad.”
“You certainly don’t require enhancements,” he said. The wolfish grin he tossed out so casually flamed her cheeks to such a warmth she was certain there was no need for any rouge. “Your lips were quite red and luscious this morning, as I recall.”
“I fear, monsieur, you shall land us in a ditch if you do not keep your attentions on the road.”
“There is that,” he muttered.
Kendra hid a grin and opted for a change of subject. “The women of ancient Egypt enjoyed legal and economic equality with men.”
“I begin to sense a recurring theme,” he said.
“Women could barter goods, own property, even dissolve their unions, if they so chose.”
The carriage wheel hit a rut and she latched onto him for support, then quickly let go.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “ ’Tis lucky for me, then, that this isn’t ancient Egypt, and that a partitioning of nuptials is almost impossible.”
“Yes, lucky for you,” she murmured.
“I suppose you’ve imparted this invaluable information to a journal somewhere.”
Kendra froze. “N-no. ’Tis n-no need.” She stumbled over the words. She looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. “I’ve fairly g-good retention abilities.” With supreme effort she loosened her grip, lightening her tone in the same vein. If he’d any idea… She shuddered at the thought of the pity, ridicule, scorn, she would see in his eyes if he discovered just how dimwitted she truly was. She forced herself to swallow the self-imposed ridicule. Mr. Thomas had promised she was just…different. She clung to the thought.
His body went tense next to her. “What is it?” he demanded sharply.
“N-nothing.” She drew in a deep breath, determined to keep the demons at bay. In a benign tone, she continued. “Though the pharaoh owned all the land, the landed property was passed down from mother to daughter. And if the woman expired prior to her husband, he, not she, lost the use of the land.” Kendra ended the statement on a small huff.
“Is that so?” Joseph said, thoughtfully. “I can think of an instance or two where such a situation might be preferable.” That was uttered under his breath before he let out a small cough, as if he were embarrassed or had said too much.
She ignored the remark. “Yes. Property was inherited by a daughter and her husband rather than the surviving husband…er…spouse.”
A bark of laughter erupted from him, and the glance he shot her held a warm gleam. “Tell me not all your knowledge surrounds women’s superiority to men, s’il vous plaît. I fear for my fragile ego.”
A rush of relieved air escaped, and she sought for the safe haven of her proper English upbringing. “It seems, in fact, that women occupied a minutely higher status than their male counterparts.”
“And did your father follow those values, as well, ma chère?”
“Why, yes,” she said softly. “I do believe he did.”
“In what way? After all, ’tis common knowledge you, as a female, cannot inherit his entailed lands. Even as his only child.”
“No. I cannot. But I know much regarding agriculture. He’s taught me well and listens to me. Papa and I purchased one of the first seed drills Mr. Tull invent—” She stopped, embarrassed. “I’m sure you would not care to hear me prattle on.”
Her husband did not answer. Instead, he guided the horses onto a side road and drew back on the reins. “This looks as good a place as any for our midday meal, non?” He jumped down and held out his arms.
Hesitating only a second, she leaned down. Strong hands circled her waist, hitching her breath. He lowered her as if she weighed no more than the doll Lady Esmeralda had given her. She slid down his body in a slow descent. She swallowed, experiencing every well-formed ridge of his body. Every muscled contour.
“You’re wrong.” His voice was gruff, raspy, as if speaking were…difficult.
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“Wrong? In what way?” she whispered.
“I love hearing you prattle.”
****
Joseph couldn’t resist brushing his lips over Kendra’s, but took care not to linger. She was too irresistible, and now was not the time or place. He dropped his hands and stepped to the door of the carriage to retrieve the large basket of food the Harpers had generously put forth.
It was heavy. Kendra must have made quite the impression. She certainly had on him. Her outrageous notions for women were endearing. It had him pondering how many other similar ideals she harbored. He carried their treasure to the copse of trees where she stood, framed by a backdrop of a placid lake and a nearby herd of grazing sheep. An increase in his pulse thrummed.
In silent unity they laid out a small folded blanket that lay atop the food. He gestured for Kendra to sit, then dished up meat pies, cheese, and bread before handing over a plate. “This is quite the feast.”
Her lips twitched, though nothing so obvious as a smile touched them. “The female Harpers wished you continued certainty after your trying ordeal. After all, you were a patron of their establishment, and are a peer of the realm.”
He handed her a glass of wine. “I believe you are teasing me, Lady Lawrie.” He brought a hand over his chest. “I’m wounded.”
“You seem none the worse for wear, my lord.” Shrugging, she tipped the glass to her lips—a leisurely move that pumped the blood through parts of his body he rather wished to remain docile, at least for the time being.
Joseph filled a plate for himself, surprised at how famished he was.
“I should like to travel the continent with you while you perform your tricks.” Enthusiasm glittered in her eyes.
“Ridiculous,” he said absently. “That is no kind of life for a lady. And now that I’ve married you—” Joseph glanced up quickly. Hurt, then suspicion crossed her features.
“Of course,” she said lightly. “I’m to produce an heir.”
At once the light mood vanished. Joseph could have kicked himself.
Kendra’s gaze rested on her food. “What kinds of capers do you do on stage?”
“You make it sound as if I am one of those trick-riders who perform at Astley’s Amphitheatre of Equestrian Arts,” he scowled. “I’m an illusionist.”
She raised her head and nodded, but Joseph could read nothing in her expression. “That’s right. You conjured up Princess Cinderella and Prince Charming’s son in quite an impressive manner, as I recall—set Chalmers Kingdom all aflutter.”
He suppressed a shudder. That illusion was one he would prefer to eradicate from memory. One not of his doing, which had almost gotten his head lopped off in the process.
With delicate fingers, she brought a chunk of cheese to those full lips. Curiosity overcame good sense. “What happened to your hands?” Once the question left his mouth, he should have regretted it, but he did not. He wanted to know.
Fingers poised, mouth open, she froze except for her mouth snapping shut.
The air round them stilled. The birds quieted; no breeze stirred. ’Twas as if nature awaited her answer as intently as he did. Soft curls framed her heart-shaped face.
He found himself unable to look away.
Kendra set the cheese back on her plate gently. When she started to move her hands within the folds of her skirts, he stayed them with just a touch. “Non. You’ve no need to hide from me.”
Her eyes darted to his, filled with alarm.
“Tell me, s’il vous plaît. I’d like to know.” He shifted the plate from her lap to the ground and entwined his fingers with hers. He felt their tremor through to his soul.
“ ’Twas an over-zealous governess, I fear.” She did not meet his eyes.
Mon Dieu. He brought her hands to his lips. “How old were you?”
“Five, I believe.” Her voice barely registered above a whisper.
Rage swarmed his senses. “But there are so many. It must have gone on for years.”
“Yes.” She tugged her hands away and began to clear away the remnants of their meal.
He was not about to let it end at that. “For what?” His tone came out harsh.
She flinched, then waved one hand in the air, as if it mattered naught, but it did. It was there in the tense draw of her shoulders, the haunted depth of her eyes.
With an index finger beneath her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “Why?”
“Lack of attention, or inability to apply my ‘God-given sense.’ Choose one.” She lashed out, anger prevalent. She jerked her head from his hold.
“At five?” ’Twas incredible. Fury unfurled deep within his gut. Such insensitivity, and from a governess, no less. The thought left Joseph’s senses dangling over a precipice. “What did your father say? I cannot imagine him overlooking such an atrocity.”
“Mama had expired not long before. My father was not a-aware.” She placed the used cutlery and dishes in the basket and stood.
Clearly she’d said all she intended, since she turned and stalked off, rather quickly.
Joseph narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. There was more, he would stake his life on it. Whatever she still hid, he’d learn in time. For now, he’d let the matter drop.
The key to his wife, he had a feeling, was in preventing her withdrawal. It was a honed skill she harbored.
At this juncture, Joseph took a measure of satisfaction. Progress had been accomplished—his head was still intact.
Chapter Eleven
The setting was beautiful. Not a ripple appeared on the small lake. Sheep in the distance eyed her warily. After a moment or so, satisfied Kendra represented no threat, they dropped their noses back down into the rich green blades. The only upheaval to the tranquil surroundings was the tumultuous demons storming her thoughts. Those burdens loomed like low heavy clouds before the deluge of rain.
She looked out over the pastoral scene, wishing she could grasp it in both hands, hold onto the camaraderie they’d shared before Joseph’s troublesome inquiries. What if she passed her affliction to her children? His resentment would surface, then fester. He would regret their impulsive marriage. The flash of iron aimed toward her old governess would turn on her when he learned the truth. She wrapped her arms about herself and shuddered, despite the warm air.
“We’d best be on our way.” The deep timbre vibrated against her, giving her a start. Comforting arms cradled her back into his chest. “I expect my father will have a note awaiting us in Leeds.”
She allowed herself the small luxury of relaxing against him. “You mentioned our…consortium?”
“Consortium?” His sardonic tone heated her cheeks. “Ma chère, we are married. Do you realize what that means?”
“Of course,” she snapped. She straightened, prepared to flee, but that moment of selfish pleasure caught her in a web of her own making. “Blessed union? Connubial bliss? Holy matrimony?”
“What has you so worried?” He said it gently, but it was a deception. He wanted to devour her in a heated rush.
His lips touched her neck, and she shivered. “What if we are not well matched?”
“How can we not be well matched?” he murmured.
His lips left a trail of moisture, making her knees weak.
“You are the Earl of Macclesfield’s daughter. I am the future Earl of Yarmouth. I ask you again, what is the problem?”
’Twas on the tip of her tongue to tell him just what he’d landed himself with, but her courage failed. How difficult could it be to hide her illiteracy? Mayhap she could keep her secret. After all, even Papa had no idea, and he’d known her all her life. Something eased in her chest. She spun in his arms, threw her own about his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
For the first time in a very long time she felt…safe.
****
Joseph pushed the horses hard upon reaching the outskirts of Leeds. Twilight was upon them, and Kendra had insisted on sitting atop, at his side, rather than inside the
carriage.
“I will not have you falling asleep at the ribbons, my lord.” Her haughty tone would serve them well in the future.
He grinned. Who was he to argue with such logic? The silence, companionable, left him time to speculate on the change between them. A change that left him intoxicated by an unexpected show of faith. How she’d twisted her body into his, just before they’d returned to their carriage, locking her arms behind his head. Caught unawares, he’d frozen in the space of a breath.
For a split second—when he’d realized what her actions revealed. Belief. She believed in him—for all her reserve and uncertainty.
He’d pulled her slight form into a heart-stopping squeeze, every bone against his hands, flat on her back, as fragile as an English lily. Yet he felt her earlier turmoil as if it were his own. Even after confessing her governess’s dreadful treatment. What else could she have suffered to have her trembling in such fear?
“Whom shall I be meeting, my lord, when we reach home?” She broke into his thoughts.
Home. She was his home—
Joseph shook his head. He was not ready to think in such terms. Yet the thought did not quite disturb him as it ought to have. “My father, the Earl of Yarmouth. He was the second of three sons. My uncle recently passed on, leaving my father the title and lands.”
“Was he of an age—”
“It was quite sudden, I’m afraid,” he said. “He tripped down the stairs and never regained consciousness. The younger son died several years prior. Both were fairly useless, I regret to say.”
He caught Kendra’s frown from the corner of his eye. “Useless?”
Joseph bit back a wince. It was true. Both uncles spent money as if it grew like grass; neither one of them bothered caring for the estate and its townships or replenishing the coffers. If he told her that, she might realize his intentions were not so honorable—perhaps he should confess. After all, they were married. Yet unconsummated, he reminded himself.
“You’ve no cousins?”
The moment passed, and he was granted a reprieve. “One. My father’s younger brother had a son, Seth.” Joseph grimaced. With luck, that one would break his neck in one of his reckless horse races.
The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Page 7