Indigo Moon

by Patricia Rice

“Don’t, Aubree,” he muttered huskily, holding her with one arm while stroking her into passion with his free hand. “I’ll not harm you.”

  She lay weakly in his hold while he explored the soft swell he had discovered, easing the pain of his hunger with this small gratification. Her shudders increased, and Heath smiled softly to himself. Passion would come easily to her—when the time came.

  He pulled her robe closed before releasing his grip, then brushed a kiss across her hair. “I would tuck you into bed, my love, but I fear I would climb in after you. Close your eyes, and I will go.”

  She did as told, hugging her arms around herself at the coldness created by his departure. She heard the door close and stood there a moment longer, a tear trickling down one cheek.

  So this was what it meant to be in love.

  Chapter 19

  Aubree did not tell Heath how she felt, of course. She watched out her bedroom window as her husband crossed to the stables with several of the new men he had hired that morning. He was as at home in his shirtsleeves in a barnyard as he was at the dining tables of dukes. He was a distinguished man of intelligence and ambition with varied interests that made him all the more fascinating. She could not see where a man like that would have much interest in a schoolgirl like herself, outside of the fact that he had no one to share his bed at the moment. To tell him she loved him would be to terrify him into sending her away, for her own good.

  Aubree pressed her lips together in determination. He thought of her as a ticket back to wealth and a lifeline for his brother-in-law, but she would force him to see that she had other advantages. She could be a wife to him; she knew she could, if he would but give her half a chance.

  This thought gave her actions impetus. A home and children of her own were sufficient reward for surrendering what limited freedom she might attain on her birthday, but to gain a husband like Heath was a goal she had never thought to achieve. Now she knew she could only live half a life without him, and every act must work to win his heart.

  By day’s end she had discovered she had set herself no easy task. Heath disappeared for the day as thoroughly as if he had gone with his ship, though he left traces of his passage. She found Jamie boiling water over a makeshift fire to moisturize the air in Michael’s room. A stranger hoed at the straggling plants in the kitchen gardens. And a new maid appeared downstairs, waiting for orders—all undoubtedly at Heath’s behest. But of her husband, Aubree saw nothing until late that evening.

  When he finally returned to sit down to a cold meal, he listened to Aubree’s details of Michael’s recovery and work accomplished, but he made no effort to repeat the prior night’s kisses. When Aubree indicated she intended to retire and watched him with hope, he merely kissed her forehead and said he had work to do on his books.

  He watched her depart up the stairs with an ache in his heart. She was so damnably young and impressionable. He had done her no good by playing on her affections. She wanted more of what he had given her last night, but he had not the strength to control himself so well this time. Her smiling face and happy chatter eased the burden of the black cloud that had overtaken him again, but Heath knew if he followed her up those stairs, she would not come down again a maiden. He would not risk losing her happiness forever.

  Instead, he turned toward his study. Someone, or something, had ripped out a line of fences in the sheep pen. He would have to see if there was sufficient cash to mend them or if he would have to use his new marital status to seek an extension on his credit. He did not know how much longer he could hold out without a flow of cash. He would not have to pay his newly hired workers until after the harvest, and he had no wish to touch Aubree’s generous allowance. Somehow, the expenses of these next months before his ship returned must be met.

  One day flowed into the next as smoothly as the rivers run to the sea, and the month of August had nearly disappeared before Aubree remarked its passing. She had ridden into the village with Anna and Maria to purchase some shirt material for her recuperating patient, when she realized the wheat fields had already turned yellow. She gazed at them in dismay, knowing it was only a matter of time before the harvesters came, and then it would be October. Summer had nearly gone, and she was no nearer her goals than before.

  Anna caught her expression. “Do you see something in that field?” she asked, scanning the yellowing seeds with stronger eyes than Aubree’s.

  “Only my life passing,” Aubree murmured. Out loud, said, “Summer is nearly gone. I will be returning to London soon. Perhaps you could come with me.”

  Under the excitement of the offer she made, neither of her listeners heard the flatness in her voice. To see London had been the dream of their lives. To see it in the company of aristocracy would be a dream beyond imagining.

  Anna did her best to keep her head. “Heathmont might not be so appreciative of our company. And our father would certainly frown on it. We will miss you. Will you be returning for the holidays?”

  Aubree kicked her horse into motion, averting her face to hide the tears. “I have no plans as yet. We should begin working on your father. London is dull without the company of friends.”

  How easily words inspired hope. While Anna and Maria chattered of ways of turning their father’s head, Aubree reflected on how that could be done. The news of the annulment of her marriage would turn curmudgeon Sotheby’s favor toward her. That was the extreme least of her worries.

  In the village they met Geoffrey, who offered to buy them tea if they would honor him with their presence. When he understood the topic of the Sotheby girls’ excited conversation, he steered a covert look at her.

  Aubree had given him no opportunity for anything more than flirtation all summer, and he had flirted equally with the wealthy Sotheby girls. But this day, Geoffrey took the opportunity to single her out as he escorted them back to the crossroads that would take them their separate ways. As the Sotheby girls waved their farewells, he lingered behind.

  “Do I mistake, or are you entertaining a fit of the dismals today, milady?” he asked.

  Having nearly forgotten his presence, Aubree turned to him with a start. After a summer in the country, the young baronet was more sun-browned than usual, and his light hair had developed a golden streak just above the frown puckering his brow. She had forgotten what had once made her think him suitable for a husband, but his quiet understanding now gave her some clue.

  She rewarded him with a forlorn smile. “When we return to London, I shall have to play chaperone while you carry on your pursuit of Maria. That seems most odd, don’t you agree?”

  “You must know, if there was ever any chance for me. . .”

  Aubree dismissed his gallantry. “Maria does not have a husband and I do, but thank you for the reminder that I am not beyond the pale yet. Jamie will see me home.”

  With this abrupt dismissal, she reined her mount toward home and galloped off as if she left the devil behind.

  Geoffrey stared after her thoughtfully. All was obviously not well in the Earldom of Heathmont. Perhaps a spark of flint might light a fire to speed things up.

  Austin studied the remains of his burned-out wheat field, then turned on his heel toward home. He could not contemplate this loss or the black depression would return with the force of hurricane winds. He had too much to do and too much to lose by letting this set him back. Even though he’d gone into debt over the fences, and the poisoning of his prize bull last week had deprived him of a valuable source of cash, he could survive the loss of the wheat harvest if his ship returned with the cargo he had planned. He would be further behind than he had hoped to be, it would mean more risky runs through the French blockades of European ports, but he would not be defeated.

  Aubree ran to meet him, her golden face upturned with concern as hazel eyes searched his face for hope. Finding none, she threw herself into his arms.

  He stank of smoke of the fire as he gathered her into his arms and held her for what little comfort she could provide
.

  “John says it happens sometimes, that the fields become too dry and the sun too hot and it is like tinder. It did not spread farther than the hedgerow, did it?”

  Heath offered a black smile. The hedgerow marked half a mile of grain, beyond it lay only uncultivated field. He would gladly have seen the field laid waste, but these “accidents” never had a silver lining. Still, he preferred that she had no understanding of the deliberateness of these incidents. One day he would discover the culprit and put an end to his mischief. In the meantime, there was no point in clouding Aubree’s natural sunshine.

  “No, it did not spread farther than the hedgerow, halfling. And you will be happy to know that all the rabbits from the wheat field now call the next field their home, if you wish to visit them sometime,” he jested.

  “The rabbits will have to wait. You smell like a smokehouse. Come, Matilda is drawing a bath. You will feel better for a good soak.”

  Heath resisted the temptation, setting her back on the uneven cobblestones. “I must find someone to relieve Michael in the sheep pen, and John needs help with the animals. It will be a while before I can come in.”

  “You are limping,” she argued. “You need to apply the liniment John gave you. One of your new field hands has gone out to the sheep, so Michael is already in the kitchen eating. The horses have been curried, and Jamie and John are taking care of the livestock. If you are to be a wealthy man someday, you must learn to share your burdens. No man can do everything himself.”

  As that was exactly what he had done since an early age, Heath considered these words a revelation. Sunshine broke through the storm clouds that were his constant companions, and he smiled into her upturned face with chagrin and relief. He had seldom thought of her as little more than a precious ornament, yet the knowledge that his chores had been anticipated and completed without effort on his part lifted a weight from his shoulders.

  “Aubree, my little one, there are days when I believe you are an angel in disguise. When I am king, you shall be queen. Where is that bath you promised?”

  She practically radiated happiness as he steered her back to the house.

  A while later, Heath sank into the tub of hot water with gratitude and relief. He had not grown accustomed to the luxury of being waited on with such efficiency. It had never occurred to Louise that she ought to see to any wants but her own. He had always looked after himself. Perhaps he grew old and soft to so enjoy this indulgence now.

  Despite the uncivilized life he had led these past years, Heath had always dressed for dinner. When rising from his bath to discover only his dressing gown laid out instead of his coat, he frowned. Surely he had some clean coat he could don.

  He hurried into the dressing gown at a knock from Aubree’s door. Perhaps one of the maids had taken his coat and breeches to be pressed and Aubree was returning them.

  At his call to enter, his wife stepped smilingly through the doorway. Garbed in a gold satin robe that set off her tawny coloring to advantage and wearing her hair in a simple ribbon at her nape, she, too, had obviously just stepped from a bath.

  “I thought, perhaps, since things have been so hectic, you might prefer we dined in our chambers. Your mother is entertaining this evening, so Cook prepared us a simple meal. Joan can serve us anytime you are ready.”

  The idea of struggling into tight breeches and boots and traipsing down to that cold dining hall seemed suddenly unappealing. The opportunity to put his leg up before a warm fire while he contemplated his enchanting wife was infinitely preferable. “I should not encourage your mischief, milady, but I cannot resist your invitation. Shall we dine?”

  Heath worries gradually dissolved as he sipped his wine and relaxed. He did not mention the day’s disaster or his concerns over its results. Instead, he recounted anecdotes of his cavalry days and schoolboy antics, while Aubree offered tidbits of the mischief she had achieved to earn her reputation as an incorrigible monster.

  He roared with laughter over her tale of the day she had dared Emery to race their horses through the gallery at Castle Ashbrook as their ancestors were said to have done. The image of the golden-haired imp with curls flying dashing down a stately hall on horseback followed by a bespectacled and outraged Emery nearly unseated him from his chair.

  “I cannot believe your father survived your childhood. It is no wonder that he never remarried to raise another heir.” Heath set aside his emptied dish of fruit compote and reached for the snifter of brandy at his elbow.

  “He would never have known about that escapade if someone had not locked the French doors at the other end of the gallery. We were forced to turn the horses around and ride back, and my pony left his mark of disfavor upon the carpet. I suppose the gallery would have been carpeted in rushes back in the first duke’s time. Much more civilized for horses.”

  The satin of her robe was no match for the creamy smoothness of throat and shoulders. A golden curl teased at her breast, and Austin longed to touch it, but that would disturb the temper of the evening. He wanted to forget problems, not create them.

  Gallantly, he resisted temptation. Lifting his glass in toast to Aubree’s beauty, he drank of the brandy and not of the fine liquor in the golden container across from him.

  “Your father’s coat of arms would not include a lion rampant, would it?” he murmured as he set down his glass and watched her sip of hers.

  The mischievous gleam of green eyes above her glass nearly pierced his heart.

  “It does, but I shall not tell you the family motto. You would have been wiser to investigate our family as thoroughly as my father did yours. Why did the Atwoods choose a hawk for their arms?”

  Replete with brandy and good food, Heath relaxed in the warmth of a lovely woman’s company. “The Atwoods have always been more at home in the forests and fields than in civilized society. A hawk is a fierce bird not much partial to company. He’ll fight when attacked, kill to feed his young, but he does not seek to kill for killing’s sake. Your lion prides himself on his ability to out-kill any of the herd. I suppose that is why your family succeeded to a duchy and mine never climbed higher than an earldom.”

  Aubree smiled. “The Beresford ambition is no secret, but Emery’s intelligence has other outlets besides politics. My father is the last of a dying breed. If it were left to me, I would settle for a country squire who loved animals and children. Of what benefit are titles?”

  Austin knew he trod a dangerous path. He did not believe she would be suited by a country squire like her friend Everett, nor would she be satisfied by a rural life of poverty or even genteel comfort. She had moved in high, fast circles all her life, and never realized the difference. Someday she would have to learn.

  “Your title and your wealth represent a world of responsibility, Aubree. Soon, you will have to learn that. You have been pampered and protected. I am in no position to continue offering you that same security. You will have to grow up, halfling, and learn what life is all about.”

  Reluctantly, knowing by the rebellious look on her face that he had gone too far, he rose from the table. The evening had come to its only possible conclusion.

  “I am not a child, Heath.” Aubree rose to confront him, her chin held proudly high.

  “You have a woman’s body, Aubree, I’ll grant you that.” He gazed wistfully on the full curve of her breasts beneath the clinging robe. “But you have no more idea of what it means to be a woman than a newborn babe. There is a world out there that you belong to; you cannot hide yourself behind your pets and mischief forever. When you learn the responsibility that goes with your name and breeding, then you will be a woman. I’m not a fair teacher of that lesson. Good night, my love.”

  This endearment and the kiss he placed upon her forehead were no substitutes for what Aubree had in mind, and she raged as the door closed behind him. What did she have to do to make the man see her as a woman and not a child? Take a lover?

  That did not seem a very probable solution, and she we
nt to bed no wiser than before.

  Chapter 20

  September brought rain and cooler weather, and the blackened wheat field developed a haze of green growth. Heath set one of his newly hired men to plowing under the stubble in preparation for planting turnips. The barley and oats had already been brought in and now it was time to plan his winter crops.

  He had sufficient fodder to get the livestock through the winter without buying feed, but his need for cash continued to mount. Wool sales had been declining lately; perhaps he should consider selling some of the flock. The sheep did not profit here so well as they did in the hillier regions. The pastures could be turned to better use.

  The sun came out and warmed the chill as he rode over the land, overseeing the last of the harvest and the beginning of plowing. The letter he had received the day before had dispelled the remainder of the gloom from the fire, but now he had other concerns with which to wrestle as he rode.

  Adrian had been located—still alive, thank God. Soon Aubree would be eighteen and all terms of their pact would be met. He would have to release her once his ship returned and he could refund the duke’s dowry. He knew it was in Aubree’s best interest to let her go, but the thought ate heavily at his heart.

  He had admired the childish mischief in her eyes as she teased him from the doldrums, and felt the pang of remorse when she regarded him with a woman’s desires. In these few months she had become as much a part of his life as the sun over his head and the land beneath his feet. Somehow he would have to learn to survive without her.

  From a distance, Aubree watched her husband’s shoulders slump as he turned his mount toward a trickling stream. John had told her that his lordship most often took his lunch in the seclusion of a shallow pool beneath the willows. This must be his hiding place.

  She dismounted and led her horse through the grass to the stream’s bank. She had often stopped to admire the flicker of birds’ wings in the branches overhead and the call of their mating songs during the summer. The place was relatively quiet now. The last of the summer flowers were fading away.