It grew dark early now, and the sun had already set by the time Aubree stepped into the brisk air of the yard. Harley had told her the harvest was in, and the scent of freshly cut grain bore out his words. In a few months, frost would set the ground, and it would be Christmas. Surely Heath would not send her away at Christmas?
She was back to where she started, and she kicked at a pebble on the cobbled drive. A horse snorted and stomped his hoof in front of her, and Aubree glanced about to see who was out so late.
Instead of one of the workmen she expected, Geoffrey stepped from the thick overgrowth of trees and hedge lining the drive. His golden hair gleamed in the candlelight from one of the windows, but otherwise his features were blurred and indistinct in the dusky light.
“Aubree, will you let me speak to you?” he pleaded.
Aubree stared at him as if he were a phantom from another world, as indeed he was. Geoffrey was the embodiment of the London society she had left behind, the beauty and unreality of a world foreign to this one she meant to carve out here. She had a family inside that crumbling old house. That was her world now.
But she had too much innate courtesy to turn her back on a friend. “Of course, Geoffrey. Won’t you come in?”
He shook his head and lifted the reins of the horse he had led up the drive. “I am on my way elsewhere, but every time I pass, I try to see you. Do you read none of my letters?”
Aubree shrugged. “I have been unable to accept any invitations since Heath’s accident, so I have set aside my personal correspondence for a better day. Surely there can be nothing urgent for you to say to me?”
Sadly, Geoffrey shoved back a lock of hair. “I only wished to reassure you that I am still here should you need me. There are those who say your husband will hang for this latest deed, but I have never heard of the courts hanging an earl over a housemaid. But if anything should—”
Aubree cut him off. “Don’t speak fustian, Geoffrey. Heath might be capable of slaying an armed man in a fair fight, but he would never lift a hand in anger to any other, especially a woman. If that’s all you wished to say, then I bid you good night.”
She turned to walk away, but Geoffrey stopped her. “Wait, Aubree! I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” His voice contained a hint of panic. “There is something else I wished to speak to you about. Will you listen?”
Aubree waited impatiently.
“The Sothebys are having a dinner Saturday evening. My cousin and I are invited, and Maria and Anna would very much like you and Mrs. Adams to attend. They’ve been hoping Emily would visit while she is here. They were once very close. And I promised my cousin to introduce you to him. He’s a neighbor of yours, Harry Eversly. I’ve been staying with him, and I rather owe him one, you see. . .”
“You know better than that, Geoffrey. I will tell Emily of the invitation, of course, but I will not go where my husband is not welcome. Now, if that is all. . .”
Hastily, Geoffrey held her back. “No! That’s just it, Aubree. Sotheby is starting to soften, and we thought if you and Emily could come and show him how wrong he’s been. . . The girls have planned it so carefully, Aubree, and I promised I’d persuade you. For old times’ sake, please. . .”
Aubree sighed. If Sotheby could truly be persuaded that Heath had no part in his daughter’s death, it could easily sway the tide of public opinion. And, of course, if Emily went, there would be no impropriety in her attending. It would serve Heath well to sit and stew while she went out for a while. They had been too much in each other’s pockets lately.
She nodded a curt agreement. “Very well. Have Anna send me a card with the time and I’ll see to it that Emily joins us. I am trusting you, Geoff. Don’t let me down again,” she warned.
“I won’t,” he agreed, kissing her hand. “Seven on Saturday. I’ll bring my cousin’s curricle. Do not forget.”
But Aubree was already striding for the welcome warmth of the abbey.
Chapter 27
When Aubree slipped into their bedchamber, she discovered Heath sitting in the light of a candle, staring at the household accounts, quill in hand. He set the books aside and rose from his chair at her entrance.
“I thought you would be in bed,” she said, hurrying for the escape of the dressing screen in the corner. Now that Adrian was healing, she really ought to move him to another room so they could have separate chambers and privacy once again.
“I’m not an invalid,” Heath replied.
Aubree swung to face him. “Fine, then you do not need me anymore. There are clean linens in the blue room, I’ll sleep there. You can have your bed back.”
Before she could reach the door, Heath caught her arm. “Aubree, you are more than a nurse to me.” The compelling plea of his eyes gave a different meaning to the abruptness of his tone.
Aubree gazed up into his dark face, searching for some sign to give her hope, but finding none. The harsh angle of his jaw seemed even sharper in this half-light, and no smile softened his lips.
“Am I?” she demanded.
Reluctantly, he released her arm. “I will only cause trouble if I must explain myself. Don’t let me make it worse, Aubree. Stay tonight and let us discuss this more reasonably in the morning.”
Now that he had released her arm, more than ever Aubree wished he would hold her again. She didn’t want to talk, reasonably or otherwise. Only when he held her in his arms did she have any confidence in his feelings. She feared that sensation to be illusory, at best. He had held many women in his arms and kept none of them.
Still, she gained nothing by walking away. She met his gaze with a troubled stare, but nodded a silent agreement.
With relief, Heath stepped aside to let her pass.
They exchanged no other words as Mattie entered with warm water to help Aubree undress and wash. Heath watched in anticipation as one article of clothing after another flew over the screen or dropped to the floor. Mattie bustled about, tidying up as water splashed behind the screen. At last, the long, white nightdress was brought out. Restlessly, he banked the fire, pinched out the bracket of candles on the wall, and heartily wished Mattie would depart. It had been too damned long. . .
Eventually, Mattie received his message and scurried from the room.
Aubree slipped from behind the screen, golden hair streaming down her slender back. Heath pinched out the last candle. The banked fire provided a flickering red gleam upon l as he joined his wife behind the curtains of the bed.
As sweet-smelling arms slid welcomingly over his shoulders, Heath growled in satisfaction. He had meant to have her one way or another, but he preferred her willing. His lips found the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, and he pressed his advantage as his wife writhed beneath him. The throbbing in his leg only served as counterpoint to his pounding heartbeat.
He took her quickly, almost fearful of delay. Firelight danced eerie shadows across the bed curtains in company to their rhythm. Heath overpowered her, carrying her heedlessly along terrifying heights, proving beyond any doubt that she had much yet to learn and he would be her teacher.
When the moment came and the thunder broke over them, Heath let her feel the jolt before gathering her in his arms and sheltering her from the storm. The tide of passion swept past, rocking them in its wake as they clung together.
“I need you, chere amie,” Heath whispered beneath thick clouds of contentment. Her kiss brushed his lips as sleep reached out to claim him.
Aubree woke in the morning to discover she had lost whatever small power she had gained during her husband’s illness.
Heath had sent for Harley before breakfast, and they spent the morning closeted in the small salon discussing the harvest and work left to be done. Instead of being taken to the study to await Aubree’s dilatory inspection, the post was immediately carried up to Heath. Aubree breathed a sigh of relief as he disposed of the few letters without question.
Once Adrian entered their suite, she was dismissed from the chamber entirely
. She would have given a quarter’s allowance to know what was being said, but she had too much pride to pry.
In the nursery, Emily and the children greeted her with pleasure, however. Aubree found contentment in their company, and the plans they made to brighten the dreary walls of the nursery. The wainscoting had suffered damage from generations of thrown toys and dirty fingers, but a coat of fresh paint could work wonders. With the addition of the children’s multicolored artwork, the room bloomed. Aubree enjoyed every messy minute of it.
When she returned to her chamber to check on Heath before going downstairs to oversee dinner preparations, she overheard Adrian’s voice raised in anger from behind the door.
Aubree stepped into the shadows as the door opened a crack and Heath’s voice carried out.
“You’ll relieve a goodly portion of it when you take that ship off my hands. I expect to hear from it any day. Give me a good price, and I’ll have the money I need to do what I must, and you will have a ship at your disposal to return you home.”
Aubree coughed loudly and clicked her heels against the hardwood floor as she approached the door.
Adrian opened the door wider, greeting her with a grin. “It looks like you’ve been entertaining the terrible duo.” He whipped out a handkerchief and scrubbed at a paint spot on the side of her nose. “When next we visit, I trust you and Heath will have a few of your own so they can entertain one another instead of us.”
Aubree looked anxiously to Heath, but he leaned against the mantel with a noncommittal expression. She felt he studied her, waiting for her reaction, but she could not determine what he expected. She smiled apologetically at their guest.
“I realize I have been a poor hostess these past weeks, but now that you are well again, we should arrange suitable entertainment for you. Surely you are not thinking of leaving already?”
Adrian attempted to soften the blow as gently as possible. “We will be leaving as soon as I can find a ship to take us home. The good weather is almost gone. The delay might mean waiting until spring. I am sorry, my lady.”
Disappointment and an emotion akin to fear swept over her. Her anxious gaze returned to Heath. With his sister gone, he would be free to send her away. No one but Lady Heathmont would be left to protest. He planned it that way, she felt certain. That was why he met her stare so boldly now. The shock of it bounced off her heart and rippled to her toes. With the ship sold, he could return her dowry. The bargain would be met.
Tears welled in her eyes and she hastened to hide them. “I will miss you,” she whispered, and ran away.
Adrian watched her go with sorrow, then turned one last scornful look on his friend. “The years have hardened your heart, Heath. Too much pride is not healthy.”
“It would be worse had I too little.” Heath reached for the brandy decanter. “This way, she will have some choice. To hold her here would be selfish.”
“What fools these mortals be,” Adrian muttered, stalking out and slamming the door after him.
Heath insisted on dressing and dining downstairs that evening, and for the first time, the entire family—minus the nursery—dined together. Despite Lady Heathmont’s happy chatter and Emily’s excited planning, the evening was a failure. Aubree’s laughter was forced and brittle, and Heath’s brooding countenance spread gloom like thunder clouds over the sparkling candles.
When they finally retired, Aubree emerged from behind her dressing screen to discover Heath rubbing at his aching legs. Immediately, she bent to unwrap the bandage. She examined the wound and found it healing as the doctor had promised. A scar would remain, but with care, it should not interfere with the use of his knee. With gentle fingers, she rewrapped the wound with clean lint.
“The fall did you more good than harm, it seems. ’Tis a pity you did not fall on your head.”
“I vaguely recall mention of some such earlier. Do you wish me to return and try again?” he asked wryly.
A sparkle of mischief brightened her eyes as she glanced up at him. “It might be worth trying. Or I could simply take one of Patience’s iron skillets to your pate. I think I would prefer the latter.”
“You would.” Heath lifted her from the floor and settled her on his good knee. She perched there, ready to flee again as she once had before they were married. He had lost her trust already. It saddened him, but he had no alternative. “We have not talked. Why did you not tell me your father had written?”
The swiftness of his attack left Aubree unprepared. She attempted to rise, but Heath’s grip only tightened. She wore no robe, and the heat of his hand where he held her burned through the flimsy cloth of her gown.
“You have a fever and I forgot about it. Where did you find it?” she asked guiltily, wishing she had cast the letter into the flames.
“John brought up the stack of letters from my desk. Those cats of yours have been playing in them. There could have been important correspondence in there. Have you read none of it?” Heath watched her with curiosity. Notes of condolence and sympathy had been interspersed with invitations and legal documents. He had not enjoyed such popularity since his first marriage, and he could not imagine what inspired it now, but it was Aubree’s reaction to it that puzzled him.
“I read anything addressed to me that looked important. I would not pry into your affairs,” she answered stiffly.
Heath eyed her skeptically. “And not telling me of their existence is not prying into my affairs? Do you have any idea of what was in that letter from your father?”
“I do not care,” she said crossly, again struggling to escape. “Let me down, Austin. I will not be scolded as if I am still a child in leading strings.”
“I ought to turn you over my knee, but this will be simpler.” He lifted her and flipped her over on the bed with her legs dangling over the side and her derriere arched toward the ceiling. She screamed in dismay, but the sound was muffled by the bedcovers. “Will you promise not to interfere in my affairs again?” Austin asked.
“I did not!” she protested, wriggling to escape this ignominious position. “Let me go.”
“If you had any idea how tempted I am to thwack that pretty bottom of yours, you would not annoy me this way, Aubree Elizabeth. I owe you much, but you need to be taught some discipline as well. You knew what was in that letter, and you deliberately kept it from me. How many others did you hide? Is there more I ought to know? Tell me, Aubree, or I will give you the thrashing your father should have done years ago.”
Aubree grew still and turned to glare defiantly at him. He held her hands behind her back so she could not scratch his eyes out, but her look should have scarred. “Do that, Heath. Prove your reputation.”
If she thought that would deter him, she erred. With a murderous glare, he swatted her soundly. She wore nothing beneath the silken gown and the sound of the slap seemed to echo in the partially furnished room. The feeling so revolted him, he could not raise his hand to repeat it.
Aubree waited for the next blow, but when none came, she turned and discovered the look of horror and disgust on her husband’s face. When he released her hands and started to rise from the bed, she scrambled to right herself and pin him down.
“Don’t, Heath,” she whispered, fearing the terrible self-loathing in his eyes. Her arms flew about his neck and he caught her by the waist, burying his face against her breasts. “I won’t interfere in your business again, Heath, I promise. I just didn’t want you to worry. You worry about so many things. I wanted you to be happy while you healed. Please, Heath, don’t be angry with me. I hate it when you’re angry with me.”
And he knew she spoke the truth. His wife was like a child who wished only to please. She craved his attention and sought it in any manner she could. He should be relieved that she had outgrown the habit of riding her horse through the gallery.
“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself, widgeon. Don’t cry, please. I just don’t know how to teach you that I can take care of myself.” He pulled he
r into his arms and cradled her against his chest, kissing her cheek when she turned her face away from him. He could taste the salty track of her tears and his arms closed tighter around her.
“Not against my father,” came her muffled reply.
“You are my wife, and he cannot take you away without my consent. Now look at me, Aubree,” he commanded.
She wiped her eyes on his robe and peered up at him suspiciously.
“Tell me you trust me.” He spoke gruffly, with the authority of the military officer he had once been.
“I want to, with all my heart and soul. But trust is a two-way street and you have not set foot upon it. I know you mean to send me back to my father,” she said accusingly.
“You are a wealthy heiress and can go wherever you wish. I cannot send you anywhere,” he argued. “But I should think you would wish to see Emery and Peggy and the baby.”
“Will you come with me?” Aubree sat up and regarded him warily.
Austin debated the matter. “I might. But I could not stay long. Your father is concerned about your welfare, and rightly so. You must reassure him, while I must stay here and rebuild the abbey. If you would only trust me. . .”
“You mean to send me away as my father always did.” She squirmed against his thigh and tightened her hold about his neck so that her breasts flattened against him. She nibbled at his earlobe and ran her fingers down the back of his neck. “Don’t talk anymore,” she whispered against his ear.
Heath knew he was being manipulated, but to have her come to him was a novelty he couldn’t resist. In one fluid move, he rolled her back against the bed and leaned over her. Cats eyes stared up at him, challenging him. His hand staked possessive claim of one full breast.
“Is this what you want?” he demanded, sliding his hand beneath the silken material to ply the rising peak. When she nodded, his hand caught in the neckline of the gown. “Will you trust me?”
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