by Gina Black
Just as she could not make him love her if he did not.
* * *
Two hours and a short hackney ride later, the bride and groom stood in St. James, Duke’s Place, a church noted for thousands of ‘special’ weddings. An aged parson stood before them, reading from the Book of Common Prayer.
Jeremy and Henry stood behind them as groomsmen. Jeremy, looking battered, but approving, supported himself on one-side with a stick. Henry propped him up on the other. Montford sat in the crook of Henry’s elbow. The kitten, Katherine’s only female attendant, wore a bit of ribbon about her neck that she noisily tried to chew off.
Katherine had not been able to fashion a true bridal garland, but had created a coronet with her braid and ribbons, hoping the bright colors would offset the dour black dress.
The clergyman intoned the words in a singsong of sounds that had apparently lost meaning—and clarity—after so many recitals. Katherine found herself almost unable to understand him, but she smiled and held Nicholas’s hand through the proceeding. Waves of exhaustion rolled over her. A sense of unreality grew until she wondered if she was in a dream standing next to Baron Nicholas the outlaw, her outlaw, and marrying him.
Finally, Nicholas said “yes” at what seemed to be the appropriate time and prompted her so she said “yes” as well.
It was over.
Nicholas gave her a long lingering kiss that singed the roots of her hair, but stopped short of her heart.
Jeremy and Henry shook Nicholas’s hand in turn.
The parson wrote their names in his parish register. “Make haste and bed the wench,” he admonished Nicholas. “The marriage can be annulled if ’tis not consummated.”
Katherine blinked. The minister had clearly misconstrued the nature of the wedding and Nicholas’s purpose in making her his bride. Although clandestine, it was not an abduction.
But a niggling doubt remained. Would Nicholas’s instincts and his willingness to protect her be a good enough foundation for a good and satisfying marriage?
She would not think about that right now. Katherine squared her shoulders. Taking her husband’s proffered arm, she strode beside him out of the vestibule to the waiting hackney.
* * *
The quiet group gathered in the small parlor back at the Hawk and Pheasant. Nicholas sipped his coffee and studied the lot of them. Jeremy balanced on his stick with one hand and ate a chicken leg with the other. Henry eyed the candied fruit but did not take one. Katherine sat on a stool by the open window. In the diffused light, the blue circles under her eyes stood out.
Nicholas felt a crush of disappointment. Where was the gaiety? Song and dance? Where were the smiles? They acted as if they had just come from a funeral, not a wedding.
“Shall we sing a song?” he volunteered.
Jeremy looked back at him in mild alarm. Henry coughed and shook his head. Katherine yawned.
“Then shall we dance?” he asked Katherine.
“Dance?” she said. “Thank you, Nicholas, but I think I am too tired to dance.” She turned away from him, resting her chin on her hands on the windowsill.
“I would dance if I could,” said Jeremy. “But I cannot.” He tapped the stick. “I do not even think I can stand much longer.” He limped to the chair next to Nicholas. “May I sit?”
Nicholas nodded permission, and Jeremy awkwardly sat down.
“I cannot say I have been to many weddings,” Jeremy said, “but I did think this one to be prodigious quick. Did the hackney ride not last longer than the ceremony?”
Nicholas smiled. “I believe it did.”
“Nor could I understand most of the words. I think I heard ‘matrimony’ once or twice—at least ’twas a relief to know the parson performed a wedding and not a christening.”
Nicholas chuckled. “Even had he, ’tis true and legal for he listed it properly in the parish records.”
“If it’s all the same to ye,” Henry broke into their conversation, giving Nicholas a glum look. “I’m going to find a strong drink. Me tooth requires it.” He nodded at Nicholas and then to Katherine where she sat quietly at the window, her back to them. “I wish ye both the best, of course,” he said and left.
Nicholas’s attention drifted to his lady, to the elegant line of her neck, the relaxed slant of her shoulders. She had been so quiet since the ceremony. Mayhap she did not know what to do with a husband anymore than he knew what to do with a wife. Except for bed-sport, of course. He smiled. They could look forward to long hours of that.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “I want to tell you I am truly pleased you and Mistress Katherine have wed.”
Nicholas took a gulp of the hot coffee. He might as well tell the lad as much as he had told Katherine. “’Tis Lady Katherine now. She married a Baron.”
Jeremy’s head snapped up and he looked Nicholas in the eye. “Then why did ye not say so before?”
Nicholas had discovered long ago, that when lying it was best to stay as close to the truth as possible. “It means naught to me.”
Jeremy looked at him seriously. “Yesterday she told me you are an outlaw.”
“An outlaw no more, lad. Soon I will be a seaman, as I was for many years past.” Nicholas took another drink of coffee. “And you, my friend groom? What shall you be now that you are in London and your Lady no longer requires you? Will you stay with the horses or try for something more grand?”
Jeremy smiled. “There are many ways a man can improve his lot in London.”
A man? Nicholas smiled. “How old are you?”
Sitting up as straight as possible, using the stick for balance, Jeremy said, “I’ll be nineteen in less than a fortnight.”
“Ah, so old then? I ‘spose you are a man, my friend. I urge you caution in this grand town. There are many ways a man can find trouble here, or trouble can find him.”
“I am not all that trusting, as you may recall, but I thank you for the warning,” said Jeremy. “What plans do you have? Would you take my mistress, I mean my Lady, to sea?”
Nicholas frowned. “We have not yet decided.” Nay, he thought, he had not even thought on it, or talked to the lass about it. He looked over where she sat at the window.
“My bride has been very quiet. Think you she has fallen asleep?” He rose and walked over to her. Katherine’s eyes were closed. She let out quiet snores. Her hair, beribboned atop her head, looked like a crown. Several wisps straggled out, one dangled before her mouth, quivering in and out with her breath. Her skin looked translucent in the sunlight, and Nicholas realized how tumultuous the last days had been for her. He fingered the love-token in his pocket. Instead of giving it to her at the wedding feast, he would wait until she awoke.
He nodded to Jeremy, carefully gathered Katherine into his arms and carried her from the parlor.
* * *
Nicholas lay on the bed, watching Katherine sleep. Four hours earlier, he had carried her into their room, over the threshold as custom dictated, and put her down on the mattress. After loosening her gown and stays, he had stretched out opposite her. His mind had begun to churn, and he’d not had a moment’s peace since.
He had satisfied his pledge to his father: Ashfield was his, as was its mistress.
But what was he to do with them?
He’d never thought to have a wife. Katherine would surely make an admirable helpmeet. She knew how to manage an estate. She could run a staff of servants, but he didn’t have an estate, and was not likely to have one—even hers—for many years. He had no servants, save Henry. Although it was arguable he might need some managing, there would not be much else for her to do.
And though her future was now out of danger, he was not yet clear of it. In London, there was always the possibility he would be recognized by a passing friend, and she would learn the truth about him.
On the other hand, if he were to tell her all of it—his full title, why he’d returned to England, and what Ashfield was to him—then he wouldn’t have to worry ab
out her finding out some other way.
And she would never trust him again.
But perhaps, if he told her just right, she would understand.
Nicholas leaned forward. “Katherine,” he said softly, yet loud enough for her to hear had she been awake. “I need to tell you something.” She did not stir, much to his relief. “I have sinned against you. Since the beginning of our acquaintance, I have lied to you about who I am. I chose to help you so that I could help myself. And now I sit here asking your forgiveness while you sleep because I have not the courage to ask it while you are awake.”
Katherine shifted, and Nicholas’s heart dropped. “Are you awake, lass?” he asked, swallowing uncomfortably. But she did not respond.
Relieved, Nicholas sat back on the end of the bed. As far as rehearsals went, it was adequate. Maybe next time he told her it would go as well.
* * *
Katherine drifted awake. Through the trailing ends of a dream she became aware first of the rough broadcloth coverlet against her cheek, and then of the hazy twilight that filtered through the window. She rolled onto her back to see Nicholas sitting across from her on their bed, his expression unusually melancholy.
A thrill ran through her as the day came back to her in a rush. She and Nicholas were married! She had pledged herself to the man of her heart. Katherine smiled, remembering the unintelligible singsong ceremony. At least, she hoped that’s what she’d done.
“My lady awakens,” he said, his deep resonant voice curling into her heart. “She deigns to smile upon me. ’Tis like the sun when it rises in the morning.”
“Good afternoon, dear husband,” her pulse quickened when she said the word. “I did not intend to sleep through my wedding day. Or have I dreamt it all…?” Katherine’s voice trailed off. She leaned forward, and reached a finger to Nicholas’s cheek. Warm and scratchy from the day’s growth of beard, he was real and not imagined. “I did not dream, you, did I? Standing by my side? Saying you will be my husband?”
Nicholas smiled and took her hand in his warm grip. “Nay, ’twas not a dream. You are my wife; I am your husband. And as such, I would ask a boon.”
“Whatever is in my power I would grant.” Katherine smiled.
“’Tis a simple request.” He relinquished her hand. “Give me your Chinese coin.”
Surprised, Katherine reached inside her neckline, noticing that Nicholas had loosened her clothing while she slept. An unaccustomed familiarity, but it spoke of the new intimacies in her life, and she felt touched by his care for her. She pulled the ribbon over her head and handed the coin to him.
He held it cupped in his hand for a moment, examining it as if he could read the foreign characters.
“A token to seal our troth,” he said and opened his other hand to reveal a fine gold chain.
“A gift?” Katherine asked. Her heart rose and then fell. “But I have naught for you.”
“You are my present.” Nicholas leaned toward her. She raised her lips to meet his; a light gentle kiss, but its warmth reached her heart.
Katherine made a contented sigh and watched his big fingers struggle with the knot on the ribbon, finally getting it undone. He strung the Chinese coin on the delicate chain and clasped it behind her neck. When he had it fastened, he ran his fingers along the links where they rested on her skin.
She threw her arms around his neck. She was not ready to tell him she loved him, but she could tell him some of how she felt. She put her forehead against his. “You make me very happy. I did not know what ’twas to be happy until you came into my life.”
Nicholas gave her a half smile and stroked her hair. “Ah lass,” he said. “Then I am happy too.”
* * *
Over the next days, Nicholas and Katherine shared the fine details of their lives like children exchanging confidences. Nicholas had many opportunities to divest himself of his lie, but he let each one go by. Often Katherine’s giggles would fill the room, a sound so joyous he did not have the will to make it stop. He told himself he didn’t want to ruin this honeymoon period, to see Katherine’s smiles turn to frowns, but he knew in his heart it was because he was a coward. He had wedged himself into a tight spot, and he could not extricate himself with grace.
Or honor.
Although for most of his life he had been able to shrug off his worries, he now found it impossible. So he hid them as best he could behind a wall of hot sensuality. Late at night, he’d lie awake watching Katherine sleep, realizing he had been hoist by his own petard.
He enjoyed this time with the bittersweet appreciation of a man awaiting the hangman. They could not stay cocooned in this room forever. Sometime they would have to venture out. Sometime he would have to tell her the truth, before she found out from someone else.
On the afternoon of their third day as husband and wife, Nicholas found himself in bed watching her as she stood by the small window wearing nothing save his lucky coin on the gold chain he had given her. Her hair, unbound and gloriously tangled from love-play, hung long and silky down her back.
He eyed the square set of her shoulders, her firm derrière, the elegance of her small bare feet, while he again told himself it is time.
The words floated through his mind, disjoined. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly before any of the words could slip out. He did not want to bungle it. There had to be some explanation she would understand. He had just not thought of it yet.
“Nicholas?”
He propped his head on his hand. “Hmmmm?”
“I have come to the realization that you did not tell me the truth.”
A flash of alarm, like hot fire, ran through him. How had she found out? She had not been from his sight in days. Had he spoken in his sleep? Had she been reading his mind?
He cleared his throat. “I truly did not mean to cause you any pain,” he said.
“Oh no,” she reassured him. “You have not hurt me, although I confess to having a slight soreness.” Her smile trembled. “You have shown me the greatest bliss.”
Relief washed over Nicholas like a wave of cold surf. A chill ran through him with the dawning realization that causing Katherine pain would pain him as well.
He patted the spot, still warm, next to him.
Katherine walked toward him and sat down.
“What did I do?” he asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
“You did not tell me the truth,” her voice quavered. She put a warm hand on his cheek. “Mating ’tis not the most pleasant thing a man and a woman can do together. ’Tis so much more than that, Nicholas. When I eat a comfit, or my stitches turn out right, that is pleasant.” She turned away from him, but he could still see a light stain of pink touch her cheeks.
“When we join as man and woman ’tis the greatest joy. Yet I cannot believe it is usually so.” She frowned. “I heard talk, servants’ talk, that made me think that some find it not even pleasant at all.”
“No, ’tis not always so,” he agreed. “Although I cannot tell you why. There is some special alchemy between us. Together we make gold.” Light goose flesh ran down her arms, and he rubbed them before pulling her into his embrace.
Katherine snuggled into his warmth. “What would have happened to my life had I not walked into that storm and found you in the cottage? Would I now be married to Finch? Would you have survived?” Katherine shivered. “How frightening to think that had the storm started just a few minutes earlier, or father delayed our meeting by even half an hour, I would not have left my home. I would never have found you.”
Nicholas tightened his arms around her. “It cannot be chance that we met, dear Katherine.”
Katherine smiled. “I shall never feel the same way about thunderstorms again. I shall always find them romantic.”
Nicholas laughed. “I find you romantic. The way you bite your lip, the way you make little noises when you sleep, even the way you look at me when I have done something that annoys you.”
Katherine gig
gled.
“’Tis not funny,” Nicholas protested. “Ah lass, I fear I am losing my reason—whatever reason I did have. All I want is for you to be here beside me, and for me to be inside you.” He gave her a last squeeze before he sat up and covered her with a blanket. “But, we must give your tender parts a rest now.”
“I would like a bath and my supper.”
“Then I will brave the dangerous outer reaches and find us provisions. And some hot water.”
Before his body could convince his mind to stay, Nicholas pulled on some clothes.
When he returned with food, and attendants delivering the tub and water, Katherine was hiding under the sheets.
“You can come out now,” Nicholas called to her as the door shut, and he latched it behind them. “Shall I feed you as you bathe? How very dissolute that would be, eh?” He smiled. “I think you would like it.”
He helped her into the tub and found that, instead of feeding her, he could not keep his hands off her. He lathered and rinsed her as if she were a great lady and he her servant. He washed her hair, her shoulders, her breasts, her feet, leaving her tender parts to soak.
“Will you not get in?” Katherine made a playful splash.
He would have liked to join her, but that would be folly. His breeches had already become uncomfortably tight, and his breathing ragged, from the exquisite process of bathing her. He trailed kisses across the slippery expanse of her forehead and down her nose before he came to her lips, pliable, waiting for him, opening to his tongue, so unlike their first kiss, and yet so similar in that it left him stunned and winded. He reluctantly pulled away.
“Ah, sweet Katherine, perhaps ’tis best I stop and eat some of the food they have brought, else you find yourself my dinner.”
Katherine giggled. Her face a dewy radiance from the heated water, he wondered how he could have ever thought her plain. Her newfound sensuality called to him like a siren.