by Becky Riker
Jillian got stuck on his use of the endearment her father called her mother.
They rode in silence for some time.
“Are you upset with me, Jillian?”
“No, Lord Ashley.”
He laughed, “Do you plan to call me thus while we are alone?”
She smiled, a bit embarrassed to have been caught out, “My tongue slipped.”
The carriage rounded the corner and Jillian got her first view of the house.
She put a hand to her mouth, “It is lovely, your grace.”
He leaned closer to her, “I do believe that is worse than ‘Lord Ashley.’”
She bit her lip.
“I am glad you like the prospect, milady,” the teasing continued.
“This would be a lovely walk,” she commented.
He instantly rapped on the ceiling, causing her to look at him in slight alarm.
“I was not implying we should do so now.”
“What better time than now? You may enjoy the view gradually and fully as you come to see your new home for the first time.”
She allowed him to help her out.
“Thank you so much,” she took his arm and walked with him down the drive. “I hope you are not too tired from the events of the day.”
“I believe it is the bride’s prerogative to determine how difficult the day has been. If I am being honest, however. . .?”
“Please,” she urged, “nothing but.”
“I have tired only of sitting still – or standing still – all day long. This opportunity to stretch and walk out some of the kinks is quite refreshing.”
Jillian rewarded his gracious and honest answer with a smile that stretched nearly across her face.
“You really are quite lovely, Jillian,” he stopped to look down at her.
She could feel the heat creeping up her face, “Thank you. I always thought my eyes too big for my face. I am happy to know you do not think so.”
He smiled and reached a hand up to caress her cheek, “Not at all.”
Jillian’s heart picked up its already frantic pace. She wondered a moment if he was going to kiss her. He had never done so before, and she was unsure about how she felt about the possibility.
He dropped his hand and resumed walking.
Eager to find a conversation to fill the electric silence, Jillian lit upon the first topic she could find, “The p –pond,” she stammered and then cleared her throat to start again, “the pond is quite prettily situated. Was it naturally formed, or did someone dig it?”
“It has been there for nearly fifty years,” Slade pointed to a gentle hill the opposite shore, “but my grandfather formed it. Apparently, the area was constantly flooding despite his efforts to tile or trench. He finally built up that side to make it appear intentional.”
Jillian smiled at the laughter in Slade’s voice, “It is a beautiful scene, however it came about.”
Slade led her gently to the other side of the path, “There is another pond over on that side. As far as I know, that one was put in place by God.”
The area he indicated looked more like a marsh than a pond.
“I am sure it has its own beauty,” she didn’t want to offend him, “but it certainly does not draw the eye like the first.”
He chuckled, “I never thought it was much to look at either, but it is home to more wildlife.”
Jillian could appreciate the need for such a place, but she was not inclined to get a closer look.
“It is also home to more insects. It is not a pleasant place for a stroll.”
She smiled up at him, “I will keep that in mind if ever I am having difficulty choosing between the two.”
He chuckled, “If you find yourself in need of more walking paths, there is a glade on the north side of the house and a trout stream.”
Jillian bit her lip, her mind drawn back to former years.
He must have noticed, “What is it?”
“My father used to take me trout fishing. We rode our horses and brought along sandwiches,” she swallowed a lump at the memory.
“Do you still ride?”
Jillian shook her head, “I haven’t in years.”
He stopped, “But you would like to?”
She recognized the anticipation in his eyes.
“I would like to.”
His grin split his face and lit his eyes, “Excellent. My sister cannot stand the sport, so I was afraid to ask.”
Jillian listened to him as he described the animals in his stable that would be appropriate for a lady.
As pleased as Jillian was with the path and the discussion, she was still grateful to arrive at the house.
“Perhaps I should apologize for not warning you how long the approach is,” he must have felt her leaning more heavily on his arm as they walked in the grand entrance.
She stood upright and dropped her hand, “In my enthusiasm, I underestimated it,” she smiled as she looked at the formation of servants in the hall.
“Lady Jillian,” he addressed her formally, “I would like to present Mr. Harold Tellem, my steward.”
Jillian greeted each staff member as he introduced them, pleased that each seemed to be eying her with openness and curiosity rather than with a critical eye.
“Shall I show her ladyship to her chambers?” the housekeeper, asked Slade.
He surprised Jillian by refusing, “Thank you Mrs. Bailey, but I choose to keep that honor for myself.”
Jillian allowed him to lead her up the grand staircase and down the corridor.
“I can feel your hand tensing on my arm, Jillian,” he whispered as they approached what appeared to be the master suite.
She forced herself to relax her grip.
He opened the door and led her into the sitting room.
“Please, have a seat,” he waited for her to choose a chair before sitting across from her.
“The master chamber is beyond those doors,” he pointed behind her. “Your room is through these doors.”
She wondered if he remembered he was not going to pressure her.
“I believe Erin is in your room.”
She nodded, unable to stop the clenching of her jaw.
“I meant what I said, Jillian. I will not be asking you to join me nor will I disturb you in your chamber.”
She tried not to sigh in relief.
He recognized it, though. He grinned, “If you are concerned, I could give you the keys. You could lock your door every night.”
She slumped a little, “I am sorry I doubted you.”
He took her hand, “You barely know me. You will get to know me and, I hope, to trust me.”
She lay a second hand over the first, “Thank you, Slade.”
He rose and pulled her gently to her feet, “If it is agreeable to you, dinner is to be served at seven.”
She nodded.
“Shall I meet you here and walk down with you?”
She nodded again.
He turned and went into his own chambers, closing the door softly after himself.
Conversation at dinner was only a little awkward. Jillian was still nervous in the presence of her new husband. He was not wishing to push her.
However, once the bride remembered that they shared a passion for horses, she was able to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
“Amy – that is, I should say, Lady Geary – said she does not enjoy riding. I am surprised with the stables you have available that she did not acquire the love as you did.”
Slade smiled, “I am aware of my sister’s name, Jillian, and it does not offend me to hear her called by it.”
She blushed, “I’m sorry. I was afraid you would think me forward.”
He ignored that and addressed her earlier comment, “Amy had other interests. She enjoyed it well enough as a child, but when Mother insisted on a side saddle, she gave it up.”
Jillian chewed the inside of her cheek, looking down at her plate, “When was that?” she could
feel her cheeks warming, “that she quit, I mean.”
He swallowed his bite, “About ten or so, I suppose. Whenever it is that young ladies begin to ride that way.”
Perhaps she should not tell him. She wished she had thought to discuss this more fully with Amy.
When Jillian realized Slade had gone silent, she glanced up at him.
His mouth was quirked into a half smile that made her heart do a flip.
“What?” she wondered what was causing him to look at her that way.
“You said you rode when you were younger – does that mean you rode. . . did you use a side saddle, Jillian?”
She was surprised by how quickly he had understood the reason for her discomfort.
“No,” she sighed. “I never did.”
Suddenly afraid he was going to take that pleasure away from her, she hurried on, “But I am certain I can learn, Slade.”
He nodded, “You probably should learn for propriety’s sake.”
She felt a rush of embarrassment and disappointment that he would think her crass for riding astride.
“However,” he went on, “I see nothing wrong with you riding astride when you are in the immediate vicinity.”
She met his eyes, “You aren’t scandalized by the idea?”
He shook his head and wiped his mouth on his napkin, “I think side saddle is dangerous, but it does preserve one’s modesty in a manner that riding astride cannot.”
She angled her head and looked at him under furrowed brow, “What would you suggest?”
“Ride with me, of course,” he leaned back slightly in his chair. “You need not be concerned about your modesty when you are with your husband, and you will be safe astride.”
She didn’t agree that she needn’t be concerned over her modesty, but she said nothing. She set aside her own napkin and rose.
He was at her side, extending a hand to her, “Would you like to step out on the veranda with me?”
While under her uncle’s control, Jillian had been fairly sheltered from society’s rules. Even she knew it was improper for a woman and man to be outside together – particularly past nightfall.
She hesitated.
“You would prefer not to?”
She felt her breath hitch as his whisper floated to her ear.
“I am not certain,” she hedged.
He stepped back, “Do you still feel I may take advantage of you?”
She frowned, “No.”
He didn’t appear to believe her.
“I am sorry, sir,” she was beginning to feel very foolish, “I do not know if it is proper.”
He smiled and looked down at her, “Jillian,” his voice was still soft enough that no nearby servants would overhear, “you are my wife. I may be alone with you at any time I please and nobody would think it the least bit scandalous.”
She closed her eyes. Of course that was true.
“I beg your pardon,” she nodded toward the door.
He led her outside to the cool evening air. It was relief to feel the breeze carrying away some of the heat from her flushed cheeks.
“I imagine it feels quite strange to you,” he began as they stood overlooking the back gardens, “spending time alone with a man you hardly know.”
She couldn’t deny it, but he was in a similar situation, and he didn’t seem nearly as ill at ease as she was.
“Why are you so comfortable?”
“I am in my own home,” he slid his hand down to hers and grasped her fingers. “I also had more choices in the situation than you had. It makes it easier for me to accept.”
She was trying to acclimate herself to the feeling of her hand in his.
“Do you mind if I hold your hand?”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
“Are you ready for bed?”
Before she could even tense at the question, he clarified.
“Your own bed?” there was a smile in his voice.
“I am,” she admitted, “though I have had an enjoyable evening with you.”
He led her back into the house, “You sound surprised,” his chuckle helped her understand he wasn’t upset.
“I am a little,” she teased, following him up the staircase toward the master suite. “I was afraid we would have nothing to talk about.”
“You thought we would be forced to discuss trenching or sheep husbandry.”
She laughed, “I do not know anything about the former, and the latter is certainly not an appropriate topic.”
He opened the door to the sitting room where they would part ways for their own beds, letting go of her hand as they crossed the threshold, “There is more to the sheep than just the . . . um, perhaps you are right that it is not appropriate.”
Jillian watched him grin again, thinking again how very handsome he was. His eyes creased at the corners and he showed a line of straight teeth whenever he smiled.
“I think it is so unusual for someone to have brown hair and blond eyes,” she spoke without thinking. “I mean that you have brown eyes,” her words came out quickly.
He raised his eyebrows, “You think brown eyes are unusual?”
She bit her lip and shook her head, “Just when combined with blond hair. Amy has brown hair and brown eyes.”
Her unnecessary reminder of his sister’s hair and eye color made his smile grow.
“I seem to be tongue tied,” she sighed.
“You are tired,” he stepped backward to his own door.
“You are a good man, Slade,” Jillian had to say it, even though it was going to embarrass her and, possibly, him.
His brows drew together.
“You could have passed by me on the road or let me find my own way back to Southam, but you didn’t.”
His eyes registered a small measure of surprise.
She smiled, “They were very kind to me,” she explained how she knew he sent the carriers, “but also very curious.”
He laughed.
“You also did not have to marry me.”
His expression turned grim, “I should have held my tongue. I knew something was not right about the situation. I could have asked around before opening you up to that kind of abuse.”
Jillian stepped forward and took his hand, “How were you to know? He would have found me eventually, and then who would have rescued me?” she paused, “I am only sorry you had to make such a sacrifice.”
He looked down at her hand holding his.
“Jillian, it is no sacrifice for me to take you as my wife. You are a godly woman who is also kind, and quite beautiful.”
He had told her as much before, but this setting was so intimate. It was hard to focus, and she wondered if she should excuse herself for bed, even though what she really wanted was to remain with Slade.
“May I kiss you, Jillian?” he tugged her closer to himself.
She slid her hand from his and ran it up his arm and rested it on his shoulder.
He lifted a hand to her cheek and leaned toward her, pressing his lips gently to hers.
Jillian had thought his hand felt nice with hers, but that did not produce the fire in her veins like this did.
She stretched up on her toes, followed him when he would have pulled away.
He responded to her by snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her body flush to his.
Jillian’s hand moved to his neck and then to his hair.
He pulled back quickly, breaking contact almost violently, “Jillian,” he rasped, “I fear I will not be able to keep my promise if I do not retire immediately.”
She watched him turn on his heel and disappear into his room, closing the door with a vengeance.
Jillian was, at first, confused. The moment of disorientation soon passed, though, and she smiled. He had been tempted by her.
He really did find her attractive.
CHAPTER 6
Jillian awoke early the next more, refreshed.
She dressed alone – not needing
Erin’s assistance. She began brushing her hair out, wondering if she should call her maid or wait. It was a new place for Erin as well, and there were likely things the girl would need to acclimate herself to in the situation.
She looked up and realized the door to the sitting room was still open. She must not have closed it last night. She moved to remedy the situation.
“Slade,” she was surprised to see him in a chair in their sitting room. He rose when he saw her, “I did not realize you were up.”
“I found I could not sleep once the sun made its appearance,” he admitted.
Her hand flew to her hair, tumbling unchecked over her shoulders and down her back.
“It looks very nice as it is,” he guessed the source of her discomfort.
She sat down in the seat nearest her, knowing he would not be seated while she stood, “I do not very often wear it down.”
“I imagine it gets in the way,” he suggested.
“It would, yes,” she felt like she needed to say something while he stood and stared at her, “When I was younger, I would braid it and leaving it hanging down my back.”
Slade finally sat down, but it was not in the chair across the room. Instead, he walked over to where she sat, and joined her on the small sofa. She tried not to scoot away from him, but he was so very close to her.
Her discomfort increased when he reached out a hand and touched a lock of hair that was settled on her shoulder.
“Am I making you nervous?” he whispered.
She began to shake her head, but then switched the movement to an affirmative nod.
He was so close she could actually feel the chuckle that rumbled in his chest.
“Would you like me to move away from you?”
She didn’t respond right away. Then she shook her head.
Slade reached a hand toward Jillian’s lap, and, for a moment, she thought he was going to take her hand. He did not. He took the hairbrush she did not realize she still held.
He shifted slightly and then placed his hands on her upper arms to turn her away from him.
She was almost certain her heart was going to beat out of her chest.
He began drawing the brush slowly through her long hair. If his actions hadn’t made her so tense, Jillian might have found the experience enjoyable.
Clearly, he could read her anxiety in her posture, “I am hoping you will become accustomed to my presence, Jillian. Maybe this isn’t the way to go about it,” he did not stop brushing though, as if he was waiting for her instruction.