To Protect and to Cherish

by Becky Riker

  He pulled his foot away from her, “And you were so embarrassed by it you couldn’t look at me,” he leaned toward her and rested his elbows on his knees.

  She didn’t deny it.

  “It is more acceptable out in the fields. Nobody else wears a waistcoat and jacket.”

  She rose and looked down at him, “Your feet should be clean enough to make it to our sitting room, but I would not test Mrs. Bailey’s patience by walking over the new rug with those boots.”

  He stood and she noticed the front of his jacket was open.

  “You had better fasten those buttons, sir,” she pointed, “or people will know you have gone without your waistcoat again.”

  She turned darted quickly around him and hurried inside.

  She could hear him coming up the staircase behind her, but he did not speak.

  She waited for him in the sitting room. He had removed his footwear outside the door.

  “Do you need to go back out or are you finished for the day?” she greeted him with a question.

  He stopped just inside the door and removed his outer coat, “I am finished.”

  Jillian didn’t answer immediately. She was too busy admiring her husband’s appearance. It was evident he had been working. A streak of dirt ran from his temple to his jaw, and his cravat bore signs of both sweat and dirt. The knees of his breeches had grass and dirt stains that some maid was going to roll her eyes over.

  She looked him in the eye, “You will need to wash for dinner.”

  “I believe I have time,” he spoke softly. “They will not expect us for two hours.”

  She didn’t move.

  He finally did. He broke eye contact and walked into his room, shutting the door softly behind himself.

  Jillian looked at her bed. Erin had laid out an evening gown for her. Jillian ran her hand over the rose colored fabric.

  She decided not to bother Erin to help her change. She reached behind herself and unfastened the gown. It dropped to her feet and she stooped to lift it back to the bed. She needed to change her petticoat as this dress had a lower neckline than her morning gown.

  She was about to retrieve one from her wardrobe when she heard Slade moving about in his room. Walking around the bed, she realized the door adjoining their rooms was open. Neither of them had used it since the wedding, keeping their meetings to the sitting room.

  Jillian approached it to close it, but she caught a glimpse of Slade as she reached for the door knob. He stood at his wash basin, his back turned to her, and he had stripped off his shirt.

  She had thought him quite uncovered when he was simply in his shirt, but now she realized that fabric was concealing much more than she anticipated.

  She stepped into the room and opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out.

  She tried again, “Slade,” the sound was a mere squeak, but he spun around.

  Jillian realized at that moment that she was standing in his room with just a shift and her stays. Her eyes widened and she made an attempt to cover herself.

  He turned quickly away from her, “Jillian,” his voice sounded every bit as odd as hers.

  She watched his shoulders rise and fall for a few beats. He was as nervous as she was.

  She cleared her throat, “Is Oswin in here?”

  He shook his head, but did not turn around. She walked forward until she was standing at his back.

  “Is he coming in here to help you get ready for dinner?”

  Slade shook his head again.

  Jillian’s hands felt like lead. She knew what she wanted them to do, but she could not get them to obey.

  Finally, she leaned toward him and pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades. He was warm, his skin was moist from his exertions. She inhaled deeply, smelling hard labor, horse, and fresh air.

  “Jillian,” his hands still gripped the table in front of him, “I am dirty and smell rotten.”

  His words gave her courage. She reached her hands around his middle and ran her hands up his chest, “I don’t care, Slade,” she spoke into his skin.

  He covered her hands with his own for a moment before turning in her arms. She wasn’t sure what to do next, but Slade took matters into his own hands by scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to his bed.

  Some time later she lay with her head on her husband’s chest, listening to the rapid pace of his heart.

  “Why today, Jillian?” he stroked her mane of hair which had come completely free of its pins and combs.

  She shook her head, “Because you were not home yesterday.”

  He stopped moving his hand, “You mean you were ready yesterday?”

  “You’ve been so tired, Slade. I did not wish to demand more of you when you were already working so hard.”

  His loud laughter caused her to start.

  “I would have put aside any fatigue for this, Jillian,” he assured her.

  She scooted away from him and propped herself on an elbow, “Perhaps it is best you didn’t. You would not be alert enough to carry out your duties if you had wasted your energy on me.”

  He propped himself up on his own elbow and faced her, “This is no waste of energy.”

  She smiled, realizing he could see the blush in places other than her cheeks now, “I didn’t mean to imply it was, Slade. I just meant to say I knew it could wait.”

  He reached out a hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, “You are breathtaking, my love.”

  She pulled herself toward him and kissed his lips tenderly, “I need to dress for dinner.”

  “So soon?” he was clearly disappointed.

  She sat up, “I think it will take me a little longer than usual to become presentable.”

  He smiled and watched her leave – wearing his dressing gown.

  CHAPTER 10

  “I wish you would tell me where we are going, Slade,” she watched the footmen carrying her trunks downstairs after supper. “It is silly to add the strain of extra luggage to the horses. I am certain I packed more than I need.”

  Slade took her to the sitting room and pulled her down to the sofa with him, “I do not imagine it made that much difference.”

  She allowed him to take her hand in his.

  “Are you tired?” he leaned into her hair.

  She smiled and shook her head, “No, but I think I may go to bed anyway.”

  He angled his body away from her so he could look at her face, “Your bed?”

  She looked down at her lap, “If you wish.”

  Slade rose suddenly, effectively unseating her. He caught her in his arms before she fell to the floor, however, and carried her into his room, using his foot to shut the door behind them.

  Jillian awoke the following morning to a peculiar sensation on her arm. Thinking it was a bug, she swatted at it, but it persisted.

  She opened one eye and glared in that direction. It was a finger, tracing patterns on her skin.

  “Are you one of those people who is out of sorts in the morning?” Slade was propped up on one elbow, looking at her.

  She pulled the sheet up to her neck and rolled onto her back, “I am not out of sorts; I am just trying to sleep.”

  “But we need to get up so we can leave,” he urged.

  Jillian opened the other eye and stretched, “I suppose when you put it that way, I must get up.”

  Slade leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her nose, “Wouldn’t want to keep the mystery waiting.”

  She muttered something about peace and quiet before yanking the sheet from Slade’s bed and exiting to her own room as regally as a queen.

  Slade got up and closed the adjoining door, assuming Jillian would call Erin to help her dress. He washed and readied himself for the day before going to find her. He toyed with the idea of knocking at their private door, but decided he would be better off entering through the sitting room.

  “Come in,” she answered his knock.

  “It’s me,” called out as he opened
the door.

  Erin was standing behind Jillian, knotting the duchess’s hair tightly.

  Jillian was dressed and smiling, “Good morning,” she spoke as if this was the first time she had seen him this morning.

  “You look lovely,” he sat next to her. “Will you want breakfast in here or downstairs.”

  “Downstairs, unless you do not plan to join me.”

  He leaned back in his chair, “I am all yours for the next two weeks, love. Where you go – I go.”

  She felt her heart flip over in her chest.

  “I think you have it backward,” she responded.

  “Hmm?”

  “I believe we should say that where you go – I go. You are leading the way, are you not?”

  He winked at her – right in front of Erin – and stood up, “Now that I recall that,” he extended his hand and waited for her to take it.

  Jillian didn’t even bother asking Erin if all the pins were in place. She took Slade’s hand and rose.

  “Thank you, Erin,” she called over her shoulder as her husband led her down to the breakfast room.

  CHAPTER 11

  Two weeks at the shore were not enough for Jillian to get her fill of her husband. The cottage he had let was near the shore, but the weather had turned cool and damp.

  Jillian did not care, though. Nor was Slade complaining. They enjoyed the time alone.

  “I shall not be sad to get back home,” Jillian admitted as the carriage neared the village, “but I will miss you.”

  He pulled her hand into his lap, “Am I going somewhere?”

  Jillian sighed, “You are pulled in all directions, Slade. I cannot expect to have all your attention.”

  “You can expect more of it than before,” he spoke sincerely. “I truly am not as busy in the winter as I am in the fall.”

  She smiled up at him, hoping this was true. She had grown quite accustomed to his presence.

  “And if you find yourself with too much time on your hands, you can appeal to my sister. She has said she would take up riding with you, has she not?”

  Jillian looked out the window at the falling rain, “I fear we will not be doing that until the spring.”

  The winter was mild, so Amy and Jillian did have an opportunity to ride.

  “Slade said he was going to come and watch you,” Jillian stood and watched Amy seated on a stationary Gacela, “but I told him you did not need an audience.”

  Amy was sitting astride, gripping the reins with all her strength, “Thank you for that kindness. Anthony is occupied today with a dispute between two tenants. He also wished to watch the event.”

  Jillian smiled, “Shall we walk about a bit?”

  Amy’s eyes swung from the horse’s head to her friend’s face, “Do we have to?”

  “No,” the younger woman laughed, “but this is not actually riding.”

  Amy chewed her lip, “Perhaps you could just lead me about?”

  Jillian took the reins and clicked to the horse, prompting the mare to move forward.

  After several turns about the ring, Amy decided it was safe.

  “Will you walk next to me if we go down the lane a bit?”

  “Would you like me to ride Jemma or walk?”

  Amy grimaced.

  Jillian waved to Peter, “I think I will not need Jemma today,” she smiled at the groom. “Thank you.”

  By the time the women walked up and down the lane twice – or Jillian and Gacela walked while Amy rode – Amy was comfortable on the horse.

  “Perhaps you should have Peter saddle Jemma and we can ride together,” Amy suggested.

  “I think you have ridden long enough today, Amy,” Jillian remembered her own sore muscles after her first day of riding.

  Amy was willing to get down without further discussion, so Jillian was sure she had said the right thing.

  “Do you mind if I come over tomorrow?” Amy asked as they walked away from the stable.

  “I would enjoy that very much,” Jillian stepped up to Amy’s carriage, “and I will ride beside you this time.”

  “You did not have Peter unsaddle Gacela. Will you be riding?”

  “I believe she is itching for a run,” Jillian admitted.

  Amy entered her carriage and turned to look at Jillian, “I am glad to leave that part of her exercise to you.”

  The following morning brought Amy as promised, but the woman walked so stiffly she drew stares from the staff.

  “How is it that you came away from yesterday’s outing without so much as a kink in your neck?” Amy groaned as they sat together in the parlor.

  Jillian laughed, “I assure you, I was not so comfortable the day after I first rode. I could scarcely believe it when Slade told me I should get back up on the animal again.”

  “Did you?”

  “I did – and felt better for it.”

  Amy dropped her chin to her chest, “I do not think I can do it.”

  “I believe you can,” Jillian stood up and grabbed her sister-in-law’s hand, “and I know something that will make it easier.”

  Amy followed the younger woman, but slowly due to the general pain in her body, “I hope it involves lying still and never having to move again.”

  Jillian grinned, “It does involve lying down.”

  Soon, Amy was lying on her face on Jillian’s bed in just her shift, “I feel quite silly.”

  “You will feel wonderful once Erin finishes her magic,” Jillian nodded at the maid who began massaging Amy’s neck and shoulders.

  Jillian sat near the head of the bed, “I told you.”

  Amy’s answer was muffled, but it was clear she was enjoying the treatment.

  “When I was a child, I was never sore like I am now. I imagine it is the few extra pounds and the lack of regular exercise that does it.”

  “Have you gotten a chance to ride that new black?” Amy lifted her head slightly to ask the question.

  Jillian snickered in a manner most unbecoming her station.

  Amy looked at her expectantly.

  Jillian sighed and began the story, “I tried to ride him. Slade wanted me to wait for him, but I decided I couldn’t wait any longer.

  “I had Peter saddle him, and then I led him around a while. Since he seemed to be pretty calm, I decided to climb on.”

  “When was this?” Amy spoke with her face in the pillow.

  “Oh, it was a few months ago. Shortly after the harvest was complete, I believe.”

  “So what happened?”

  “At first he wouldn’t move at all,” Jillian shuddered at the memory. “Then he took off running through the west field. I pulled back, but it was like he didn’t have a bit in his mouth at all. He just kept charging on like he was racing toward a finish line.”

  “How did you get him to stop?”

  “I guess he got tired. He stopped pretty suddenly.”

  “I bet that was a relief.”

  “It was until he started up again.”

  “Did you fall off?”

  “Yes. And then he landed on top of me.”

  Amy laughed, but Jillian was not offended.

  “The biggest insult was that he just lay there on top of me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Finally, I had to push the sweating beast off of me.”

  Amy was laughing so hard she was shaking.

  “I am glad you have your amusement for the day, but it was rather painful at the time.”

  “So sorry,” Amy’s tone told Jillian she wasn’t really.

  “I’ll have you know he is very heavy,” Jillian tried to keep a straight face.

  “I imagine so. He is quite large, after all,” Amy leaned on her elbow, “And did you tell Slade?”

  Jillian bit her lip, “No.”

  “Did he not wonder about it?”

  “He would be upset.”

  “Perhaps,” Amy didn’t look like she approved of Jillian keeping this from Slade.

  Jillian pointed to the
pillow to indicate Amy should lie back down, “I may tell him eventually, but at this time, I think it would do more harm than good.”

  She sat back and picked up a book to keep from distracting Amy any further.

  She would not have been so easy if she had known her husband was sitting by the door dividing their chambers, a scowl on his face. Doing still more damage, was the fact that he had been able to make out only a portion of his wife’s words.

  He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He had been in his room searching for the book he had been reading. When he heard her speaking, he thought to discover why she was in her room. With the exception of dressing, she had scarcely used it since their trip to the shore.

  When he heard her mention the timing of their first act of intimacy, he stopped and listened with more purpose.

  Surely she was not discussing that with her maid – or anyone else. He shook his head, but pieces of the conversation floated through to him.

  Got tired. . .stopped suddenly.

  Collapsed on top of me.

  Slade could not believe what he was hearing. Could there be anything else she was speaking of. Jillian would never allow another man to touch her, so she must be speaking of him.

  The biggest insult was that he just lay there on top of me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Finally, I had to push the sweating beast off of me.

  At the sound of a familiar laugh, Slade turned from the doorway and sat heavily on the nearest chair.

  She thinks me a great beast. No, he berated himself, a great sweating beast.

  Slade wasn’t sure which was more humiliating to him, that Jillian felt that way about his touches or that she was mocking him – with his sister, no less.

  Slade’s stomach clenched and roiled. He was certain it would soon return his morning meal.

  He rose abruptly from his chair, tipping it over.

  He swore under his breath.

  “Slade?” he heard her voice calling from her chamber.

  He cast about looking for something to do, then realized he still had the book in his hand.

  She appeared in the doorway, “Are you alright? I heard a loud noise.”

  He couldn’t look at her. He held up the book, “Lord Rivers would like to borrow this.”

  She pursued him even as he backed away, “Slade?”

  He knew she would read in his eyes the emotions that ripped through him, “I had better get back to him,” he frowned, “and you need to see to your own guest.”