by Bree Wolf
Jumping to the ground from the third to last rung of the ladder, he turned to look at her, a challenge in his eyes. “Allow me to introduce you to my sister,” he said, and his gaze momentarily shifted to Kara’s joyous face. “Kara, this is my wife Madeline.” He knew he ought to have introduced her as Lady Ainsworth, and yet, he could not.
It was petty of him. He knew that.
Still, it was all he had.
Chapter Twelve − Another World
Fighting the urge to sink into a puddle of misery on the ground, Madeline swallowed as her gaze drifted over her surroundings. This was Huntington House? This ramshackle place?
As small as the estate seemed to be, Madeline could have accepted that as she had never expected much considering her husband was only a baron who had gained that title merely a few years back. Of course, he had no great fortune or large number of estates. However, as she lifted her head and her gaze caught the edges of broken glass in one of the upstairs windows, her head began to swim.
He was poor!
And if he was, then so was she.
“Let me show you where to bring her luggage,” the young woman−Kara, was it? −said to someone behind Madeline’s shoulder. Moments later, she saw the coachman carry one of her trunks into the house. They did not expect her to stay here, did they? To sleep in this…this house, if it even deserved the word?
And the young woman−Kara−she was her husband’s sister? Taking note of Kara’s simple dress, its dirt-stained hem, her sleeves rolled up and smudges of flour on her face and apron, Madeline thought she would go mad. She could not stay here! Not a moment longer!
Panic seized her, and she spun around on her heel without a conscious thought as to where to go or how to get there. All she knew was that she had to leave! Now!
The moment she caught sight of her lady’s maid Anne, standing stock still by the open carriage door, her face scrunched up in shock, a hand curled around Madeline’s upper arm, pulling her back.
As the air flew from her lungs, Madeline found herself colliding with her husband’s hard chest. “Let go of me! I must−”
“Why are you here?” he snarled, his dark eyes burning into hers. “Why did you come?”
“I…I…,” she stammered as her eyes once more drifted over the sorry excuse for a house that her husband called home before looking up at him with wide eyes.
Finally, she took note of the smudge of dirt on his forehead, his open collar revealing bronzed skin, his rolled-up sleeves and dirt-stained hands that held her as tightly as they had the night of their wedding. Although a shiver ran down her spine at the feel of his hands on her waist, Madeline could not believe what she saw.
He was dressed like one of his tenants.
A common worker.
Not a lord.
In that moment, the coachman returned alongside her husband’s sister. As he pulled another trunk from the carriage’s roof, Kara ushered a rather dumbfounded Anne inside. “Come, let’s give them a moment,” she said with a slight wink to her brother.
Who were these people? How could they behave in such a…such a…?
“Why are you here?” her husband snarled again, drawing her attention back to him. “Did London not uphold all its…promises?”
London.
Town.
Civilisation.
Again, panic welled up in Madeline’s chest as she pictured Anne unpacking her trunks. She could not stay! She had to go! But where?
Lights began to dance before her eyes as she realised that she had nowhere to go. After all, was that not why she had come in the first place? Because there had been nowhere else to go?
“Let go of me!” she demanded rather breathlessly as her hands began to shove against his chest. “I cannot stay! Not here! I need to go! I…” Her words flew together in a nonsensical ramble fuelled by panic and desperation that gave her strength.
However, despite her best efforts, her husband remained in place, one arm slung around her waist, holding her tightly. Lost in blind panic, Madeline dimly noticed his left-hand brush over her cheek, felt his work-worn skin against her own as it settled on the small of her neck, before his head lowered, blocking out the setting sun, and his mouth closed over hers.
A shock wave rushed through her at his touch, stilling her limbs and drowning out her panic. As chaos and mayhem swirled around her, Madeline dove into the kiss as though it were a lifeline. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, brushing against his bare chest, and her lips opened under his.
At her willing surrender, a desperate growl tore from his throat, and he deepened the kiss, crushing her against him.
Then, as abruptly as he had seized her, her husband wrenched his lips from hers, staring down at her with a mixture of regret and desire.
Grateful that his hands remained on her waist steadying her as she began to sway, Madeline drew in a deep breath, her head suddenly clear like the sky after a raging storm. “I never asked for another kiss,” she reminded him, feeling an inexplicable need to tease him, to prolong their intimacy in any way she could.
He nodded in acknowledgement, his dark eyes holding hers. “But you needed one,” he whispered, and his gaze once more dipped lower as though temptation was still calling to him.
“Did you?” she asked then, watching his face carefully. If she did not know any better, she would think their kiss had touched him as deeply as it had touched her. Her heart warmed at the thought that he had seen her panic, seen her need for reassurance. Even though they always snapped at each other like dogs, Madeline could not shake the feeling that he knew her. Maybe his soul recognised hers on a deeper level that she could not explain. Maybe they were kindred spirits.
Madeline smiled as that thought warmed her chilled fingers.
Her husband’s face remained almost immobile, his own mask possibly even more perfected than her own. However, she did not miss the slight quiver in his lips as he drew in a deep breath, his gaze still locked with hers. Still, as expressive as his eyes were as they travelled over her face, his lips remained sealed, not a single word escaping them.
Recognising her husband’s stern expression for what it was−a desperate need to hide his emotions−Madeline could not ignore the devilish desire to tease him some more. “So, is this the way between a husband and wife?” she asked, delighted with the way his gaze narrowed. “Can you simply pull me into your arms and kiss me whenever you wish?” Grinning, she bit her lower lip as the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Am I free to do so as well?”
If he had seemed taken aback before, at her last question, his finely crafted mask slid off his face, and he stared at her with utter surprise.
For a long while, they looked at each other, and Madeline realised that she had never felt closer to anyone than in that very moment. However, then her husband blinked, and from one second to the next, the line of his jaw hardened as though anger had suddenly seized him. “Have I not told you that you’re free to do as you wish…in every regard?”
Confused, Madeline looked at him, trying to understand this sudden change. Had she offended him somehow? Had her question been improper? Even for a wife? Had she been wrong, and he had merely kissed her to shake her out of her panic? Had there been no other reason?
As her head began to swirl again, Madeline felt her husband’s arm slide from her waist. Then he took her by the elbow and escorted her inside. “Welcome to Huntington House,” he mumbled beside her, a sharp edge to his voice that felt like a stab to her heart.
Inside, the house looked as old and abandoned as it did from the outside. Although everything was clean and tidy, the wallpaper was faded, the furniture old and often near collapsing, and every wooden surface from the panelling to the banister looked in desperate need of a carpenter’s attention.
Passing by an almost empty drawing room as well as several closed doors, Madeline allowed her husband to guide her to the back of the house. Her confusion grew as he pushed open a door and she found herself in the
kitchen.
Never in her life had Madeline set foot in a kitchen, and she did not intend to start now!
However, her husband’s grasp on her arm did not ease, and she had no choice but to stumble into the room after him.
In the middle of the kitchen stood a large table, chairs situated around it. Additional work benches were set along the side of the wall that was spotted by two windows, allowing in the faint light of the late afternoon sun.
As they entered, Madeline’s coachman as well as her lady’s maid jumped to their feet, looks of bewilderment on their faces as they glanced around uneasily.
In the back by the work benches, two servants seemed to be working on the evening meal. However, when the younger one of them turned to greet them, Madeline almost fainted with shock as she recognised the young woman as Kara, her husband’s sister.
“You’ve already met Kara,” her husband said, his voice hard, as he pulled her forward. “This is my mother Elisabeth.”
The older woman, her greying hair pulled back into a tight chignon, stepped toward her with a kind smile on her face. “Call me Bessy,” she said, her voice cheerful, and yet, Madeline thought to detect a touch of caution. “After all, we’re family.”
Family?
For a moment, Madeline felt as though she would faint, and her fingernails dug into her husband’s arm as she fought the threatening darkness that seemed to encroach on her from all sides. Had she strayed into a nightmare? This could not possibly be true! In fact, it was far worse than anything she could have imagined!
Feeling strangely detached, Madeline found herself pushed into a chair as Kara and Bessy − Bessy! − went about setting the table. With wide eyes, her coachman and lady’s maid stood in the corner, uncertain as to what to do before they, too, were ushered into a chair. Keeping their gazes averted, they sat in silence while her husband’s family chatted on happily, uttering their delight over her unexpected arrival.
When steaming bowls filled with an unidentifiable stew were set on the table, the door opened once again and a tall, lanky man as well as a small boy strolled inside.
“Madeline,” her husband said, shocking her once again by addressing her so informally, “this is my brother-in-law Sean as well as my nephew Collin.”
While the brother-in-law respectfully inclined his head to her, the look in his eyes revealing a rather appropriate sense of shock, the little boy eyed her with interest, clutching a small wooden bowl to his chest. “Your name is Madeline?” he asked as he cocked his head slightly, regarding her with open curiosity as though she were a rare artefact in a museum. “Can I call you Maddie?” Before Madeline could conquer this renewed shock and admonish the boy, he shot forward and thrust the small wooden bowl into her face. “Look, I found these out back. Aren’t they pretty?”
At the sight of the boy’s treasure, which−once again−shockingly turned out to be worms, Madeline’s stomach revolted, and she clasped a hand over her mouth.
“Put these creatures aside,” Bessy chided, pulling Collin away. “I’ve told ye many times your friends have no place in my kitchen. Set ‘em outside and then come back in.”
With no small amount of grumbling, Collin did as he was told.
Before long, they were all seated around the large table. While most of them remained rather silent, their eyes focused on the steaming bowl in front of them, including her husband as well as his brother-in-law, Kara and Bessy with the occasional interruption from Collin prattled on, discussing cooking, the weather, and the tenants that had apparently worked at Huntington House that day.
“When do ye want to start on the roof?” Bessy asked, looking at her son from across the table.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Madeline’s husband replied. “In the morning, I’ll first assist the tenants with dismantling the barn.”
Nodding in approval, Bessy smiled. “Ye did well today. The men have already come to look at ye differently. I can tell.”
Not saying a word, Madeline’s husband merely nodded.
After supper, Kara escorted Madeline upstairs and showed her to a bedchamber on the eastern side of the house. It held a simple bed and wardrobe as well as a small table with a wash basin and a mirror. The fireplace was empty, and there were two bulbous jugs set down on the floor in the right-hand corner.
“The roof is leaking in places,” Kara explained when she saw Madeline’s frown. “If it should rain, these will keep your chamber from turning into a lake.” An amused smile played on her lips as she lifted her gaze to Madeline. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
Taken aback, Madeline stared at her. How many more shocks would she have to endure? Why would this woman welcome Madeline’s company?
“My brother deserves to be happy,” Kara said, deep devotion in her eyes as she spoke. “He’s always been so willing to sacrifice his own happiness for the well-being of others. He deserves to have a family of his own, a wife he can share his burdens with.” Stepping closer, Kara gently took Madeline’s hand. “I can see that all of this must seem…otherworldly to you. But we are a close family, and now that you’re one of us, I promise we will do whatever we can to see you happy.”
Too overwhelmed to speak, Madeline merely nodded as Kara bid her a good night.
Oh, why had she come? What had gotten into her?
If only she could return to London.
Sinking onto the bed, she wept into her pillow.
Chapter Thirteen − Miserable
Staring up at the dark ceiling and listening for the telltale signs of the leaking roof, Derek could not convince his muscles to relax or his mind to surrender to sleep. It did not matter that a hard day’s work lay ahead of him. He simply could not ignore the fact that his wife was sleeping in the room beside his.
So close…and yet, so far away.
Why had she come? He wondered for the thousandth time. Had she grown tired of her affair with Townsend so soon?
Gritting his teeth, Derek felt his hands ball into fists as he fought the urge to flee the bed and occupy his body to distract his mind. Maybe he ought to go chop some wood. Winter was not too far off, and they would need all the warmth they could get in this house.
However, he did not dare move from the bed as he feared more than anything that his sister would learn of Townsend’s involvement in all of this. Had she not suffered enough? Had it not taken every bit of faith and hope she had had to allow herself to find love again? Was she not happy now with Sean?
A small smile came to his lips. Yes, she did look happy. The way she looked at her husband spoke of a deep devotion.
Derek could only hope it would remain that way, that nothing would upset Kara’s little world.
Maybe he ought to speak to Madeline and ask her not to mention Townsend in his sister’s presence. But would she not ask for a reason for such an unusual request?
Tossing and turning, Derek found little sleep that night. When he headed down to breakfast the next morning, he was not at all surprised to see his wife absent.
“Shall I see to her?” Kara offered, handing Collin a bowl of porridge.
Shaking his head, Derek declined. “She has her lady’s maid, doesn’t she?” he grumbled, worrying that his wife’s presence might upset the delicate trust that was beginning to form between him and his tenants. What would they think of her walking around the estate in her fancy gowns, a lady’s maid on her heels?
As he looked up, he found his mother’s watchful eyes on him. “Do you have something to say?”
A sly smile on her face, his mother shrugged her shoulders. “It is not for me to tell a husband how to treat his wife.”
Derek chuckled, “Since when?”
His mother laughed, her eyes sparkling like those of a mischievous child. “Ye know me too well, my son.”
“Then say what’s on your mind.”
Smiling, she merely shook her head and turned back to her breakfast, offering seconds to Madeline’s coachman, who looked more than a little uncomfortable
at the intimacy of their conversation.
By the time they had finished their breakfast, his wife’s lady’s maid, Anne, entered the kitchen and was immediately ushered to an empty chair. “Here, you go, my dear,” his mother hummed, clearly delighted to have so many people to take care of.
“Where is Ma…Lady Ainsworth?” Derek asked, feeling at odds about how to address her. In London, it had felt natural to address her more formally. Out here, however, it struck him as strange and unnatural. He could not say why.
“She’s still asleep, my lord,” Anne replied, quickly returning her gaze to the bowl before her.
“I see,” Derek mumbled, doing his utmost to prevent meeting his mother’s gaze. Then he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me?”
When no objection came, he headed upstairs, wondering about what to do. If his wife truly intended to stay, then she would have to find her place at Huntington House, and at present, there was no place for a fine lady here.
Knocking on her door, Derek waited, the muscles in his arms twitching impatiently. When no reply came, he hesitated for only a moment before opening the door and striding into the room.
The thin curtains were drawn, only allowing a little light into the room. On the bed, he could make out Madeline’s form, curled into her blanket, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling with deep slumber.
A part of him wanted to leave and grant her this brief respite from reality. It had not escaped him how shocked she had been the day before upon discovering the condition of Huntington House as well as the nature of her future life here.
Stepping up to the bed, Derek gazed down at her, his eyes tracing the slim line of her neck before they travelled to her full lips. Instantly, his own tingled with the memory of their kiss, and he cursed himself for having acted so impulsively. He should never have touched her. Especially not now when he could not say what had happened between her and Townsend.
He felt an almost desperate need to find out.
And yet, he did not dare ask…afraid of what the answer might be.