“Then please have it all delivered as soon as possible,” she said. “And we’ll sort it out at the house.”
“Excellent. May I have an address for the bill, please?”
“Just send it to the house.” Ann glanced at Fern. They had spent so long there that she needed rather desperately to get back to Noel. “Anything else?”
Fern pointed to a painting on the wall behind the clerk’s desk. As he wrote up the order, Ann walked over. She didn’t recognize the signature of the artist, but of course she wouldn’t. The painting depicted a picnic near a grassy green stream. Three girls sat on a quilt, quite underdressed. One combed her hair, one ate a turkey leg and the third stared at the stream.
“Do you want it for your room?” she asked Fern.
The girl nodded vigorously.
“Oh, that isn’t for sale,” the clerk said, noticing where Ann was.
“No?”
“I painted it,” he said with a blush. “My father-in-law owns the store so I work for him, but I paint whenever I can.”
“Was your wife one of the models?”
He smiled impishly. “The one eating the turkey leg. To be honest, she’d be happy if I sold it so she didn’t have to see that image of herself.”
“Why don’t you let me buy it? That way you have an excuse to paint another.”
“Please?” Fern said, clasping her hands together.
He looked her over, then nodded. “Very well, but you shall have to name a price.”
Ann pulled out some banknotes she had put in her reticule. Part of Jeremy’s secret stash, she thought it might as well be converted into art.
“Oh, I couldn’t take that much,” he protested. “I’m an amateur.”
“Not anymore,” she said firmly. “My sister-in-law has excellent taste.”
As they left, Fern all but skipped down the street. “Why did you like that painting so much?”
“Real art,” Fern said happily.
“Not much of that in Leeds?”
Fern shook her head.
“I can see I have many museum exhibits in my future,” Ann observed.
Fern tucked her hand into Ann’s and they walked briskly through the busy streets. At least one of them had found a reason to be happy with their new home.
The sun believed spring had come, and the next day was bright as furniture poured into the ground floor of the house. Gawain watched with amusement as Ann directed the proceedings with the élan of a commanding officer, almost forgetting he had business at his warehouse.
He had been in an excellent mood all day and it wasn’t until evening, when he stared into his shaving mirror, that he realized why. He was amazed by how clearly he could see his stubble. Whatever Theodore Bliven had done to his sister, Matilda, he had most certainly done Gawain a favor when he returned with his Indian boxes and bags. Ann as well had served him in brilliant fashion, in mixing up the herbal remedy so competently. His vision had cleared almost to miracle level. From seeing just color, to vague shapes, he now had nearly distinct images of his surroundings and the working vision complemented his good eye so well that he’d be a fool to wear his eye patch anymore.
He smiled into the mirror and saw his face crease into unfamiliar lines. When had he begun to wrinkle around the eyes? Despite these signs of aging, he felt nothing but happiness. Getting involved with Ann had been the best thing to ever happen to him. She had given him improved sight, a better gait, much less pain, less fear of how his appearance bothered others, and a beautiful son.
She had told him the night before that furniture would be coming soon and that he could decide if it suited him or not. She was more insecure than he’d ever seen her, which made him tense and snappish. This morning, he’d been full of trepidation as it arrived. Would the furniture suit the position in life he wanted, or would it be the choices of a provincial innkeeper who knew nothing about entertaining the fashionable world? He’d had to leave before catching the full effect of her efforts and hadn’t been able to return until after dark.
But what did he have to be angry about? Nothing. His wretched time in the factory was long over. His military experience had brought him a good friend in Lord Judah Shield, and his injuries had a much diminished hold on him. His business, with its roots in India, was flourishing beyond his wildest dreams. A beautiful wife, son, and home.
“It’s time to be happy,” he told the mirror.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Ann appeared in the open doorway, dressed in a nightgown and wrapper.
“Did you need the sink, my dear?” he asked in a positively jaunty tone. He smirked at himself.
She crossed her arms, still looking defensive. “I can go downstairs. You don’t usually shave in the evenings.”
“Couldn’t see well enough,” he said. “But I can now.” He walked to her and set his hands at her waist, then picked her up and twirled her around.
“You can?” she asked. “That is excellent news.”
“Yes, the herb is working. I’m never going to wear that blasted eye patch again.” He gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and set her down. “Poor Matilda. I’m not going to be able to let her eviscerate Bliven in conversation anymore. I owe him too much.”
“I would have had the same results with you eventually. No one herb is ever a salvation. There are numerous approaches to any bodily problem.”
He chucked her under the chin. “So you say, but I can see today. And besides, I give you a great deal of credit. You have brought me nothing but good things, and I am heartily grateful we were forced to marry.”
“Forced?”
He shrugged. “Noel, of course. I may appreciate what Bliven had to offer me, but I would never have walked in his footsteps. And you, my dear, are far too sensible to have turned me down for long.”
“No?” Her hands went to her hips.
“We are both intelligent, sensible people. Marriage was the right answer,” he said.
“We are,” Ann said, in a very definite tone. “And since you are so sensible, and so pleased with your progress, surely you see the sense in me continuing to practice medicine? We do not wish for my skills to become stale.”
He responded instantly. “I don’t want disease brought into this house. Surely you can see the sense in that.”
She licked her upper lip. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss that plump mouth, but knew the conversation had gone from light to dangerous in only a few words.
“I don’t want disease brought in either, Gawain. But my mother’s knowledge is so valuable, and I have served it well, I think. We must come to some sort of compromise. Midwifery, perhaps?”
“Must we discuss this now? I do not wish to waste time being angry or grim or—”
“Petulant?” Ann suggested with an arch raise of her eyebrows.
“As you wish,” he said. “I am happy we have made a family. I hope it will be a larger one. Noel should have siblings.”
She blushed.
“Will you not be busy enough with children?” he said.
“A select midwifery practice?” she suggested.
“We will discuss it, after the house is set to rights. Do you feel the furnishings are adequate?”
She walked out of the lavatory, and sped through the dressing room, nearly empty, and their bedroom, which held only a couple of chests and a bed he’d taken from his rooms on St. James’s Square. “I have not even thought about the first or second floors yet. What did you think of the ground floor?”
“I haven’t looked yet,” he admitted. “Dark when I came home, you know, and my vision isn’t the best in gaslight. Need to get the house converted over to electricity now that it might not bother my eyes.”
“Can we afford to furnish all three floors at once?” Ann asked.
“Without touching a penny of your money,” he said grandly.
“Do tea and herbs really pay so well?”
“I ran my father’s factories for a couple of years. He had to bribe me h
eavily as I did not want to come into the business at all. I suppose I have to be grateful to Sir Bartley for forcing me to structure my days after coming home wounded—yes, better that than to be angry for a few years of doing work I didn’t like.”
“How was it so different from running your own business?”
“I hated the factories after my time working in them as a child. Also, I was first thrust into accounting, and that is not the part of any business that I appreciate. Still, must be grateful for the knowledge I gained. Invaluable.”
She walked to a bedpost and twined her arms around it, leaning her head against the mahogany in a dreamy pose. “You really are trying. I am happy for you.”
He slid his arms around her, cupping her abdomen, where he hoped another child would grow soon. “Let’s be happy together, shall we?”
“You were angry in the past, but I wasn’t. I was happy, and now I’m trying to find my way to being happy again.”
“You were happy when we met?”
“I was content, but I mean before. My childhood was a good one, and my first marriage. So much has passed since then. None of my moods has anything to do with you.”
“What happened to Wells and Fern was hard. And then Jeremy, so recently—a blow.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “And everything else. I’ve lost my independence.”
“Isn’t what you’ve gained so much more valuable?”
She opened her eyes, large dark pools that shone even in the gaslight. “That is the question, isn’t it?”
“Let me remind you how we were joined into marriage in the first place,” he murmured. “Beautiful girl.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Beautiful girl?” Had Gawain just called her that? She was amazed her husband thought her beautiful. Surely her looks had faded, given the birth of a child, a near-death experience, three different moves, and lack of sleep caused by caring for an infant.
“Yes, you are so beautiful,” Gawain rasped.
She turned fully, resting her back against the bedpost. “Do you ever see the color of my skin?”
“It is lovely skin,” he said, putting a finger to her cheek and letting it drift down to her collarbone.
“I’ll never fit into aristocratic circles,” she said. “I know you have dreams and our marriage hurts them. The mistakes we made—”
“Not mistakes. Let me be the optimist now. I’m happy, Ann. Don’t you think I’d rather have a healthy son, a home, our good health, than entry into the highest circles of society?”
“I don’t know,” she countered. “Do you?”
He nuzzled her cheek with that arrogant, commanding nose. “Yes, my darling.” His single, delicately caressing finger moved down the slope of one breast, circling the nipple.
Her breath caught in her throat as he cupped her, testing the weight.
“I love your curves,” he rasped. “I can’t wait to see how you look large with another child.”
His fingers left her breast and she sighed with the loss, but his hands went to the belt of her wrapper and soon he was tugging the fabric down her shoulders, then pulling her gown over her head. She stood naked before him in the flickering gaslight.
“It dances on your skin like sunlight,” he said. “Over each contour of your lovely, soft skin.”
“Will you become a poet now?”
“Who can say?” A naughty glint lit his scarred pirate’s face as he took her hand and tugged her to the bed. She adored this view of him in pleasure.
Before he pushed her back, she found the ties of his smoking jacket and pushed it off him, then removed his shirt and pajama pants. His erection sprang out. Without thinking, she wrapped one hand around it. He gasped and she knew how to reward him for his good humor.
He was the one who went down on the mattress. She fell to her knees in the position of worshipper, taking him in her mouth and hands, tasting the musky saltiness of his body. His hands pushed into her hair, massaging away the small hurts of the day, and he undid her braid. Her hair fell over his thighs as she relaxed her throat and breathed in, taking him deep.
He begged her to stop, then not to stop, but her ministrations were relentless. She could feel him shudder, but he scooted back, popped from her mouth, then was next to her in a flash, more quickly than she thought possible. He moved her from her knees to her hands and pressed behind her, grasping her breasts with his hands and nudging her legs apart.
She hadn’t realized how wet tasting him, pleasuring him, had made her, until his erection found her opening. He slid easily inside her channel. Her hair covered her ears and most of her face, creating sensory deprivation scented with his shaving cream.
When she pushed off her hands, to sit up, he plucked at her nipples until she gasped, then pushed one hand between her thighs to finger her pearl. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she moved her hips against him. Harsh breathing from both of them filled the air. He blew her hair away from his face. She laughed and tried to gather it together.
“Don’t cover your breasts,” he ordered, gathering it with his free hand.
She reached up and locked her arms around the back of his head, tugging him close so they could kiss. Their tongues slid together, and they drifted apart from the kiss, both breathing hard.
He grabbed her around the waist and pushed violently into her. She could take that and more, rotating her hips, feeling her completion coming fast.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “I love touching you.”
She fell apart as his seed spurted into her, shuddering her pleasure. Maybe he hadn’t exactly said he loved her, but he had said many things, all of them good. Loving words, loving actions, she could soak up those and try to be content too.
Gawain woke with the sense of happy clarity the next morning and his cheerful mood continued as he dressed and breakfasted at the new dining table. Ann had yet to find serving pieces for the room, but at least they didn’t have to discomfort the cook by eating at the scrubbed, wooden kitchen table any more. Instead of heading straight to his warehouse office, he felt the need to see his wife, so he went up the nursery.
Ann’s limited furnishings had been dotted around the top floor. Her bed had gone to Fern’s room, and her armchair and kitchen furniture was in use in the nursery. While Gawain intended to upgrade his son’s cradle, the simple one Ann had provided fit his small body well.
Ann smiled brilliantly when he entered and even Fern gave him a shy word of greeting. He settled in for a domestic interlude, taking Noel in his arms.
“I just fed him,” Ann said. “He’ll be ready for a nap soon.”
“He sleeps a great deal.”
“Babies and children do. It’s the only way a mother can accomplish any of her other duties. If they were awake we’d wear the same clothing for months and dine on dry bread.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Thank goodness for naps, then.”
A knock came at the nursery door. Fern scrambled up and went to open it.
Gawain heard Jenna announce that the Marquess of Hatbrook, his brother-in-law, was paying a call unannounced.
“What time is it?” Ann asked.
“Much too early for a social call. I hope nothing is wrong with my family.”
“Do you want me to come downstairs with you?”
“I’ll send for you if I have to leave quickly.” He kissed Ann on the forehead and left the nursery. His thoughts churned as he took the steps as quickly as he could. Stairs were the hardest thing for him to navigate. His father’s once robust health had seemed to fade a bit over the past couple of years, with frequent colds.
Could it be him? Or had Bliven somehow managed to jump ship and circle back to Sussex? Or his youngest sister Rose, with her delicate health. The thought made his breath lurch, but he soothed himself with the thought that Hatbrook could be announcing that his wife was increasing again. Why couldn’t the untimely visit be to share happy news? All these thoughts distracted him until he
stumbled. Thankfully, he had done it on the bottom stair. His shoes clicked on the tiles of the entryway as he crossed it.
“Hatbrook!” he called, pulling open the door of the drawing room. For the first time, he saw the furnishings Ann had purchased and how harmonious they were with his taste. His gaze went to a decorative detail on one table. The white wicker birdcage reminded him of happy days with Lewis, but the comfortable, low sofas with their luxurious Indian fabrics in one seating arrangement, then the contrasting seating arrangement of French Empire bergère armchairs in another part of the long, narrow room, offered a mix of bright, happy colors. Anyone who visited would find their mood uplifted and would be pleased to spend time in the room, and he appreciated the smattering of easy-to-move tables that made the room flexible.
Hatbrook couldn’t give bad news in a room like this. Gawain straightened his shoulders and marched in.
“You are settling in, I see,” Hatbrook said, his arm outstretched to encompass the space. He had been at the fireplace, examining the photographs that Gawain had placed there a couple of days after their move. The wedding photograph was the latest, but he had images of his parents and siblings as well, even one stiff shot of Hatbrook and Alys shortly after their marriage.
“I didn’t expect to see you in London until after Easter, or we would have invited you to dine with us.”
“It’s only me. I’ve come on urgent royal business.”
Gawain gestured Hatbrook to one of the bright blue and gold armchairs and seated himself. “Royal business? I expected family news.”
“Yes, I would imagine so, given my early arrival, but nothing new with the family. Had a phone call from Windsor. New telephone at the Farm.”
“I knew you had one put in. I need to have one installed here.”
“Handy devices, though the calls never come at an opportune time. But—to my news. You see, it’s been put about that the Queen is on her annual progress to the South of France, but she’s actually been holed up in the palace for over a week, suffering headaches.”
His Wicked Smile Page 26