The Inconvenient Elmswood Marriage (Penniless Brides 0f Convenience Book 4)

by Marguerite Kaye

  ‘So you ended up ensnared instead?’

  ‘I didn’t intent to get caught.’

  ‘But if you hadn’t acted—’

  ‘Don’t make a hero of me, Kate. I cultivated him because I needed him. I bought presents for his children because it made him happy, not because I gave a damn about the children.’

  ‘You sound so—so cold and calculating.’

  ‘It’s called detachment, and it is vital both for self-preservation and the integrity of the mission. Unfortunately I broke that golden rule and now I am paying the price for it.’

  ‘For better or for worse... That is what we promised all those years ago,’ Kate said, after a moment of thinking this over. ‘We’re in this together. I’ll help not because Sir Marcus orders me to, but because I want to. And, yes,’ she added, ‘before you ask, I am sure.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What must we do?’

  ‘On that topic, the man is vague.’

  ‘Well, then,’ Kate said, ‘that leaves us room for manoeuvre, don’t you think? One thing I do know, though, stepping into your father’s shoes won’t work. He was a recluse, remember, and he was a widower. So unless you’re going to kill me off and barricade yourself in here...’

  To her relief, Daniel laughed. ‘Don’t tempt me. Not into killing you, but into locking the pair of us up here.’

  ‘We’d drive each other mad.’

  ‘Do you think so? Now that I know where the library steps live, and Eloise’s precious footstool...’

  ‘And I know where to keep the coffee.’

  ‘And you know where to keep the coffee.’ Daniel reached for her hand. ‘I think we might get along surprisingly well, locked away here with no one to disturb us.’

  He was making circles on her wrist with his thumb. The rhythmic movement was soothing and at the same time arousing.

  ‘Sir Marcus told me that I should keep company with my lovely, loyal little wife. I’d say that locking ourselves away here, just the two of us, fulfils that requirement, don’t you? Aren’t you in the least tempted?’

  ‘If you continue to do that I’ll show you just how tempted I am.’ Reluctantly, Kate pulled her hand free. ‘I think we ought to be practical.’

  ‘You’re right, of course, but—Do you know? I think I might have an idea.’

  ‘You have a gleam in your eye that worries me. Have you decided to kill me after all?’

  Daniel laughed. ‘No, this plan requires you to be alive and kicking. We’ve been married eleven years. That’s a long time for a man and wife to be apart. Now that we are finally reunited we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t you think?’

  ‘We hardly know each other.’

  ‘Precisely, and with only three months before I go off to darkest Africa again our time together is precious.’

  ‘I thought we had decided against locking ourselves away here. Sir Marcus said...’

  ‘I know, I know—that we must show ourselves off. And we will, sufficient to comply with his instructions, but I see no reason why we should encourage invitations that I won’t be here to fulfil and you’re not interested in once I’m gone. So we’ll tell people that we intend to take a belated honeymoon.’

  ‘A honeymoon! Daniel...’

  ‘It’s a story we’ll put about, that’s all—a story that allows us to obey Sir Marcus’s orders on our own terms, without forcing us to play the Earl and his wife. We’ll have to act out a few set pieces—attending church services, is an obvious one—and we can throw some sort of party—a garden party, to show off your restoration work—but aside from that we can suit ourselves. No callers, no obligation to make calls, or receive calls, or attend other people’s parties, but every excuse to get out and about into the countryside together. And when we are here in the house—behind closed doors, so to speak—we can suit ourselves. I will endeavour not to get under your feet, and you can continue as usual—or not, as you choose. What do you think?’

  ‘It would look odd if I carried on with my estate duties and didn’t involve you.’

  ‘Can’t you delegate to St James? Didn’t you say he assisted Estelle while you were away?’

  ‘From what I’ve gathered this last week he proved invaluable. He has an excellent grasp of what needs to be done, and a good head for figures. He was privately tutored when he was younger, you know.’

  ‘I did wonder... He doesn’t have a local accent.’

  ‘No. His father was head gardener at a large estate—I think it was in Gloucestershire—and Oliver was the same age as the young gentleman of the house. They grew up almost as brothers, despite the difference in their stations in life, and Oliver was permitted to attend lessons.’ Kate frowned. ‘I’m not sure of the details—he doesn’t talk much of his past—but I believe the boy’s parents were much absent.’

  ‘In such cases I’d have thought the boy would have been sent off to school.’

  ‘He was, though at an older age than you, for I am sure Oliver told me he was fifteen when he left Gloucestershire to take up his first post as a gardener.’

  ‘It seems like a waste of a good education.’

  ‘Oh, no, Oliver doesn’t think so at all. His heart is first and foremost in the garden. He can make anything grow, and he has such an eye for design...’

  ‘Capability Brown in the guise of a Greek god, with a private education to boot. It’s just as well we’re not really married or I’d be jealous.’

  ‘Of Oliver? He’s five years younger than me—and we are “really married”.’

  ‘We’re not in the true sense of it, Kate. I’ve never expected you to honour all the vows we made.’

  Her jaw dropped in astonishment. ‘You cannot possibly have imagined I’d take a lover! Can you imagine the scandal—to say nothing of the kind of example I’d be setting the girls?’

  ‘Discreet liaisons conducted outside the marital bed are hardly unheard of in polite society.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t occur to me to indulge in such behaviour, discreetly or elsewise,’ Kate said tartly. ‘And now, no doubt, you’re thinking I’m a gauche prude.’

  ‘Oh, no, you’re very far from the mark there. You are opinionated and fiercely independent, you’re incredibly loyal and brave, you’ve been a better mother to those three girls than their real mother could ever have been, and a better nurse to me than any qualified medical man or woman. And you are distractingly, delightfully, adorable. That is what I think of you. One minute I’m stamping my feet and throwing my rattle onto the floor, and the next it’s all I can do to stop myself from kissing you.’

  The way he looked at her made her mouth go dry and set off a fluttering inside her. Daniel didn’t see her as Aunt Kate or as Lady Elmswood. She wasn’t even sure that he saw her as his wife. But he was interested in her, and she was in no doubt that he was attracted to her, and that was both a powerful and, as far as she was concerned, unique combination. One that made her reckless.

  ‘If we did pretend to be taking a belated honeymoon wouldn’t we be required to kiss—for the sake of appearances?’

  She leaned towards him and he slid his arm around her waist, his eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘Sir Marcus has practically commanded us to do so. It would be positively treasonous to ignore a direct order from such a senior member of His Majesty’s government. In fact, I think a little light rehearsal might be in order, don’t you agree?’

  Kate reached up to curl her fingers into the silky short hair at the back of his head. ‘Definitely.’

  * * *

  Lavender, that was what she smelled of, Daniel thought hazily as their lips met. There was nothing hesitant about her this time. She opened her mouth to him and the taste of her, the flick of her tongue, the little sigh she gave, had an instant effect on him.

  It was just a kiss, but his body thought differently. Heart ha
mmering, blood rushing, his hands cupped the soft, round flesh of her rear, pulling her up against him. He was already hard. She tasted so good. She felt so good. And her kisses. Dear heaven, her kisses.

  He dragged his mouth from hers, but only because he wanted to taste more of her. Her neck. The hollow of her throat. Definitely lavender. He kissed the swell of her breasts, let go his hold on her very delightful rump to cup them, revelling in the way it made her gasp, the way her eyes flew open, the way she watched him, fascinated, making no attempt to disguise her arousal as he stroked her nipples to hard peaks through the material of her dress.

  And then their mouths met again, and their kisses deepened, and her hands clutched at him, at his shoulders, his back, as she pressed herself against him with such utter abandon that it would have been easy, so very easy, to give himself over to the wild rush of wanting that ripped through him.

  He’d never felt like that.

  Struggling for breath, Daniel forced himself to slow, to ease her away from him and to stop.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked inanely.

  Kate stared at him for a moment, as dazed as he was by what had happened, then she smiled. ‘I don’t know, was I?’

  He was surprised into a crack of laughter. ‘I think we might have to tone down our performance just a little for public consumption.’

  ‘Well, you know what they say.’ She put her hands on his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes. ‘Practice,’ she whispered, ‘makes perfect.’ And then she kissed him again.

  * * *

  Daniel awoke with a start. The sun was slanting through his bedroom window but, groping for his pocket watch under his pillow, he saw that it was only just after five. He was wide awake, and for once he couldn’t recall enduring any of the nightmares which had haunted him since his escape from prison.

  Stretching his limbs, he was conscious of the usual tension in his feet, which he still braced in his sleep even though it had been months since he had been chained by manacles, but his neck and shoulders were free of the usual aches.

  Pushing back the bedcovers, he got slowly to his feet and began the series of stretches that had formed his morning routine ever since he had first been shown them all those years ago in India. Even with the manacles on he’d managed to complete a rudimentary exercise regime in his lucid intervals, before the fever had taken hold, determined to preserve his strength, relishing the small oasis of calm that the associated breathing exercises provided.

  His protracted illness had put an end to that practice, and it would have been tricky, to say the least, to find sufficient space on the endurance test of his journey back to England on board various ships, even if he had been well enough. But for the last two weeks he had been working himself hard, three times a day, and as he adopted the asana yoga position he’d been taught to call the plough, he could feel a noticeable tautening in the muscles of his back and his belly.

  Refreshed and invigorated, Daniel inspected himself critically in the mirror. Thank the stars that he had been unable to do so when he had been at his most physically frail. He’d never thought of himself as vain, but he had always been proud of the physique he’d worked hard to maintain, even in youth, when his prowess on the athletics field had been his one saving grace at that great barrack of a school his father had exiled him to.

  Fairfax, whose only talent is to run away very fast.

  His lip curled at the memory. It had never failed to astonish him, both then and now, how easily a boy or a man could be forced into becoming one of the crowd or risk alienation.

  Fidelitas, veritas, integritas.

  Fidelity, truth and integrity.

  The irony of the meaning of the school motto still amused him, for he’d been true to himself always in eschewing the two things which would have brought him into the fold. He would not fight. He would not be part of a team. It had cost him several miserable years and an execrable annual report being sent back to his father, but he’d refused to buckle and swim with the tide. No one could teach him anything about integrity.

  Daniel gave himself a shake, turning away from the mirror. He never permitted the past to intrude on his thoughts. Being in this damned place was to blame. He had never been happy here, had always dreamt of escape, and he had achieved his dream. It was because he was determined to hold on to that dream that he was back.

  It was three months, not a life sentence, just as Kate had said, so why did he feel so unsettled? His father was dead, Gillian was dead, there was nothing here that could hurt him or alter his resolve, and yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something lurking here...an evil spirit waiting to pounce.

  Now he really was being fanciful! Bad memories, an unhappy childhood and a lonely one too—that was more than enough to explain his jaundiced view.

  Pushing open the window, he gazed out. The sun was climbing in a very pale blue summer sky. The south lawn was damp with dew, softly green, and the huge oak filtered light through to the lake so that it danced, dappled and golden, on the still waters where a pair of swans were gliding.

  The English countryside at its most idyllic, pastel-coloured and gently warmed—so very different from the bold, bright palette and harsh heat he was used to. Yet it did have an allure. And he was looking forward to enjoying more of it with Kate, now that their little fantasy of a honeymoon would keep the world—her world—at bay.

  Kate!

  Kate’s kisses.

  Despite the fact they’d been married for eleven years, he’d never thought of her as his wife. His willing wife. Dear Lord, yesterday all too willing. Her kisses were no longer innocent, but the manner in which she gave herself so entirely over to them, without thought of the consequences, betrayed her. Not that she pretended experience. She was refreshingly, enchantingly honest.

  He’d never met anyone like her.

  Hardly surprising, mind you.

  Would their faux honeymoon be infused with real passion? There was no question of what he wanted, or what Kate thought she wanted, but would it be right? In the eyes of the law it was not only expected but required—but, using his own strict code of conduct, would it be appropriate for him to make love to his wife?

  Not a question he’d ever thought to ask of himself, and not one he was prepared to answer at this moment. He was regaining his strength, but he’d rather Kate didn’t see him naked until he’d put some more work in. Though she had, of course, seen him naked at his lowest ebb.

  The trundling of a wheelbarrow caught his attention. Oliver St James, making an early start. The gardener looked up, saw Daniel, smiled and saluted.

  Something resonated in the depths of his memory. Another summer’s morning, similar to this one, leaning out of the window just like this. And Leo waving. But as soon as he tried to pull the memory into focus his mind went quite blank. If Leo had been there it had been that last summer.

  Daniel cursed under his breath. Damn this place.

  Outside, St James was now entering the kitchen garden. At least he had his shirt on, doubtless aware that it was too early for Kate to be up and about. Not that she seemed in the least bit interested in the show of muscles and tanned skin that Oliver seemed determined to put on for her. Kate’s taste was more discerning.

  Grinning to himself, Daniel left the window open and pulled on his dressing gown. If his clever, witty, annoyingly observant, distractingly attractive wife was going to see him naked during their honeymoon, then he was going to do his damnedest to make sure he looked his best.

  There were few things about Elmswood that he remembered with pleasure, but the lake had always been one of his favourite places. On impulse, he decided he was going for a swim.

  * * *

  Kate pulled back the curtains and leaned out of her bedroom window to drink in the fresh, verdant smell of the early morning. There was only a tiny wisp of cloud in the sky. It was going to
be another perfect summer’s day.

  A loud splash drew her attention to the lake. She thought at first it was one of the swans, flapping its huge wings as it disappeared into the shadow cast by the oak. It was not a swan which emerged from the shadow, however, but her husband, who had just dived into the water and was now scything through it at speed.

  She shaded her eyes, squinting against the glare of the sun. Daniel had reached the far end of the lake and turned. He swam effortlessly, his arms powering over his head in a regular, hypnotising rhythm, his feet hardly breaking the surface. His head looked as if it were facing down into the water. How did he breathe?

  She had never seen anyone swim like that, moving like an arrow in a straight line through the water, barely slowing to turn at the end of each lap. She started to count but lost track, distracted by the occasional tantalising glimpse of thigh and buttock, by the arc of water from his cropped hair as he stopped in the middle of the lake to tread water before resuming his marathon.

  The sides of the lake had been cut steeply into the slight incline of the lawn. Though it looked as if it had always been there, she knew it had been excavated about a hundred years ago, and was no shallower than ten feet—in the middle almost twenty feet deep. For that reason she had never allowed the girls anywhere near it, since none of them could swim.

  How would Daniel manage to clamber back out? He was lying on his back now, drifting towards the centre of the expanse of water. She wasn’t close enough to see if his eyes were open or closed, but she could see his chest heaving, could clearly see that he had put on weight.