CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
As the days passed, Vadim felt strength and vigor return to his body. The hunting lodge became their idyll, a retreat from the outside world and all of its concerns.
At each day’s end, Martha dragged their straw mattresses in front of the fire and pushed them together making one large bed for them to share. As Vadim’s voice recovered, they spent hours lying there, deep in murmured conversation, watching the fire’s hypnotic flames until the night grew old. They kissed frequently, but never overstepped the unspoken barrier they had established early on in his recovery.
Each night, as she slept in his arms, Vadim offered up a silent prayer of thanks to whichever kindly spirit had first sent Martha to him.
In the beginning, back when he found her half frozen on the hillside, Martha had depended upon him to protect her and to care for her. Now their situation was reversed.
He was wholly dependent upon her.
From first light until the sun slid down in the sky, she devoted herself to his care: coaxing, cajoling, and teasing him back to life. He had never eaten so much meat and fish. At first, Martha made him eat eight meals a day, all cooked up on the cabin’s small fireplace. Although the portions were small, to his shrunken stomach they seemed like a banquet. But to please her, he cleared his bowl. The warmth of her smile was worth a little discomfort.
Forge proved himself a true friend, discretely disposing of any morsels Vadim dropped to him whenever Martha’s back was turned.
The frequency of meals decreased as Vadim’s former vigor returned. The same could not be said of the portion size. He consumed fields—or so it seemed— of vegetables, all washed down with quarts of fresh goat’s milk.
He made no complaint. He liked her fussing over him.
When she was not stuffing him with food, Martha encouraged him outside. The clement spring weather held, and they spent many hours walking together in the gentle sun, with Forge capering about their heels.
Gradually, Vadim abandoned his walking stick. Martha provided all the support he needed. Even when he was able to walk without assistance, he still draped his arm over her shoulders while they walked. He enjoyed the feel of her arm about his waist, her thumb tucked into his waistband.
They talked as much as they walked, and so he became acquainted with Martha’s life in Edgeway. Her resilience filled him with pride, but the particulars of her friendship with Anselm troubled him a good deal. Although she had escaped unharmed, Vadim knew it was far from over. Now, not only had he the Earl to contend with, but his favorite tracking hound too.
Friends visited him at the cabin, outlaws, but loyal men all. Martha always made herself scarce on these occasions, enabling them to abandon their masks and talk freely. There was no news of his treacherous litter-mate, so Vadim despatched several men to hunt him down if they could.
The time for sentimental loyalty was over. Sylvie was dead, and he would not risk losing Martha.
From beneath the shade of the trees, Vadim stared up at her beloved face as he lay with his head cradled on her lap. Martha gently preened his hair with her fingers while she talked. For once, Vadim did not attend to her words. The scattering of freckles on her nose claimed his attention. They had multiplied rapidly of late. Hardly surprising given the continuing spell of fine weather.
But autumn was not far away. The subtle signs of its approach were already visible in the leaves of the trees. Almost imperceptibly, the nights had lengthened, and the sun did not linger in the sky. A new chill in the air carried notice of winter’s advance.
Anselm was no fool. He would certainly strike before the snows came. Vadim frowned, and a hot ball of anger burning in his gut. Treacherous whelp. Come what may, he would be ready for him.
Forge grumbled and sat up from where he had been sleeping, his chin resting on Vadim’s thigh. The sudden tension in his comfortable resting place must have disturbed him.
“Okay. What’s wrong?”
Martha’s voice finally penetrated his consciousness. “Hmm?”
“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for the past hour.”
“I have.”
“Oh?” She twirled his hair about her finger. “Would you care to put that statement to the test?”
Vadim knew when he was beaten. “‘Tis nothing, m’lady. Truly.”
“So why are you frowning again? It’s the third time today. Don’t lie to me. You’re no good at it.”
“The sun was in my eyes, that is all.”
“Vadim!”
More ominous clouds piled in, obscuring the sun. The sky looked almost as threatening as Martha.
He laughed at her sour little face. “Stop fretting. Let us speak of something else, hmm?” Anything but his thoughts.
“Like what?” Martha scowled and disentangled her fingers from his hair. “The weather? Or the state of the roads, perhaps?”
“Hush, wife.” He reached up and placed a finger against her lips. “Do not scold,” he said softly. “Not today.”
She smiled her frown away. “You must be better,” she mumbled from behind his restraining finger. “You’ve gone all secret squirrel again.”
Squirrels are secretive? He bathed in the warmth of her smile, watching as it overflowed into her sparkling blue eyes. Without her, he knew he would be eternally lost. “Are you happy, m’lady?”
She removed his finger from her lips and kissed it. “You know I am.”
“What about your home? You must still think of it, though you seldom speak of it anymore.”
The light in her eyes dimmed. “What’s the point in talking about it? I do worry about Aunt Lulu, though. She must think I’m dead by now.” Martha chewed at the corner of her lower lip. “She’s old and all alone. How will she cope?”
Vadim sat up. To witness her sorrow was as bad as an actual wound to him. He would do anything to make her smile. Surely there was a way to send her home again? Kneeling beside her, he took her hands in his and raised them to his lips, pressing a kiss upon each in turn.
“Would you return home if you could?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Her sad little smile cut him to the core. “It depends.”
“On what?” The tell-tale flush spreading over her cheeks provided him with an answer. “On me?” Vadim smiled. He could not help but be pleased.
“Yes…no. Oh, I don’t know. It’s a stupid question anyway. It’s never going to happen, is it?” She pulled her hands from his. “And you needn’t look so smug, m’lord. I only said it depends.” In her haste to stand up, her shoe caught in the long folds of her skirt. She stumbled and fell into his waiting arms, knocking him backwards.
As they tumbled into the sweet-smelling grass, Martha landed on top of him, momentarily driving the air from his lungs.
“Oh, feck!” Her remorse was swift and obviously heartfelt. “Are you all right?” She cupped his face between her hands. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Before she could scramble off, Vadim secured her in his arms and rolled.
Now Martha lay beneath him, wide-eyed and gasping. Just as he wanted her.
“But, your wound—”
“Is much better now. Thank you.” He caught her wrists and raised them slowly over her head until they rested upon the grass and the sweet-smelling meadow flowers. “And as you see, I no longer require a nurse, m’lady.”
“Oh?” She pouted up at him.
Yet another of her many moods. Her eyes sparkled bright with mischief. Vadim felt his heart set off at a gallop.
“You no longer require my services then?” she asked.
“I did not say that.” Smiling, he hovered over her like a predatory bird waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“Perhaps I should gather my things and go back to the village,” she continued with more feigned innocence. “I certainly won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
“I did not say that, either.” Quite the reverse, in fact. He dipped his head lower, his eyes flicking from h
er eyes to her lips, aching with wanting her.
“Oh?” Her eyes widened. “So, what exactly do you require of me, m’lord?”
“Not much.” They were so close, her warm breath brushed tantalizingly over his face. “Only everything you are, and everything you will be, my love.”
The need to possess her consumed him. She was his now. Whether it was prudent or not no longer mattered. His life before Martha was a dream, an empty and desolate place. This girl…woman had captured him without ever attempting to do so.
He smiled down at her, watching the rapid rise and fall of her breast. Whether she claimed him or not, she owned him, body and soul. Until death, and whatever lay beyond the mortal veil.
He released her wrists, and Martha reached up to stroke his face.
“You want all of me? But what of my honor, m’lord?” Her soft hands trembled as she touched him, despite the lightness of her words. She brushed her lips against his, teasing him. The lightest touch from her set his blood aflame.
“I value it more than my own life,” he murmured. “Just as I value you.”
“Really?”
Her uncertainty only made him love her more. She truly had no idea of all she meant to him. But he would educate her, even if it took him a lifetime. “You roused my cold heart long ago.” He traced his finger down her soft cheek. “When I ran, my attachment only grew stronger. I no longer want to be free. I love you, Martha.”
“You do?” She returned his smile, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, God!”
“I am yours now. Whatever may follow, never doubt it.”
“Oh, Vadim!” Laughing and crying, she flung her arms around his neck, showering his face with eager kisses.
He chuckled and swiftly rolled them over again. Martha squealed and held on tightly. The sensation of her ripe body lying on top of his was stimulating, to say the least.
“Oh, Vadim?” He mocked her gently. “Now I have revealed my heart you choose to conceal your own? Cruel woman.”
Martha giggled and snuggled her face against his neck. “You already know I love you. I told you ages ago.”
“Ah, yes. On the day you fought Orla. I did wonder if you said it out of pity.”
“Pity? For you? Hah!” She pushed herself up on his chest and looked down, her eyes glittering like stars. “I should pity myself. I’ve loved you forever. Not that you ever noticed.”
“I was a fool for a long time,” he admitted softly. “But no longer.” He stroked her wild hair back from her face, while her blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully.
What can she be thinking?
Not for the first time Vadim longed to glimpse the secret workings of her mind. Martha was a constant source of surprise to him. He never knew which way she would leap. She had out-foxed him at every turn thus far in their relationship.
At last, she spoke. Propped up on his chest, she fixed him with a suddenly serious expression. “You say you want everything that I am, but are you sure? I’m not like the women in your world, Vadim. I won’t change. I can’t. I’m still twenty-first century Martha beneath my disguise.”
“Good.” He stroked away the frown from between her eyes.
“I’m terrible at darning, and my cooking will never be as good as Sylvie’s.”
He chuckled. “I know that already. To my cost. Ouch.” That comment earned him a jab in the ribs.
“I’m being serious!”
“So was I, my love.” He kissed her indignant face then rolled onto his side. Martha slid from his chest and onto the grass beside him. Face to face, he studied her. Something else burdened her mind. He saw it in her darkening eyes.
He took her hands, willing her to believe in him. “Harken to me, Martha. I do not want you to behave like the women of Darumvale, worthy as they are. When we are alone, you may do as you please. Wear your strange Earth fashions, go off hunting for days if you wish. I will mind the house, for I can cook, darn, and make bread—”
“We don’t have a house anymore. It burned down, remember?”
Ah. That was a minor set back. “It is of no consequence—”
“It will be when winter comes and we’re freezing our butts off in some godforsaken cave—”
Vadim chuckled. “You are missing the point, my love.”
“Were you actually trying to make one, my sweet?”
“Vixen.” He tweaked the end of her nose, ignoring her squeak of protest. Then he gathered her in his arms and lay back, his chin resting upon on her hair. “Were it not for watchful eyes, I would bid you to be yourself all of the time. But I hold true to my word, I would not alter you, even if I could.”
He felt her sigh against his chest.
“But what about…my honor?” She raised herself up slightly to look at him, her eyes clouded with more shadows.
He was puzzled. Had he not already told her what she meant to him? He could not imagine what she meant.
Martha must have read it in his expression. “I mean…my reputation. Y’know, my…virtue?”
Now he understood. “You speak of Tony?” Even thinking about the infernal man made him angry, but he hid it from her as best he could.
Martha nodded, her cheeks flushed pink. “In your world I’m ruined, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” He could not lie, but he brushed her lips with his and gave a wry smile. “This world is harsh on women. Particularly so, when men are not governed by the same rules.”
“Oh?” He felt her body tense. She sat up and looked down at him, her eyes suddenly wary. “I thought you men had that whole honor thing going on?”
Vadim sat up too, shame burning within his heart. “Not all women are virtuous, my love. Just as not all men are honorable.”
As Martha’s eyes narrowed, it took all Vadim’s courage not to look away. She understood him, and her shock was apparent.
“You mean…” She floundered for the right words, growing pinker by the moment.
He would save her the trouble. “There was a time, back in my youth when I…ran wild.”
“Sowing your wild oats, we call it,” she muttered, suddenly very interested in examining her finger nails.
He raked his hair back from his face and sighed. For a short time, back in their youth, he and Anselm had forged a partnership of sorts. Vadim still loathed himself for his part in it. The young women they hunted found their combined charms irresistible. Anselm could talk the tightest bud into flowering when he set his mind to it, but Vadim’s role was always that of the lure. For a time, he had enjoyed their conquests, but then the situation changed.
Vadim never defiled an innocent, restricting himself to experienced lovers: bored wives, widows, and the like. Anselm, however, developed an appetite for virgin flesh. Their brief fellowship came to an abrupt end when a maiden drowned herself after discovering she was carrying Anselm’s child. He fled Darumvale the same day, and sought the protection of the Earl’s employment soon afterwards.
When Anselm left, Seth took Vadim aside and made him familiar with the honor code. A man was judged by his actions, and each ill-considered act left a dark smear upon the soul. Because of Seth, Vadim grew to understand the true vulnerability of women lay not in their delicate frames, but in their reputations. What kind of man left a woman to deal with the consequences of his own thoughtlessness?
Honor had been his constant companion and guide since then, and it had never led him astray.
Martha was certainly uncharacteristically quiet, studying her hands intently.
“Have I shocked you?” he asked.
She finally looked up and met his eyes. “A bit.”
He could not gauge her mood. “Did you imagine I was a—”
“Of course not.” She glared at him. “Oh, I don’t know what I thought.”
“Does this change your feelings for me?” He risked touching her, running the pad of his thumb over her glistening lower lip. “Martha?”
Why is she taking so long to answer?
She swatted his h
and away. “Did you love any of them…your women?”
Jealousy? He could breathe again. “I was fond of—”
“But did you love any of them?”
“No,” he admitted with a small smile. “You are the first.” Her face relaxed, and her eyes no longer resembled narrow slits of stone. “And the last.” That comment earned him the briefest smile. When he touched her face this time she did not retreat. “Now answer me, wife. Have your feelings changed?”
“No.” She pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand and sighed. “I was just being silly. Sorry.”
“There is no need to apologize. I feel much the same way whenever you mention Tony.” He drew her unresisting body closer, gathering her in his arms. “We are both ruined, you and I, my love.”
Martha knelt between his thighs and slid her arms about his neck. He could smell the lavender water on her skin.
“Quite beyond repair,” she agreed, her words brushing warm over his lips. With a wicked smile she took his lower lip into her mouth and sucked upon it.
Vadim gasped as a pulse of hot desire flashed at his core. He held her face between his hands. “Perhaps together we might find…”
She released his lip and grinned. “Salvation? I doubt it. It’s a nice thought though.”
Her smile drove the breath from his lungs. In that moment, Vadim learned the meaning of real desire. He ached as if a horse had kicked him somewhere vital. If she kissed him now, he knew his self-mastery would crumble.
He needed her. All of her.
If she finds a way to return home, let her go with your love and blessing. But you must ask her. Then in this world at least, she will always be yours.
“You’re scowling again.” Martha stroked her fingers over his eyebrows, frowning herself. “Can’t you just tell me?”
Vadim was suddenly decided. “I want to be bind myself to you.”
“Huh?” The furrow on her brow deepened. “You’re scowling because you want to…” Her skin flushed pink. “What, exactly?”
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