Bride by Necessity (9781460333907)

by Glaz, Linda S.

  “You there, stop!” The other horse was no match for Storm. In less time than it took for Storm to completely stop, he leaped from the animal, landing on the boy and tackling him to the ground.

  They tumbled in a heap with Lambrick firmly planted on top of him. He wrestled the hat off and stared into blue eyes. “Payton?”

  “Yes, Payton. Now get off me!”

  Before moving, he thought how pleasant it might be to stay right where he was if he were to lean down and kiss the sauciness away. He threw his head back and laughed. “I should have recognized you in those clothes.”

  The men had arrived seconds later and stared, but he didn’t care.

  Edward leaned forward on his mount. “Who might this be?”

  “This, my good fellows, is my very-soon-to-be bride.” He untangled himself from legs and arms and hauled Payton to her feet. “Sorry, m’love. I had no choice but to expose your identity.” With a hasty move, he plopped the hat back on her head, but her hair tumbled around it in disarray. He turned her and brushed dirt from her billowing breeches until she yanked his hand away.

  “I’ll do that myself.”

  Addison spoke through pursed lips, staring openly at Payton’s unusual attire. “I do believe the kitten has claws, Jonathan. I wouldn’t turn my back in the night.”

  Jonathan hoisted a blushing Payton back into the saddle, and she immediately rode off. He remounted Storm and pulled the bit away from the others, guiding the animal in the direction of the flying white horse and the lady.

  He cracked Edward’s horse lightly with his whip and nudged his heels into his mount. “Don’t wait breakfast, gentlemen. I’ve a poacher to overtake.”

  * * *

  Wind whistled through the leathers on Winter, but Payton couldn’t encourage her to slow at all, not that she wanted her to. Payton needed to escape. They had both been anxious for this excursion. She yanked hard at the bit, but to no avail. Winter’s plan of action was preset and Payton had no choice but to follow.

  While leaving the stable, she had been careful to avoid seeing anyone other than Birdie, so it took her by surprise when she heard hooves gaining on her. How imprudent to have been found by an entire party of men and wrestled to the ground like a street brawler.

  She wasn’t about to allow Jonathan to manhandle her so. In an instant, she realized how prideful she had become since living at Kent. Any other time and she would have been grateful for the kind attention, but Jonathan frightened her. The way he looked at her. When he held her, the way his chin came to rest, warm and inviting, in her hair. He said her name and made it sound like dripping honey. If only he truly cared for her, she would gladly allow him inside her heart, her life, even her soul.

  As Winter dashed over the land, Payton’s mind returned to the screaming last night, and suddenly another horse was upon her again. With a wrenching motion, she turned hard to see who it was, but she slipped sideways in the saddle. Winter balked and Payton flew off the side, landing on soft ground.

  Jonathan remained seated and stared as she squirmed on the ground with her lip curled, brushing at the new clothes. “Well? Are you just going to sit there?”

  “I see you have found good use for the protective clothing two times in one day.”

  “No thanks to you.” She shook her head and refused to meet his gaze.

  “Me? I didn’t throw you off. You landed there through no help of mine.”

  She felt her face flame red-hot. How dare he speak to her so?

  “Have you enjoyed your ride?”

  She finally looked up to see him having trouble hiding a grin. “I wouldn’t laugh so much, sir. If this happens each time I ride, I may need a new set of clothes every week.” Remembering his kindness, she softened and took a deep breath. How could she stay angry while gazing into those eyes, so full of life but also so full of sadness? “Would you be kind enough to get down and help me, or must I sit here rubbing my ankle alone?”

  His face darkened when his gaze strayed to her ankle. He immediately slipped off Storm and dropped on one knee. “You are hurt?” His face grimaced as he balanced on his bad leg. But before waiting for her answer, he lifted her easily into his arms and began an inspection of her foot.

  “I am fine, other than my pride being a bit bruised. I merely twisted my ankle under me. The boot prevented further injury. But thank you.” Her manner softened. “And thank you for the clothes. What a kind gift. I hope you’ll accept my apology for being so curt.” Once they were married, he might take her riding each day—at least, she hoped he would. She must be a mess. Running fingers through the hair on the sides of her head, she bit down on her lip. She was making it worse.

  His hands gripped her arms as she stood to her feet. “Are you sure you can walk?”

  “I’ve been worse. Though I could use help mounting Winter.”

  He eased her into the saddle, taking care to gently place her foot in the stirrup. His hand lingered on her ankle until their eyes met. Payton swallowed hard but didn’t turn the horse away. She could feel warmth from his hand all the way through her boot. She was about to open her mouth when he spoke.

  “We should get back. The men and I were in the middle of surveying the property to see if we could find any poachers. Or any...late-night screamers.”

  She kicked his hand away playfully. “And I was the best you came up with?”

  His crooked smile, a result of the scar, teased back as he steadied Storm. “We found no one. No one but this strange boy suddenly flying across the meadow on Winter. If only he could tell us his story, maybe we would learn deep, dark secrets.”

  “His is not a story you would find interesting. But what of yours? Does it contain deep, dark secrets?”

  A somber gloom overtook his face as he leaped into the saddle. “Not worth the telling.”

  * * *

  In a pleasant change of pace, after a busy day of entertaining, the night held no more screams, no more meetings in the hallway, no more near kisses, no more surprises. Payton found she was content but also a bit disappointed. Sleep coming amid calm would be welcome. Tomorrow she’d wed. And she wanted to appear her best even though she realized it meant nothing at all to Jonathan. Did the marriage mean anything to her? Why should it? He was arrogant, overbearing and controlling. She gazed at the leather breeches on the back of the chair. And kind, caring, handsome and generous. She doubled a fist and punched the coverlet.

  Her room comforted her with a lovely soothing quality. A soft bed and plump pillows. Fresh flowers each day, when available, and space to grow. She would miss it. Or would she be staying in this room indefinitely? Would he even be faithful? She hadn’t thought about that. After all, he was doing all this just for her. So she would be safe. But he had emotions. Perhaps he would go on seeing Miss Anne. Oh, surely not.

  Anne didn’t love him. She had hovered over Payton all day, offering to help her. Likely that was all an act for Jonathan’s benefit.

  Well, she intended to be faithful. A marriage for whatever reason still included vows to God. She would mean them but what about Jonathan? They hadn’t actually discussed the particulars. Here she was, marrying a man she had been afraid of her entire life, and she didn’t know what their personal arrangements might be. She blushed. What did he expect from her?

  She twisted her leg to find a restful position. Her ankle was tender, but it would not stop sleep from coming after such a long day. Blessed sleep to escape the concerns
about tomorrow night.

  * * *

  Jonathan put his glass on the side table and offered the men cigars. He didn’t care for them, but he always kept a box for visitors. He wished Wallace had not accompanied Anne. Was he jealous of Wallace Fitzhugh? Not at all. He was angry toward him. Now that he knew the ways of his late wife, he felt Wallace might have merely followed suit. He should dislike the man intensely, but he saw through Anne’s game and decided not to snap at the bait. Had she honestly thought a marriage might have been in their future?

  “Gentleman, I’ve a long day tomorrow. I believe I’ll go to my room. A good night’s sleep should provide welcome company. If you’ll excuse me.”

  He leaped the stairs like a stag on mountain crags in spite of the pain in his leg and stopped a moment outside Payton’s door. Perhaps he should knock, but she must already be sleeping. As he stared at her closed door, he remembered holding her last night, protecting her, promising her a life of kindness. And before then? He had nearly kissed her. So close, her breath stirred against his mouth. He’d felt the warmth as she waited with her eyes closed for him to press his lips against hers.

  He gripped his fist. Thinking about it only made matters worse. There would be no kisses, no hugs of encouragement and solace, no passion between them. Only long days and even longer nights when they lived as husband and wife in name only. He leaned against her door, bit down on his lip and cursed himself silently for the arrangement he had planned.

  God, if You are really there, can You forgive me? I never meant for this to come about in such a manner. I wanted to help and now, it seems, I have imprisoned us both. I shall not lie tomorrow but be truthful. When the time comes to test my fidelity, I don’t want to hurt Payton. But a marriage to protect her will test me every day of my life.

  He bemoaned his circumstances. There was no God, so why did he waste his time praying? A loving God would have saved his marriage to Alithea, would have at least saved her life.

  Now, he would never have a proper marriage. Never know a wife. Never share a moment when he might reach for her, laugh with her, love her. He knew his opportunities had come and gone, but Payton deserved better. Her being trapped in a loveless marriage caused him pain. But what other option was there? Her uncle, if indeed he were her uncle, had plans for her that would cause her to fare far worse. A groan burst through his lips with such intensity he spun about to be sure no one had heard.

  There was nothing to be done but to think of her as his ward, as a child. In that way he wouldn’t allow himself to be put in a situation like the other night, when he had kissed her. A child. The solution was right in front of him. She was a child. Wearing pants to ride, hair flying in the wind. He pictured her thusly so as not be tempted. Riding straddled in breeches with no care for propriety, she did resemble a very young girl. Pink cheeks, loud laughter, blue eyes, soft skin. Errgh. This would not be an easy task.

  With steps heavier than Storm’s, he stomped across the landing, stalked to his room and shouldered through the door, where he sat in the dark. He would beat this feeling. And when he did, he promised himself never to allow the raw emotions to rear up again.

  Chapter 8

  Payton listened. Pans clanked in the kitchen below. The smells. The wonderful smells of a feast, and while she longed to be part of the gaiety the preparations produced, Emily had insisted she stay in her room so she and Jonathan would not cross paths. A long soak in a hot bath before Clarisse helped with her hair would pass the time. A quick look in the mirror decided the style for her. Pulling the fullness forward and covering the wild, short curls at the side should do. They might peek from under, but the thickness of her hair glowing with pride would tell onlookers that Payton Whittard knew who she was.

  She looked forward to wearing the lovely pearls Jonathan had bought, her arms filled with beautiful winter roses from the greenhouse. She’d have white roses for a bouquet and for her hair. She clapped her hands at the thought of the grand walk down the long staircase in such fine attire.

  A small knock pulled her from her daydreams, and she caught herself smiling at the door. It must be Clarisse with the steaming water for her bath.

  Mrs. Brewster’s voice called from the hall. “Payton, dear. I have some tea with cream, fresh bread, shortbread cookies and butter sweetened with clover honey. Come to the door. Clarisse will be up with hot water and rose petals for your bath in about an hour. Eat, dear. Keep up your strength for the party tonight.”

  Payton hesitated. Keep her strength up? For tonight?

  “Miss Payton. The door, please?”

  She padded over the floor and invited Mrs. Brewster in for more than bread and tea. She needed to speak with a woman, and Anne wasn’t even a consideration. “I hope you brought two cups.”

  Mrs. Brewster’s face creased in a conspiratorial smile. “I planned ahead. Here, dearie. With plenty of honey and cream for you.” She offered Payton the tea and retired to a chair by the fire with her own cup steaming in her hands.

  “I’m sorry there’s not much room. The copper tub is so big. I have never had a bath in such a tub before. You all will spoil me.”

  “You deserve spoiling, if you don’t mind my saying so. And the master thinks so, too.”

  A sigh racked her body before she quelled the shudder. “I am not so sure. I’m never certain what he is thinking.” Although he had bought her the dress and pearls and, best of all, the breeches and jacket, she was still troubled by what his true intentions might be.

  Mrs. Brewster sipped her tea and nibbled one of the raspberry shortbread cookies; Payton withered under her gaze. “I can read your face, dearie. You of all folks know I speak the truth. He has made the entire manor available for you and your comfort. He is changing his entire life to offer you his full protection.”

  He had done that. True. But what she wanted she couldn’t find in a box with ribbons. Her sense of being a woman had been awakened and she ached to be loved. The way her parents had loved each other every day through good and bad. Why couldn’t she have that familiar comforting relationship? “May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  She plucked a piece of the shortbread but finally left it on her plate. Dare she ask? “What caused Mrs. Lambrick’s death?”

  Mrs. Brewster’s hand shook ever so slightly. “We shouldn’t speak of such things. Should the master choose to tell you in time, he will.”

  So many secrets. Had he been involved in his wife’s death? Oh, well, not today. No thinking on such things on her wedding day. She sighed. “I don’t have a mother to prepare me. Will you come up to dress me after my bath? I should love your help.”

  Mrs. Brewster leaned forward, pressed a prim kiss on Payton’s cheek and nodded. “I would love nothing more, dearie. Nothing more at all.” She brushed at her own cookie crumbs along with some moisture in her eyes, set her cup on the tray and rose with effort from the chair. “Ring when you need me.”

  * * *

  Jonathan brushed a missed spot of lint from the shoulder of his jacket. He stared at the craggy face in the mirror. Could she grow to love him in time? Despite the scar, he appeared acceptable. But nearly a decade separated them. Would that make a difference to her? Tonight, when he took his vows before his friends and God, he would mean them. And he would make every effort to offer her a life of happiness. Like a doting brother or favorite cousin. He would do his best to indulge her, laugh with her, pet her, but never truly love her, not as he would like. What he liked reached across miles of emotions and he couldn’t allow himself even a taste of what pleased him. If he did, there would be no going back. The feelings would blossom once more and leave him as vulnerable as he had
been to Alithea.

  He tensed head to toe, slammed his fist on the dressing table. No. Not again. Not ever again.

  When he entered the great hall, the sight stopped him. Evergreens filled each and every corner with tiny candles waiting to be lit. Red bows and berries dotted the greens. Silver vessels filled with white roses clustered on every table. He had told Mrs. Brewster to spare no expense or effort, and he was convinced the results would be pleasing to Payton.

  He expected an array of friends from London as well as those from Colchester. Not since Alithea died had he assembled a ball such as this for Christmas. Their last Christmas together had been one of pure joy. So very much in love. No. He had been in love. What Alithea had felt, he was no longer sure. He sighed and turned toward the entrance.

  Little by little guests arrived, their carriages following dozens of torches that lined the road for as far as he could see. Women in stunning gowns languished on the arms of their escorts. Jonathan envied the smiles and intimate exchanges that passed between some of them and wished for Payton to look at him the same.

  At seven o’clock baskets and silver trays of food suddenly appeared on long tables against the wall. Hams dripped with maple glaze and turkeys with cranberry stuffing. Leg of lamb and cold venison perched under fruit towers with sugar sprinkled down the sides. Large platters held stuffed cakes and tarts to tempt the stodgiest of his guests. Punch filled cut-glass bowls and crystal ladles and cups waited on smaller tables at each end of the hall. Jonathan smiled his approval at the job Mrs. Brewster had done in such a short time. And Clarisse. Her work often went unrewarded but not tonight. On Christmas they both would receive a very tangible show of his appreciation.

  As he left for the hall to greet a new round of guests, he stopped. And wondered. Payton, still absent, worried him. Would the boyish, childish version of Payton show up, or might the gown be filled with a beautiful young woman anxious to be married? Before he finished speculating, she appeared at the top of the steps. The guests filing through the entrance stopped in the hallway at the bottom of the staircase and gasped collectively as their lines of vision drew immediately to the beautiful woman at the pinnacle of the room.