“How would you know? You’ve never understood the meaning of the words. You’re like the sun, John, a blazing star too bright for my predictable little corner of the world. You know Wellington. You’ve dined with the Prince Regent. You’ve traveled the world.” She waved her hand at the stewed chicken. “More nights than naught, that is what Mother and I ate, and afterward we went to bed. I’m dependable and boring.”
“Then you need me!”
Mallory stared at him, dumbfounded he’d taken her words that way. “John, that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.” He placed his hands on his hips, challenging her.
She groaned her frustration aloud. “Yes, but it wasn’t the point I was trying to make. Please stop putting words in my mouth.”
A spark of temper flared in his eye. “I’m not putting words in your mouth. You said I was like the sun.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. I was pointing out how different we are.”
“Well, you compared me to something powerful and inspiring. I’m flattered.”
“You wouldn’t be flattered if you were listening to me,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Mallory, I’ve been hanging on your every word since I walked in the door.”
“But you don’t understand what I’ve been trying to say. And that is the problem between us.” Mallory took a step away from him. “John, I’m not beautiful enough or confident enough or clever enough to be the wife of a man such as yourself.”
He snorted. “That’s nonsense! You’re a very handsome woman—”
“John, please! You heard Lady Ramsgate and the others laugh at me. I’m a country woman raised in a crumbling castle on the East Anglia coast. In the few days we’ve been together, every time I turn around, one woman after another is flirting with you or tearing her clothes off.”
His lips formed a grim line. “That won’t happen again—”
“It’s more than just the women. Marriage should mean something. It should mean companionship—”
“I’m trying to be a good companion—”
“—Commitment, understanding, children,” Mallory continued, as if he hadn’t spoken.
“If it’s children you want, Mallory, I can give you children.”
Mallory stopped, struck by a new thought. “You don’t already have children, do you, John?”
“Absolutely none,” he said, “and I’m certain of that. I’d never condemn another child to the stigma I’ve had to deal with most of my life. What I was suggesting is that we could, ah…create our own children.” He gave her a positively wicked grin and nodded hopefully to the bed. “We could start tonight.”
His suggestion startled Mallory and turned her insides to softened taffy. Almost of their own volition, her feet took a step toward the bed—until her good sense and reason prevailed.
“That’s all you think about, isn’t it?”
John shook his head. “Is what all I think about?”
She couldn’t put a word to it. She didn’t know any! So she waved her hands toward the bed.
“Making love?” he suggested helpfully, his tongue lingering over the words. He began walking toward her, his steps slow and deliberate. To save her soul, Mallory couldn’t move. He stopped in front of her. His teeth flashed white in his smile. “You, Mallory,” he said softly, “you’re the one who keeps talking about having children. I’m just trying to be accommodating.”
He leaned down, lowering his lips to hers. Fascinated, Mallory watched him come closer, her heart pounding. She wanted him to kiss her with all the force of her being. But then, at the last moment…she ducked.
His lips grazed the top of her head. Mallory kept moving. She marched over to the door. Her fingers closed over the latch as if grasping a lifeline. She pulled the door open. “I think it would be best if you left now, John.”
She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. If she did, he might soften her resolve, and she couldn’t let him do that. Instead, she kept her focus inward, reminding herself of Lady Ramsgate, Ruth, and the others.
“Mallory, I didn’t mean to offend,” he said tensely.
“You didn’t,” she replied. Her voice shook slightly. “It’s just that I think it would be best if we didn’t spend the night under the same roof.”
“You want me to sleep in the barn again?” he asked incredulously.
“I think it best.”
“I won’t go.”
Mallory drew a deep breath and came to a decision. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “All right, I will.”
John’s eyes narrowed in fury. “This is ridiculous!”
“Not to me.” No, to her it was self-defense. She was protecting herself, protecting her heart. She had to keep a safe distance from him. She turned to walk out the door.
“No, wait,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Mallory felt no surge of triumph. If anything, she felt a small frisson of disappointment that he was willing to leave so easily. What was the matter with her? She usually knew her own mind…
She stepped back from the door.
John started out, but stopped in front of her. Unable to meet his gaze, Mallory gazed at the scuffed toe of his boot. “You promised me supper,” he said. “We’re civilized. We should be able to sit down and share a meal together.”
She went to the table, picked up the platter of chicken, and placed it in his hands. “Here, take this with you.”
Then, as an afterthought, she lifted the ledger off the table and shoved it into his hands under the platter.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“The rent ledger. Lord Woodruff wants you to collect back rents tomorrow.”
“I have to be a rent collector?” John said in angry disbelief.
She nodded.
John muttered, “Good night,” the words sounding constricted in his throat. He didn’t move, apparently waiting for her to respond.
Mallory didn’t say a word. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
At last John charged out the door and into the night. As he climbed the path up to the barn, she heard him shout, “Louis! Wherever you are, you are damned well going to pay for this!”
Mallory closed the door behind him and put down the bar. She leaned her head against the door.
Her gaze rested on the pitcher of wildflowers. Instead of peaceful, the cottage seemed lonelier than ever.
She went to bed.
John stayed up late. He and several of the hounds that hung around the barn made quick work of the chicken. Of course, he had a bit of trouble getting rid of his newfound flea-ridden friends after such a delicious meal, but he managed.
He stretched out on a bed of new hay and stared up at the rafters, his thoughts on Mallory.
She wanted him. He knew the signs of desire, and his little wife showed every one of them, no matter what she said. The tension in her this evening had been incredible. Every time he’d come near her, she’d practically quivered.
Lord! There had been fire in her eyes when she’d dumped the dairy maid’s clothes in the pond.
What would she have done if he’d marched into the cottage, swept her up, carried her to the bed, and kissed her into submission?
The image his thoughts envisioned made him restless and aroused.
Mallory was like no other woman he’d known—a combination of aching vulnerability, pride, intelligence, and stubbornness.
It was as if she wanted more than the money in a man’s pockets or the grandeur of his title. She wanted companionship, children…someone to share her life.
Her balding little squire didn’t deserve her. She was a woman with the strength of character to challenge a man, to hold his interest, and to love him with equal passion.
John wanted to be that man.
Chapter 11
Then she became a duck,
A duck all on the stream;
And be became a waterdog
And fetch’d her back again.
Then she became a hare,
A hare upon the plain;
And he became a greyhound dog
And fetch’d her back again;
Then she became a fly,
A fly all in the air;
And he became a spider
And fetch’d her to his lair.
“The Two Magicians”
Mallory didn’t learn that John had dismissed Ruth until early the next morning, when she was confronted by Mrs. Irongate and Mrs. Watkins, who paid her an angry call at the cottage.
“We all know Ruthie is a forward puss,” Mrs. Irongate said, “but she needs her job.”
“Her job? Isn’t she still working in the dairy?” Mallory asked, still groggy after having spent another restless night with little sleep. For the first time in her life, she’d dreamed of kissing and touching. She refused to believe her dream lover had been John.
“No!” Mrs. Watkins said, waving a wooden spoon in Mallory’s face. “Your husband turned her out. Now, not only does Evie have to work twice as hard, but Ruth is living with her!”
“Why does she have to live with Evie?” Mallory asked, confused.
“Why, everyone knows what happened at the pond yesterday afternoon,” Mrs. Irongate said. “How else could Ruth explain her wet clothes. She has nothing else to wear, poor thing.”
“And once her husband found out she lost her job,” Mrs. Watkins put in, “he beat her soundly and sent her to live with Evie. All because she was caught doing a bit of flirting.”
Mrs. Irongate placed a hand on the cook’s shoulder. “Mrs. Dawson, we all know what Ruth is like, but we take her in stride. You ruined her only set of clothes. That was lesson enough to warn her from your husband. You didn’t need to take the food from her mouth and the roof over her head, too.”
“I’m not the one who dismissed her,” Mallory said.
Mrs. Watkins harrumped, while Mrs. Irongate pressed her lips together in disbelieving silence.
“All right,” Mallory said at last, well aware that no matter what she said, she’d be held responsible. “I’ll talk to Mr. Dawson.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Irongate said civilly. Mrs. Watkins just continued to glare.
Mrs. Irongate pulled on her friend’s arm. “Come, Emma, we must get back up to the house.” The two women left, but as they were walking to the path, Mallory overheard the cook say, “So cool and hoity-toity she is. Makes her husband sleep in the barn and then begrudges another woman for treating a man the way he should be treated.”
Mallory didn’t waste any time searching out John. She found him in the barnyard, dealing with a well-muscled man wearing sooty clothes.
John greeted her with a huge smile. If he’d been angry with her last night, it didn’t show this morning. “Mallory, come here and meet Mr. Nichols, the blacksmith.”
Mallory nodded to the man, who rudely gave her a cold eye. No doubt he lived in Tunleah Mews and had heard Ruth’s story. It was interesting that no one seemed to hold Ruth’s dismissal against John…but then, that was the way of small communities.
Mallory pulled on the sleeve of John’s shirt. “I need to talk to you, privately.”
“Of course,” he said. “You’ll excuse us, Mr. Nichols?” He didn’t wait for an answer but led her over to the shade of a big oak tree.
Mallory came right to the point. “You must give Ruth back her job.”
His smile faded. “I won’t do that. She deserved to be booted.”
“The people here don’t see it that way.”
“The people here?”
“John, Cardiff Hall and Tunleah Mews are a very small world. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. The people are upset that Ruth was dismissed. It’s created a hardship for her. Last night her husband beat her and kicked her out of the house.”
The expression in John’s eyes turned somber. “Mallory, I don’t think I can take her back. After you threw her clothes in the pond, she said some unforgivable things about you. I will not have her speak of my wife in that manner, nor am I going to spend my time worrying if she is going to jump out of the bushes at me. The woman is damn bold.”
Mallory tilted her head up at him, surprised by the firmness in his voice. She’d never had a champion before. But she also knew he wasn’t right in letting Ruth go.
She placed her hand on his arm. “John, if you had a soldier under your command who didn’t always follow orders, would you send him home to England?”
“Of course not. I would order him to get in line.”
“And what if that didn’t work? Let’s say he was an incorrigible fellow.”
“Incorrigible?” He smiled at her choice of words.
“You know what I mean.”
He crossed his arms, seriously considering her question. “I’d probably take him aside and beat some sense into him.”
“That’s right,” Mallory agreed, “and that is exactly what I did to Ruth when I threw her clothes into the pond. John, this isn’t London. In such a close-knit community, you don’t dismiss a worker unless she has done something truly terrible, such as stealing. You must give Ruth her job back.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending her.”
“I’m not defending her actions, but these people think of each other as a family. In families, you overlook the faults of others. For example, at Craige Castle we have a sheep herder who’s a bit touched in the head. He can barely watch the sheep, let alone do any other job, but we make extra time for him.” She paused, uncertain how much to say, then added, “Besides, I’m asking you to do this for my sake. The other servants blame me for her dismissal.”
John’s eyes grew stormy. “It wasn’t your fault. I made the decision.”
His swift anger in her defense surprised her. “John, please, don’t do anything rash. I’m having enough trouble as it is—”
“What kind of trouble?” he demanded.
“It’s nothing,” she said firmly and would have walked away but he caught her arm.
“What is it, Mallory?”
“I don’t fit in here. I sense that people don’t like me,” she confessed.
The anger eased from the lines of his face. “Mallory, that’s nonsense.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Of course, they all like you.”
“No, they don’t. I made a mistake and got upset yesterday in the kitchen with Mrs. Irongate and the cook. I acted more like Lady Craige than Mrs. Dawson. It didn’t settle well with them.”
“And now this incident with Ruth hasn’t helped matters,” he said, with sudden understanding.
“No, it hasn’t,” she admitted. “Silly, isn’t it? That I should be concerned about what the servants say? I’ve never worried before.”
He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “We all want to feel like we belong. I’ll take care of it.” He paused. “But I’d like you to do a favor for me in return.”
Mallory went still. She should have known. “What is it you want?”
“Oh, now, I feel your shoulders tensing,” he said, removing his hands. “Mallory, you don’t know what I’m going to ask you.”
“No, but I have an idea.”
John flipped her braid over her shoulder. It was an innocent gesture but an intimate one. The sort of thing a man would do unconsciously while talking to his wife. “Come with me to collect the rents today.”
His words caught her by surprise. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to ask?”
His eyes sparkled. “Well, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in your bed.” He waggled his eyebrows, teasing her.
Mallory smiled, feeling foolish. Had he been teasing last night, too? “I could collect rents with you,” she suggested.
She was rewarded with a flash of his dimple, the little one at the corner of his mouth.
“We’ll leave shortly after noon, then,” he said.
She relaxed, pleased that he had asked her to accompany him. “I’ll have your lunch ready when you come by the cottage.”
“A picnic? I haven’t been on a picnic since I was a child.” Years ago, long before her father had taken ill.
“Then we’ll go on one today,” he said decisively.
For a second, Mallory stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Why would you think I’m not?”
Mallory glanced over at the blacksmith. “Because we both have work to do.”
John shook his head. “I’ll be finished with him in a few hours. Mallory, Lord Woodruff has ordered me to collect the rents. He didn’t say I couldn’t enjoy myself while doing it. Come on, let’s go on a picnic,” he urged her gently. “It will be good for us to get away for an afternoon.”
She hesitated, tempted.
His eyes pleaded with her to agree.
She nodded. “I suppose it won’t do any harm.”
“Of course not,” he assured her, bestowing upon her such a dazzling smile, it was as if the sun had suddenly come out from behind a bank of clouds.
His smile made her feel light-hearted, even giddy. She started walking back toward the path, unable to take her eyes off him.
“We’ll have a good time,” he promised.
“Yes, a good time,” Mallory repeated dumbly. Her feet stumbled over a rock, bringing her to her senses. She turned and hurried on her way.
John watched her until she disappeared out of sight. He felt absurdly pleased with himself for suggesting the picnic. And as for her problems with the other servants, he was more than happy to be her white knight.
John knocked on the cottage door promptly at noon, much earlier than Mallory had expected him. However, she’d had the hamper packed for the last hour.
He hitched the pony to the green and yellow pony cart and soon, with a snap of the driving ribbons, they were on their way toward Tunleah Mews.
Mallory was glad now that she’d said she’d go with him. The day had turned a touch overcast, but a summer breeze promised to send the clouds scattering later. She didn’t even fret about her lack of a bonnet, enjoying this moment out in the fresh air. The cart had benches that ran down either side. John sat across from her.
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