Falling in Love Again

by Cathy Maxwell

  She looked up at him and stopped, stunned. John had changed to a clean shirt and donned his jacket. He was also wearing the neck cloth trimmed in lace he’d brought with him from London. He looked the part of a gentleman farmer—a very handsome gentleman farmer. “You shaved,” she said inanely.

  “And managed to catch a few winks of sleep this afternoon.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “Mallory, I’ve been a damn fool. I miss you so much—”

  “Dawson!” Freddie Hanson’s voice shouted over the growing noise of the crowd. “Where’s your cavalier’s hat? You’re the lord of the feast, man, and you must look the part!”

  John raised his hand holding the ancient hat with its bedraggled gold plume and placed it on his head. Everyone watching from the barnyard roared with laughter. Mallory took advantage of that moment to slip away.

  She hurried down to the cottage and changed from her “serviceable” gray dress to the lovely yellow muslin. Reaching behind her back, she tightened the laces and wished she had a mirror. She brushed her hair until it shone and then pulled it up on top of her head and tied it in place with a piece of green ribbon. The ends of her hair curled down past her shoulders. She knew John would like it this way.

  Her stomach felt nervous and fluttery, and she pressed her hand against it. What if John didn’t like what she’d planned? Immediately she erased all doubts from her mind. John loved her; she knew that now, just as she knew he was the only man she would ever love.

  Realizing it was growing late, she hurried back up to the barn. Everyone was waiting for the feast to begin. The children were running in and out around the tables while the adults stood talking.

  The Reverend Luridge appeared at Mallory’s side. He took arm and patted her hand. “Are you ready?”

  A shiver of anticipation ran through her. “I think so.”

  “He doesn’t know anything?”

  She shook her head. “It’s going to be a surprise.”

  The Reverend Luridge led her to the head table, which had been set with Cardiff Hall’s china. “Excuse me, everyone,” he called in a loud voice. “I need your attention.”

  Everyone in the crowd shushed each other. When John, standing over by the keg, turned and saw her, his gaze warmed appreciatively. It made her feel very feminine.

  “Before I give the blessing on this great feast,” the Reverend Luridge was saying, “I’ve been asked to perform another small ceremony. Mr. Dawson, would you come forward?”

  John handed his cavalier hat to Hanson and pushed his way through the crowd to stand by Mallory’s side.

  “Your wife, Mr. Dawson, has requested that the two of you repeat your wedding vows before we start the feast,” Reverend Luridge said.

  Mallory felt as nervous as a bride until John, his face lit with surprise and pleasure, took her hand in his. “I would like nothing better,” he said.

  The Reverend Luridge addressed the gathering. “I won’t do a proper service because we’re all hungry, but I’m going to say the important words. It’s symbolic, you know, on this day of great celebration for our hard labor in the fields, that this couple wishes to renew their vows, because marriage is hard work too. It can be back breaking—”

  Many of the men guffawed at this observation.

  “It can also be fruitful,” he continued, nodding toward a group of children impatient to start eating. “But it is always a challenge—at least, the good ones are.” He turned his attention to the couple standing before him and began to recite the words from memory.

  “John Dawson, will you have this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep her with you so long as the two of you shall live?”

  John didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

  The Reverend Luridge turned to Mallory. “Mallory Dawson, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, obey him—” (John gave her hand a little squeeze on the word “obey”) “—honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, as long as you both shall live.”

  “I will.”

  The Reverend Luridge gave them a beatific smile. “Then I pronounce you man and wife.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now for the harvest prayer.”

  “Wait, Reverend,” John said. From his pocket, he pulled out her wedding ring. “I want to place this ring on Mallory’s finger and I want as many witnesses as possible when I say to this woman, who has taken a vow to obey me—” His words were met by several chuckles around the room. “When I tell her,” he repeated, “that she shall never remove this ring from her finger again.” He slid the sapphire-and-diamond band on the ring finger of her left hand.

  “Good heavens,” the Reverend Luridge said, startled. “That ring must be worth a fortune!”

  “It was my mother’s,” John answered, his gaze never wavering from Mallory’s. And then, ever so slowly, he bent his head and kissed his bride.

  After that, the harvest feast became a true celebration. There were few women in the room with dry eyes. Mrs. Irongate and Mrs. Watkins hugged Mallory with tears streaming down their faces, which dried quickly when they saw the ring. They appraised it with knowing eyes.

  “First-rate,” Mrs. Watkins said.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a diamond that fine,” Mrs. Irongate agreed.

  Finally, everyone sat down to the feast, and a fine meal it was, too. John insisted upon feeding Mallory from his plate, the way any bridegroom would do for his bride.

  Lord Woodruff sat beside them. “I say, this is fun. We should do it again next year.”

  “Yes,” John agreed, giving Mallory a conspirator’s smile.

  Mallory waited until Lord Woodruff had wandered off, who knew where, before she said, “You’re going to miss this, aren’t you?”

  John looked around the room. Most of the children were finished eating and begging their mothers for a slice of pie or a spoonful of custard. The men had gathered in a group around the ale keg while the women formed their own clusters around the children and the food tables.

  “Yes, I will. Before coming here, I thought the only thing I was good at was being a soldier, a fighter. But I’ve now learned it’s more rewarding to plant something, even something as simple as an idea, and watch it grow.” He leaned toward her. “Thank you, Mallory.”

  “I did nothing.”

  “Oh, but you did. There were times during the last week when tempers flared and petty fights started among the workers, when I ached with exhaustion, but I continued on just because I wanted to prove you were wrong to consider me a worthless husband.”

  “I was wrong,” she admitted readily.

  Before they could say anything else, the call went out to start the dancing. This time, Mallory didn’t hesitate to take part. John had to play with the small band of musicians, but he managed to steal three dances with her. The last was a waltz.

  She’d never waltzed before, but she trusted him. He took her in his arms, one hand on her waist, and they joined the other couples twirling and gliding around the barn.

  Then John waltzed her out the door into the velvet night.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Where we can be alone.”

  Taking her hand, he led her down the path. They weren’t the only ones with the same idea. Other couples strolled along the moonlit path, and a few were even hiding in the bushes.

  Inside the cottage, John barred the door and pulled the shutters closed. He turned and watched Mallory as she lit a candle. Its glow filled the small room.

  His wife…she was graceful, lovely, serene, intelligent, spirited, and challenging—everything a man could wish for in his life’s mate.

  He pushed away from the door and walked to her. “I’ve bee
n wanting to do this since the moment you walked into the barn tonight.”

  Taking her in his arms, he swooped down and kissed her with urgent hunger. And Mallory kissed him back, her passion matching his own.

  John buried his face against her neck and her sweet-smelling hair. He pressed against her until she could feel the strength of his need for her.

  “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

  Her arms hugged him fiercely. “You won’t. I’m yours, John. I want to be yours.”

  With a glad cry, he kissed her again and then picked her up and carried her to the bed. Their lips met, her tongue teasing his while his hands unlaced the dress.

  He laid her out there. His loins throbbed to possess her, but he wanted to take his time. He wanted this night to be memorable.

  Coming down on one knee, he lifted her foot and removed one worn kid slipper. They were the shoes she’d worn when they escaped the bailiff. “I, John Barron, Viscount Craige, take you, Mallory Barron, Viscountess Craige, to be my wedded wife.” He slipped her other shoe off her foot and placed it on the floor.

  She wore no stockings, and he smiled, remembering the pair with the hole in the toe. He ran his hands along the back of her calves and up her thighs, pushing her skirts up. He pressed a kiss first on the inside of one thigh, then the other.

  He looked up at her. The neckline of her dress he’d unlaced now hung wantonly around her shoulders. The bow in her hair ribbon had come loose during the dancing. He reached out and pulled it. Her hair came tumbling down around her shoulders. Nuzzling her collarbone, he pushed her dress lower and lower, but then she stopped him.

  She tilted his head up to his. “I, Mallory Barron, Viscountess Craige, take you, John Barron, Viscount Craige, to be my wedded husband.” Her voice sounded sure, feminine, possessive.

  She pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Her bare thighs on either side of his body hugged him in place when he started to move. Her fingers began untying his neck cloth. “I promise to love you,” she said, and tossed the neck cloth aside. She tugged on his shirt. “To comfort you and honor you.”

  She smiled as she said the words. He reached over and nipped her neck, working his way up to her ear. “You forgot ‘obey,’” he reminded her.

  She laughed, the sound seductive. “Oh no, my lord. If you are to be obeyed, then first you must earn it.” She leaned back, pulling his shirt off over his head.

  John sat on the edge of the bed beside her and took off his boots, then rose to his feet. “And how do I earn it?”

  “By honoring me, and this marriage.”

  “I worship you.” He pulled her up to stand on the bed in front of him. Greedy now, he pulled down her dress and chemise, while his lips came down on her breast. Her nipple was already hard for him. He took it in his mouth, indulging himself in the sweet taste of her and her small sighs of pleasure. Her fingers curled in his hair and she repeated his name over and over.

  John pushed the yellow muslin and cotton petticoats down over her hips and looked into her pleasure-glazed eyes. “I will love you as I have never loved another, and I will comfort you and honor you all the days of my life,” he swore earnestly.

  Mallory came down on her knees in front of him. Her eyes shone with her love for him, and he could swear he’d never met a more beautiful woman.

  Her fingers began unfastening the buttons of his breeches. “And I shall obey you, my husband, because I choose to obey you out of my love and respect for you. I will be by your side wherever you are, and I will always be proud to be your wife.”

  He hugged her to him. “Dear God, Mallory…there is no gift more precious than your love for me. I could never live without you.”

  Tears ran down her face, but they were tears of joy, and he kissed each and every one of them away, and then kissed her freckles until she was laughing with joy.

  His fingers touched her and then slid inside her as he laid her back on the bed and stretched out beside her. Her hips arched.

  “John, I want you in me. I need you.”

  He settled himself over her. “Mallory, this is our wedding night. This is our consummation.” He kissed her, and as he did so, he slowly entered her, marveling at the feel of her muscles tightening around him and pulling him deeper.

  He took his time making love to her. He wanted to erase any bad memories she might have had of their time before.

  But Mallory didn’t want to go slowly. The wanton movements of her hips matched his, and soon John didn’t know who was the seducer and who was the seduced.

  She brought her legs up around him, pulling him still deeper. Sweat dampened their bodies as he increased the tempo, driving into her over and over again, giving her as much as he could….

  And then he felt the trembling inside her. She cried out his name, giving herself completely over to that magic moment, the completion, the release.

  John, buried inside her, lost himself. There would be no other woman for him. He realized it in his soul, and for the first time in his life, he found a home…right here in Mallory’s arms.

  They lay together for long moments afterward, and when he thought he finally had enough energy to move, he lifted his head and asked, “How do you feel?”

  Her dark eyes still glazed with passion, she answered, “Married.”

  John made love to his wife three more times that night. He couldn’t seem to get his fill of her.

  When he wasn’t making love to her, he held her in his arms and they talked. They talked about anything and everything.

  They wondered what Lord Woodruff would do when they left the area and decided he would be fine if Freddie Hanson agreed to be steward. They shared confidences of things they’d never discussed with anyone else—ever.

  They made plans. Her head on his chest, Mallory idly circled his nipple with one finger. “I was afraid of what would happen if we were forced to leave England.” She flattened her hand and felt his heart beating beneath it. “I’m not afraid anymore, as long as I’m with you.”

  He hugged her tight. “It won’t come to that.”

  “But if it does, I no longer fear the future.”

  John placed a kiss on her forehead and ran the sole of his foot against the back of her calf. “I keep asking myself where is the one place I wouldn’t think to look for Louis, because that is where he will be. He’s been planning this for years, but he’s wrong if he believes I’ll let him get away with it.”

  Mallory rested her chin on his chest. “John, I love you.”

  When he smiled at her, she laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Your dimple. You have a secret dimple that every once in a great while pops out right here.” She traced the right corner of his mouth with her tongue.

  Her actions excited him again and she squirmed when she felt his arousal pressed against her stomach.

  She started to roll over onto her back, but he held her in place. “Let me teach you a new trick,” he said softly, and then, lifting her up, seated her upon him.

  “Oh, John,” Mallory whispered, “I love this trick.”

  An inner voice woke John in the wee hours of the morning. He started to roll over and return to sleep, but the voice was persistent. It echoed his words spoken earlier: Where would be the last place you would look for him?

  Mallory’s voice intruded into his thoughts. “John, are you awake?”

  “Yes.” He snuggled her close to him.

  “I find myself wondering about the new owner of Craige Castle,” Mallory said. “In her letter, Mother said no one has seen him. He stays to himself. I can only hope he takes care of the tenants.”

  John nodded—and then was struck by her words. “You said the new owner stays to himself.”

  “Ummm-hmmm.” She was already starting to drift back to sleep. “Mother is worried about her furniture. She claims the new owner smokes and takes snuff. She probably fears he will leave burn marks on the tables. We shall have to teach her, John, that there
is a good life beyond Craige Castle.”

  John sat back, stunned by what he was thinking. “No, Louis wouldn’t.

  “Wouldn’t what?” Mallory asked, turning over to look at him.

  “Craige Castle,” John answered.

  “Excuse me?”

  John rose from the bed. “Louis is at Craige Castle.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am completely serious. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I know I’m right. It’s the only place he could be.” He lifted Mallory from the bed and gave her a big kiss. “We’ve solved the mystery, Mallory. We’re going to recover our fortune!”

  Chapter 18

  Then I will stay with you for ever,

  If you will not be unkind.

  Madam, I have vowed to love you;

  Would you have me change my mind?

  O No, John! No, John! No, John! No!

  “O No John!”

  After church that morning, John joined Lord Woodruff in his study and told him they would be leaving that very day. Woodruff did not take the news well.

  “What shall I do? Who will take care of me?” he asked, pouring himself a very full glass of wine.

  Mallory was struck with the observation that during the harvest, when Lord Woodruff hadn’t been hiding away in his study, he’d actually drunk very little wine. Now the man was back to his old habits.

  “Who will manage Cardiff Hall?” he continued. “What will I say to Tyndale?”

  “The man to manage Cardiff Hall is Freddie Hanson,” John said. “He’s living in the steward’s quarters as it is and he’s finishing the reports for Tyndale. I took the liberty of speaking to him this morning. He’ll do the job but expects you to pay him well. I believe he’s worth the money. As for Tyndale, you don’t need to say anything. He has no idea who I am.”

  Lord Woodruff scratched his chin with an ink-stained finger. “Then that whole story about your being robbed and all was a hoax?”

  “Not exactly,” John said grimly, but didn’t elaborate.

  Mallory found that the hardest people to say farewell to were Mrs. Irongate and Mrs. Watkins. She’d told them their full story.