Devonshire

by Lynne Connolly

  I knew James loved me, but I didn’t know he would force such strictures on my future husband. It was most unusual to demand personal assurances outside the marriage contract. “Goodness.”

  “I’d already made those promises to myself.”

  I knew what that would mean to him, and to me. I turned my head and kissed his shoulder, tasting the sharp, salty sweat. “I can make those promises, too.”

  “Then when we make the promises in the Cathedral, they are implied. Yes?”

  “Yes.” We kissed to seal the bargain, sweet and loving, desire assuaged for the present.

  “Richard?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Why the Cathedral? Why not a private ceremony in a chapel somewhere like most people do?” I’d gone along with the plans but such a public wedding was unusual in his class.

  He smiled. “I wondered when you’d ask. Because, my love, I want everyone to know I’m committing myself to you. All of them, the women, their husbands, and the rest of the world. If we’d married at Eyton in the chapel, or here in your village, it would have been a family affair. But there are people I particularly wish to know, and they couldn’t come to a private ceremony.” A public ceremony, marking his new life, and his new resolve.

  Now he’d explained, I no longer worried about it. I knew it would be a nerve-racking experience for me, as I hated to be the centre of attention, but it didn’t matter. The reward far outweighed the temporary discomfort.

  “We’re having the wedding breakfast at Peacock’s,” I told him.

  “Yes, I remember Martha mentioning it. That was the part I found a little puzzling.”

  “We have nowhere at the Manor where we can entertain all those guests so we’re using the plans for rebuilding as an excuse. The wedding breakfast is James’s responsibility and he’s determined to meet the magnificence of the Cathedral. The Great Hall at Peacock’s could have been made for such an occasion.”

  He lifted my face to his. “And we’ll be that much nearer to the coast, and escape.” He touched his lips to mine. “I shall lay my plans. I want you to myself as soon as it can be arranged. And no bedding ceremony, either.”

  I shuddered. “Good Lord, no.” I couldn’t bear the thought of being put in my nightgown and put to bed, to wait for him accompanied by friends and family. In the old days they used to watch the marriage being consummated. That would have been terrible, especially for a young virgin, already having to cope with the idea of marital intimacy. I was neither young nor a virgin, and I found the prospect unbearable.

  “Our first night as man and wife will be on the yacht. And then we’ll be at sea, out of the reach of any well-wishers, or ill-wishers for that matter.” He looked at me, his gaze a caress. “If I lose you that will be enough for me. I’ve had many things I cared for taken from me, but no more. You would be the last.”

  Everything else forgotten, he kissed me again, sweet and long. When he tasted my mouth, invited me to taste him, it was more languorous, less needy. He caressed me, sampling, tasting, moving his hands over me in a leisurely stimulation. I returned his caresses, felt the smoothness of relaxed muscle, and then below, to caress his manhood, now far from relaxed. I began to discover the sweetness of mutual stimulation in well-known, well-loved bodies, instead of the excitement of discovery. We still had a long way to go. I prayed the time would be given to us.

  Richard drew back, eyes half-closed, and rolled to lie on his back, pulling me with him. We kissed, touched, and enjoyed the sensuality of loving, all at a slower pace than before. He touched me between my legs. “You want me again.”

  “I could say the same,” I answered, curling my hand around him.

  “Indeed you could. Will you ride me this time, love?”

  “What? How?” I still had a lot to learn.

  “On top. Remember Exeter?” Richard put his hands under my armpits and pulled me up to a kneeling position, astride him. His hands moved to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. I smiled at him. “You’ll have to help.”

  “All the time, sweetheart.”

  I took hold of his erection and went up on my knees, slowly sinking down until he touched me. I closed my eyes to feel his entrance into my body, and listen to him talking to me. “That feels so good, so right. That’s it, oh, God. Perfect, perfect.”

  I opened my eyes and saw him, hungrily gazing at me, taking me with every sense he possessed. “To see you like this, so open to me, so inviting, all I ever want, all I ever need. Tell me what it feels like, Rose. What does it feel like to have me inside you, watching you?”

  I moaned when I felt how deeply he was embedded inside me. “It’s everything to know you want me. You think I’m beautiful,”

  “Yes.”

  “So I am. I’ll be anything you want.” I paused when he thrust, and I moved again to meet him.

  “Don’t stop.” I don’t know who said it. It could have been both of us.

  “Oh it feels so good, Richard. You’re so deep inside me, you’re touching parts I never knew existed before I met you. You’re part of me, I’m part of you. That’s how it feels, my love, when you’re inside me.”

  I began to move in a rhythm reminding me of being on horseback, and I realised why Richard had asked me to ride him. “Can we do this on a horse?”

  He laughed, and his breath caught. “I’ve never tried. I think we should try one day, don’t you? Riding for real?” He timed his thrusts to meet mine; effortlessly settling into a mutual rhythm as natural as breathing, but far more exciting. The warmth inside me grew, but I’d forgotten something made possible by this position. He touched me, his hand warmly caressing my wetness, and the jolt nearly sent me through the bed canopy.

  I remembered, in time, to hold my breath to stop myself screaming.

  I lost control, or rather, I let it go, driving him as ruthlessly as he’d driven me a short time before. He rested his fingers where I would ride over them when I pushed forward, held one hip with his free hand to steady me. My knees gripping his sides, I surged on, bringing joy to both of us, my hair wild about me, in my eyes and my mouth. I was totally lost.

  Until, with a stifled cry of “Oh love!” Richard exploded inside me, helpless beneath me.

  I knew the power of having brought this to someone I loved by my own efforts, and I, too, felt ecstasy wash over me, as helpless as he’d been a moment before.

  I collapsed on to his chest. His arms held me close. With Richard murmuring endearments, with him still sunk inside me, I slept.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I WOKE UP WITH A START. I saw Richard lying next to me, his chest peacefully rising and falling in sleep. It was daylight.

  Sitting up in bed, I reached for my watch, the one I usually kept on the nightstand, and to my horror realised we’d slept too long. The household would be awake. There was no chance of us hiding what we’d done.

  Turning, I saw his look of loving amusement. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Richard, it’s seven o’clock!”

  “Come here and put that thing down.” He pulled me close and I dropped the watch. “First things first,” he murmured, and kissed me.

  I couldn’t help but move to him, feel his warmth. He gentled me with the kiss, using his tongue and hands to soothe my agitation until I relaxed in his arms. “Sweetheart, I’ve been in worse situations, and I’m sure we can brush through this one. I can’t regret this and I don’t intend to try. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

  My initial panic had gone. “Martha gets to hear of it.”

  “Quite. She’ll ask me to leave, which I must do anyway in a few days, and she gives you a lecture. Now how bad does that sound?”

  I snuggled against him. “Not too bad at all.”

  “Well worth the bliss of spending my first night with you, I’d say.” He pushed the hair back off my face, ran his fingers through it. “I can’t remember when I last slept so well.”

  I chuckled, burrowing in
to his warmth. “Can we really do this all the time? It scarcely seems possible.”

  “Believe it. It’s a certainty.”

  We lay together until I came to my senses again. “Richard, what shall we do? Wait for the maid to come and find us?”

  “Carier will work it out. I have no doubt he’ll arrive shortly.”

  I lifted my head. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  He grimaced. “Once or twice.” He curved his leg around me, touching my bottom with his thigh. It felt good. Too good.

  “Richard!”

  “We might have time to say good morning properly.” He captured my mouth in a deep, consuming kiss.

  There was a soft knock on the door. “Madam?” I recognised Carier’s voice.

  With a great deal of regret in his eyes, Richard released me. “Later, my sweet.”

  “A moment!” I called to the manservant.

  Richard flung back the covers and got out of bed. I watched him search for his robe, his beautiful, athletic body gleaming in the light filtering through the shutters. Finding his robe he flung it on and fastened it before fixing me with a gaze that burned into my soul. “You look so beautiful like that. Tousled hair, that sweet flush on your face—I won’t rest until I see you like this again.” He sat on the side of the bed and took my hand. “I have to go into Exeter today. I meant to tell you last night, but something took it right out of my mind.” He lifted my hand to his lips. “I need to see that the house is ready for my parents and Maria. They’ll be arriving in a day or two. I won’t stay, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He kissed me, then left. I waited, holding my breath until I heard the quiet click of a door closing further up the corridor. He was right. It wouldn’t have been so bad had anyone saw, but I was glad not to have to suffer one of Martha’s lectures.

  WHEN RICHARD AND GERVASE went to Exeter, I decided to walk to the village with some things for Mrs. Hoarty. I would miss her when I didn’t live here any more—she had been so kind to me over the years. She also provided a sanctuary for me when I was a child, letting me sit quietly with her instead of having to face the chaos of the manor.

  I took a basket of flowers from our gardens, early crocuses and narcissi, so I was particularly keen to make speed so they should arrive fresh. I set myself quite a pace by the time I reached the main street.

  People went about their business, and some of them wished me good day as I passed. I might never have gone away, except for the great ruby winking on my finger. Richard had done a great deal for my feeling of self worth, and I could hold my head high in any company these days, whereas before I would have shrunk to the background in my own drawing room. I wondered how I would have managed in polite society without his support, and supposed I would have been at the back there as well, too set in my ways to change.

  Halfway along the long street, I passed a house where everybody knew smugglers lived. Most of the inhabitants had conventional positions in the farms or on the estates and lent a hand—for a price—on the nights when runs took place, but the people here belonged to the hard core of the gang, if at a humble level. The Cawntons had, however, not been foolish enough to employ these men when carrying out the beating Richard had broken up, but brought strangers in from another village to carry out the task, people I’d never seen before. Presumably, these men were called on when other inhabitants of other villages proved recalcitrant.

  With an explosion of splintering wood, from the front door of the smuggler’s cottage burst a large man, one of the inhabitants of the cottage. He yelled and cursed, his meaty fists uplifted.

  I crossed the street, but slowed to see what was going on before I became involved in the melée. I could have justified myself by claiming to be a member of one of the largest houses hereabouts, with a vested interest in seeing law and order was not breached, but in truth I was as curious as the next villager. I didn’t think to flee.

  A second man backed out of the door, now only attached to its frame by one hinge, and deciding it was a mere drunken dispute, I decided to ignore it and pass by. That was until another figure advanced at a rush out of the same door.

  When I recognised Tom Skerrit, I picked up my skirts, ran back across the street, and deposited my basket of flowers out of the way. Tom’s friend Theodore Livingstone and two brawny footmen followed him. They raced down the path after the first man, who promptly took to his toes.

  “Tom!”

  He hailed his hurtling pursuit, and spun around on his heel when he heard my voice.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Go home, Rose.”

  Fury and haunting guilt shadowed his dark eyes. “Tom, leave them alone.”

  “Someone has to pay for Fursey’s death. We can’t let that pass without some sort of warning.”

  “But, Tom, don’t take these people on. For God’s sake, wait!” Tom had run off in pursuit. I hoped the man would get away, for everybody’s sake, but as the villagers and I watched, the first man reached him and lifted him off his feet. He yelled and fought while they hauled him back up the street.

  I raced to where they had dragged him, hoping to remonstrate with them, perhaps shame them into stopping by my presence, but it was no good. The man stood, protecting his head with his arms, and they punched and kicked him, trying to drag him down to make him completely at their mercy. The blows landed with repetitive, dull thuds, followed by shouts to leave him alone before Cawnton saw to them. I didn’t care to have such villains in our village, but I didn’t see what good could come of this.

  Such was the commotion my voice couldn’t be heard at all, and I knew if I tried to intervene, I would most likely be hurt.

  I did the only thing I could think of that would help. I lifted my skirts and ran for home, thankful I wore comfortable clothes and sturdy shoes, the easier to run in.

  I’d never reached the Manor so speedily before. When I reached the front of the house I was thankful to see James, mounted, on his way out by the side gate. “Rose, whatever is wrong? What’s happened?”

  I leaned against the gatepost, pulling in breaths with great heaves. As soon as I could speak, I gasped, “James, Tom is in the village with Theo Livingstone and two servants. They’re beating the hell out of a villager. One of the smugglers. You must do something, please, James.”

  James wheeled his horse around, calling to the grooms to mount quickly and follow him. Then he turned and called out to me, “Go inside. I’ll do what I can.”

  Once I’d recovered my breath, I disobeyed him, and followed him back to the village, ignoring my aching feet. I passed my pattens on the way back, discarded in my mad dash to the house. The heavy overshoes had been hindering my speed, and I could easily survive wet feet. I was weary from the running, and had to slow down, only arriving at the village when it seemed to be all over.

  The grooms passed me as I walked, but they didn’t stop to take me up, being more intent in obeying their master and seeing what the trouble was. One of them looked back as he passed me, frowned, and waved at me to return to the manor, but my friend was involved, and I couldn’t leave him alone, whatever he’d done, so I continued until I reached the main street again.

  Tom and his companions stood to one side. A man lay on the road, ominously motionless. James had dismounted and stood over him. He only looked up when I approached. “I thought I told you to go inside.”

  “Be quiet, James, I’m perfectly safe.” I knelt to examine the man, feeling for a pulse on his wrist.

  There was none. I felt his neck at the base but nothing beat there either. He’d been badly beaten, his face and head a mass of blood, but what must have been the cause of death was the knife jutting out of his chest, a rough looking knife with a repaired hilt, not the sort of thing Tom or his companions would carry.

  I looked up at James and shook my head, while Tom started forward. “It was an accident, truly.”

  Tom continued to talk, seemed unable to stop the flow
of words in his panic. “We wanted to teach them a lesson, that’s all, so we came to find him because everybody knows he’s a Cawnton man, and when he ran out we ran after him, then he drew his knife and...” His voice was raising in pitch, getting faster and I recognised the signs of hysteria. I slapped Tom full across his face. He stopped abruptly.

  Tom stared at me, his face white. His friend Theo, who stood a little way behind him, also looked shocked and upset, as well he might with a dead man on their hands.

  James took charge. “Take him over there.” Our grooms lifted the dead man and returned him to his cottage, from whence he had run so short a time before. The sooner that grisly sight was out of the way the better. We watched in silence while the two grooms carried him the short distance back to his home, with the gaping door and a white-faced woman standing by it. She watched expressionlessly, as they carried him through the door and out of sight.

  “It might be best,” James said, “if we continue this indoors. Rose, I’ll take you back. You others follow on.”

  They nodded and began to trudge along the road to the Manor as James remounted and held his hand down, to lift me in front of him. He set his horse to walk back. I nestled against him. My big brother, who had soothed my hurts when I was small. I needed soothing now.

  I brought him up to date as best I could on the way back, and asked him to send someone to Mrs. Hoarty to make sure this had not upset her too much. He promised he would send someone and then we arrived home.

  I dismounted and went straight upstairs, calling for a maid as I did so. Another gown ruined. I changed quickly and ran back downstairs, to see what developments had transpired.

  I found them in the morning room; James, Martha, Tom and Theo, the latter two with glasses of brandy in their hands, presumably given them to calm them after the shock. James was speaking, but he broke off when I came in, and then we heard the front door slam and voices. Richard and Gervase, back from Exeter.

  Someone must have told them for within a few minutes they both entered the morning room. Richard came directly to me. “Rose, are you hurt?”