by Kya Lind
The then suddenly, she appeared from the fog, a vision in red moving toward him. Greyson quickly crossed the thirty feet that separated them and wrapped her in his cold, wet embrace. The rising tide pounded around their legs.
“Grey,” Honesty pulled his head down and kissed him. “What are you doing here?”
Greyson looked at her closely. She face was puffy from crying, and her clothes were soaked. The wet skirts tried to drag her off her feet with each wave. Several strands of wet hair whipped around her face in the wind.
“Well, it seems that a very smart duchess I know forgot that the tides close this shore, and decided to take a walk because she was upset.”
Honesty ducked her head, “How did you know?”
We have been looking for you for several hours.”
Thunder rolled shaking the cliffs and the waves that swirled around their knees. Greyson pulled her close and steadied her as the next wave knocked into them. He looked around, and was relieved to see the shape of Ship’s Head, a rock formation that gave him a perspective of where they were.
“I’m sorry, Grey.” Honesty wiped the water from her eyes with her wet sleeve.
“It is all right, we will be well if we can reach that boulder over there, Come on, Love.” Greyson half dragged and half carried Honesty through the crashing waves toward a large stone that she had not seen until he pointed it out.
Once he had pulled them up the side of the large rock to sit huddled against the rain and wind above the water line, he began pulling her clothes loose.
“What?” Honesty tried to ask above the wind.
“We cannot climb the cliff with you in these clothes, Honesty; we have to take them off, now before the tide rises anymore.”
Minutes later she was dressed only in her chemise, stocking and shoes. Greyson yanked the tail of the slip up and knotted it at her hip, and then pulled her toward the cliff face in the dark. They had both started shaking from the cold wind. Greyson wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against the cliff.
“Honesty, listen to me. This is going to be difficult to do. The last time I climbed this cliff I was about twelve. I don’t know if it is still passable. It is a long ways to the top and the rocks will be slick. But we must not give up. We cannot stay here. Go on, love, climb, I will be right behind you.” Greyson reached out and pulled her hand up and placed it on a rock ledge, and then he hoisted her up.
Honesty stretched to place her hands on solid rocks as she worked to climb the cliff. The rocks were slippery, and the rain ran into her eyes. Every time she paused, her muscles screaming, and the fear paralyzing her limbs, she would hear the faint encouraging words flying around her in the wind; Greyson’s steady tone pushing her on higher up the cliff.
After what seemed like hours, Honesty thrust her arm up to grab the next ledge only to have her hand fly forward and land on a flat surface from her fingertips to her elbow. She sobbed in relief as she rolled onto the top of the cliff edge. She scrambled away from the edge to give Greyson room to climb up. They lie unmoving for a minute. Honesty’s arms were shaking so badly she could not raise them. Instead, she rolled toward Greyson; her head on his shoulder. He threw his arm over her and brought his mouth to her ear. “Good girl.” He whispered.
They lie there for a while, in the rain, and the fog, with the fierce crash of the waves below them. Thunder rolled again. Honesty burrowed closer to Greyson. He sat up and pulled her with him. “Come on, we need to get out of this weather.” He stood in the dim light and slowly walked away from the cliff edge, pulling Honesty behind him.
Honesty just followed where he led. She did not think about how cold she was, or scared, or the fact that she was mostly naked. She focused on the fact that Grey had come after her and they were both still alive.
Without warning a small cottage appeared before them in the fog. Honesty stumbled up the steps behind Greyson. He did not knock; he just shoved the door open and strolled inside still pulling Honesty behind him. Finally, he released her wrist as he crossed the room to pull a flint and lantern down from the fireplace mantle. The room was soon flooded with a warm yellow light. He then went into the next room and came back with bed sheets. He flipped the dust off of them and approaching Honesty began drying her hair. She took the cloth from him and wrapped it around her dripping braid. She tried to squeeze the water out, but her fingers were shaking too hard to be of service. Greyson crossed to the fireplace and quickly lit the timber that set ready.
“There are clothes in the bedroom, go get changed. I’ll see what I can find.” Greyson went back out the front door into the rain.
After a moment of indecision, Honesty moved to the room he had brought the sheets from. It was a large room with a large four post bed and several wardrobes. Honesty’s attention was catch by the large glass paneled doors that lead out onto what looked like a stone deck that was surrounded by fog. Honesty opened a wardrobe drawer to find night gowns. She pulled a white linen one out and stripping out of the wet stockings, boots, and chemise quickly pulled the nightgown on.
Honesty jumped when a gunshot sounded right outside the cottage, followed by another. Honesty raced to the door as the next shot was fired. She started out the door just as Greyson came in. He caught her in his arms, and at the fear in her eyes he explained. “Sorry, love, that was the signal that we are all right. So our families will not worry.”
Greyson moved her back toward the fire. Greyson released her and stripped out of his wet and torn clothes. Honesty blushed and stared at the flames. Greyson moved into the edge of her vision and slumped into a chair by the fire. He had a sheet wrapped around his waist, and he was drying his hair with another one. “Honesty, come here.”
She walked slowly to his side. His wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She relaxed against him. Her hand lie over his heart, her fingers curled lightly in the dusting of black hair that covered his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
Greyson moved his hand to cover hers against his chest. “Oh, your hands,” she explained noticing the cuts and scrapes.
“Mine,” he sighed, “look at yours.” He turned the hand he held over to show the cuts and blood on her scraped fingertips. She held up her other hand. It was in the same shape. She clenched her fists in her lap. “I’m so sorry. You could have died because of me. . .Grey, I could not have lived if anything had happened to you.” Her hands slid up around his neck, “I love you so much.”
Greyson’s arms pulled her closer, and he chuckled weakly into her wet hair. “I have waited to hear that from you forever, and you picked a time when we were both too exhausted to move to tell me.” He kissed her ear. Honesty shivered in his arms. “Come, this fire is not heating us up fast enough.” He pulled her to her shaky feet and led her to the bedroom. He flipped the dust from the counterpane and pulled her into the center of the bed under the thick blankets and into his cold arms. He relaxed and slipped into a light sleep, but Honesty just lie safe in his arms and watched the storm pound against the outside of the cottage. An hour later Greyson stirred and blinked his eyes open in the storm darkened room as another clap of thunder rocked the house.
Greyson opened his eyes to see Honesty watching him. Her eyes were clouded with worry. “I’m sorry, Grey. After all your grandmother’s hard work to ensure I am accepted as your duchess, I managed to mess it up.” She bit her lip.
Greyson grinned wickedly, “Well, you know, darling, there is only thing to do with a ruined reputation?” at her questioning look, he added, “enjoy it.” He pulled her mouth down to his. She returned his kiss, her hands sliding around his back as he rolled them over.
“Grey, grandmother said we must wait,” but there was no protest in the statement.
Greyson chuckled against the curve of her neck as he kissed a path to the neckline of the nightgown. “Babies are born early all the time, love. And we are already ruined. At this point, the child can arrive six months late and the results will be the same.” The nightgow
n tie came undone.
Greyson moved his mouth back to hers. These kisses were gentle and giving. Honesty sighed against his lips and slid her hand down his chest. Greyson jerked and deepened the kisses. He rolled them over again so that he was laying flat on his back and she was sprawled across his chest. One of his hands was tangled in her hair to hold her mouth to his and the other one was gently working the tail of the nightgown up. One of his bare legs rubbed against the inside of hers, bringing her head up.
“Oh,” Honesty gasped as Greyson caressed the back of her bare thigh.
Greyson stilled. “I have often envisioned you wearing only that emerald locket.” His fingers slid from her hair to caress the chain with the heart. Their eyes met. His narrowed slightly as she pulled away from his, and then widened as she rocked back on her knees and pulled the yards of fabric off over her head. They both smiled at each other before Greyson pulled her back into his arms.
♣♣♣
Honesty floated gently to the surface of sleep. She felt warm and safe. Images of Grey skated around the edge of her dreams. She smiled. No wonder the adults never told children about the marriage bed. A secret best kept from young girls. But she wasn’t a young girl anymore she was truly wed, married in every sense of the word to a beautiful man. She stretched and felt her body rub against the long length of her husband. The smile widened and Honesty’s eyes blinked open.
Greyson was lying with his head on the same pillow as hers. Their eyes were level. He was staring at her, a frown furrowed his brow. Honesty blinked in confusion.
“Darling, tell me what happened in London, five years ago.” Greyson’s tone was flat.
Honesty’s eyes clouded, “You said it didn’t matter?”
“I didn’t think it did. But,” he raked his hand through his hair, a sure sign that he was upset.
Honesty went to roll over away from Greyson, but he caught her and pulled her back into his arms. “I’m sorry, darling; I never say things the right way. . . Honesty, you came to our marriage bed an innocent.”
Honesty blinked at him in confusion. “How would you know?”
Greyson chuckled and kissed her shoulder, “The same way I would have known if you hadn’t.”
“But, Dalton said…” Honesty paused and frowned.
“Yes, tell me what happened with Dalton Cantwell.”
We had been invited to the Cantwell House for the weekend, because David was sweet on me.”
“David?”
“Lady Cantwell’s sister’s second son. So Martha Banks had Lady Cantwell invite us for the weekend. And mama was happy so we went. I didn’t want to go because Dalton had been making such a fuss at every event. But that night he apologized to me and told me that he was sorry and that he had realized that he was really in love with Barbara Goodman. He asked me to help him think of a good way to win her heart. I was so glad he wasn’t interested in me anymore, I agreed.” Honesty sucked in a quick breath. “Do you want to hear this story or not?” she demanded, Greyson chuckled as he placed kisses along the top of her breast. Then he moved his kisses back to her ear. “We were in the study. I remember others being there, but I don’t remember who. Dalton gave me a drink of cherry cordial.”
Greyson brushed her lips, “Where was your mother?”
Honesty shook her head, “I don’t know. She never expected me to stay with her, not like she does Pretty. I remember feeling dizzy, and Dalton said I should lie down, that is the last thing I remember.” Honesty’s voice caught at the memories.
Greyson pulled his head back, “and then what happened.”
“The next thing I remember was Lady Cantwell screaming and swearing, and I was in bed with Dalton. He was saying we had to get married because I was ruined. And his mother was in hysterics. And my head was killing me.”
“How old was Dalton?”
“My age, about eighteen I think.”
“What were you wearing?”
Honesty blinked in confusion at his question.
“When you woke up did you have all of your clothes on, all of them?”
Honesty paused and tried to remember, “Dalton was only wearing his trousers, but I don’t remember any of my clothes missing. My gloves were gone.”
“So you still had on your corset and pantaloons?” “Darling, I could see me getting you out of your underthings with you unconscious, but I certainly won’t have wrestled you back into them if my goal was to compromise you.”
“But he said.”
“Yes, he said” Greyson smiled as the truth sunk in and Honesty’s face reflected her astonishment. “Now I don’t know whether to strangle the idiot or reward him.”
“Why?”
“Because of that fool’s lovesick actions, you were sent home to wait for me to find you and force you into marriage with me.”
Honesty’s eyes narrowed, “I would never marry someone I didn’t want too.” She sniffed.
“I am so glad to hear that, darling, as you have been compromised truly this time – I see a wedding in your very near future.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” Honesty smirked.
Honesty met him halfway and kissed him with all the love in her heart.
♣♣♣
Several hours later, Honesty laughed against Greyson’s shoulder.
“What?”
She reached under them and pulled her hand up allowing the sand to trickle through her fingers. “There is enough sand in this bed to build a good sized castle. I think most of it fell out of my hair when it dried.”
“The rain seems to have blown over.” Greyson sat up and nodded at the glass paned doors.
“I guess we need to be getting back so everyone will not be worried about us.” Honesty bit her bottom lip.
“Not yet,” Greyson walked to the wardrobe and pulled trousers and a shirt out. He dusted them and then pulled them on. They fit perfectly. Greyson rummaged around in a drawer and threw Honesty a pale pink nightgown of beautiful thin crepe. She tugged it on over her head, and scooted off the bed.
“I love this gown,” Honesty twirled, “I wonder who it belongs too?”
Greyson’s eyes twinkled as he took in his gypsy pirate princess in the scandalous lingerie. “I try my best not to think about it.”
He opened the door to the stone balcony and waved at her to come. At the edge of the railing was a breathtaking view of the ocean some fifty feet below still clouded in fog. “It is beautiful,” Honesty exclaimed in delight, “I wonder who owns this lovely home? It looks like it has been empty for a long time. I hope they don’t mind us just barging in like this.”
Greyson chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “I know the owner personally, and he will not mind at all. In fact, I am very sure that he would want us to be right here.”
Honesty’s eyebrows went up in question at the mischievous tone in his voice.
“This cottage belongs like everything around it to the Duke of Devonshire.”
Honesty’s eye grew round. “This cottage is ours.. . Why have you never say anything about it? We must be only miles from the castle.”
“Oh, I had every intention of bringing you here soon. This place is called Paradise cottage. My grandfather built it as a lover’s haven for my grandmother.”
“And the clothes are your grandparent’s?” Greyson nodded. “This gown is your grandmother’s?” Honesty giggled as she remembered his initial comment about not thinking about whom the gown belonged too. “So when were you planning to bring me here?” Honesty turned in his arms and slid her hand up his chest. She smiled as his eyes darkened with desire.
“At the first possible opportunity.” He answered in his best bored duke voice. His eyes discounted his tone as he swept her up in his arms; he laughed wickedly at her squeal of fright and carried her back to the bed.
Later Greyson dragged them both out of their warm blanketed haven and found suitable clothes in the closet for them to wear back to the castle. Honesty was dressed in all the nece
ssary layers including a corset of black lace with matching black net stockings and a lovely dark green gown with a low neckline.
“Your grandmother left some interesting things in this cottage.” Honesty laughed as she tried to tug the low neckline up to cover a bit more of her cleavage.
“True, darling, but remember that you are a bit more endowed than the matron in question.”
They both looked down at the hem that was a good six inches too short. Honesty pulled on her wet boots.
Her eyebrow went up, “and the black French stockings and the sheer nightgowns, she was what sixty when your grandfather died.”
Greyson pulled on his wet boots. “ and I expect the same treatment when you yourself are of that age.. . It is after all a family tradition.” Greyson stood and wrapped the woolen cloak around her shoulders. “Sorry, love, but we much return to face the music.”