“Content. Thanks to your kindness.” Propped against the doorframe, he watched curiously. “What is it?”
She lifted a tiny garment from the cocoon of tissue. They both realized what it was at the same instant—an infant gown with beautiful embroidery at the hem and along the tiny ruffled neckline.
Her eyes, blue pools of confusion, lifted to his, stirring to life an ache in his chest. His heart gave one single stroke.
“It’s beautiful. She does fine work.” He forced his tones to be even despite the blood pounding loudly through his veins.
She nodded, folding the tiny garment back into its wrappings. “I must ride out and thank her.” Lifting her chin, she gave him a fleeting smile. “Rest well, my lord.”
Nodding, he slowly closed the door and leaned his forehead against it. Breathing deeply, he tried to still his pulse. This whole day had provided him with a new perspective. Perhaps that was why he could now see the thread with which he could weave something of meaning with his life.
Serena leaned her hot forehead against the door, Mrs. Watley’s gift clutched to her breasts. What in Blackwood’s eyes made her tremble? Was it her first reaction to hearing his knock—believing he might be ready to confide in her about his nightmares? Or was it the something that had sparked between them?
She lifted the tiny garment to rub the delicate cotton against her cheek.
For long weeks she’d pondered Buckle’s words concerning looking to the future. Now Serena fully realized what that might mean, and she wished for it above all else.
The Union
Matt hardly slept with all the feelings warring inside him. However, as he stared into the shaving mirror above the washstand, he was shocked to discover he didn’t look tired, a new hope lit his eyes. The lackluster film of crushed hopes and broken dreams that had hung like a pall over him since he’d fallen in battle had begun to be lifted, and it was all due to Serena.
He breakfasted alone before reviewing the estate books once again. From what he’d been told yesterday, it was obvious he had too long let things drift here. If Serena hadn’t seen what needed to be done, his tenants would have had good reason to be discontent. Instead, despite the cost of the improvements, the estate seemed to be more productive than ever. Serena’s generosity had sparked a positive response in his people. He shook his head in wonder. Perhaps there was still a place for idealism, as long as one was prepared for reality to rear its inevitable head.
Serena. What other surprises would he discover about his bride? Considering, his heart gave one single stroke, bringing forth the odd stirrings and memories.
As if he could conjure her up, a soft knock sounded. Eagerly he called a greeting but was destined to disappointment.
“What a long face,” Cecily gasped, one hand clutching her throat. “Is something wrong? Have you heard news from London? Not Father!”
The terror in her wide sherry eyes demanded reassurance.
“Poppet, it’s nothing. I’m working too hard.” He smiled, beckoning her to him. “Come and talk to me.”
She took his hand, swinging it between them, as she perched on the edge of the dark walnut desk.
“I wanted to inform you of my plans. At the end of the week, if the weather holds, we shall lunch at the White Feathers and then view the ruin. As you requested, Serena is at work on a ball. This morning we put together the guest list. It’s just wonderful how efficient Serena can be! Isn’t she remarkable?” Cecily gushed.
His sister’s objective was so transparent, Matt couldn’t help smiling. The habit of cosseting his dramatic young sister was not easily broken.
“Yes, quite amazing. I hadn’t realized when—”
“Well, how could you!” Cecily interrupted, her sherry eyes now flashing with indignation. “When you were ripped from her bosom on your wedding night! Thank goodness all that is at an end. We are all safe from that horrid Boney forever, and you and Kendall will never have to go to war again!”
For the first time, memory broke through the cool detachment he’d erected around his heart and mind. Suddenly he could feel Serena trembling against his shoulder; see her pink, temptingly soft lips part as his fingers slid through her hair, gently combing the thick, silken strands into a cascade of ebony across her throat and down over her round, full breasts.
The stirrings in his gut tightened to a hot ache and he recognized it for what it was—desire.
“Matt, are you all right?” Cecily asked, tugging on his sleeve, bringing him sharply back to reality.
“Yes, I was just thinking about the plans you’ve made. What does Kendall say?”
“Lord Kendall is enchanted.” With a toss of her head, the dimple deepened in her cheek. “I shall make sure of that!”
The day dawned, cool but clear, as if it, too, were anxious to appease Lady Cecily. Kendall appeared pleased, his eyes sparkling green glints in the bright sunlight as he held his horse’s head, gazing to where Cecily and Serena were engaged in a low conversation at the side of the drive.
Stepping toward them, Matt heard Serena say, “You know I’m not a good—” before his sister looked up and saw him.
“Here is Matt!” she interrupted. “We should start now. I’ve taken care of everything,” she added cryptically to Serena before moving to the mounting block.
“Good morning, my lord.” Serena smiled a greeting. The strain between them had eased somewhat as they fell into the familiar routine of home. Suddenly a quick flash of fear appeared in her cornflower blue eyes as the grooms brought horses.
The instant he saw the brown mare meant for Serena, he guessed what his sister was up to. This horse was kept only for sentimental reasons. Cecily learned to ride on the gentle nag, who was devoid of either speed or stamina. Civility would demand Matt keep pace with Serena, thus allowing Cecily and Kendall to ride ahead.
“This horse won’t do, Serena, she’s much too docile. Bring a more spirited mount for her ladyship,” he ordered the groom.
“Oh, no! I … I quite like the look of this horse!” Before Matt could stop her, she stepped forward and the groom tossed her into the saddle.
He sent a sharp, condemning look at his sister. He had to give her credit, she appeared utterly guileless as she sat her horse beside Kendall. However, his mood boded ill for her upon their return.
An hour out, as Matt had predicted, Serena’s horse could not keep up with the other more spirited mounts. She apologized for slowing the pace but appeared perfectly happy to continue on. He admired the determined thrust to her chin and the glint in her eyes.
Matt finally called to Kendall and Cecily. “Go on ahead. We’ll meet you there.” Without hesitation, they galloped away, leaving him alone with his wife.
Her chin tilted even higher and Matt noticed how tightly she gripped the reins. “Blackwood, I know this must be shockingly slow going for your mount. I don’t wish to spoil your ride.”
Suddenly he realized she was not an experienced rider and had probably requested the easiest mount. It just proved how little he really knew about her.
“On the contrary, I welcome the opportunity to slow down. My leg still gives me twinges now and again,” he lied gently, wanting to eradicate the strain in her eyes.
“Is it painful? If so, we should return to the Landing at once!”
“No, I believe if we continue to ride slowly, I should be fine.”
Relief washed over her skin, bringing back healthy color as she nodded.
They had several miles to cover before they would reach the White Feathers. He was determined Serena should relax her grip upon the reins and enjoy the ride. So he began to talk about the countryside and the ruin they would be visiting after luncheon. He mentioned a book he’d recently discussed with the duke about the early Romans and was mildly surprised to discover she’d also read it. Books l
ed to politics, to estate management, and suddenly they were discussing topics he’d never before spoken to a woman about. There seemed to be no topic that didn’t burst into life as they shared their thoughts. Her grasp of what was happening on the continent and her questions about the congress taking place in Vienna stirred interests he thought lost forever. Before he was ready, the low inn loomed in front of them.
Cecily and Kendall were already seated before a crackling fire in the best parlor. They had ordered lunch and reported it should be served shortly.
Slipping down beside Cecily, Serena sent her a small smile. “You were right” she muttered, to his sister’s giggling delight.
It was apparent to Matt, Serena was fully aware of Cecily’s stratagems and was forgiving her deceptions. Or perhaps her deception was twofold: to steal some moments alone with Kendall and to protect Serena’s reputation as a horsewoman. In any case, he had found the ride … enlightening. Those stirrings of new feelings that Serena inspired no longer were vague. He had picked up the thread of his new life.
And was in such a mellow mood that Cecily’s sudden declaration that she had a shocking headache was accepted with no protest.
“Perhaps it was the mulled cider,” she sighed dramatically. “I must rest. The three of you go on to the ruin without me.”
“Can’t say I’m that keen on it now. I’ll stay and bear you company, Lady Cecily,” Kendall declared gallantly.
“Oh, would you really, Lord Kendall? How very kind.” Batting ridiculously long lashes, she gazed up at her brother. “I know Serena has been longing to view the ruin. You two go along without us. We’ll wait here.”
“Cecily, don’t be a goose!” If he sounded prosy, he couldn’t help it; some rules were utterly ingrained. “You know I can’t leave you alone here with Kendall.”
“Matt’s right!” Kendall came to rigid attention. “I’ll have the innkeeper’s wife in to chaperon,” he declared, coming to his senses.
True to his word, a few minutes later a comfortably round woman wearing a white apron and mobcap entered the parlor, curtsied, and took up a position in front of the fireplace.
“Mrs. Potter will stay until you return.” Kendall smiled, his merry eyes dancing, and clasped Matt’s shoulder. “You and Serena go ahead and enjoy yourself. I’ll watch over your sister.”
His sister was being sent a look from Serena that should have singed her curls, but Cecily merely gave another soulful sigh and peered up through her lashes into Kendall’s face.
Matt, on the other hand, was feeling oddly in charity with his young sister. So much so, he had to feign sternness when a few minutes into their ride, Serena began to apologize.
“I fear Cecily is incorrigible, my lord. She means well, but is perhaps a trifle overzealous.”
“Yes. I shall have to have a word with her,” he declared firmly. “But let’s not worry about Cecily now. There is the ruin ahead.”
It faced the sea, with broken walls no longer invincible. Seabirds nested in its crannies, and weeds choked through the floor.
Matt took Serena’s arm to help her over the uneven ground and was mildly surprised to realize the close contact quickened his pulse. Unbidden, once again, memories of their wedding night crashed over him. He was gratified when they reached the only standing tower where the floor was smooth. Serena stepped away.
“It’s so quiet in here,” she whispered, moving about the space to peer at faded mosaics still discernible upon the walls.
“The stones are high and thick, breaking the wind and the sound of the sea.”
“Yes.” She nodded, glancing up to where the roof should have been, but now the clear, cloudless sky and brilliant sun were visible. “It makes it quite warm here. Actually cozy.”
“Rumor has it this is the favorite trysting spot for local lovers.” His throat suddenly dry, he waited for her reaction.
It wasn’t what he expected.
She laughed. “I can see this would be an excellent spot for boys to play. I wager you’ve spent several enjoyable hours here playing soldier and defending these wal—”
All color drained from her face, leaving the blue eyes, lit by glinting sunlight, blazing up at him with anguish.
“My lord, I…”
He quieted her by placing a fingertip over her soft lips, more determined to alleviate her distress than his own. “Shh, don’t fret. You are correct.” He lifted his finger, running it over her cheek, her color flowing back with his touch. “These were the first walls I defended. And, yes, they were happy hours.”
She was so close to him and her cherry lips were parted so appealingly, he leaned toward her, drawn by her sweetness. Not because she was his wife, but because he wanted to take this unknown, vibrant woman into his arms.
Stepping back suddenly, she broke the spell. “My, it’s grown cold.” Folding her arms across her breasts, she shivered. “We should return to the inn and see to Cecily.”
She was already moving back through the irregular opening; regretfully he followed.
In contrast to their ride earlier, a tense silence fell between them. Serena demanded Cecily ride slowly beside her all the way home so the headache would not be aggravated by a pounding gallop. Dutiful for once, Cecily complied.
The ride back was accomplished in comparative silence, but as he was preoccupied with his thoughts, the time went quickly for Matt.
Upon their return to the Landing, Cecily followed Matt into the library and shut the door behind them. With hands folded demurely, she stood before him. “I know I’ve been outrageous. I beg your forgiveness.” With one of her dramatic sighs, she gazed solemnly up at him. “I am ready to accept my punishment.”
Pinching her cold cheek gently, he laughed. “None of Her Grace’s subtleties for you, hey, Poppet?”
“Really, Matt, you men are so slow at times. It’s quite vexing!” Dimpling, she tossed her head, the white plume in her hat brushing her cheek. “Is my punishment complete?”
“Yes, if you answer me one question. Were your maneuvers to achieve time alone with Kendall or to force Serena and me to be alone?”
“Why, both, of course.” She laughed, dancing out of the room with much of their mother’s grace.
Staring after her, Matt smiled, oddly grateful.
In the days following their outing, Serena berated herself again and again. How could she have mentioned defending walls? Why had she brought up the very thing haunting him? It must be the bombardment of Fort McHenry that haunted his dreams. At night in the black stillness she could make out some of his words as he called orders to his men. If only he would share the nightmares with her, perhaps talking about them would rob them of power and they would cease to hold him in their grip.
Even though she berated herself, she still hugged that day tightly to her. Conversation had flowed so freely, as if there was nothing they couldn’t discuss or find of interest to share. And there was that one moment in the warm quiet of the ruin when she’d literally ceased breathing. She’d broken the spell herself, fearful she was simply imagining his eyes held a new warmth as he looked at her.
By the night of the ball, she was trembling with anticipation whenever Blackwood was near. It wasn’t the same excitement she’d felt so long ago when first she’d gazed up into his eyes. It was a deeper, secure feeling that her knowledge of his intelligence, his gentleness with his family, his continued generosity to his tenants, and his vulnerability engendered. The next time, she vowed, she’d not be the one to pull back. She would help him gather up his shattered idealism to form a pattern that once again would make him whole.
Dismissing her maid, Serena fussed in the mirror a moment more, tugging up on the plunging neckline of her blue silk gown. No doubt a habit she’d gotten from Buckle.
Without knocking, Cecily burst through the door. “Serena, your gu
ests are arriving,” she announced, twisting between her fingers one long curl which fell over her shoulder. “How do I look?” she fretted, peering into the mirror with an uncharacteristic frown marring her smooth forehead.
In a deep rose gown which showed off her beautiful long throat and rounded shoulders, Cecily was dazzling.
“Kendall won’t be able to resist you,” Serena reassured her.
“Well, he’s doing a remarkably good job of it!” she declared, exasperation bringing added color to her cheeks. “Could I be any more obvious?”
“No!” Serena returned with real feeling. “Unless you plan to literally cast yourself at his feet.”
“Well, there is that!” She laughed. “What do you plan next in your campaign with Matt?”
Anticipation and anxiety combined to make her insides one tight knot, but she ignored it to take Cecily in hand. “Come. We mustn’t be late to receive our guests. As to my campaign with your brother, we shall simply have to see what the night will bring.”
Lights and color and music swirled around her in the great hall as side by side she and Blackwood greeted their neighbors. The first time they’d been together at a ball, he’d been in full regimentals and she’d thought him a figure of heroic proportions. Now she knew he was so much more.
His black velvet jacket fit perfectly over his wide shoulders, and his ruffled evening shirt enhanced them. With a hiss of indrawn breath, she felt the knot tighten inside her as she remembered resting her cheek against his hard chest, the male scent of his skin, and his soft whispers which had made her feel safe and secure.
But the war had taken everything from her.
Refusing to dwell on the past, she carefully orchestrated the evening with a lifted brow to Stevens or a word to a footman when something needed attention. The great hall had never looked so festive. Even the tapestries hung against the walls, with their figures of huntsmen and hounds, seemed almost alive in the brilliant golden light.
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