Visions of Lady Mary

by Rachel Ann Smith

  Chapter Four

  Gilbert’s heart hadn’t settled from the shock of seeing Mary walk down the gangplank. What the devil was she doing here? He was on a blasted mission. His emotions mirrored the temper of his mount—unsteady.

  He ran a hand down the beast’s neck to soothe them both and looked at the man beside him. “Were you anticipating this shipment? Is this the reason you decided to remain behind?”

  Hadfield kept his eyes trained forward. “I’m not at liberty to share with you my rationale for staying abroad.”

  Gilbert released a sigh. Hadfield had been a well-respected barrister before inheriting his title and could talk in circles if you allowed him. Confident that Hadfield had a particular agenda that even Archbroke and his wife were unaware of, Gilbert was determined to discover what it was.

  “Archbroke has ordered that I am to remain with you even if that means parting ways with Mary. Why would he deem your safety a priority over—”

  “I have no plans on leaving Mary’s side. Not for any reason.” Hadfield kicked his mount forward to catch up to the coach.

  Hadfield’s words replayed over in Gilbert’s mind.

  He straightened in his seat. The man couldn’t possibly be considering marrying the lass.

  Urging his mount forward, Gilbert came level with Hadfield. “Do you have a formal invitation from the Duc de Valois?”

  “Apparently, Lady Mary does.”

  “I can assure you she does not. The woman arrived with no idea of her destination. This is a fool’s errand.”

  “Lady Mary and I are bound for Duc de Valois’s residence. You may choose to disobey orders and go your own way. I’m sure Archbroke will understand.”

  Gilbert snorted. “You know very well that I have no intention of crossing Archbroke.”

  “Come, Waterford, it is a long journey. No need to make it more strenuous than necessary.” Hadfield slowed his mount so they fell behind the coach. “Let’s take turns riding with Lady Mary. Would you like the first or second shift?”

  “Neither. I’ll remain in the saddle.” He did not want to be confined with the woman. She always put a spell of sorts on him when she was near.

  “You won’t do much good against bandits if you can’t keep your eyes open. Let’s flip for it?” Hadfield retrieved a silver half crown from his pocket.

  Relenting, Gilbert said, “Heads, you gain the pleasure of Lady Mary’s company first.”

  Please let it be heads. Let Hadfield deal with the woman.

  The coin flipped in the air. Hadfield deftly caught it in midair, and slowly he opened his palm. “Heads.”

  Finally, the universe was on Gilbert’s side. Then why did his chest ache with disappointment?

  Hadfield’s lips curled at the corners into a remarkably symmetrical smile. “Excellent. After the next posting inn, I shall continue in the coach. I’m rather looking forward to becoming better acquainted with Lady Mary. Theo holds her in high regard.”

  The man’s words and smirk had Gilbert tightening his grip on the reins. “Wouldn’t you agree that Lady Archbroke tends to associate with some rather unusual females?”

  The grin faded from Hadfield’s features. “Good gracious, please don’t refer to Theo as Lady Archbroke. I know she married the home secretary, but I try to forget the fact that I’m now related to the man. Call her Lady Theo or Theo, please.”

  Gilbert cracked a smile of his own as he recalled how the mysterious Lady Theo had challenged his superior’s ideas on women. “I admit Lady Theo has been a rather positive influence on Archbroke. I have no doubt when we return he will be a changed man.”

  “One can hope.” Hadfield slanted his head toward the coach. “It will be interesting to see which of us she will choose.”

  His smile vanished. “What are you babbling about now?”

  “Lady Mary. I wonder which of us she will decide to marry.”

  Not following the man’s logic, Gilbert asked, “Why would she marry either one of us?”

  Hadfield’s eyebrows snapped together. “She will have to marry one of us at the end of our journey. Otherwise, her reputation will be in tatters.”

  The curtain of the coach window shifted. Had Mary been eavesdropping on their conversation? Gilbert agreed that Mary would have to marry before returning to England. However, there was no doubt in his mind who that would be.

  “What makes you believe she would even consider marrying you?”

  Phillip had been his best friend. It was he who had promised to honor her brother’s dying wish.

  “Lady Mary didn’t appear overjoyed by your presence at the docks.” Hadfield shrugged and then added, “I would say my chances are rather good at this point.” The smirk reappeared on the man’s face. “Yes, riding in the coach with the lady will provide the perfect opportunity for me to charm her.”

  Gilbert couldn’t prevent the growl he emitted as he said, “There is no need to charm anyone, Hadfield.”

  Hadfield shot him a look. “Lady Mary is traveling with no male relative in sight. One of us will have to claim her at the end of this journey, or she will be ruined. I’m fairly certain her papa, the Duke of Seaburn, will see to it that one of us does the honorable thing.”

  The man was right. His Grace would employ whatever measures necessary to ensure Mary would not face disgrace. It was Gilbert’s suspicion her papa would summon the entire family to journey to the Continent as soon as His Grace found out his wayward sister sent Mary to cross the channel with only a maid. Gilbert had yet to figure out why the old woman had placed Mary in such a position.

  After years of avoiding the altar, he should be relieved that there was another willing to take Mary off his hands. What Gilbert couldn’t deny was the deep ache in his chest every time Hadfield alluded to the possibility of Mary becoming the Countess of Hadfield.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take first shift riding in the coach.”

  Eyebrows furrowed, Hadfield asked, “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “After this ridiculous conversation, I’m weary, and as you pointed out, I’ll be of no use to anyone if I don’t get a few hours of sleep.”

  “Very well. I’ll concede the first shift to you.”

  Hadfield, the trickster, had manipulated him into changing his mind. He’d have to remember the man had been a barrister and a wizard at twisting arguments. The problem was Hadfield was unassuming and appeared extremely comfortable with his lot in life, one often forgot he’d assumed the title merely a year ago.

  Gilbert ran a hand over his heart. The deep-seated pain began to ease, replaced with a flutter of excitement. Alone for hours with the woman who could bring his blood to a boil within moments—How was he to ignore Mary’s magnetic allure?

  Chapter Five

  With the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Mary stomped back to the dreaded coach.

  Blasted titled gentlemen.

  Having spent most of the night eavesdropping on Gilbert and Lord Hadfield’s mundane male banter to fill in the time and remain awake, she had rested peacefully until they began discussing her future.

  Her blood boiled as the men bandied about words of honor, ruin, and marriage. Deliberating over her future as if it were predetermined.

  Men!

  No—she would determine her fate. Marriage to a titled gentleman meant children— rearing offspring was not in Mary’s future. The mere thought of bearing a child gave her hives. None of her mama’s pregnancies were easy, and each one had drained the woman of every ounce of energy and life she possessed. The birth of Mary’s youngest sibling had nearly cost her mama’s life.

  Despite her guides’ reassurances that Gilbert was the man for her, he was titled. Marriage to a man as virile as Gilbert would undoubtedly result in the Countess of Waterford bearing the future earl and a spare.

  Mary rubbed her upper arms to ward off the chill of the brisk morning air and her dour thoughts. She would have to devise a plan to discourage Lord Hadfield. Marriage
to Gilbert was simply out of the question. If he wanted to marry her, he would have done so already. Even her brother’s dying wish had not prompted the man to prove himself worthy. Mary wanted a partner in life. A man to accept her for all her assets, including her ability to converse with those no longer living. She refused to accept she was destined for a marriage born out of some ill-conceived notion that she must marry in order to uphold her honor.

  Picking up her clean skirts, she grinned as she recalled the ruckus Greene had caused demanding access to Mary’s trunks. Greene had not only managed to obtain a clean change of clothes but had also convinced the men to allow Mary time to bathe and partake in a light repast. Mary was tempted to request that they remain at the inn for a few hours, for she sorely wished to lie upon a solid bed and sleep without being in motion.

  After traveling days, upon days, in a coach from Scotland to Dover, then boarding the Quarter Moon to journey across the channel, Mary longed for a good long uninterrupted rest. Gilbert’s gravelly voice boomed through the door, asking if all was well. When Mary envisioned the two of them together in her room—naked—she scrambled out to the courtyard, never looking back.

  A footman assisted her into the coach, and she waited for Greene to follow. When she heard her maid instructing the footmen to rearrange the trunks, Mary settled back into the corner and closed her eyes in an attempt to gain some rest before they set off once more.

  The coach dipped. Mary’s eyes flew open as the scent of sandalwood filled the coach. The scent that set her senses on alert and belonged to the one man her body was inherently in tune with. “Gilbert, where is Greene?”

  Drat. The man had changed and rid himself of all traces of horse and sweat. A scar ran from the corner of his lip down to his chin—it wasn’t red or puffy, yet it hadn’t been there six months ago. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t memorized every inch of the man’s features. She wanted to run her hand over his cleanly shaven square jaw and trace a finger along the healed wound. The war was over. He shouldn’t incur such injuries.

  Rather than take the seat opposite her, Gilbert sat next to her and removed his coat, with swift practiced movements.

  Gilbert shifted, rocking the coach. “Your maid will join us shortly. I believe she is still unhappy about the placement of your items.”

  He lined up the shoulder seams, folded, tucked, and rolled up the coat material, creating a makeshift pillow. Deftly he placed it between the side of the coach and his head and closed his eyes. Just like that, he had simply shut her and the rest of the world out. To punctuate his lack of interest in her presence, Gilbert crossed his arms against his chiseled chest and yawned.

  Inexplicably, Mary’s gaze fell to the white linen material drawn tight over his muscled arms. Her chest tightened, and her pulse quickened. Blinking, her aunt’s drawings flashed before her mind’s eye. Mary inhaled and exhaled slowly. Ignore him as he is ignoring you. Not an easy task when the man smelled so good and her body instinctively sought his out.

  Space. She needed a few inches of distance before she gave in to the temptation to lean against Gilbert. Mary shifted, but her skirts caught beneath his large muscular thigh. She tugged at the material. It refused to come loose. She continued to try to set herself free, except her efforts resulted in the back of her hand grazing alongside his leg. Heat radiated up her arm, and she quickly released her skirts. She glanced at Gilbert’s face. Nothing—no reaction to the brief touch that had her heart beating rapidly.

  Look away—pretend he doesn’t exist.

  Mary ogled the man’s leg that slightly tensed and moved, releasing her skirts.

  What was wrong with her?

  Nothing. Lord Waterford is a handsome devil—sets the mind to wondering what those muscles would look like bare, doesn’t it? Lady Frances’s teasing words set Mary’s thoughts down a wicked path.

  For years whenever Gilbert was within fifty feet of her, she’d managed to ignore the tingling sensations, resisted the urge to move closer, and remained cool despite her rising body temperature. But today she struggled to summon the willpower to avoid the man’s magnetic pull. Mary swallowed hard. She pried her eyes away from him and tried to huddle closer to the corner. Her leg brushed up against Gilbert, and every nerve in her body sparked. Blast the man.

  She was about to move to the other bench when Greene entered the coach. Her maid promptly settled in. Greene angled herself to avoid Gilbert’s long legs, which resulted in her occupying three-quarters of the rear-facing seat.

  Greene asked, “Do you need anything before we set off, my lady?”

  Mary shook her head. “No, go ahead and rest.”

  Her maid adjusted her cloak about her and was snoring within moments. It was preposterous how Greene could manage to fall asleep with such ease no matter what condition they found themselves in.

  Mary, on the other hand, continued to wiggle and shift her weight. The crisp morning air had cooled the interior of the coach as Greene had entered, and Mary was now trying her best to avoid the alluring heat of Gilbert’s body.

  She uncrossed her legs. Gilbert’s arm snaked about her waist and hauled her up off the seat. Gilbert quickly adjusted his position - one long muscular leg rested along the bench, slightly bent at the knee, while his other leg was planted firmly on the floor. Mary found herself wedged between his thighs. It was like being wrapped up in a warming blanket.

  He cradled her against his chest. “Rest.”

  How was she to fall asleep in this rather indecent position he had put her in?

  “Gilbert, release me at once.” She wasn’t a babe to be coddled. But the warmth of his body had her muscles betraying her need to relax.

  “No. I tire of your wiggling about.”

  “And I of your—” Blast. Her brain couldn’t fail her now. The harsh quips that normally rolled off her tongue when in his company evaded her.

  Sneaking a look up at the man, his features were relaxed and composed. Mary released a sigh and gave in, resting her head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart lulled her to sleep.

  Zounds! He had finally confounded Mary long enough to escape her whip-like tongue, only to find she was a bundle of soft curves and delicious smells. Cinnamon. His favorite spice. Clearly, he had lost his mind. He tightened his hold around the woman snuggled in his arms. She had retracted her claws, and Gilbert found himself unable to resist his need for her. Burrowing his nose in her soft tresses, he inhaled. A calming warmth spread throughout his body. With her guard down, he pulled back slightly and took in her relaxed features.

  Mary was beautiful awake, but in slumber, she was breathtaking. Her soft rosy lips, slightly parted. His traitorous hand ran up her arm, and his thumb couldn’t resist tracing the slope of her pert little nose. His eyes rested upon her cherub lips, beckoning to him.

  His mind wailed at him, You promised her brother to take care of her, not ravish her while she slept.

  Mary rested her small hand upon his chest, and his heart skipped a beat. Phillip was right. Mary was a treasure—a woman to be protected and cherished, not placed in danger.

  When Gilbert made his promises to Phillip, he hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to sign the papers that would bind them for life. He also hadn’t considered that his family’s oath to protect others and his allegiance to the Crown might place Mary in harm’s way. He had vowed to marry her as soon as he determined it safe. One more mission had turned into years at war, and then another critical mission arose, and he had no choice but to leave her in Scotland.

  His heart tugged as Mary’s fingers slid across his chest to come to rest under her chin. It was as if she were comfortably asleep, and he was her pillow. Suppressing a groan, Gilbert banished the image of Mary naked in his bed. Surely she would soon realize that his body was rudely protruding and prodding her side.

  He bent closer as Mary began murmuring in her sleep. “Paintings. Madame Auclair.”

  Auclair. Could Mary be referring to the French modiste known for creating
risqué costumes and elaborate masquerade masks on the Continent? Gilbert gasped as a vision of Mary in a glittering gown adorned with diamonds and pearls struck him, stealing his breath.

  The scent of cinnamon filled his nose, again acting as a calming agent. Eyes closed, he rested his chin atop Mary’s head. Her ramblings of the modiste reminded him of the many months he had spent away on the Continent. Perhaps Auclair’s reputation had recently reached London. In any event, there was a reported yearlong wait to be seen by the woman. There was no reason for him to panic—these visions were mere figments of his imagination. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. Mary would never dare to wear such a gown, and while she was in his care, he would see to it that she didn’t.

  The coachman’s “whoa” had him roughly shoving Mary off his lap and onto the seat beside him. Tarnation. What time was it?

  Wide-eyed and confused, she stared at him. “Whatever is the matter? Are we under attack?”

  His original intention had been to hold her until she fell asleep and then gently place her in the corner, but once she’d snuggled against him, he had not wanted to release her. No. He needed to hold her. Gilbert eyed her rumpled state. Instead of handling her with care, he had thoughtlessly jostled her about.

  He crossed his legs and peeked out through the curtain. “We’ve arrived at the next coaching inn. Hadfield will be joining you soon.”

  He turned back to find Mary’s lips turned down into a frown.

  Shifting her gaze away from him, she said, “Wonderful. I expect Lord Hadfield’s company to be livelier. But before we leave, I’d like to take a moment to stretch my legs.”

  Mary bent over, giving him the advantage of viewing her remarkable rump, and tapped her maid on the shoulder. “Greene. You must accompany me into the inn.”

  Gilbert uncrossed and recrossed his legs as her maid opened her eyes. There was an alertness in Greene’s stare that had him on edge.

  The door flung open, and Mary exited first. Greene eyed him as she rose to leave and, at the last moment, turned and gave him a wink. Good gracious. He was going to have to keep his hands off Mary.