There was a bear in her bed.
Mary tried to kick off the blankets, but her leg was trapped. Her eyes popped open. This was not her cozy bedroom. She glanced down at the arm wrapped about her waist. There was that sound again. Much more accustomed to waking to the chatter of a few dozen voices, she was confused by the lack of conversation; instead, all she heard was the sound of birds chirping and the occasional growl from the man who was wrapped about her like a vine.
Gilbert.
She should be ashamed of the rather intimate position they were in. But since Lady Frances wasn’t present to harp on etiquette, perhaps it was time Mary had a little fun. Admittedly, it was nice to wake up in a warm bed for a change. She closed her eyes once more and wiggled until her back was flush against Gilbert. The man generated a vast amount of heat.
“Lass. I suggest you quit moving.”
Was he accustomed to waking with a woman in his arms? Bile rose in her throat. She shifted, attempting to move out of his grasp.
“Mary, please. I beg of you. If you dinnae cease—”
As soon as she heard her name, she stopped trying to pry his arm away from her waist. His raspy plea had her snuggling back into his embrace.
“You were right; you are a restless sleeper. The only way to prevent you from kicking me was to hold you. Do you object?”
“No. You are better than a warming pan.”
Gilbert chuckled and rubbed his foot against hers. Yes, definitely better than any warming devices she had tried in the past.
It had to be close to dawn. “You will have to leave soon.”
“Umm— I still have a while yet. Unless you want me to go now.”
“Oh, no.” She placed a hand over his, securing it against her stomach. Threading her fingers through his, Mary said, “I’d like it if you would stay. I don’t think I’ve slept this soundly since I was—well, ever.”
He grunted as she moved again, this time to try to look over her shoulder at him.
“Are you well?”
“If I’m to leave with any dignity, either you stop rubbing against me, or I’ll need to roll over.”
The urge to wiggle and press herself farther back against him was overwhelming. After years of restraint and moderating her behavior, she gave in to temptation. Bringing his hand up to her breast and undulating her hips, she asked, “Are you telling me to refrain from this type of movement?”
“Lass, are you trying to kill me?”
She stilled her movements and shook her head. Over the years, Mary could count on one hand the number of times Gilbert had used the Scottish word. Yet on this trip, it rolled off his tongue as if it were a special endearment, solely meant for her.
Head tilted to one side, she said, “I don’t believe I know the full extent of your Scottish lineage.”
“And what do you know of me?”
Hmm. Everything Mary knew of the man was passed down from her brother. “Phillip spoke and wrote about you often before and after your visit to Seaburn Manor.”
“Is that a fact?”
She was glad they were not face-to-face, certain her cheeks were beet red. She had partly fallen in love with the man Phillip had portrayed in his letters to her. But the boy she had met in the field was a rude, judgmental fellow who had called her names. After the disastrous visit, Phillip had continued to harp on about Gilbert’s strengths.
How noble he was.
How intelligent he was.
How courageous he was on the battlefield.
She hadn’t laid eyes on the man again until he had returned to visit Seaburn Manor to pay his condolences. She recalled Gilbert’s stifled features as he tried to inform her of his promise to Phillip and how mortified she had been that it had taken her brother’s death to secure a marriage proposal from the man. While Mary loved Phillip dearly and wished she could willingly fulfill his dying wish, she could not marry a man who considered her a witch.
From their brief interactions, Mary witnessed all the qualities that Phillip had harped upon, but she was also cognizant of the fact that Gilbert questioned her honesty. While she did not believe love was required for a successful marriage, she most certainly believed trust essential.
Gilbert began to caress the underside of her breast with his thumb, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “Yes. But I realize now that my brother’s portrayal of you was not exactly accurate.”
His movements stilled, and his whole body tensed.
Mary hadn’t meant to offend him. Her brain wasn’t quite fully functioning. Distracted by his gentle caresses and the distinct hardening length against her bottom, her thoughts were becoming erratic along with her breathing.
“How did Phillip depict me?”
She selected her words carefully. “In the early years while you two were away at Cambridge, he used words like reliable, solid fellow, even temperament, good with his fists, grows broader and stronger—which he appreciated by his scrawny side.”
Gilbert began to relax with each word she uttered, but his hand remained unmoving. Her skin prickled. She wanted to move and shift against him, seeking the friction her body ached for. Wanting to be done with their discussion, she quickly added, “And while you were away at war, he referenced fearless, brilliant—often outsmarting the enemy with little to no loss of life. Claimed he would follow you to the end of the earth if need be.”
Phillip had been her closet sibling and fierce protector. Sad at his passing, she was at first relieved he had chosen to remain on this earth but recently wondered why. Had she been the reason for him not moving on? Phillip had up until two days ago been a constant companion along with Lady Frances. She couldn’t prevent the shudder that rolled through her.
Gilbert lowered his hand to rest upon her hip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up Phillip. You must miss him.”
She rolled to face Gilbert, wanting to tell him that Phillip didn’t harbor any ill will against him and that it wasn’t his fault that Phillip died during the battle. But he would ask her how she knew, and he wouldn’t want to hear the truth. With a sigh, she said, “Not until recently.”
Gilbert’s eyes were still half-closed. “I believe his fondest wish will be fulfilled.”
“Which wish is that?”
Eyes now wide open, Gilbert stated, “For us to marry.”
Grabbing him by the chin, she tilted his head down until he met her gaze. “Beg pardon?”
With a slight frown, Gilbert answered, “As soon as I can have it arranged, we will be married.”
He was serious.
Narrowing her gaze, she asked, “Why?”
“Because I’m in your bed, and I promised Phillip.”
He was daft if he thought she would agree. “I refuse your offer.”
She would rather be a boring old maid than be married to someone who held no regard for her.
He merely grinned. “You are bonny even when angry.”
“Gilbert, I’ve never known you to be a liar. Don’t—”
“Your beauty was never in question.”
“Then what was? Oh yes, I remember now, it was my sanity.”
She tried to roll over, but his arm curved about her, pulling her closer to him.
Gilbert asked, “Why did you allow me to stay?”
She wanted adventure, and she believed he would provide it.
She refrained from snuggling back into his warm body. “Obviously, I’m not right in the mind. And neither are you if you think I’ll marry you.”
“I can’t take back words already spoken. But I promise you if you agree to marry me, I’ll never abuse or hurt you—”
“Oh, I know you won’t. Because you’ll lock me away in the country like you told my papa to do until you were ready to fulfill your promise to my brother.” He closed his eyes. It was an admission of guilt. This time it was he who rolled away. “I will write to your papa, and we will be married within a fortnight.”
Jumping down from the bed, she raced to the
other side so he faced her. She put her hands on her hips. “Gilbert Elliot Talbot.”
The man had the nerve to smile.
His eyes lowered to where her nightgown was stretched taut across her chest. “Yes?”
“I won’t marry you.”
At her rejection, he finally raised his dark brown eyes to hers.
Mary said, “I want—” Gilbert’s intense stare had her mind going blank.
“Tell me, what is it you require?” His jaw clenched as he waited, and his eyes remained trained on her. “Don’t tell me you are hoping for a union fostered out of love. They do not exist.”
She was fully aware of the fact. Her own parents were a prime example. No, it wasn’t a love match she sought.
Lady Frances had always advised, If you don’t ask, you will never know.
Mary rolled her shoulders back. Gilbert’s gaze lowered to fall upon her chest. Ah, so she could distract the man.
Refocusing her thoughts, she said, “Love can grow. This is not what I seek from my husband. I want a man who can provide me with adventure. Trust in me and my abilities to assist him in whatever challenges arise in our life and marriage together. Someone to believe in me.”
Gilbert’s mouth fell open, but no words emerged. She turned and began stomping over to the adjoining chamber.
Footfalls sounded behind her. She suppressed a squeal as Gilbert’s arm snaked about her waist. He picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Falling unceremoniously upon the soft mattress, Mary scuttled backward until her shoulders hit the headboard. Gilbert climbed up on the bed, and loomed over her. “Do you believe in me?”
Did she? Mary stared into his eyes. She honestly couldn’t say one way or the other.
She said, “I trust you.”
Gilbert’s lips began to move, drawing her gaze away from the warm brown eyes that had her mesmerized. “Ah, but that is not the same, is it? You ask something of me that you, yourself, are unable to return.”
Short of breath, her brain was struggling to devise a quick retort. His lips curled into a smirk. The truth of his statement struck her—believing in and trusting another were indeed two different matters. Flustered, she conceded, “Very well. You have a point.”
Leaning in an inch closer, he whispered, “Grant me permission to court you.”
Hmm. What would Lady Frances advise?
No longer able to converse with her angel, Mary would have to decide on her own. Only it was hard to consider all the arguments for or against a courtship when he was so near.
She wanted adventure.
He was an agent of the Home Office.
She needed to feel his lips on hers.
As if he could read her thoughts, Gilbert tilted his head slightly and bent near until his lips were a hairbreadth away from her own.
Grazing her front teeth over her lower lip, Mary swallowed hard. She was about to experience her first kiss.
Tearing her eyes away from his mouth, she said, “Permission granted.”
A gentle force pushed her from behind. Her lips found his.
Gilbert’s kiss was light and feathered, not at all what she had imagined. The Gilbert Elliot Talbot she knew was a man of great emotion beneath his cool exterior.
Passionate.
Without her guides, she had interpreted the flickers of excitement in Gilbert’s eyes as desire—had she been wrong?
Overcome by the need to be closer to him, Mary wound her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. Gilbert pushed her back against the wood and deepened the pressure of the kiss. A moan escaped her. The force of his kiss eased as his tongue peeked out to touch her lower lip. Her own lips parted. Glorious heat seeped through her body. Pulling him closer, she mimicked his actions. The scandalous feel of Gilbert’s tongue in her mouth banished all thoughts from her mind. Devoid of the constant voices and concerned eyes of those who had passed, she was free to indulge. Her heart soared.
Sounds emerged from the changing chamber. Gilbert pulled back with a groan. Greene must be awake and getting ready for the day.
Gilbert rolled to stand next to the bed. “I must go. I’ll ride with you and Valois today.” He ran a hand through his hair that mere moments ago had been in her grip.
Without his warmth, the cool air reinvigorated her mind. This was her chance to test her mettle against Gilbert. “You said we need more information on my cousin’s motives and his dealings with Lord Burke. Let me ride alone with him, and I’ll try to gather the information.”
A deep crease appeared on Gilbert’s forehead. Mary gripped the sheets and pulled them up to her chin as she waited Gilbert’s answer. Was it his trust or his belief in her to gain the intel necessary that she sought?
She slowly released the breath she held as he said, “For today only.”
Mary stared at Gilbert. She had won. He bent and gave her a quick kiss before turning to leave. Uncertain if the patter in her heart was from his kiss or her victory, she slid farther down under the covers.
Now to figure out how to carry out the enormous task without the assistance of Lady Frances and the others.
Chapter Twelve
Mary cringed as her cousin entered the coach. The dark shadow at the corner of Valois’s eye and the awful blue-purple discoloring on his cheek marred his otherwise handsome features. After the age of thirteen, she hadn’t had cause to actually hit a person. Her brothers had ceased agreeing to spar with her as soon as she developed buds on her chest. It was obvious that despite her lack of practice she was still extremely proficient at defending herself.
Covering her slightly swollen knuckles with her left hand, Mary focused on not fidgeting and blurting the question that plagued her. What had prompted him to attempt to kiss her? She had tossed the early-morning hours away trying to deduce a logical explanation for his behavior. Except her thoughts were preoccupied with Gilbert and his kisses.
“Bonjour, ma chérie.”
Mary jumped at Valois’s greeting. “Good morning to you, cousin.” She quickly turned her gaze out the window.
The coach was surrounded by a large contingent of men on horseback. Scanning the group, her pulse raced.
At the sharp rap of Valois’s hand against the coach, Mary started. Breath hitched, she swiveled to sit back against the plush squabs of the coach bench.
Valois chuckled. “I am surprised your lords allowed you to accompany me alone.”
“They both prefer to be out of doors and ride.”
“And you?”
At the teasing tone of Valois’s question, Mary raised her gaze to his. Her cousin’s smile was back to that of a friend. If she wanted him to be open, honest, and forthright with her, she would have to treat him the same. “I too prefer to travel by horse, but that would not allow me the opportunity to get to know you.”
Wide-eyed, Valois asked, “Ah. But for what purpose? Is a proposal what you seek from me?”
Mary blinked twice. “Proposal? Of marriage?”
“Oui.”
She studied her cousin’s features. There was no hint of amusement or teasing. “Do you find me attractive?”
Valois’s gaze roamed over her features. “Mais oui. You are very beautiful, ma chérie.”
The man needed his sight checked. She was no beauty. Unlike her brothers, who were blessed with blond hair and striking blue eyes, she had been born with dull brown eyes and hair. “Is that all you require of your duchess? To be easy on the eyes?”
“Better for me to produce heirs.” His stare did not waiver. “But you do not look at me like a husband, oui?”
The mention of heirs had Mary panicking. “No. Yes.”
Her cousin’s English was, at times, a little confusing. She needed to turn the conversation to safer topics, or at least to topics that would allow her to gain the information she’d promised Gilbert she would obtain. She fidgeted with the tassels on her cloak while she calmed her nerves and realigned her thoughts.
Ready to take on the tas
k of extracting as much information as she could, she lifted her gaze back to Valois. The muscles in her neck relaxed. Valois had once again adopted the features of a confidant and friend. If she were to ask now, would he answer her questions regarding his dealings with the evil Lord Burke, or should she wait?
Valois rested the back of his head against the plush squabs of the coach and closed his eyes. “Plenty of time, ma chérie. It will take us a little over two days to reach our destination.”
Had he read her mind?
Eyes remaining shut, he answered her unspoken question. “They are afraid you will remain stubborn.”
“Who are you referring to?”
“You know who. The ones you choose to ignore.”
He couldn’t possibly be referring to Phillip, Lady Frances, and the others. It hadn’t been her choice. “Ignore. They left me! Poof. Disappeared. I’ve tried to contact them.”
“That is not how it works. They never leave. You are the one who silenced them.”
Mary released the tassel, which she had managed to reduce to a mangled piece of material, and clasped her hands tight in her lap. Valois spoke the truth. Her aunt Agnes had mentioned the same thing—she was the only one capable of banishing the spirits.
Tapping her cousin on the knee, Mary asked, “How do I get them back?”
Unmoved, Valois only asked a question of his own. “Do you really want to see your brother again?”
“Of course!”
As Mary sat back, she reflected that the truth was she had enjoyed the night devoid of voices. Free of guilt, snuggled warmly in Gilbert’s arms.
“I don’t believe you, and neither does he.”
“Can you see Phillip, now?” She whisked her head to the empty space beside her.
“Ma chérie, I have my eyes closed, I see no one.”
The man was being obtuse. “But you can hear them.”
“Oui. Of course.” Valois’s head rolled slightly from side to side. “The silence— would be strange, non?”
“I admit it was at first.” Mary smiled as she explained. “To hear only the sound of the carriage wheels along the path. The snorts from the horses. Knowing the only voices I could hear were those of the physical plane. It is rather refreshing.”
Visions of Lady Mary Page 8