Her mother had wanted the best for her. And by some odd twist of fate, Aubrey was going to have the opportunity to live a life she never could have imagined. In London, of all places! That morning, the morning of her wedding, had been the last day of her innocence.
She’d carried the small bouquet to Mr. Bloomington’s house and vowed to love, honor and cherish a man who’d had no consideration for her own feelings. It had not been a wedding, in truth. It had been more of a sentencing, and she the criminal. And the crime, well, that she’d never quite understood.
Oh, but this was not a wedding either. It was only a country festival.
She couldn’t very well remove the flowers from her hair now that they were already pinned in and so she merely rose to her feet again and smoothed down the lovely gown. “Thank you, Mrs. Wooten.”
She would enjoy the gown, the festival with all its foods and dancing. She would enjoy pretending to be married to Mr. Bateman, a man who had stolen her heart.
She would enjoy the romance if there was any to be had.
And when she entered the kitchen, wearing the lovely dress and feeling quite pretty, she blushed beneath what appeared to be stark appreciation in Mr. Bateman’s gorgeously brilliant blue eyes.
Aubrey smoothed the skirt nervously as heat flushed up her neck.
“Isn’t she lovely, now, Mr. Bateman? Have you loaded my jams? Oh, lovely. I do hope this weather holds. Don’t forget your shawl, now, Mrs. Bateman.” She handed Aubrey a lovely light blue knitted wrap that she’d fetched that matched the gown. “You won’t want to be catching a chill now. Although I’m sure your handsome husband would be more than happy to keep you warm.” She giggled and, donning a well worn shawl, swept out of the kitchen to where an old farmer’s horse cart had been pulled up to the door.
“You surprise me,” Mr. Bateman leaned down to whisper in her ear before offering his arm.
“Mrs. Wooten insisted. I couldn’t very well…” She felt awkward all of a sudden, and overdressed standing in the small farmhouse kitchen.
“Parfait. You are perfect.” He cut into her misgivings and then he stepped back a moment, his gaze traveling the length of her. “Mon dieu,” he swallowed hard before shaking his head. “What are you trying to do to me?”
Aubrey licked her lips, her own mouth suddenly dry. “Should I change out of it? I don’t wish to stand out, really—”
“Don’t you dare.”
He just stood there, as though waging some sort of inner battle. “You are certain? I can take it off and change into one of my other gowns…”
“If we wait another moment, we’ll end up in bed and miss the fair.”
Aubrey’s eyes flew open. “What?”
“If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss seeing how Mrs. Wooten’s jams fare.”
Aubrey narrowed her eyes and frowned.
With a shake of his head, the twinkle returned to Mr. Bateman’s eyes and he offered his arm once again. “Shall we, Mrs. Bateman?”
Aubrey took a deep breath and nodded. “Why thank you, Mr. Bateman.” She would dismiss the sensual promise she’d seen in his eyes and play right along. She lifted her skirt with her free hand and allowed him to lead her outside and down the three steps to the ground.
The air was cool but the clouds had stayed south of them.
“You ride up front, Mrs. Bateman, and I’ll sit on the back.” Mrs. Wooten suggested matter of factly.
The bed of the wooden cart was flat and hard. “Absolutely not.” Aubrey would not sit on a firm seat and leave the older woman on the back. It would not be proper. “Right Mr. Bateman?”
The smile of approval he sent her would have warmed her even if it had been raining. “Mustn’t go against my wife’s wishes,” he agreed, and then placing his arms at Aubrey’s waist, he swung her onto the back of the cart. She did not think she imagined that he left them there longer than necessary, sliding them away slowly before stepping back.
Only after he assisted Mrs. Wooten onto the front did he climb aboard himself. “Heya.” His voice carried to the back of the cart where Aubrey sat facing backward and remembered how easily he’d managed the horses the first night they’d traveled together.
She didn’t see the scenery disappearing behind her though. Although her eyes watched the ground passing swiftly beneath her dangling feet, in her mind, she saw the look in his eyes. A look that held promises he ought never to make.
So caught up in her thoughts that by the time they drove into the village, she glanced up and around in surprise. Lanterns and ribbons crossed above her and colorful tents had been set up along both sides of the road. Mr. Bateman turned them off the road to where other carts were parked and where stable lads eagerly took charge of the animals in exchange for a bit of coin.
Before Aubrey could climb off on her own, Mr. Bateman had come around.
“Stay,” he ordered as he handed off Mrs. Wooten’s jams to her husband. Only when his hands were free did he turn back toward her. “Now, Mrs. Bateman.” His hands landed on her waist again at the same time she settled hers upon his shoulders. He easily lifted her off the wooden cart and down to the ground all the while leaving less than an inch between the two of them. Aubrey didn’t step back but left her hands on his shoulders, enjoying the feel of his muscles, his strength, foolishly wanting to extend the moment.
“Newlyweds!” Mrs. Wooten laughed. “Let me introduce you around to a few of our dearest friends. As I’ve said, its not often we have visitors.
Mr. Bateman laughed into Aubrey’s eyes, almost as though he was reading her mind, and then they commenced following their hostess up and down the lines of vendors, meeting what Aubrey did not doubt was nearly every single person who resided within five miles of Joseph’s Well. There was no possible way she would remember any of these people, and yet she enjoyed every minute of it, Mr. Bateman at her side, leaning close to ask her to repeat a name to him every so often, making a comment about something in one of the booths. Twice, he asked her opinion; did she prefer jam or pudding? What was her favorite dance? Mr. Wooten placed a mug of ale in each of their hands and eventually they were left on their own to explore the vendor’s wares and the aromatic offerings.
“Come with me, Princesse.” Mr. Bateman tugged her away from a lady selling baskets and feathered hats to another tent where an exotic older woman beckoned with a mysterious smile.
“Lovely lady, come inside and discover the secrets of your future.”
“This is Madam Nadya. She is going to read our fortunes.” Mr. Bateman led her inside the darkened interior before Aubrey could protest. The idea of inviting a stranger to predict her future was nothing she ever would have considered at home in Rockford Beach. Winifred would have deemed it the work of the devil. Even knowing it was all in fun, as Aubrey entered the darkened tent, she shivered.
“She feeds her grandchildren this way,” Mr. Bateman flicked his eyes in the direction of three youngsters huddled in the far corner. “She does not want charity from us but will take coin in exchange for telling our fortunes.” His voice rumbled near her ear.
Although the older black-haired woman in the tent, with her silk scarfs and flowing gown seemed oddly foreign, there was nothing to fear. Any magical powers could only be an illusion. Aubrey looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It will be fun.” It would be another memory she would remember in the days, in the weeks, possibly years, to come.
“Your husband is very kind. Enter, please, and be seated.” The woman spoke with an accent Aubrey didn’t quite recognize. “We shall see what the future holds for you both.”
Aubrey and Mr. Bateman lowered themselves onto the bench set along a table covered with silken material. Flames flickered from several candles placed there, creating dancing highlights and shadows along the canvas walls.
A metal pitcher vibrated on a small stove, and a dish of burning incense sent up a thin line of smoke, permeating the space with a spicy and unfamiliar scent.
When the woman clos
ed the flap of the tent, muting the outside sounds, the silence in the room caused Aubrey to sit up straight.
After rearranging dishes lined up on another table, Madam Nadya addressed them again. “Summon one question to your thoughts and then direct your life energy upon the power of the universe.”
Mr. Bateman flashed a grin in Aubrey’s direction. Of course, he did not believe in fortune telling. Aubrey didn’t either and yet, the temptation to have an answer, any answer, to some of the questions in her mind, was strong. Aubrey closed her eyes and organized her question.
Madam Nadya turned and approached them carrying two empty teacups, each resting in a saucer. After placing them on the table, she then brought over a tray with a spoon and a canister of what Aubrey presumed to be tea.
“Keeping your question in the very front of your mind, spoon the tea into your own cup.”
Aubrey felt Mr. Bateman’s stare on her, and knew he would find it amusing, but she did just as the lady instructed and then taking matters quite seriously, handed the spoon to the grinning man beside her.
She met his eyes and frowned. “Please, do not make a joke of this.”
His eyebrows shot up but he nodded. “Of course. How very rude of me.” He then carefully scooped a spoonful of tealeaves into his own empty cup.
“I will pour the water. When it is cool enough to drink, do so, but leave a small amount of liquid to rest in the base of the cup. Hold the handle of your teacup with your left hand please.” The fortune teller carried over the kettle of water and steam swirled out of the cups as she poured them into each. “Set the power of your mind upon the answer to your question. The leaves will seek the answer as you drink.”
The tea was weak but had been blended with aromatic spices. Aubrey gave it a moment to cool before sipping carefully from her cup.
“Just one question?” Aubrey asked, making certain she understood. She wanted to know the answer to so many things. Will I be happy in London? Will I be accepted? But she could not deny the one that burned in her mind as the most vital.
After we part in London, will I ever see him again?
And so she ran the words through her mind, over and over again. Occasionally she slid a sideways glance in his direction. He was being serious now. They sipped the tea silently. The quiet only broken by the sounds of the children as they quietly played some childish game on the floor.
“When you have finished, tip the last of the water onto the saucer,” Madam Nadya instructed. “After a moment turn it upright again and I will read your leaves.”
Again, Aubrey did exactly as she said. Looking into her cup with tea leaves randomly plastered against the porcelain, she continued chanting the question in her mind.
Will I see him again?
The woman’s dark hair spilled forward as she seized Aubrey’s cup and stared into it. She seemed to be nodding to herself before she set the cup down and met Aubrey’s eyes.
“The answer provided by the leaves is not as simple as you would like.” She pointed into the cup. “See the heavy clusters of here, near the handle? That is the immediate, the now. It is strong. But then around the rim and all along the sides. Nothing. In the base, another cluster, much stronger than the first. The answer to your question is yes, but then no. And then again, far into the future. Yes.”
“How far into the future?” Aubrey asked despite feeling his curious stare on her.
“That, my child, I do not know. It could be as short as a dozen new moons, but it could also be in another life.”
With that answer, Aubrey slumped back onto the bench. It meant nothing, she knew. It was foolishness.
Besides, she did not want to think she would have to wait until another lifetime to see him again.
“And you Sir,” The madam had taken Mr. Bateman’s cup and studied it intently. “The leaves form the shape of what would be the wings of a bird, except the wings have been broken.” She frowned. “There is another set of wings in the bottom of the cup, however. Eventually you shall be free.”
And then closing her eyes, she set back in her chair and exhaled a long breath. “The future holds great trials but also, if you are loyal to your hearts, great happiness. Embrace what you have today.”
Mr. Bateman rose from the bench, laying some money on the table. “Many thanks, Madam Nadya.” He did not sound as though he’d heard anything earth shattering. He sounded, rather, as though, he’d just purchased a sack of flour.
“Thank you, Madam.” Aubrey smiled at the woman, wishing the answer to her question had been a different one.
As they moved to exit the tent, though, the woman reached out and clasped her by the wrist. “Have faith. And trust your heart.” She then just as abruptly released her.
Aubrey blinked several times as they stepped back out into the light, her eyes watering from the strength of the sunshine again.
Mr. Bateman took hold of her arm. “There is a booth selling meat pies a little way down. Shall we grab something to eat?”
How could he eat at a time like this?
Trust your heart.
His smile was warm and the light in his eyes, tender.
“Yes, lets!” She responded. She would not mourn their certain parting in the near future while they still had time together. “I’m starving.” She added.
He did not offer her his arm but took her hand in his, threading their fingers together, and with more enthusiasm then she would expect, led the way.
They ate meat pastries and drank ale, and as the village was a small one, were wished happy in their new marriage by several of the merrymakers around them.
“You are enjoying yourselves?” Mr. Wooten joined them at one of the tables that had been set up. “Mr. Keller! Mrs. Keller! These are the guests I told you about. They are just married and traveling to London.” By this time a good deal of ale had been consumed by most everyone and the atmosphere had become somewhat raucous.
The Kellers were a younger couple. They carried tankards of ale in each of their hands and sat down across from Aubrey and Mr. Bateman. “We too, are recently wed.” Mr. Keller announced and then proceeded to gaze lovingly into his wife’s eyes before pressing a kiss to her lips.
The affection between the two of them was a palpable thing and it made Aubrey wish... She shook her head. She was a widow. She’d been married not quite a decade. Who was Aubrey to wish for something so frivolous?
The emotions between the couple did not appear frivolous in that moment. They were powerful, passionate. The couple was obviously very much in love. She’d never seen such a bold display of affection anywhere in Rockford Beach.
When they drew away from one another, the young husband winked and grinned toward Mr. Bateman and then, lifting a spoon, began tapping it against his tankard of ale.
And then his wife began doing so.
And then several others around them.
“It means you must kiss her!” The woman who had just been thoroughly kissed herself shouted from across the table. “It is a village tradition with all newlyweds.”
Aubrey and Mr. Bateman were sitting on the same bench beside one another but had not been touching until he dropped one arm around her shoulders.
They had told the Wooten’s that they were married. They’d told everyone the same and it had been Aubrey who had, in fact, declared that they were newly married.
She turned to stare up at Mr. Bateman in concern, but he didn’t seem overly troubled by their present predicament. In fact, his gaze had dropped from her eyes to her mouth. She watched his lips as he licked them.
“What do you say, Mrs. Bateman, shall we uphold the tradition?”
Chapter 12
Aubrey
He was going to kiss her again.
Embrace what you have today… Trust your heart…
Aubrey nodded, unable to look anywhere but at him.
She stared at his eyes which seemed to see right through her, at his high cheekbones, his whiskers that no matter how often he
shaved always seemed to shadow the line of his jaw.
At his lips.
And then those lips descended upon hers.
Last time it had been Aubrey who initiated their kiss. She’d drank a good deal of wine. It had been a secret kiss—a forbidden one.
This time, it was his mouth that captured hers. This kiss was far from secret as many others surrounded them. Encouraging them.
It began as a very gentle kiss. Sweet.
Aubrey parted her lips and sighed into his mouth. His chest felt warm and solid beneath her hands. Always, always, she felt safe with him.
Trusting her heart, she slid her arms up to his shoulders at the same time he wrapped his around her waist.
This could be their last kiss.
Aubrey pressed herself closer to him and his mouth became more demanding.
He tasted of ale and spice and something she’d never forget. He was Mr. Bateman, her dear Mr. Bateman.
Need spread from her chest to her center. She needed more from him. She needed closer. She simply… needed.
His tongue sparred with hers, playfully, and then not so playfully. His need seemed to rise with hers and the kiss felt almost desperate.
Blood roared in her ears, taking her to a different place, a different time. So much so that she was left feeling dreadfully bereft when he pulled away, breaking their connection. In that same moment she became aware of catcalls and whistles around them.
She opened her eyes and wondered at what she saw.
Mr. Bateman’s blue eyes burned with desire for her. For Aubrey Bloomington. She was not mistaken. She was not imagining it.
She could fall in love with this man. Her heart pounded so loudly that she wondered how he couldn’t hear it as well.
“I believe I rather approve of this tradition,” he joked, the dancing humor returning to his eyes.
Aubrey dropped her hands from where they’d been running through his hair, heat flooding her cheeks as several people in the crowd burst into laughter.
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