Lord Ruthven's Bride (12 page)

James was certain he would lose his mind before the storm let up. Darkness had fallen, complete and without forgiveness. He avoided thinking of what might have happened had he not met Lady Annabelle when he did.

He wished she hadn’t left the village alone and on foot. More than that, he wished someone had been home in the damn cottage. The best they could hope was to return to the village as soon as the storm abated and bribe Mrs. MacBain to say that Annabelle had stayed the night with her. James would pay every last shilling he had to buy the woman’s help.

Northington had been cordial enough when he’d joined them at The Three Sisters, but James recognized the curiosity in the man’s eyes. James thought he had kept his responses toward Annabelle cool, but upon reflection, admitted he’d fooled himself. He was too interested in every word she uttered, hungry for her laughter, or even a glance. She laughed without reservation, just as she kissed. How would she respond if he laid her down on the mattress in the corner?

If this fantasy didn’t stop, he truly would be mad by dawn.

Lady Annabelle reached for the cloth lying on the table near the stove and used it to open the stove door. She peered inside and frowned.

“I believe the biscuits are finished.” She pulled the pan out and set it on the table. She stared at the biscuits for a moment, then looked at him. “You did say you were a fair biscuit maker?”

“Aye.”

“What do you consider a bad biscuit maker?”

He rose from the hearth table and went to stand beside her. The biscuits were golden brown, but flat.

“I’m sure they’re good,” she said.

He wasn’t so sure. What had gone wrong? She gingerly picked up each biscuit and arranged them on a plate. Then he knew what had gone wrong.
Her
. Her every move haunted him. Whether sitting in a chair fifteen feet away or six inches away, he could think of nothing but her.

She broke off a piece of biscuit and nibbled it. Her face brightened. “They are tasty.”

He frowned. “You are a worse liar than I.”

She laughed. “Then we are assured to be the best of friends, for friends are always honest with one another.” She looked at him, eyes innocent with hope.

He gave a gentle smile. “Aye, Lady Annabelle, we will be the best of friends.”

“Promise?” she said.

“Aye.” He would keep this promise to his last breath. But he would die a little each time he saw her on the dance floor with her husband, or on a walk, or even sitting with other ladies playing cards, for she would never leave on his arm. He would never lay her down on a feather mattress and make love to her or hear the laughter of their children.

She picked up the plate with the biscuits and started toward the table. He started after her, caught her arm, and took the plate from her.

She laughed as he held her arm while she limped to the table. “I’m not such an invalid. In fact, there is almost no pain.”

“It will hurt again if you keep walking on it,” he said.

“You are right, of course. I promise to rest for the remainder of the evening.”

They ate in silence and he had to admit, the biscuits were tasty. At least tastier than they looked. James glanced at the door.

“You have checked half a dozen times and the snow is still falling,” she said. “You cannot stop the storm by watching it.”

“Aye.” There was no chance of trekking back to the village tonight. He prayed they could leave at first light.

She chatted on about the village and asked what he had planned for his tenants and he found he liked listening to her. He also learned more about the villagers’ needs than he had learned from his uncle’s steward. He would have to let the man go. If Lady Annabelle knew more than he did, that meant he wasn’t doing his job, or he was part of the problem.

At last, she grew quiet, and James forced himself not to speak. He could have listened to her talk all night. But the more he listened, the more frequently his attention wandered to her mouth, and the more he told himself that one kiss wasn’t such a bad thing. He had kissed her once with no ill effect. No ill effects? She was all he could think of. Her eyes, and that full mouth, smooth neck and the modest rise of her breasts.

She put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn.

“Perhaps ye should retire for the night, my lady.”

She glanced at the bed, then looked back at him. “Where will you sleep?”

“In this chair near the fire.”

She nodded, but he could see her concern.

“I have slept in worse places,” he said.

Her brows rose. “I dare not ask where.”

“Have ye ever tried sleeping on a horse?”

She grimaced. “No, thank goodness. That would be difficult.”

Only half as difficult as sleeping in the same room with you, he thought.

She rose and he stood.

“Sit down, Lord Ruthven. I can reach the bed on my own.”

She smiled and his chest tightened. So beautiful.

She reached the bed and he couldn’t tear his eyes from her as she pulled back the blanket, then sat down. He turned when her head shifted in his direction, and he didn’t look at her again until someone pounded on the door in the middle of the night.

Annabelle bolted upright in bed. Disorientation made her dizzy. Where was she? She recognized Lord Ruthven’s voice…and Calum’s voice. She must be dreaming. She was with the viscount, not her fiancé.

Annabelle came fully awake. Lord Ruthven stood near the hearth, his back to her, talking to Calum. Three men she didn’t know stood near the door. She jumped from bed. Her injured ankle griped at her, but she started toward the men.

Lord Ruthven turned. Her gaze met his, and he started to speak, but Calum brushed past him and met her halfway across the room.

“Annabelle.” He surprised her by crushing her to him. “I have been so worried.”

He buried his head in her hair. For an instant she thought he cried, but he lifted his head and she saw she’d been wrong.

“You are well?” His eyes searched her face.

“I am so sorry, my lord,” she blurted. “I sprained my ankle. But it is nothing,” she quickly added. “I am almost as good as new.”

He looked at Lord Ruthven, then back at Annabelle. “Ruthven told us what happened. Why would you risk a walk from the village? “

“I didn’t realize how far it was. I thought I could reach home in forty-five minutes.”

Frustration flickered in his gaze, but vanished when he said, “You would surely have frozen in the storm

Annabelle stilled. “I am sorry. I…I have been such a trial to you of late.” Tears threatened. Lord, but she’d wanted to cry more this last week than in all her life.

His face softened. “Nonsense. You are never a trial.”

She glanced at Lord Ruthven. The grim set of his jaw told her he wasn’t pleased with all the trouble she’d caused. But Calum, ever the gentleman, suffered in silence.

A realization struck that stole her breath. How would she live the rest of her life with a man who suffered their marriage in silence? How long before he tired of her mishaps?

She would change.

The moment the thought entered her head, she abandoned it. Change, even if possible, would come too late.

With Lord Ruthven, she knew where she stood. But they would only be friends, and friends at a distance, for married women did not have close male friends. Would she and Calum become friends?

“How did you find us?” she asked.

“When you didn’t return home we went to the village. Mrs. MacBain told us you left two hours before dark. We began searching. The smoke from the chimney gave us hope that you found shelter here.”

“Surely, you were not searching during the storm?” she demanded.

“The worst has passed,” he said.

Which meant they
had
been searching for her during the ice and snow. “That is dangerous,” she whispered.

“Not nearly as dangerous as you being alone in the storm.”

Annabelle nodded, but her chest tightened. If anyone suffered harm because of her, she would never forgive herself. A hard knock on the door caused to her jump. One of the men standing nearby opened the door and Nicholas strode in.

“Nicholas,” Annabelle cried.

“I am glad to see you well, Annabelle.” He glanced around the room, his gaze snagging on Lord Ruthven.

“Lord Grayson,” Lord Ruthven said.

“What happened?” Nick demanded. “Calum’s man caught up with me half a mile north of here and brought the news Annabelle was found.”

Annabelle started to reply, but Calum gave a warning shake of his head.

“I met Lady Annabelle on the road,” Lord Ruthven said. “She discovered a man who had fallen from his horse, but when we investigated, he was gone. My horse was spooked by the same adder that must have scared his mount. We reached this cottage before the worst of the storm.”

Nicholas’ gaze shifted to Annabelle.

“That is the heart of it,” she said. “It is my fault for walking from the village. I miscalculated the distance.”

“That is a serious mistake,” he said.

Only a brother would be so brusque. A brother and Lord Ruthven.

“We should return home,” Nick said. “It has stopped snowing. Your family is frantic.”

Twice in the space of a week she had frightened her family. They would never let her out of the house again.

“Are you well enough to ride?” Calum asked.

“Of course.”

He strode to the bed, pulled off the blanket and scooped up her boots, then returned to her. She put on the boots. He wrapped the blanket around her and led her to the door.

He stopped and looked back. “Once we reach Aeckland Castle, I will send a horse for you.”

Lord Ruthven nodded. “Thank you.”

“You will send a horse?” Annabelle said. “But we cannot leave him here.”

“I am as safe here alone as you and I were, my lady,” Lord Ruthven said. 

Annabelle looked at Calum. “This isn’t right.”

“We do not have a horse for him,” Calum said.

“Calum is right, Annabelle,” Nick said. “We will send a horse back immediately for him.” He looked at the viscount. “You understand.”

“Aye. I will do fine here.”

“He can have my horse,” Annabelle said.

“We have no extra horse for you, either,” Calum said. “You will ride with me.”

“He can ride with one of the other men,” she insisted.

“He is much heavier than you, Annabelle.”

“It is all right, my lady,” Ruthven said. “There is no need to worry.”

He was right, but it seemed so wrong.

Annabelle nodded, and allowed Calum to lead her to the door. She halted suddenly and turned, “Thank you, Lord Ruthven.” He gave a slight bow that was too formal, and she suddenly felt as if she would never see him again.

Annabelle left with Calum and the three men. She expected Nick to follow, but he lagged behind. After Calum mounted, one of his men handed her up into his arms. Calum settled her across his lap and pulled his cloak around her. He turned his horse, and she glimpsed Lord Ruthven standing in the doorway as Nick left the cottage. He closed the door without looking in her direction. 

They reached Aeckland Castle without mishap and, as Nick assisted her up the stairs, she reminded him, “Do not forget Lord Ruthven.”

Nick cut his glance her way, but said nothing.

Her mother nearly cried when she saw her. Annabelle told them what happened. She apologized profusely and everyone said it was a silly mistake, but she knew they all thought it to be a stupid mistake.

Her father remained grim, just as Nicholas had been, but Calum said, “Anyone could have mistaken the distance.”

“I am not certain about that,” Annabelle said, remembering Lord Ruthven’s admonition that she had completely miscalculated the distance in walking home.

“Do not listen to them,” Calum said. “It was an honest mistake.”

“An honest mistake that put at risk the men who went in search or her,” her father said.

“She will not be making the same mistake again.” Calum looked at her, a gentle smile on his face. “Will you, my dear?”

“No, of course not.” But she wondered what other mistakes she would make that would shame him.

At last, they insisted that she retire and rest, and Josephine accompanied her to her room.

When Josephine closed the door behind them, she said, “Nothing else happened?”

Annabelle sat on her bed and reached for her right boot. “Isn’t the fact I worried everyone enough? Oh—let us not forget those men who risked their lives to search for me. I thank God no one was hurt.”

“Yes, those are valid points. But you seem…sad.”

“Of course I am sad. After twenty years of life, it’s distressing to learn that I’ve not grown up enough to know better than to make such foolish mistakes.” She unlaced the boot and carefully worked it off her foot.

Jo pushed away from the door and came to sit down on the bed beside her. “It was very lucky that Lord Ruthven happened by when he did.”

“Yes.”

“I think it is very interesting that he keeps turning up just when you need him.”

“Where was he when I decided to walk home?” she muttered. “He would have warned me it was a ridiculous idea. He
did
tell me that.”

“He was right.”

“Of course he was right. He is always right. I made a mess of things.” She began to cry.

“I don’t think it’s as bad as all that.” Josephine pulled her close and stroked her hair. “Are you sure your tears have nothing to do with Lord Ruthven?”

Annabelle pulled back and met her gaze. “What—you think—Good Lord, Jo, he was a perfect gentleman. Ridiculously so.”

“Ridiculously so? I have never heard of a gentleman being ridiculously gentlemanly.”

Annabelle shook her head. “He wouldn’t even call me Annabelle. It was Lady Annabelle this and Lady Anabelle that.”

“He was right about that,” her sister said.

“He is always right,” Annabelle shot back. “Calum will never forgive me.”

“I think that is a bit melodramatic.”

“You are right. He will forgive me. He always does. But he shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it. I am going to make a miserable wife.”

“You never thought so before. Why now?”

“I have never been such a ninny before. Can’t you see?”

“I think I do.”

Annabelle groaned. “I made him promise we would always be friends, but we won’t. How can we be?”

“Him? You mean Calum?”

“No.” She gave a frustrated shake of her head. “Keep up with the conversation, Jo. Lord Ruthven.”

“Ahh,” Josephine said. “You don’t think Lord Ruthven wants to be your friend?”

Annabelle gave her a recriminating look. “He only agreed because he didn’t want to upset me. Ladies do not have gentlemen friends.”

“That is at least mostly true. It isn’t as if we are not friends with any gentlemen. We simply choose carefully.”

“Really? Lord Ruthven would be a good friend. He was angry with me, but he wasn’t unkind, not really. I think he was just worried.”

“I can’t blame him. We were all worried.”

Annabelle started. “Oh, Jo. I am such an idiot.” She burst into tears again.

Josephine pulled her close and smoothed back her hair. “Yes, we are all idiots when it comes to men.”

* * *

After Jo left her, Annabelle cried herself into a fitful sleep and stayed in bed until her mother appeared in the early afternoon with tea. Her mother sat on the bed beside her and told her that Calum was coming for supper. Annabelle pleaded a headache and begged not to come to dinner.

“He will be terribly hurt, Annabelle.”

Annabelle leaned her head on her mother’s arm as she smoothed back a lock of hair from Annabelle’s forehead.

“You seem worried,” her mother said. “I cannot believe you fear another abduction for you weren’t afraid to walk home from Mrs. MacBain’s.”

“I am sorry, Mama. I was very stupid.”

“I am not angry,” her mother said. “I feed certain you will not again walk alone from Tain.

Annabelle nodded.

“I am concerned, however,” her mother said. “You seem unhappy. Have you missed Calum? You are not, by chance, anxious about returning to Inverness to face Lord Harley’s trial?”

Annabelle straightened and looked at her. “Is there truly to be a trail, then? He will not go free?”

“My poor child. Did you ever doubt that your father would ensure he did not go free?”

Annabelle shook her head. “No. I mean, I know he would do everything in his power to make sure that Lord Harley stays to prison. But I am not oblivious to the privilege of the earl’s rank. The magistrate was not happy about having to arrest him.”

“Put your mind at ease. There is no doubt he will stay in prison. And…” She hesitated and Annabelle’s pulse sped up. “Would it help to know that you and Lena will not have to testify?”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Don’t you know?” her mother asked.

“Papa?” Annabelle ventured.

Her mother shook her head. “Calum spoke with Lord Ruthven, and together they convinced the magistrate to accept your and Lena’s written account of the story, along with Lord Ruthven and Mr. Benning’s testimony. There is also the driver, who Lord Harley shot. The man lived.”

To her shame, Annabelle had forgotten about the driver. “I am very glad he is all right,” she said. “And Calum, he arranged for us not to have to testify?”

“Lord Ruthven had to agree, of course, but he was glad to do so.”

“Calum didn’t tell me,” Annabelle said.

“Men usually don’t talk about such things,” her mother said. “Now, surely you can see that it would be wrong for you to hibernate in your room while he was here?”

Annabelle nodded. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t think of it.” Though, what she really wanted to do was to go as far away as possible from Calum
and
Lord Ruthven.