Marriage Under Siege (16 page)

'Perhaps.'

She was now aware of the
pain and weariness in his face. And something deeper than that, something that
had touched him personally. Perhaps the situation at Leintwardine had not been
good. She would find out tomorrow—it would be soon enough. She finished binding
his shoulder with neat efficiency, securing the linen strips.

'There! I have never had to
do that before, but I have done my best.' She eyed the results critically,
tucking in a stray end. 'I am sure that it is very sore—but I do not think
there will be any lasting damage.'

He flexed his muscles
gingerly, wincing as the movement confirmed her words. 'Thank you. It feels
comfortable enough.' His mouth curved in a brief smile. 'I expect I should
compliment you on your aim. You could, after all have hit something vital. And
I am lucky not to have been mauled by that animal, which is intent on defending
you against all intruders.'

'If the puppy were here, it
would demand that you play with it. So be even more thankful!'

She smiled in response as
she saw the brief flash of humour in his eyes, allowing her hands to linger for
a moment on his shoulder, aware of the flat, well-defined planes of muscle on
back and chest. His skin was warm and smooth to her touch. The terrible
enormity of what she had almost accomplished struck like a fist to her
heart,'urging
her to bend her head and press her lips to
his vibrant hair where it curled damply on to his shoulder. Either that or
burst into tears. With difficulty she resisted both, intent on putting
distance between them. But could not. Instead she touched his hair with gentle
fingers, the lightest of caresses.

He raised his eyes to hers
as if he sensed her emotional reaction to him and the events of the night. And
then reached up with his good arm to curve his hand around her neck and pull
her a little closer. 'Let me look at you.'

He searched her face with
eyes a little shadowed. She was pale, he noted, the white of her chemise
lending her no colour. Probably still not sleeping or eating well, as he had
feared. Her eyes dark, with none of the golden flecks that often surprised him
when they gleamed in the candlelight. Her hair neatly braided and confined, but
still ruffled from bed with soft curls against her temples. He smiled a little.
She had not been thrown into hysterics by the night's events. Indeed, she had
been remarkably composed and capable throughout. Even though he had been bleeding
all over her bedchamber. And she had been more ready to chide him for his
thoughtless actions than to ask his forgiveness for putting a hole through him.
He laughed a little through the pain, for it had crossed his mind that she
might not hold up under pressure!

'Thank you for not
broadcasting my stupidity.' Her solemn words brought him back to the present
situation.

'Or mine! I was totally
self-interested.' A wry twist of his lips which might have been amusement or
pain. 'How could I explain a bullet through my shoulder and still preserve my
pride? I have succeeded in evading capture by His Majesty's troops for the
past five days, only to be shot by my wife in her bedchamber. It is not an
image I would promote.'

'No, my lord. I should
think not.' She hid the gleam of amusement beneath her lashes, but her lips
curled a little.

He experienced a sudden
urge to kiss them despite the burning pain in his shoulder and despite the fact
that she had reverted to addressing him by his title. He had missed her. He frowned
as he remembered her earlier words. God only knew what had been happening here
in his absence. Should he resist the temptation to touch his mouth to hers? He
contemplated the sweetness of the possibility for a long moment, then followed
his instinct to savour the warmth and softness that he remembered. He had not
been mistaken. So soft. So yielding. So tempting to prolong the embrace,
deepening his possession of her mouth, pulling her closer, but he chose instead
to keep it a gentle and persuasive brush of lips against lips. Lord Edward
still cast a dark shadow between them and he would not wish to resurrect it at
this moment. And, his every sense told him, he was hardly in the best physical
condition to embark on a seduction with a nervous bride. He released her,
pleased to feel the lack of tension in her body and to see the absence of fear
in her eyes. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face that problem. And yet it was
tempting...

Before he could commit
himself to something so foolish, he pushed himself to his feet, raking his hair
with the fingers of his good hand in a gesture of bone-shattering tiredness.

'Perhaps I should take
myself off to bed, now that I have announced my presence. By the way, I had the
Devil's own job to get the guards at the gatehouse to raise the portcullis and
let us in. You have this place sewn up pretty tightly.'

'I think it has become
necessary. I will explain all tomorrow. Can I help you further, my lord?' she
asked as he made his way to his door.

He shook his head, turning
to look at her where she stood amidst the bloodstained bowl and cloths, his
cloak, the remains of his shirt, all still on the floor at her feet. 'No. Try
to sleep. We will talk later. And leave all this.' He gestured at the debris.
'The night will be short enough.' He closed the door quietly behind him.

Honoria promptly ignored
the advice and cleared the evidence of the events of the past hour. It would be
better if the servants did not know. Only then did she return to her bed. She
slept, but fitfully, troubled by dreams, shocked to her very core by the horror
of the possibility that she might indeed have killed him, but warmed by the
memory of his lips on hers.

*
            
*
            
*

'I need the rent rolls for
the estate. Those for Brampton Percy, and also Wigmore, I have located, but
have no idea where Edward kept the rest. Would you know, my lady?'

'I certainly know where he
kept them,' Lady Mansell responded drily. 'All over the house in the most
unlikely places—you would not believe. And under six inches of dust. But I can
show you where they are now. I cannot answer for the state of them or the
system of record. I doubt if there was one in recent years.'

I
am babbling
, she thought, trying for a deep breath.
Just be still!

But if she did, she feared
she would be struck dumb. The frown on her lord's face and the bleak expression
in his eyes when he accosted her on her emergence from her bedchamber was
enough to deter even the bravest of souls from enquiring about the state of his
health. And a keen sense of guilt robbed her of sensible conversation. What do
you say to the man to whom you were tied irrevocably, who had taken you out of
a well-developed sense of duty and whose life you nearly ended with a bullet?

She surveyed him critically
from under lowered lashes. Francis was deliberately refusing to acknowledge the
effects of the night. Holding himself rather stiffly and choosing not to use
his left arm to any degree, she noted, but to an innocent observer there was
nought amiss other than the after-effects of a few hard days and nights on the
road.

Honoria was not an innocent
observer. She saw the genuflection to pain and discomfort in his economy of
movement. But she led him without further comment to the panelled room which
now housed all estate documents.

'The rent rolls are in
those chests.' She indicated where they stood along the wall. 'We collected
them together, but there is no arrangement to them that I can see. We tried to
organise them as relevant to the various manors.
Eyeton
is here. And so is
Burrington
.'

He stalked across the room
to fling back a lid with a grunt of impatience and outright disgust. 'As you
said—dust and mouse droppings! And complete chaos!'

He had made no remark on
the newly refurbished room, or the efforts made by Honoria and Mary to put some
semblance of order into affairs.

'I thought you would care
to use this room to deal with business and estate matters.' Honoria ran a
finger along the edge of the recently polished table. 'It is pleasant enough.
And lighter than many.'

A further huff of breath
and nothing more.

Honoria's lips tightened.
She would remain patient and understanding at all costs. 'Are you in
discomfort? Perhaps I should change the dressing on your shoulder, my lord?'

'No. It is quite
comfortable.' He crouched over the chest, extracting documents, squinting at
the faded figures, rapidly discarding and re- selecting.

So be it. 'I need to tell
you about—'

'Not now, Honoria. It seems
to me that every one of my tenants has taken the opportunity of a lax landlord
to stop paying rents any time over the past dozen years. And now they have
discovered every excuse not to pay in the future.' He delved further into the
chest. 'They can simply appeal to the Crown against me and pay their rents to
the King rather than to me—that is, if anyone bothers to come and collect the
money. How Edward could have let it get to this sorry pass, I know not.' He
began to remove more dusty ledgers, wincing at the strain on his torn muscles,
his frown even heavier.

'But whilst you were gone—'

'Tell me later.' He did not
even look up. 'Perhaps you would go and arrange food for Josh before he goes
back to Ludlow. He is keen to set out soon.'

'And I suppose I could then
go and embroider a cushion, or read poetry, or something equally useful!' Her
temper escaped her good intentions 'There have been a few minor occurrences at
Brampton Percy in your absence! Do you think you should be aware of what I have
done in your name? After all, you may not like it! For all you know, I may have
bargained away your inheritance with Fitzwilliam Coningsby!'
Well That should attract your attention!

It did. He turned his head
to look up at her, then sat back on his heels with an audible sigh, but no real
appreciation of her dwindling control. 'Very well. Tell me about these
occurrences
of which you feel a need to inform me.
Coningsby would seem not to figure since we are still here in possession. So,
what have you done?'

The tolerant, patronising
tone with the hint of patient amusement was the final straw. Her temper
snapped.

'I won't bore you with the
finer details, my lord. I would hate to take up your valuable time.' This left
him in no doubt of her mood. Her eyes flashed and her spine was ramrod stiff.

'You should know about the
following developments.' As if she were reading out a household account, she
ticked them off on her fingers, all the time pinning him with her reproachful
eyes. 'Your priest is downright untrustworthy—a fervent Royalist and
Arminian
if ever I saw one. Your gardener is taken for a
spy and is incarcerated in Hereford Castle, suffering I know not what
indignities. I have dispatched one of your grooms to London—for good. I have
ruffled Sir William's feathers by refusing him entry to the castle to search
for arms. I have hidden the silver so you will have to make do with pewter. And
yesterday I received a formal request, in the name of the King himself, to hand
over Brampton Percy and all your property to the Governor of Hereford,
Fitzwilliam Coningsby no less, on pain of treason. Which, by the by, I
did
refuse. And finally...' she took a breath and
deliberately chose the least of the insults shouted at her '...I was branded a
traitor before all our people, a situation that I did not enjoy.' She glared at
him, daring him to comment. 'That is how matters stand, my lord. So I will now
leave you to your rent rolls and go and count candles with Mistress Brierly.'

She spun on her heel and
flounced to the door, her movements no less graceful for their controlled
emotion. Only to stop with her hand on the latch to issue a parting volley, her
back deliberately turned against him. 'Why did you not send word from
Leintwardine over five days? We have been sick with worry. And you did not even
notice the improvements we had spent so much time over to make your affairs
more efficient. I swear that you dislike change as much as Edward!'

On which most terrible of
sins she left, not bothering to close the door behind her rustling skirts, much
less slam it.

Francis sank on to the
chair behind his desk, elbows propped and dropped his head into his hands. And
groaned inwardly.
That was really well done, you fool. You
knew that she was tense and anxious. Why did you not ask?
He
eased back into the chair as he tried to ignore the burning pain in his
shoulder. He had no excuse. True, the rent matters were urgent, but could have
waited another few hours. If she took to her bed with a loaded pistol and a
wolfhound for company, then he should have at least have had the sensitivity to
discover the reason.

Honoria was his
wife.
He must not forget it, even though they had spent
so little time together and he knew so little about her. It was his
responsibility to care for her comfort and well-being—and her happiness. Yet
after only one night together he had left her to hold the castle and face the
Devil knew what dangers, whilst he had ridden off to Leintwardine. Nor, as she
had so justifiably accused him, had he sent word to explain his extended
absence.
Your fault again!
He had simply not
thought to do so, taken up with the events at the Manor—but it had been a
serious and selfish oversight on his part. And she had been hurt and anxious.
For, beneath the strength and fire which he had just witnessed, her amazing
courage in defending her safety with a pistol, there was a disturbing
fragility. There were shadows and lines of strain around her beautiful eyes.
No doubt he had helped to put them there. It was time to take his new
responsibility far more seriously, especially when it had a tendency to flounce
and was filled with righteous fury against him!