Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand (16 page)

"I am sure it is too large," he apologized. "We can have it cut down later." The marquess slid the ring onto her finger, where it dangled. He took it off and placed it on her thumb instead. "For now," he assured her.

The blacksmith nodded in approval. He clapped the marquess on the arm. "She's all yours, laddie, my lord. Take good care of her."

"I intend to," Winn replied, a slight smile on his face.

"You can kiss her, my lord," Maude suggested as she put on her apron again.

Roxanna stood still as Lord Winn grasped her by the shoulders. She closed her eyes and raised her face to his as he kissed her. It was such a brief kiss that she felt a slight disappointment.

"Well, laddie, you've done it now," the blacksmith said as he removed his coat and looked at his breakfast table with some longing. "I always offer a little advice." He paused. "That is, if you don't mind, my lord."

"Say on, sir," Lord Winn stated in amusement, his arm tight around Roxanna's waist.

The blacksmith cleared his throat. "It's good advice, my lord, especially since you've ridden this hobby horse before."

"Don't remind me," Winn murmured.

"It's this, laddie," he said, leaning closer and winking at Roxanna. "Always do what they want."

The marquess grinned. "Very good, sir," he said. "And now if you can direct us to an inn, we are falling down with exhaustion."

The blacksmith winked at Roxanna and grinned as she blushed. He handed the marriage lines to her. "Try the Bonnie Charlie," he suggested. "Down two blocks. You'll see it. I hear the sheets are usually clean."

He was sitting down to his meal before they even closed the door. Roxanna handed the marriage lines to the marquess. "Here you are, Lord Winn."

"Nope. Try again, Roxie," he said as he tucked the paper in his coat.

"Oh, very well, then! Fletch," she replied, her eyes straight ahead, her lips firm. "That's what I'll call you."

The keep at the Bonnie Charlie found them a room near the eaves, apologizing because his wife's relatives were visiting for the holidays from Fort William. "It's a good room," he assured them as they climbed the narrow stairs. "Not much view, but then, not many of my patrons waste time on that!"

Roxanna turned away in embarrassment and the marquess handed another coin to the landlord.

"When does the next mail coach to Carlisle come through?" he asked.

"Three hours."

"Knock on this door in two and a half hours then, and have some food ready."

When the door closed, Winn turned around. "Well, my dear, if I do not lie down I'm going to fall down." He took off his coat and waistcoat and loosened his neckcloth. "Could you help me with my boots?"

She did, tugging them off, then sitting down so he could help with hers. He pulled back the covers, unbuttoned his breeches, and lay down with a sigh. His eyes closed and he was asleep in minutes.

Roxanna arranged his clothes over the back of a chair and unbuttoned her dress. She lay down next to the marquess, gradually relaxing as his warmth spread to her. She touched the ring on her thumb and closed her eyes.

She woke to loud knocking on the door. Go away, was her first thought, then she raised her head slightly. "Yes, thank you," she said, and the knocking stopped. She lay back down again, held firmly in Lord Winn's grasp. He had pulled her up close against his chest while they slept, his arm draped over her.

She lay still and looked at his hand, admiring the handsome signet ring he wore. He was warm, so warm, and she was more comfortable than she had been in ages. The pillow was soft, and she felt her eyes closing again. No, she told herself, just before she drifted off to sleep again. We have to catch that mail coach.

Roxanna eased out of the marquess's grasp and tried to tug down her dress. In another moment. Lord Winn rolled onto his back and continued to sleep. She looked down at him. Why is it that men look like little boys when they sleep? she wondered.

His eyes opened and he smiled at her. "It's time to get up," she said.

"Damn." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "I'm finally warm for the first time in at least a day. Thank you for not digging me in the back like Lissy."

"I would never—" she began, then laughed. "You're quizzing me."

"Ah, yes. How astute you are, Mrs. Rand."

Mrs. Rand. She got out of bed quickly, pulling down her dress and looking for her boots. Get used to it, Roxie, she told herself. At least it sounds less formidable than Lady Winn. "My goodness," she said out loud.

"That's pretty strong language, Roxie," Lord Winn said mildly as he ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. "Did you just have a vision I should know about?"

She blushed as she pulled on her boots. "It just occurred to me that I am a marchioness, my lo—Fletch." She stood up and looked out the window. "I don't feel like one."

Lord Winn laughed. "That is funny. Cynthia always felt like one. Damned near ruined me, too. I'll call you Mrs. Rand, when you get tired of hearing 'Roxie.' "

She turned to regard him. "Well, it is not as though it will be much of an issue."

"No," he agreed. "I'm heading for Winnfield as soon as this matter with your wretched brother-in-law is taken care of. Despite her serious irritation with me, Amabel did inform me that I have piles of correspondence on my desk at home and daily notices from my solicitors." He winked at her. "But if you do get any mail at Moreland addressed to Lady Winn, don't send it back, hear ye? I do intend to write you."

They ate quickly in the tavern, bolting down their coffee when the coach announced its arrival from Dumfrees with a blast on the tin horn. The coach was crowded. By putting his arm around her and crowding in close, they managed to stay together. I wish I could talk to you, Roxanna thought as they bowled along. She glowered at the other occupants of the coach and wished them elsewhere, but no one disappeared.

As they traveled steadily south, the sunny morning gave way to clouds that drooped lower and lower. Lord Winn's attention was taken up with the weather, but she snuggled in closer to his chest, preferring to ignore it. And what if it is snowing? she thought, then shut the idea from her mind. Time enough to worry about that later. She chuckled.

The marquess leaned toward her. "What?"

"I was just thinking that if I don't look out the window I won't be frightened. Helen accuses me of putting off bad news."

"Do you?"

"I suppose I do, Fletch," she replied. "I've noticed in the last few years that you can put off anything, because bad news is always still there when you have the strength to face it."

"I have a better idea, Roxie," he said. "Let me worry about it for you."

His face was close to hers. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Lord Winn," she replied. "That's quite the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long while."

It was his turn to blush this time. He squeezed her shoulder and looked out the window again. "Roxie, you're a funny thing."

Snow was falling by the time they reached Penrith. As the marquess handed her down from the coach, Roxie looked up at the sky in dismay. Winn touched her cheek. "I told you to let me worry, my dear," he murmured.

"This could be tricky," she said, unable to help herself.

"I have faced worse things, and so have you, Mrs. Rand," he told her. "What's a little snow?"

Little snow, indeed, she thought four hours later as they dismounted yet again to flounder through drifts too deep for Ney to carry them. They toiled toward a summit that seemed to move farther and farther away the more they struggled. Only through strenuous effort could she keep herself from looking back to see if Penrith was still visible. That would be discouraging in the extreme, she decided, so I will not do it.

Lord Winn walked Ney ahead of them to break a trail. "You know something, my dear?" he asked as they labored along, out of breath.

"What?"

He reached behind for her hand and she took hold of him. "In addition to being rather nice to look at for extended periods of time, you don't complain."

"Your compliments are so charming," she replied, amused, as she slipped on the snow and he stopped to steady her.

"Well, I don't tell just anyone these things. Ah, Roxie! The summit. Let's rest a moment and consider this situation."

There was nothing visible for miles around except snow. The sky was blue again, and the wind only idle puffs. Roxie put her hand up to shade her eyes from the glare. "It's beautiful," she said. "Do you feel like we're the only two people on earth?"

He draped his arm on her shoulder and leaned on her a little. "Yes, nice isn't it? Except that I am cold and my feet hurt, and my stomach is growling, and my eyes are starting to burn from the glare. Unlike you, wife, I do complain."

She leaned against his arm. "For a marriage of convenience, this one is certainly taking on adventurous overtones, my lord."

She felt rather than heard his chuckle. "Things can only get better, Roxie," he said as he straightened up and whistled to Ney. "Let's see if this noble beast will carry us for a while."

They continued into the afternoon, traveling a little faster when they reached the area cleaned by the road crew, then slowing down when snowdrifts claimed even that narrow passage. She felt stupid with sleep as she lay back in Lord Winn's arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head as they inched along.

"I should tell you," he said as the sun set, "I wrote to Clarice before we left, advising her of my marriage. If I know Clarrie, she will pass the word to my other sisters." He tightened his grip on the reins and dug in with his knees as Ney slipped onto his haunches. "I expect that will solve my problem. Since I am no longer matrimonial fodder, that will keep shabby genteels like the Etheringhams off my back."

She sat up a little, until he pushed her back gently with his hand against her chest. She relaxed again. "Did you tell them ..." She paused, not knowing how to phrase her question.

"That it is a marriage of convenience?" he finished. "No. That's none of their business, is it? What we have done is between us, Roxie. You need suffer no embarrassment over this from my family."

"I owe you such a debt," she said softly. "If ever I can repay you, only tell me how."

He was silent, and she wondered if he heard her. "Oh, Roxie," he said finally, and nothing more.

There was no question of stopping for the night, even though they passed crofters' cottages with lights in the windows, and saw, in the distance, the comfort of two farmers herding in their cows from some desolate pasture.

"My God, my hands are cold," the marquess said finally, after an hour of silence. "Roxie, can you take the reins for a while?"

"Of course," she said as he handed them to her. "Maybe I should make you some mittens like Lissy's, instead of those leather gloves."

"I recommend it. Mind you make them brown, though, and not Jezebel red. Now if you don't object, I'll get really forward, Mrs. Rand," he continued, stripping off his gloves with his teeth.

When she said nothing, he reached inside her cloak and under her sweater. He wrapped his arms around her breasts, tucking his hands up under her armpits. "That helps," he said after a few minutes, the relief evident in his voice.

"I can hold the reins as long as you need," she said, enjoying the warmth of his fingers, too, as they gradually thawed.

"I remember killing a horse once in a blizzard and opening him up to tuck my hands in his entrails," he said, his tone conversational. "I won't do that to you, however."

"Thank you, Fletch," she responded.

As his hands grew warmer against her body, he became more conversational again. "Roxie, we used to dig up French graves, dump out the corpses, and burn the coffins to keep warm."

Roxanna shuddered, more wide awake than she had been for miles. "Those days are over," she reminded him.

"I hope so. If you keep prodding Ney, he might not have to give up his guts."

"You wouldn't..."

"Of course I would, Roxie. We have some business this morning with your brother-in-law. Do you think I would let my affection for a horse stop me?"

No, I do not, she thought. You are a hard man, Lord Winn. How grateful I am that you are on my side.

They walked past Richmond just as the sun was coming up. She staggered through the snow as Lord Winn kept a firm grasp on the back of her cloak. Once he slung her over his shoulder and kept walking doggedly along, until she cried, pounded on his back, and made him set her down.

Past Richmond the road was clear and they mounted Ney again. There were even farmers on the road now bringing goods to market, who stared at them as they rode slowly by. Lord Winn rubbed his chin.

"We must look like desperate characters," he told her.

"Speak for yourself," she said, wondering why it was so difficult to even move her mouth. She felt frozen solid, Lot's wife in wintertime, turned to a pillar of ice.

The sun was up, illuminating the Great Plain of York as they reached the end of Moreland's tree-lined avenue. Lord Winn reined in his horse. "I have never been so grateful to see anything as these elms," he told her as he sat there a moment, then gathered up the energy to dig his heels into Ney again. "Come on, old champion. Let's get Roxie Rand home before we have to chip her out of my saddle."

The dower house looked unbelievably welcome as Lord Winn twitched on the reins and Ney stopped, his head down, the journey over. Winn let the reins drop, but made no effort to dismount. "I can't move, Roxie," he said finally. "Can you throw your leg over the saddle and get down?"

She shook her head, too tired to speak, too exhausted to cry. As she sat there in misery, wondering if they would die from the cold just outside her door, she saw Helen's face in the window, and then jumping up and down, Lissy, too. "Oh, thank God for early risers," she murmured as the door opened and Helen ran out in her nightgown and bare feet, calling for Tibbie.

In another moment Tibbie followed. He stared at them in open-mouthed amazement. "We heard the roads were all closed from Scotland to Carlisle. Did you manage?"

In answer, Lord Winn tugged Roxie's mitten off her left hand and held it up in triumph so the bailiff could see the ring stuck firmly on her thumb. "It was a grand wedding, Tibbie," he said. "Only don't ask!"

Tibbie chuckled as he reached up for Roxanna. "And I suppose you can't move, Mrs. Drew ..." He paused. "No, it's Lady Winn, now, isn't it?"

"It is, indeed," Lord Winn said. "Any sign of Lord Whitcomb yet?"

"Not yet. We'll give him another hour to drink his tea and put a silly smirk on his face, damn his hide."

"Tibbie, no!" Roxanna murmured, and looked meaningfully at her daughters. Tibbie pulled her from the saddle and she gasped at the pain. She sank into the snow and just lay there as Helen hugged her and Lissy knelt beside her, touching her face.

"Oh, Mama! Couldn't you have waited until it was warmer?" Helen asked, her eyes filled with concern. "Lissy, feel how cold she is."

Roxie shook her head and managed to reach her hand up to touch Helen's face. "I've never been better, my dearest," she whispered, meaning every word.

With a groan that seemed to well up from the soles of his boots. Lord Winn dismounted and leaned against Ney. He regarded Roxie as she lay in the snow at his feet. "Mrs. Rand, you truly have been more trouble than any tenant I ever encountered." His eyes smiled into hers. "And I would do it over in a minute." He groaned again and leaned away from his horse, reaching down for her hand. "But not in the next one hundred or two hundred minutes, let us say."

His arm around her waist, Helen and Lissy right beside him, they tottered into the house, collapsing onto the sofa. Roxanna stared at the wreath over the fireplace. Was it only three days ago that they had decorated the sitting room? It seemed like years. She uttered no protest as Meggie pulled off her boots, then stood shaking her head at the sight of her feet.

Lord Winn leaned forward and pulled up her skirt to her knees, even as she protested feebly. "Don't worry, Meggie," he said. "No white patches. I recommend that you set up the tub in front of the kitchen fireplace and start warming some water. That should thaw out Mrs. Rand." He shivered involuntarily. "And I'll see what I can find at Moreland."