Never Marry a Stranger (8 page)

He lay back on the blanket. Very deliberately, she placed her hand beside him and leaned above his body. She blocked out part of the sky, but since it was cloudy, he could see her expression, full of anticipation. She wanted the kiss, too.

And then she hesitated, her face just above his, beautiful, complex, unreadable.

“Do I initiate the kisses, or do you?” he asked.
Do you pretend to play the meek wife?

“We both do,” she whispered.

A bold answer. But then, he’d already revealed himself to be a very untypical husband who would expect an untypical wife.

Her breath on his face, a touch of autumn cider, almost made him groan. “Did I kiss you first?” he asked, hearing the huskiness in his voice.

She was lower now, a lock of her golden hair tumbling free to brush along his cheek and fall to his neck.

“Of course you did. You were courting me.”

He met her half-lidded gaze. “Then it’s your turn.”

Her lips touched his, as gentle as a butterfly, but without hesitation. Then she slanted her head the other way to taste more of him. The rush of desire from a chaste kiss was so heady, so complete, that he barely kept himself from crushing her to him, pulling her on top of him.

Emily forgot everything but the soft moistness of Matthew’s lips. He lay prone beneath her, and she had to steady herself on his shoulder or fall into him with sudden, overwhelming weakness. The sensation of the kiss was about more than their lips; she felt it in her mind, in her heart, in her loins, which
so willfully desired him. She wanted to press against him, taste more of him. Her kisses grew intense, taking more of his mouth, opening to seek the true passion she’d only dreamed about.

Matthew Leland was a man back from the dead, struggling to reclaim his life—and finding her in it. Though she was taking advantage of him, she promised herself that he would be well compensated by her eagerness.

Against her will, she remembered that he had a wife, the thought dowsing her passion. She lifted her head to stare down at him. Always, this woman would be between them, until Emily could discover the truth about her. But how to do that? And what would Arthur Stanwood do with such knowledge?

“Emily? Is something wrong?”

He sat up, and as she felt both his hands on her shoulders, knew he needed some kind of explanation. She blinked as if forcing back tears, then put a hand on his chest. “You’re really home,” she whispered in wonder. “You’ll think me a silly female if I cry in the middle of a kiss. It was bad enough that I swooned at your feet last night—”

“Into my arms. I know how to catch a woman.”

She gave an unladylike snort of laughter. He pressed a handkerchief into her palm, and she dabbed at her eyes, hoping he didn’t notice that the fabric remained dry.

“I don’t think I’ve ever before reduced a woman to tears with my kisses,” he mused.

He brought her hands to his chest, and she felt the strong beat of his heart. He wanted his memories back; she couldn’t want the same.

But she would teach him whatever he wanted; she would make him happy. Nothing—no one—would stand in her way.

E
mily knew Matthew watched her too carefully. What emotions chased each other across her face, when she was trying to hide them?

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Because I never thought to have the chance to kiss you again,” she whispered.

Then she smiled and patted his chest, turning away to gather up the remains of their picnic. When she mounted her own horse, she was surprised that he allowed it. She’d wanted him to ask her to ride with him again, but it seemed he had enough intimacy for one afternoon.

As they rode down the lane that wound between low hills, they passed a cottage that was part of the estate, remote, yet well-maintained.

“My father lived here before I was born,” Matthew said suddenly. She gave him a startled glance. “Before they were married, you mean?” She had always assumed no
one was given the lease because the duke wanted his privacy.

He nodded. “My grandfather allowed the cottage to be leased, amused that a Cambridge professor wanted privacy to work, and some distance from the university. The old duke had a love of learning—if not a love of his wife.”

She winced with sympathy. “Didn’t your grandfather cause the first of the Cabot scandals?”

He grinned. “Not the first, but one of many. Weakness seems to run in the family.”

“But not in you, of course,” she said with a toss of her head.

“Of course. He gambled and womanized his way through his entire inheritance before he was twenty-five and then had to rebuild the family fortune.”

“Obviously, he accomplished that feat.”

“Yes, but he could never quite forgive himself for the unentailed land that had to be sold. He made no secret of the fact that he chose beauty and dowry over suitability when he married.”

“How flattering to his wife,” she said with sarcasm.

“Do not pity her too much. She made it obvious that she chose his title over love. But when he spent more time rebuilding his estate than paying attention to her, their shaky marriage crumbled even further. Their children—my mother, her sister and
brother—were the ones to suffer. Grandfather made up for his neglect by allowing them all to marry as they wished, and not always to success.”

With a smile, she said, “So here in this cottage, when a simple university professor met an unhappy daughter of a duke…”

“The guilty duke allowed them to marry.”

“It sounds as if they fell in love.”

“They did…I believe. But my mother came from a world where men chose business or gambling or hunting to take them away from their wives—not science. And once the scandal happened…”

“Your sisters explained it all to me. The female corpse, illegally purchased.”

He nodded, leaning on his pommel, staring at the cottage as if he could turn back time. “I didn’t tell you any of this before?”

She shrugged. “You didn’t want to discuss it.”

Slowly, he said, “I can believe that. When Rebecca was born, though I was young, I thought things were better between my parents. I didn’t understand then how two people could…give in to an old passion, yet not resolve things between them.” He sighed. “This is too strange, to be discussing my parents’ marriage and near-divorce like this. But you’ve been here, you’ve seen them together.”

“And are things not much improved in the time you’ve been gone?”

“They are.”

“I have been…encouraging them to spend more time together, forcing them to talk on occasion.”

“And why did you believe you could help my parents?”

She heard the doubt in his voice and couldn’t understand it. Why wouldn’t his
wife
want such a thing? “I simply believed it couldn’t hurt. I thought they were two people who’d become used to their separate lives. If they could remember why they were first drawn together, perhaps things could be different for them. It’s not yet a success, of course.”

“But it is much improved. And I have you to thank for that?” He tilted his head, smiling.

She demurely waved a hand. “Oh, not entirely.”

As they rode away, he leaned toward her, as if imparting a confidence. “You turned this ancient household on its ear, Emily Leland, just like you did to me.”

After Matthew dressed in his evening clothes, he waited in the great hall with Peter, Reggie, and his father, until at last the women arrived. Lady Rosa and Rebecca were obviously excited, and Emily was feigning it well. Matthew almost forgot the point of the evening when he looked at Emily in the rose-colored gown that emphasized the tops of her creamy breasts and made her blond hair glow. He almost wished the evening were already over, so he could
have her alone in his suite, to see where their earlier shared kisses would lead.

Susanna’s demeanor brought Matthew back into the present. She looked like she was headed for the French guillotine, resigned and no longer fighting her fate.

He arched a brow at her. She heaved a great sigh and donned a smile that showed every tooth in her head.

He approached his sister and spoke softly. “I thought you only needed your spectacles for reading or painting.”

“I do.” Light reflected off the lenses as she gave him a stare that was almost mutinous.

“They hide your lovely brown eyes.”

With another sigh, she removed them and slid them into the reticule dangling from her wrist.

“Thank you,” he said, trying to be solemn.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Do not try to make me believe you are only suffering through a brotherly duty. You are enjoying yourself.”

“I
always
enjoy myself—now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That is another thing that is different about you. You didn’t even protest going to this dinner, when you used to tolerate them before. You haven’t even asked if there’s going to be dancing—you used to hate to dance.”

And he had. Every young lady he used to dance with had wanted a proper courtship and marriage—
so very boring. All he’d wanted to do was shock them with the lascivious direction of his thoughts, but he’d held himself back. Now he had his own woman to seduce, and the rest of them paled in his memory like ghosts of a forgotten past.

“If there’s dancing, you will dance,” Matthew said. “It’s part of our bargain.”

“Yes, Captain,” she said grimly, giving him a salute.

An hour later, when they all stood in Lord Sydney’s drawing room with another dozen guests, Matthew lost sight of Susanna in the face of an eager crowd. They gathered about him, all talking at once, the ladies dabbing their eyes and repeatedly hugging Lady Rosa, the men clapping Professor Leland on the back. Over and over Matthew explained how the mistake of his death announcement had happened. At least a half dozen times the women exclaimed over “dear” Emily’s bravery until Emily blushed at last.

He noticed that Emily remained with his family and not the other women, but then again, his parents had warned him that her closest friends were his sisters.

When Reggie brought him a claret, Matthew was able to step back against the wall. He downed a healthy swallow. “It’s so close in here, it might as well be summer.”

Reggie glanced past him, arching a brow.

“Or perhaps there’s another reason you’re overheated?”

Matthew followed his gaze and saw Emily standing with Rebecca. He smiled. “Why, yes, perhaps there is a contributing factor. But where is Susanna?” Then he caught sight of her against the far wall, amidst the elder ladies and the chaperones. He groaned. “So much for our bargain.”

When Reggie expressed his curiosity, Matthew told him about wanting to help Susanna.

“She is a lovely girl,” Reggie said. “I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is she’s not a girl, but a woman, a not-quite-so-young woman.”

Reggie shrugged. “Give her time. This is only the first night of your bargain. Instead, tell me about your day with Emily.”

Matthew’s focus returned to his “wife,” although he did look about them to make sure he could speak without being overheard. “She is wily,” he began slowly.

“You still say that with admiration. The bloom is not yet off the rose?”

Matthew chuckled. “I find myself more and more intrigued. Yet I am ever practical. Do you remember a Mr. Tillman, a vicar near Southampton?”

“My mother despaired of me ever being a churchgoer,” Reggie said, taking a healthy sip of his claret.

“So that is a no?”

Reggie only grinned.

“Apparently, he ‘married’ us. His signature is on the forged license. I sent a letter today to the duke’s investigator to look into Emily’s background, specifically this vicar, whom she claims she worked closely with.”

“Worked closely?” Reggie said dubiously.

Matthew gave a soft snort. “Charity work with the other ladies of her village.”

“Ah. And you don’t believe it?”

“I don’t really know what to believe. I am keeping an open mind. It will be several days before I receive an answer.” His smile faded and he found himself once again studying Emily. Softly, he said, “What did she do when she found herself alone after her family’s death? Assuming her childhood was as she said, why wouldn’t a beautiful, well-bred woman just marry a man if she needed to support herself? Unless this marriage she’d created set her free to do as she wished.”

“Yet what has she done?” Reggie asked.

“That’s it, exactly. I heard today that she rides into the village often. I’ll pursue that next.”

“Someone approaches,” Reggie said in warning.

They both focused on Peter Derby, making his way through the milling guests. Matthew watched him glance Emily’s way where she stood with the rest of the Leland family.

“Is that regret in Mr. Derby’s eyes?” Reggie asked.

Matthew heard his friend’s smothered laughter, and though he joined it, he spoke seriously. “Am I supposed to watch a parade of men lusting after her, wondering which will be the one who isn’t what he seemed, perhaps her accomplice?”

“But Peter Derby?” Reggie said doubtfully.

“He was her suitor after all.”

Emily must have noticed Peter’s glance, for she joined him to approach Matthew and Reggie.

Matthew greeted Peter, then let his smile deepen for Emily. She responded by taking his arm and giving it a squeeze.

“Matthew,” Peter said amiably. “Quite the crowd tonight. I’m surprised you even have a moment to yourself.”

“Returning from the dead makes one popular,” Reggie said.

Peter grinned. “I’ll have to try that.”

“Oh, no, you mustn’t,” Emily said, her voice full of mock sincerity. When the three men stared at her, she continued, “How could you expect such a ruse to succeed twice?”

Peter laughed heartily. “Mrs. Leland, your wit is so subtle.”

Matthew felt Reggie’s glance but ignored it. Flirting with a woman in front of her husband was an unusual tactic. But of course, Emily wasn’t his wife, he reminded himself.

Then why was he once again feeling annoyed at the thought of her with other men?

Peter’s laughter faded. “But truly, Matthew, returning from the dead seems to have agreed with you.”

Matthew studied his drink for a moment. “Much seems different when one returns from the other side of the world. I have seen”—
and done
, he thought—“terrible things, and it has enabled me to put my own life in perspective. I feel…more at peace with myself. I’ve chosen to stop fighting my own temperament, to accept things I once rebelled against.”

Reggie and Peter were staring at him. Emily studied him thoughtfully, and he wondered if he’d revealed too much to her.

Reggie cleared his throat. “I had a very different response to being on the other side of the world. It made me want to do nothing more for a time than to enjoy good Madingley brandy, ride fine Madingley horses with no destination in mind, and even read a book in the Madingley library, with my feet upon expensive leather furniture.”

They all laughed.

“What a rebel,” Matthew said dryly. But he was glad Reggie had distracted their attention from him.

“I did have a pint at the inn,” Reggie added. “I listened to wild stories of your death-defying return to England.”

“And what were those?” Peter asked, still laughing.

“Find me another drink and I’ll tell you.”

The two men went off together, leaving Matthew alone with Emily. She was still watching him too closely, but her eyes suddenly sharpened as she glanced past his shoulder.

“Oh dear,” she murmured, her expression full of regret.

Matthew turned to look. “Well, if it isn’t Albert Evans,” he drawled, relieved to see an old friend.

Albert was short and husky, with a mane of black hair and open, honest features. To Matthew’s surprise, Albert hugged him fiercely. After glancing at Emily, Albert turned his determined face toward Matthew, who felt his enthusiasm suddenly wane.

“Damn, but how did this miracle happen?” Albert demanded, smiling with delight.

Matthew repeated his story, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time. Albert nodded to Emily reluctantly, respectfully, his face even redder, and Matthew at last accepted the truth. Albert was another would-be suitor. Was every man after Emily?

For several minutes the two men discussed the health of Albert’s family and what he’d been doing in London. Matthew would have been content to let the subject of Emily go. After all, what more needed to be said?

But at last there was a momentary silence in their
friendly conversation, and Albert glanced at Emily.

“Matthew,” he said, lowering his voice, “perhaps we can speak privately?”

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Matthew said, sliding his arm around Emily’s tense shoulders. “When my wife emerged from mourning, you showed an interest.”

Albert sighed and looked away. “I feel…strange about it, old chap.”

“Oh, please don’t, Mr. Evans,” Emily said softly, her face suffused with a blush.

Matthew smiled. “You aren’t the only man who feels he needs to apologize to me.”

Albert sighed heavily. “I saw you with Derby. So you’ve had this same conversation?”

“More or less,” Matthew said with a shrug. He gave Emily a gentle shake. “Neither of you should feel guilty. Emily is a rare flower, and I’m a lucky man.”