Rebecca (23 page)

Tilting her chin up, Nicholas said, “I warned you what would happen.”

Her face paled. When he saw how she reacted, Middleton interjected, “She isn't at fault, my lord. It was totally my fault.”

“I have no doubts of that, Reverend,” he replied tersely as he regarded the frightened man. “None whatsoever.”

“Nicholas, please be sensible about this,” interjected Rebecca. “Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen. John and I are friends. No more and no less.”

Slowly a smile spread across his lips. “I know, my dear. Come, for we are going to be late for our picnic.” He turned and walked with her toward the doors. He paused and looked back at the man still standing in the aisle. “Rebecca will be back as usual on Thursday, but I trust there will be no repetition of this incident. I believe every man is due one mistake. You have made yours, Reverend Middleton.”

When they had gone outside and the door closed, Middleton dropped into a pew. Perhaps Rebecca was not in awe of her husband, but she must be the only one. He realized how lucky he had been. Lord Foxbridge had been willing to forgive him this transgression, but if he tried to hold Rebecca again, his clerical collar would not keep the lord from obtaining his revenge from the minister who dared to trifle with his wife.

He sighed. More than Lord Foxbridge's warning, Rebecca's words had told him that she was devoted to her fear-inspiring spouse. His own yearnings to have her care for him had made him unable to see the truth. Bowing his head over his clasped hands, he sought the peace to deal with the temptation to be disloyal to everything which had given meaning to his life. He could not blame Rebecca, for she had done nothing wrong. He had mistaken kindness for more.

Rebecca said nothing as Nicholas lifted her in his arms to carry her down the steps. She had left her cane in the church. Calmly, he ordered Sims to retrieve it. “Knock before you go in, so you do not disturb Reverend Middleton,” Nicholas suggested. His coachman gave him a startled glance, but only nodded his head.

Sitting beside her in the carriage, he waited until Sims returned. He ordered them driven to the beach where the picnic would be held. Then Nicholas relaxed against the cushions. He slipped his arm around Rebecca's stiff shoulders, but did not pull her closer. His fingers under her chin tilted it toward him. “Rebecca, don't be so upset. I'm not angry with you.”

“You sounded as if you were,” she whispered.

He touched her lips briefly with his. “I know you aren't cuckolding me with any man. You hold so tightly to your vows and would never betray them. You will not share my bed because of a promise to Bennett. You have become my loving wife in public in accordance with our little bargain. Your only fault is being so beautiful and warm that no man can resist you.”

With a sob, she turned to hide her face against his chest. How she longed to empty her heart's secrets to him, to confess of a love she knew she could not stop from growing with the power of a summer storm. He had not retaliated against John only because she considered him a friend. Any other man who tried to seduce her would feel Lord Foxbridge's awesome wrath.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair. “It's over. Reverend Middleton won't forget himself again and try to compromise you and his own vows. Cheer up, Rebecca. We have our picnic by the shore. You don't want everyone to see you arriving with red eyes. They will think that you have been beaten by your husband who apparently inspires such fear in you.” Nicholas laughed loudly as she blushed.

Softly she asked, “You heard that? How long were you there?”

“Long enough to learn that you take the vows we share to heart.”

When he captured her mouth again, there was nothing brief about his kiss. His arm drew her back against the cushions. Being careful not to hurt her nearly healed leg, he leaned over her and allowed his mouth to explore the small amount of skin bared by her modest dress. Although he yearned to unhook her gown and remove it to make love with her in the carriage, she was not well enough yet for such delightful antics. Instead, he listened to her soft breaths against his ear as his tongue etched its fire into her throat. Her small hands wrapped around his shoulders to hold him to her.

As the carriage slowed for the steep descent to the shore, he drew away regretfully. If he did not convince Rebecca to join him in his bed soon, he feared he would not be able to wait for her to come to him willingly. No woman had ever stirred his blood as his wife did with her loveliness and the seductiveness that was innate in every motion when he held her in his arms.

“We are nearly there,” he said with a laugh as she brought his lips back over hers again. Asking himself why he was holding back when she wanted only to continue what he did not want to stop, he pulled her up to sit on his lap.

She nestled against him as she felt his lips press against her temple. Her fingers caressed his chest where his shirt was open at the collar. When he began to stroke her as gently, she lifted her lips for his demanding kiss. She knew what it was that he was asking her to give to him. He wanted her. It was that simple. It should have been so simple to give her love to Nicholas, who drove her to the very edge of reason with his touch.

All such thoughts vanished from her mind as she was washed away into ecstasy. Only the lure of his mouth tantalizing hers and his fingers playing a magic melody of passion across her body had reality. Everything else disappeared.

Laughter and other voices brought her back to reality. She gazed up into Nicholas's strikingly handsome face, which was as bemused as hers by their rapture. His fingers teased the muted angles of her face as he bent for one final, lingering kiss before they joined the others on the sand.

As the coach halted, he lifted her off his lap and reached for the door. Jumping to the hard-packed sand, he turned to take her hand. His eyes widened as he saw the slender line of her legs as she was removing her footwear. Even though he had viewed her limbs while she was recovering from her accident, it had not lessened his appreciation of them. Only when she had kilted her skirt as she had when they sailed with the
Prize
did she allow Nicholas to help her from the carriage.

With her hand in his, she leaned against him instead of her cane which she left in the carriage. Soon she hoped to be rid of the cumbersome thing which had been at one time so beloved as her means of escape from the confinement of her room. Walking slowly, she could manage quite well on the sand. It still made her skin crawl when she recalled the doctor telling her husband when they had thought that she was asleep that if she had been the height of a normal man, the jaws of the trap would have crushed her knee and she never would have been able to use that leg again.

Another accident like hers was unlikely to happen again on the grounds of Foxbridge Cloister. The staff had been sent on a second quest with the instructions to look for any other mantraps which might have escaped notice years ago. Although they had searched the grounds, no more snares had been turned up.

The picnickers came forward to greet them. It was a small group. In addition to Eliza and Curtis, there was Clarisse Beckwith and a man introduced to Rebecca as Jackson Edwards, a friend of Curtis who had come to Foxbridge to meet the lady Curtis seemed to love so deeply.

The narrow strand of sand and rocks was poised between the ocean waters and the sheer cliffs which were pitted with the violent scars of past storms. Blankets had been spread on the uneven ground so they could eat more comfortably, but everyone was too busy enjoying the fresh ocean breeze and the rare chance to play in the cold waters. Like Rebecca, they had removed their footwear. When Eliza saw how her sister-in-law had raised her skirts to keep them out of the heavy, wet sand, she did the same.

Rebecca wondered why Clarisse had been chosen to even up the group. Eliza explained as soon as she could that she had not invited the redhead, but that Clarisse had badgered Curtis into an invitation. Having her with them was a guarantee of trouble, but they could not retract the invitation Curtis had extended to their neighbor.

Rebecca sat on a blanket and watched as the others enjoyed the water and played games along the edge of the splashing waves. At first Nicholas sat next to her, but she urged him to join the others. She chuckled as they acted like giant children. She guessed it was just a matter of time before Curtis and Eliza approached Nicholas asking for his permission to wed. As the two of them embraced with open delight, she wondered why she could not be so free with her feelings for her husband. Whenever she was close to him, she felt as if she was cheating a man she could no longer love, but was bound to as tightly as she was bound to Nicholas.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw Clarisse moving toward Nicholas with her intent clear to his wife. She carried something in her hands. Although Rebecca could not tell what it was, when Clarisse dropped it down the back of Nicholas's shirt before running away down the beach he reacted in shock. He pulled it out and started to chase her with what was obviously some type of marine creature.

Rebecca closed her eyes and put her head down on her drawn-up knee as the two disappeared to a part of the beach blocked by the carriage. She could not help the pang racing through her. Clarisse had made it clear from the beginning that she intended to win back Nicholas. Rebecca wondered how she could compete with a woman who once had been his beloved mistress.

When Clarisse decided there was enough space between them and the others, she slowed to let Nicholas catch her. By this time, he was only a pace behind her.

“You devil,” he said with a laugh. “Here is your dead fish, Clarisse.” With a mighty heave, he tossed it out to be swallowed by the unceasing movement of the waves. “Maybe I should do the same with you.”

He reached out to tease her. The second he touched her arms, he realized he was being no brighter than Reverend Middleton had been earlier. In an instant, Clarisse had her arms around him and was pressing her lips to his. Six years had not dulled the memories of this woman's easy sensuality, which had taught him much of satisfying and being satisfied by a woman. At one time, he had thought the gratification he knew in her arms was the total of what love consisted of between a man and a woman. He had learned differently. Trying not to show his change of heart, he smiled as he took her hands from around him and held them. “Come, Clarisse. The others will be wondering where we have gone.”

“They won't be wondering,” she whispered as she stepped so near that the lushness of her curvaceous body teased him with the remembrance of his mouth against it. “They will know we are on the beach.”

He did not want to hurt her by telling her he was no longer interested in her invitation, but she was making it difficult not to speak the truth. Placing her hand on his arm, he began to walk back toward the carriage.

With a jerk, she yanked her hand away. Turning, she shouted, “It's not the others! It's Rebecca! You can't stand being away from her for a minute, can you?”

“She is my wife, Clarisse,” he said, reasonably.

“Your wife who has a rendezvous with the minister twice a week in his church. Oh, I know she goes there ostensibly to teach those urchins to sing for the fair, but they leave long before she and Reverend Middleton come out.” She laughed as she walked her fingers along his arms. “Your Rebecca is cuckolding you with the parish's minister, and yet you slobber after her like a dog after a bitch in heat.”

Nicholas pushed her hand away. Cruelly, he asked, “Must you judge everyone by your promiscuous standards? I know about their friendship. I know that I need not worry whether my wife is sleeping with another. That's the one thing that's the same about you and Rebecca. I didn't need to worry about that with you either, because you always found someone to share your bed if I was not there.”

While she sputtered in rage that he dared to speak to her like this, he walked away. Nicholas had been changed by his trip to America. Before he had left, she had needed only to crook her finger, and he would come running to do her bidding. Then she realized that the Nicholas Wythe she had controlled so easily had been a boy enjoying the adventures in her bed. He had become a man who wanted more than a woman whom he could tumble whenever he was in the mood.

As she stood with her hands on her hips, she wondered what he saw in meek Rebecca. The simple fact that she had saved Nicholas's life could not be the basis of this strong devotion. She had not thought that a man like Nicholas Wythe would fall in love with a woman like Rebecca. It was clear it was love. The way his black eyes glowed like embers of coal when he gazed at his wife made his feelings obvious.

Her fury increased when she returned and saw he was sitting next to his wife with his arm around her as he whispered in her ear. Rebecca's light laugh drifted across the sand to Clarisse, and she gritted her teeth. She would pay back this little colonial tramp for daring to steal Nicholas from the one who should have him.

Rebecca looked up to meet the green eyes which glowed in the late-afternoon sunshine like a cat's in the night. She could not mistake Clarisse's malice. The owner of Beckwith Grange had been interested in offering Nicholas the same thing John had wanted to offer her at the church. Her eyes moved from the loathing to her husband's face. Everyone was willing to share with them what they could not share with each other.

“Sweetheart,” he asked when he saw her disquiet, “how about a walk along the water? Do you think you are well enough?”

“If you help me, Nicholas, I would be glad to go with you.”

He took her hand to help her to her feet. “Ouch!” she cried, involuntarily. When she saw the expression on his face, she laughed. “No, not my leg. When I was saying hello to Curtis, the signet ring he wears scratched my hand.” She held it up to show him the red line across it.

“Did you ever consider you might be accident-prone, Rebecca?” He chuckled when she made an amusing face.