The Highwayman's Bride (13 page)

Sudden tears rimmed her eyes. “Oh, Aiden. Catching Nash will not fix the world or Mary.”

“No, but the world will be a better place without him on its roads.”

“You cannot go on like this, night after night.”

Aiden stiffened, his expression hardening, eyes morphing to the color of a starless night. “I can and I will, Tess. You cannot stop me. Life is about choices, just as you chose to marry me.”

She had, and for the very first time Tess realized she did not regret it one bit. She did not know what the future would offer, but right now she wanted nothing more than to kiss her husband.

Pushing herself up to her knees, she drew him closer. Her lips touched his, receiving a guttural groan of submission in return.

“Sweet, sweet Tess.”

Aiden pushed out of the chair and drew her up with him. In one swift action he scooped her up, her bubble of laughter instant as he carried her to the bed, laying her down gently.

“Tonight, my dear wife, while I’m of a need so strong to lie with you, hold you, it is imperative I venture out once more. Word has come of another shipment of champagne.”

“Champagne?”

“Aye. Nash has moved from highway robbery into the importing business from France.”

“But it is illegal.”

“True. He, however, does not operate by legal methods, which is of no surprise. I’ve had word he and his…ah, his business partner are expecting a delivery.”

“You’ve gone out night after night with no luck. How do you know this source is reliable?”

“I don’t.” Aiden stepped across to his wardrobe and retrieved a clean shirt and slipped it on. “But it is a risk I must take.”

Reaching for his boots, he sat on the bed beside her and drew them on.

Tess shuffled upright, hugging her knees to her chest. “You will be in danger.”

“No more tonight than others.”

He could be injured. Killed!

Fear etched across her heart and she wanted to plead with him not to go. But those words remained unsaid. Aiden
had
to go. His conscience gave him no choice.

Hands on his strong, muscular thighs, Aiden stood. “As much as I’m tempted to stay abed with you, sweet Tess, I cannot. There is, however, one thing I must ask before I leave.”

He took her left hand in his, his thumb caressing her plain gold wedding band. He glanced down at it and then raised his gaze back to her. “Do you forgive me for not telling you the truth, for I am no rogue of the highway, sweet Tess?”

Her heart sighed. “Oh, Aiden Masters, Earl of Charnley, you are definitely a rogue, but,” she said, as she witnessed the taint of sadness in his expression, “you, my lord, are
my rogue,
so perhaps I could be persuaded to forgive you.”

“What will it take?” Hope echoed in his voice and tugged at her heartstrings even more.

She tipped her head, theatrically, one finger scraping across her jaw. “Hmm. I would need to think on that.”

“Not too long, I hope.”

“Oh, I know. I have the perfect contrition for you.”

“Which would be?”

“A kiss, I think, would be a suitable penance,” she said, keeping her voice controlled while tamping down a burst of laughter.

“Only one?”

“Well, I could be persuaded.”

Without hesitation Aiden claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss that branded her as his. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so close she could feel the thud of his heart.

Then, just as suddenly, he eased her from him. “Adieu, my sweet Tess.” He strode to the door. “I do not know when I will be back.”

Then her handsome rogue was gone, leaving her with the horrific realization of the words he had not actually said.

If he would be back.

Would the witch’s prophecy come true tonight?

…

From the moment Aiden departed, rational thought would not cooperate. Tess worried about him constantly, and railed that he’d been gone so long with no word.

To take her mind off everything, she forced herself out into the December days, taking joy from the freezing weather. Better that her heart froze than aching for him.

After a brisk walk with Alexander, delighting in his childish prattle, they strode up the stone steps of Charnley Hall. She stomped the snow from her boots. “’Tis worsening I fear,” she said as she dusted the snow smattering the top of Alexander’s jacket.

“So does that mean I may have a hot chocolate?”

“I don’t see why not.” Pushing open the door, her footstep faltered. A seemingly nervous Mary waited just inside the front door, clasping what appeared to be several newspapers in her hand.

“It is the
The Ladies’ Magazine
,” she said, cheeks flushed and eyes bright as she held out the periodical. It was the most animated Tess had seen her sister-in-law for some time.

“Do you like reading it?”

Tess took it from her. “I do, very much.”

A soft sigh slid from Mary’s lips. “And your favorite part?”

Her sister-in-law leaned forward as Tess straightened out the periodical in her hands. She flipped several pages until she spied the column she most enjoyed. “There,” she said, tapping a finger to the page. “Mirabelle’s Musings. I used to read it to thwart my uncle’s rambunctious attitude, but really it is most enjoyable and I find myself wondering who these people are that she writes about.”

“So you don’t know who she is?”

“No. Though,” she said with a light trill of laughter, “I would love to find out.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea. Sometimes people like their identities to be secret.”

“Perhaps.” Tess dropped the newspaper to the side table and shrugged off her coat, depositing her hat and gloves on the table. “Would you like to read it? I promised Alexander a hot chocolate—”

“And a story, please, please.” His pleas were easily convincing.

“Oh, no, I do not need to read it, I…” Mary pressed her lips together, glancing away, then stepped back. “I…must go, I have to discuss something with cook.” And with a flourish of her skirts, Mary spun away and rushed through the door leading down to the kitchen.

The hours continued to drag on. Hours when she kept herself busy reading stories to Alexander, playing board games. Every time she looked up, Mary was writing something in her journal. Occasionally she would look up, her expression pensive. Tess would inquire if all was right and Mary would blush and then scribble some more.

Two days had passed with no word of Aiden’s return. His kiss as he departed had left her with a deep longing for more.

Lustful thoughts, he’d called them.

She’d denied it, of course, but to her chagrin, time and time again as the want resurfaced, she realized that he’d been correct. She lusted after him—and it wouldn’t go away, heat scalding her cheeks at the memories of his kisses and his touch.

Then there were the discreet notes she had had delivered to several nearby estates enquiring about available governess positions.

All letters had been returned.

What now?

Tomorrow would be Christmas Day and yet there was not one bough of fir or the smell of chestnuts roasting in the fire in this household.

Unbidden tears welled as she remembered a time so different. Memories of her mother and father. Laughter and singing. So long ago, and yet it felt as if it were only yesterday they had died. The day her world had changed forever.

Through the French doors, she spied the filtered sunlight splayed across the fields. It was the first warmth they’d felt for several days and Tess was in dire need of fresh air across her face, and wide open spaces to blow away troubling thoughts.

Gathering her cloak and a thick muff and scarf, she made for the door.

“May I come? May I?” Alexander called from the top of the stairs. He bounded down a few then suddenly jumped onto the handrail and slid down the remaining distance.

“Alexander!”

He hit the bottom with a gentle thump, bounced upright and dusted off his trews. “Aunt Mary says that Papa used to ride the rail when he was my age.”

“Really?”

“Unfortunately yes, and he has a scar on his temple to prove it.” A smiling Mary walked from the library to join them.

“Aunt Mary, you can come too.”

Uncertainty colored Mary’s expression and Alexander turned to Tess. “She has to come.”

“Of course she may.” She and Mary had had several walks over the last few days, but while Tess would have preferred to be on her own today, lost in her memories of what could have been, it wasn’t to be. Half an hour later they walked along the riverbank. Alexander charged ahead with the enthusiasm of the young. It was a pleasant enough way to spend an afternoon, but as they followed Alexander, Mary became pensive.

Tess cast her several glances but her sister-in-law remained silent. “Is there a problem, Mary?” she finally asked. “You’ve been so well lately.”

Mary stopped walking and reached for Tess’s hands. “I do so enjoy our walks. I feel that here out in the open, where there are no walls and restrictions, no whispers, I can talk freely. I can think and plan.”

Tess understood that, didn’t she feel the same? Planning her escape. Wondering if she should, would, or even could, leave this home now—now it had become hers.

Mary hesitated, glancing left and right as if she expected someone to rush out at them. “I…have a confession to make.”

“A confession.” That certainly wasn’t what Tess expected to hear.

“Yes. I’ve been doing something rather risqué.”

“Oh, my goodness, that sounds intriguing.”

Mary’s laughter echoed across the snowy wasteland, delighting Tess. “It is. Oh Tess, it’s so much fun. I started after…well, after Florian left and the babe…” she said with a sad smile. “I needed to keep my mind off things and well, I’ve always liked to write.”

“To write?” Write what?

“It started out as just scribbles. I was watching life from afar, too scared to…well, you understand.”

Tess squeezed Mary’s hands for reassurance. “I do. But what is this thing you do that is so secret?”

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Who?” Tess frowned. Had Mary had a relapse, her mind wandering from the trauma?

“Mirabelle, of course.”

“Mira…Mirabelle.” Sudden shock jettisoned through Tess. “You mean Mirabelle’s Musings? Writing?
You
are Mirabelle!”

“Yes. Yes. She is me. Well, I am her. Whatever. But, oh, Tess, it is so much fun.” Mary glanced in the direction of Charnley. “You won’t tell Aiden, will you? I do not think he’d approve. He’s such a grump lately.”

“He has a lot on his mind.”

“I know, but I do think it best he not know, though when I saw you reading Mirabelle I finally decided I could tell you.”

Tess drew Mary into her arms, hugging her. “I’m so pleased, Mary. And you do not need to worry about Aiden. I won’t say a word. Sometimes it’s best for women to have an air of mystery about them, don’t you think?”

“Oh, dear Tess. Thank you. I knew I could rely on you. It’s my little world really and at times it was all I had that kept me sane.”

“But now you are healed.”

“Yes,” she said with a relaxed smile, “I do believe I am. I feel I can move forward at last.”

They stood beneath a towering oak, its branches arched under the heavy burden of snowfall. A gentle gust of wind whipped around them, sending a flurry of snowdrops to flutter down.

“Mary, before we go inside, and well, since it is time for secrets, there is something I must ask.”

“You have a secret?”

Oh yes, she did.

Her lips formed a tight smile. “It is Aiden,” she said, “and Alexander.”

The light in Mary’s eyes dimmed, replaced with sadness. “Oh, I see.”

“The child loves him, craves his father’s attention, but Aiden seems intent on pushing him away. Oh, perhaps not physically, but with words. He has no time for his son.”

“You know Aiden was married before.”

“I gathered as much, but he hasn’t mentioned her.”

“That’s because she broke his heart. Lillian was beautiful. The belle of any ball, and when she smiled, it was as if the whole world smiled with her. She melted Aiden’s heart, and broke it.”

This wasn’t what Tess expected to hear, and now she wasn’t sure she wanted to know more.

“Then he was shipped off to the Peninsula and when he came home Lillian was with child.”

“But surely that would have been a blessing after such a brutal time at the front?”

“No, you don’t understand.” Mary shook her head. “Oh, I really should not speak of this.”

Tess reached for her sister-in-law’s hands. “Please, Mary. I need to know. Alexander is such a sweet child and deserves a father’s love. My father died and I miss him so dreadfully. I still remember his love, his smiles, and the time we spent together. Those memories are precious, surely Alexander deserves as much.”

“Aye, he is a sweet child, which just goes to show that it is not all about who his mother was.”

“His mother?”

“Lillian may have been beautiful, but she was a witch. Her temper renowned. Many a time she would throw things at the staff. But Aiden didn’t see this. He saw her beauty, for she surely bewitched him as if she cast a spell on him.” With a heavy sigh, Mary lifted her sad eyes to Tess. “Lillian was with child, as I said, she was due a few days after Aiden returned. He was so happy to get back—alive at least—and so were the rest of us—except Lillian.”

“Good grief, why not?”

“Lillian was…was carrying another man’s babe.

Tess gasped and slapped a hand to her mouth. “Dear God. No.”

“Unfortunately. Aiden had been gone for more than ten months. The child could not have been his. Aiden was distraught. The woman he had placed on a pedestal had betrayed him.”

Was it no wonder he didn’t trust—especially her—since she had resorted to blackmail! “You won’t tell him I have told you this, will you? Aiden is an intensely private man. He feels his pain deeply.”

The words were on her tongue, before she asked. “Does he still love her?”

“I don’t know, though it would be no use, for she died giving birth to his son.”

His son—but not of his making.