To Protect and to Cherish (7 page)

             
He took her hands, “Then I will tell them I found the woman best suited to me. There can be no argument from them.”

             
Jillian’s heart beat hard against her rib cage. She felt the warmth of his hand spread to the rest of her being.

             
“Are you convinced?” he pulled her a bit closer, his voice dropping an octave.

             
“I . . .I think I am,” she whispered.

             
He brought her fingers slowly to his lips and brushed a soft kiss there, his eyes never leaving hers.

             
The wedding was three days later. Her uncle was invited and came, but he did not speak to her. She was unsurprised by the first and grateful for the latter.

             
“I would like to take you on a proper honeymoon,” Slade informed her as they travelled back to his home, “but the harvest is a difficult time to get away.”

             
She did not look at him, keeping her eyes, instead, on their joined hands, “I believe waiting is a good idea,” she swallowed before continuing, “Perhaps it would be best to get to know each other in brief moments during your normal life. It would be difficult to embark on a long journey with someone you hardly knew.”

             
“Jillian,” it was only the second time he had called her thus, “I am not going to pressure you to do that which is . . . uncomfortable.”

             
The sincerity in his voice caused her to look up.

             
“We will get to know each other during the next few weeks and months. It will be our courting period.”

             
She laughed softly, “I think we have it backward.”

             
“Perhaps,” he squeezed her fingers gently, “but it is too late to change that now.”

             
She looked up at his face and wondered how she had been so blessed to have had this man find her.

             
“Slade,” she forced herself to use his Christian name, “I do not believe I ever thanked you for your great kindness.”

             
“In taking you to Banbury? You did.”

             
She laughed, “Not that,” she turned serious. “I think you saved my life.”

             
He regarded her with an appearance of something that looked like regret, “I believe I was the one that endangered it, Jillian. I could do nothing else.”

             
Jillian opened her mouth to tell him yet again that her uncle’s behavior had nothing to do with him, but he stopped her.

             
“Truthfully, I could not stop thinking of you. I did not believe you had come from trade roots – that you had grown up among shopkeepers.”

             
A frown puckered her forehead, “I think I am offended. I tried very hard to do my part and learn the trade.”

             
He chuckled, “And I am certain you did very well, my love, but your speech was too perfect and your bearing too elegant for one who had not received training.”

             
Jillian got stuck on his use of the endearment her father called her mother.

             
They rode in silence for some time.

             
“Are you upset with me, Jillian?”

             
“No, Lord Ashley.”

             
He laughed, “Do you plan to call me thus while we are alone?”

             
She smiled, a bit embarrassed to have been caught out, “My tongue slipped.”

             
The carriage rounded the corner and Jillian got her first view of the house.

             
She put a hand to her mouth, “It is lovely, your grace.”

             
He leaned closer to her, “I do believe that is worse than ‘Lord Ashley.’”

             
She bit her lip.

             
“I am glad you like the prospect, milady,” the teasing continued.

             
“This would be a lovely walk,” she commented.

             
He instantly rapped on the ceiling, causing her to look at him in slight alarm.

             
“I was not implying we should do so now.”

             
“What better time than now? You may enjoy the view gradually and fully as you come to see your new home for the first time.”

             
She allowed him to help her out.

             
“Thank you so much,” she took his arm and walked with him down the drive. “I hope you are not too tired from the events of the day.”

             
“I believe it is the bride’s prerogative to determine how difficult the day has been. If I am being honest, however. . .?”

             
“Please,” she urged, “nothing but.”

             
“I have tired only of sitting still – or standing still – all day long. This opportunity to stretch and walk out some of the kinks is quite refreshing.”

             
Jillian rewarded his gracious and honest answer with a smile that stretched nearly across her face.

             
“You really are quite lovely, Jillian,” he stopped to look down at her.

             
She could feel the heat creeping up her face, “Thank you. I always thought my eyes too big for my face. I am happy to know you do not think so.”

             
He smiled and reached a hand up to caress her cheek, “Not at all.”

             
Jillian’s heart picked up its already frantic pace. She wondered a moment if he was going to kiss her. He had never done so before, and she was unsure about how she felt about the possibility.

             
He dropped his hand and resumed walking.

             
Eager to find a conversation to fill the electric silence, Jillian lit upon the first topic she could find, “The p –pond,” she stammered and then cleared her throat to start again, “the pond is quite prettily situated. Was it naturally formed, or did someone dig it?”

“
It has been there for nearly fifty years,” Slade pointed to a gentle hill the opposite shore, “but my grandfather formed it. Apparently, the area was constantly flooding despite his efforts to tile or trench. He finally built up that side to make it appear intentional.”

Jillian smiled at the laughter in Slade’s voice, “It is a beautiful scene,
however it came about.”

Slade led her gently to the other side of the path, “There is another pond over on that side. As far as I know, that one was put in place by God.”

The area he indicated looked more like a marsh than a pond.

“I am sure it has its own beauty,” she didn’t want to offend him, “but it certainly does not draw the eye like the first.”

He chuckled, “I never thought it was much to look at either, but it is home to more wildlife.”

Jillian could appreciate the need for such a place, but she was not inclined to get a closer look.

“It is also home to more insects. It is not a pleasant place for a stroll.”

She smiled up at him, “I will keep that in mind if ever I am having difficulty choosing between the two.”

              He chuckled, “If you find yourself in need of more walking paths, there is a glade on the north side of the house and a trout stream.”

             
Jillian bit her lip, her mind drawn back to former years.

             
He must have noticed, “What is it?”

             
“My father used to take me trout fishing. We rode our horses and brought along sandwiches,” she swallowed a lump at the memory.

             
“Do you still ride?”

             
Jillian shook her head, “I haven’t in years.”

             
He stopped, “But you would like to?”

             
She recognized the anticipation in his eyes.

             
“I would like to.”

             
His grin split his face and lit his eyes, “Excellent. My sister cannot stand the sport, so I was afraid to ask.”

             
Jillian listened to him as he described the animals in his stable that would be appropriate for a lady.

As pleased as Jillian was with the
path and the discussion, she was still grateful to arrive at the house.

“Perhaps I should apologize for not warning you how long the approach is,” he must have felt her leaning more heavily on his arm as they walked in the grand entrance.

She stood upright and dropped her hand, “In my enthusiasm, I underestimated it,” she smiled as she looked at the formation of servants in the hall.

“Lady Jillian,” he addressed her formally, “I would like to present
Mr. Harold Tellem, my steward.”

Jillian greeted each staff member as he introduced them, pleased that each seemed to be eying her with openness and curiosity rather than with a critical eye.

“Shall I show her ladyship to her chambers?” the housekeeper, asked Slade.

He surprised Jillian by refusing, “Thank you Mrs. Bailey, but I choose to keep that honor for myself.”

Jillian allowed him to lead her up the grand staircase and down the corridor.

“I can feel your hand tensing on my arm, Jillian,” he whispered as they approached what appeared to be the master suite.

She forced herself to relax her grip.

He opened the door and led her into the sitting room.

“Please, have a seat,” he waited for her to choose a chair before sitting across from her.

“The master chamber is beyond those doors,” he pointed behind her. “Your room is through these doors.”

She wondered if he remembered he was not going to pressure her.

“I believe Erin is in your room.”

She nodded, unable to stop the clenching of her jaw.

“I meant what I said, Jillian. I will not be asking you to join me nor will I disturb you in your chamber.”

She tried not to sigh in relief.

He recognized it, though. He grinned, “If you are concerned, I could give you the keys. You could lock your door every night.”

She slumped a little, “I am sorry I doubted you.”

He took her hand, “You barely know me. You will get to know me and, I hope, to trust me.”

She lay a second hand over the first, “Thank you, Slade.”

He rose and pulled her gently to her feet, “If it is agreeable to you, dinner is to be served at seven.”

She nodded.

“Shall I
meet you here and walk down with you?”

She nodded again.

He turned and went into his own chambers, closing the door softly after himself.

Conversation at dinner was only a little awkward. Jillian was still nervous in the presence of her new husband. He was not wishing to push her.

However, once the bride remembered that they shared a passion for horses, she was able to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

“Amy – that is, I should say, Lady Geary – said she does not enjoy riding. I am surprised with the stables you have available that she did not acquire the love as you did.”

Slade smiled, “I am aware of my sister’s name, Jillian, and it does not offend me to hear her called by it.”

She blushed, “I’m sorry. I was afraid you would think me forward.”

He ignored that and addressed her earlier comment, “Amy had other interests. She enjoyed it well enough as a child, but when Mother insisted on a side saddle, she gave it up.”

Jillian chewed the inside of her ch
eek, looking down at her plate, “When was that?” she could feel her cheeks warming, “that she quit, I mean.”

He swallowed his bite, “About ten or so, I suppose.
Whenever it is that young ladies begin to ride that way.”

Perhaps she should not tell him. She wished she had thought to discuss this more fully with Amy.

When Jillian realized Slade had gone silent, she glanced up at him.

His mouth was quirked into a half smile that made her heart do a flip.

“What?” she wondered what was causing him to look at her that way.

“You said you rode when you were younger – does that mean you
rode. . . did you use a side saddle, Jillian?”

She was surprised by how quickly he had understood the reason for her discomfort.

“No,” she sighed. “I never did.”