Unmasked (28 page)

“I feel strange,” she said, “and that is not entirely due to the brandy.”

Nick laughed. “I will go,” he said. “But I will be back tomorrow, and I will not have changed my mind.” He paused. “One word from you, though,” he said, “will silence me on this subject forever and I will leave you in peace.”

Mari looked at him. Now was the moment to speak, to tell him that she could give him no hope, that the odds were stacked against them, that she was too afraid to take the risk of loving him. She looked at him and saw the steadfastness in his dark eyes and felt her stomach melt with a mixture of longing and fear.

“I will think about it,” she whispered, and saw the light leap in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. He kissed her again, a hard kiss of masculine satisfaction and demand and desire that had her head spinning once again. She was glad that she was lying down.

There was a knock at the door, it opened a crack and there was a muffled squeak from the other side.

“Lord ’a mercy!” Jane said, as they broke apart. “Have you not persuaded her yet, sir?”

“No,” Nick said, standing up and reaching for his shirt, “but I will do, Jane.” He smiled at Mari and her heart turned over.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he said, and once again it felt like a promise.

“I
HEAR
,”
Josie said, slapping a huge plate of bacon and eggs down in front of Nick in the parlor of Half Moon House, “that you have proposed to Mrs. Osborne.”

Nick looked up, somewhat startled. The landlady was standing next to the table, blocking out the light. Her hands were resting menacingly on her hips and behind her he could see Lenny standing by the bar polishing a glass with the violent intention of a man who was about to smash it and use it as a weapon. Nick cleared his throat. Suddenly his appetite for breakfast had fled and he regretted the impulse that had led him to choose Half Moon House for his accommodation over The King’s Head.

“Yes,” he said, meeting Josie’s furious glare. “Yes, I have.”

The landlady’s frown deepened. “You should watch yourself,” she said. “What would you want to do a thing like that for, now?”

Nick looked at her. He had guessed by now that Josie and Lenny, along with Laura Cole and Hester Teague and a great many other people, were extremely protective of Mari and he realized that nothing but the absolute truth would do now unless he wanted to leave Half Moon House on his ear.

“Well,” he said, pushing the plate away, “I love her. I love her and I want to be with her and protect her and care for her.”

He heard the clink as Lenny put the glass down and started to move toward him and braced himself. Then Josie’s face split into a huge smile that was possibly more frightening than her glare had been, and she slapped him on the back, driving all the breath from his body.

“Damn me, but he means it, Lenny,” she crowed. “Major Falconer has fallen in love with little Mrs. O.”

“Better see he looks after her properly then,” Lenny said. He was not smiling, but Nick thought that perhaps that was too much to ask.

“I will,” he said, “if she will give me the chance.”

Josie gave a massive sigh. “Know what you mean. Proper stubborn, is Mrs. O.”

“Strong-willed, independent, slow to trust,” Lenny said lugubriously.

“And who can blame her,” Josie said. “Most men are bastards, begging your pardon, Major Falconer, and no offense, Lenny.”

“Tell you what you need to do,” Lenny offered, sliding onto the seat opposite Nick and resting his elbows on the table. “You need to woo her. Bring her flowers and the like.” He frowned. “Well, not flowers, maybe—she’s got plenty of those. But gifts and trinkets—show you care. Court her.”

“Lenny, you old romantic!” Josie said admiringly. She dropped a heavy hand on Nick’s shoulder and he sank a little in his seat. “More bacon, Major Falconer? You’ll need your strength now.”

“Thank you,” Nick said, recognizing this for the sign of approval it surely was. “Thank you very much.”

“Y
OU KNOW WHAT
Major Falconer is doing, of course,” Hester said. She was brown and glowing with newly wed happiness. She and Mari were sitting on the terrace at Peacock Cottage, drinking homemade lemonade as they watched the sun sink below the line of the fells. August had given way to September now and there was the faintest nip of autumn in the air.

“He is courting you, Mari.” Hester smiled. “I think Lenny has been giving him hints! Can you imagine Lenny doing that? It’s priceless that he and Major Falconer are now such good friends…” She paused, took a sip of lemonade. “Anyway, he brings you presents—I saw that beautiful little watercolor that he purchased for you in Skipton—and he is even trying to teach you to ride. That shows true devotion.” She laughed, reaching for a biscuit from the tray. “Is he a better teacher than me?”

“He is certainly more patient,” Mari said, with a smile.

“I never was any good at the theory,” Hester admitted. “Just like with love.” She stretched. “Now the practice is another matter—”

“Don’t tell me!” Mari besought. “Although I am glad that you are happy.”

“Very, very happy,” Hester said. She yawned. “So when are you going to agree to marry him?”

Mari felt a slight chill and drew her shawl closer around her shoulders. “I do not know,” she said. “There are difficulties….”

“Pish,” Hester said, her eyes bright. “He loves you. You spend all your time together. What difficulties can there be that cannot be overcome?”

Mari bit her lip. “Perhaps you are right. And it is true that we spend a great deal of time together.” She sighed. “But there are plenty of things that we do not discuss, Hes. Nicholas never talks about his wife. And though I love him, I have grave doubts about marrying him. I have only just found my freedom again. Am I to give it all away in marriage?”

Hester laughed. “Marriage is not slavery!”

“Surely that depends upon the husband,” Mari said. She smiled reluctantly. “I do not know, Hes. The money is his by rights, of course. It is not that which concerns me. But my liberty is another matter.”

Hester nodded slowly. “I cannot pretend to understand, Mari, but I do know that you must do what feels right.”

A frown furrowed Mari’s brow. “Nick’s furlough is due to end soon,” she said. “I fear I cannot expect him to wait for my decision forever. Each day I almost expect him to tell me that he is leaving. He has promised to visit his family in Scotland before he goes back, and—”

“Mari,” Hester said, putting out a hand to quell the tumbling flow of words. “Major Falconer is probably not a patient man by nature but he is showing the most tremendous patience with you. He will not rush your decision. I dare swear,” she added, “that he has not even kissed you.”

Mari blushed. “What has that to do with anything?” she demanded. She felt annoyed that Hester had guessed so accurately. “And anyway, how do you know?” Each day she had waited, filled with anticipation and a strange kind of hunger that had grown sharper all the time. Nick had kissed her on the night that he had proposed, but since then he had barely touched her. Each day, as he had ridden away, her disappointment, frustration and puzzlement had grown. She felt that they were growing close now, matching the physical awareness that flared between the two of them with an emotional intimacy that was entirely new to her and was very, very appealing. So why did he hold back? The riding lessons made matters worse, for whenever he would throw her up into the saddle or lift her down, whenever he leaned over to show her how to hold the reins or to demonstrate the way to shift her balance in the saddle, his body would brush hers, or his thigh would press against her briefly or he would touch her hand impersonally before he moved away and resumed an entirely proper distance. It was driving her mad.

“It has everything to do with everything,” Hester said calmly, helping herself to another biscuit. “It shows remarkable respect for you, Mari, and even more remarkable restraint.” She looked at Mari with amused exasperation. “Mari, this is a man who is all that is honorable, who knows what you have experienced in the past. He is hardly going to pounce on you like a callow youth or try to sway your decision with physical intimacy. All the same,” she added thoughtfully, taking a bite of the biscuit, “I’ll wager he has already bought a special license. He wants you, Mari, body and soul, and I don’t think he intends to let you go.”

Mari shivered, as though a shadow had crossed the sun.

“What is it?” Hester asked. “What have I said?”

“It’s nothing,” Mari said. She was remembering the night in the Star House when Nick had told her that he wanted to possess all of her, claim her body and soul. She had seen his passion then and it had burned her, shaken her to the core. Since then, apart from on the night he had proposed, he had kept his desire hidden from her, banked down, waiting. But she knew that if she loved him and gave herself up to his loving, she could keep nothing back. She would be giving a part of herself away. Could she do that when she had only just found her true liberty? She did not know.

“It’s nothing,” she said again, turning away from Hester’s concern. “Nothing at all.”

T
HE
S
EPTEMBER
days crept past and autumn began to close in. In the garden the green of the leaves was tinged with bronze and gold, and the purple heads of the Michaelmas daisies flaunted amongst the late flowering roses. By now Mari’s riding skills had improved so dramatically that she and Nick had taken to riding out together each day and on a dry sunlit day in mid-September they took a picnic to the ruins of Bolton Abbey.

Nick smiled inwardly as he watched Mari in the saddle. She would probably never be a natural horsewoman but she did seem to take pleasure from the ride and at least she no longer looked as though she was going to topple off backward from the sidesaddle. He had been as slow and persevering in tutoring her as he had been patient in awaiting her answer to his proposal, and at times he had thought that both would be the death of him.

There had been many occasions when she had been close to him over the past few weeks and her proximity had put a severe strain on his self-control. There had been the times when her face had been tilted up to his and her full lips, so unconsciously sensuous, had curved in a smile that had brought a tiny dimple to her cheek. There had been the times when her body had grazed his as he had helped her up into the saddle or lifted her down. Her scent had wrapped itself around his senses, the cool, slightly husky sound of her voice had stirred him, her laughter had warmed him. He wondered if it were possible to love her more than he already did and thought probably not. He wanted to spend his life with her. He wanted to
claim
her publicly, formally, officially as his wife. And he wanted to claim her privately, passionately, perfectly as his own. His body ached with the frustration of denial. He was in an almost permanent state of near arousal when he was close to her and today the cool, clear water of the river beckoned temptingly to him as a way to soothe away that frustration, if only for a little while.

Today, however, there was also something very important that he had to say to Mari before any of those physical discomforts could be addressed and Nick was disturbingly aware that if he got this wrong, there would probably be no future satisfaction for him anyway, of any sort. There was something he had not told Mari and his guilt gave him no peace. He had to tell her about Anna.

They had chosen a spot beneath a spreading oak tree at the side of the river and he had laid out a blanket on the ground for them. Mari sat down, neat in her blue gown, and started to unpack the picnic.

“We have gammon,” she said, peering into the basket, “and fresh bread and cheese and game pie and apples and lemonade.” She looked up, smiling at him. “I do believe that Jane must like you a little these days, Nicholas, to give us such a fine meal—”

“I’d like to tell you about Anna,” Nick said abruptly. He picked up a stick; snapped it between his hands. He was already aware that this was not quite how he had intended to broach the subject but he seemed powerless to do this with his usual confidence.

Mari’s hands stilled in her lap. “Of course,” she said.

Nick looked at her. Her eyes were scared and he suddenly realized that she was afraid of what he was going to say.

“Mari,” he said, wrenched by tenderness.

She shook her head, confused, and put out a hand to ward him off when he would have reached for her. “Tell me,” she said.

Nick threw the broken stick in the river and watched it bob away downstream.

“I loved Anna,” he said, after a moment. “I loved her but I was not very good at caring for her.” He looked up and saw that Mari was watching him intently. He tried to explain.

“We were betrothed almost from the cradle and we married when I was one and twenty. I think—” he had thought about it a great deal “—that because Anna had always been there I did not really see her properly. I…I took her presence for granted and although I loved her with a deep affection I was not in love with her.” He was talking quickly now, uncovering things that he had never told anyone before, things he had never thought to speak of. “For most of our marriage we were apart. I was away in the army and Anna stayed at home.”

Mari’s beautiful dark eyes opened wider in surprise. “Anna did not travel with you?”

“No.” Nick shook his head. “She was…delicate.” He took a breath, deliberately exposed the harsh truth. “I did not want her with me. Not because I did not care for her but because I knew she would crumple beneath the strain. It seemed better for her to stay with her parents.” Little had really changed for him on his marriage, he thought. It was almost as though he and Anna had not really been married at all.

“She wrote to me each week,” he said. “And I was glad when I saw her. I did love her.” Almost he felt as though he had to prove it. “But I loved her tenderly, with none of the passion I felt the moment I saw you.”