A Companion for Life (24 page)

“Ei!” His free hand gently untied the bow of
her cap and lifted it off. It landed forgotten in his nearby chair.
“And this temperamental creature on your head…” He ran his fingers
over her cropped hair.

“Why?”

“Do you remember that time I came to call on
Rosamund and it was four hours until she was ready to receive me? I
chased you through the gardens and out into the deer park. You made
me laugh ‘til my sides ached with the most outlandish list of
possible reasons why Rosamund was making me wait again and then you
started throwing leaves at me. I have this mental image of you in
green, your orange hair flowing free around your hips like a living
cloak in a shower of leaves. I’ll never forget the look on your
face when I found a pretty leaf and gave it to you. Your gratitude
was exquisite, as if I’d given you orange diamonds set in gold.
That’s why I love you. You appreciate even the most insignificant
kindness and that makes me feel…blissfully content.”

“I loved that leaf. Rosamund found me looking
at it and threw it in the fire. She knew you’d given it to me. She
knew I loved you; that’s why she made me come beg you to be her
mistress.”

“She was a buwch, but I’m glad she sent you.”
His free hand caressed her earlobe and then slid down her neck and
over her collarbone to the first button on her dressing gown. “And
I’m glad you accepted my impudent marriage proposal.” The top
button undone his hand slid on to the second one. “That was very
wicked of me to tease you and let you think I was going to hire
you.” His hand slid on to the next button. “To be honest I was
afraid if I barged into your chamber waving the wedding license
you’d reject me. My original plan was to get you in the carriage by
letting you think I was going to hire you and then drag you to the
church altar where I hoped you’d be so dazed by the prospect of
marrying me that you’d say yes, but when I stepped into your room
you looked so cold and miserable I didn’t think you’d survive much
more dazing.” He finished undoing the last button and slid his arm
under the robe. Lily blushed as his warm hand blindly admired her
curves through thin silk. “That night you knocked on my door, I was
sitting up with my last pipe wishing I was in bed holding you in my
arms. Cariadon, that was supposed to make you blush not cry…”

“I’m sorry Mr Bowen…sniff…I can’t help it.
I’m happy!” She carefully pressed her wet eyes against his
shoulder, well away from the bruise on his chest.

“
I think we can dispense the use of formal
address in private don’t you Beloved?”

The words whispered in her ear were followed
by warm adoring lips sending gooseflesh down the right side of her
body. “I’m going to wake up and find this was all a magical dream.
I’ll open my eyes and find Rosamund leaning over me waiting to slap
me as soon as I open my eyes.”

“No, no, no…you’re going to wake up safe in
my arms and then we’re going to fly away together…as soon as you
return my stolen feathers.” The words were perfectly serious. “That
was very clever of you to take only three…much easier to hide.”

Lily lifted her head off his shoulder. “How
do you know I have them?”

His wandering hand slid around her waist and
pulled her close as he leaned forward taunting her with lips just
out of reach. “Because I long for you, more than the sky.”

Lily sniffed away her tears as she stared
mesmerized into dark eyes adoring eyes. “I’ll tell you where I hid
them…if you kiss me.”

He stared into her eyes as if she wasn’t
already mesmerized before gracefully bowing his head with a smile
that made it impossible to think. “Yr wyf fi’n eich caru chi.” The
husky words
cast a spell on her heart, swelling it to
bursting.

A
soft groan rumbled through her parted lips and followed one
of his hands down her spine.
Wrapping her arms around his
neck she could feel them transforming into wings as he pulled her
closer to keep her from floating away. She could hear echoes of Mr
Bowen laughing as he chased her through her father’s deer park and
then the smell of damp leaves as she was showered in shades of
gold, red and green. She could feel his ragged breath on her lips
as his dark eyes smouldered like coal. “Where are my feathers?”

Her eyes were drawn towards the bed. “In the
mattress.”

“Clever; hiding feathers in a feather
mattress. That reminds me of a song…”

She sighed with pleasure as he stared into
her eyes and then the high ceiling echoed the sound of a heartfelt
baritone braying Welsh like a lovesick ram for his beloved ewe
trapped out of reach in another field. She convulsed with laughter
until tears gushed from her eyes into white linen as arms held her
close. Several minutes later she caught her breath and sighed with
pleasure as the braying became a cheerful deep humming in her ear.
“Penryth?”

“Yes Cariadon?”

She tried to blink back her tears, but they
slid down her cheeks enlarging the wet patch on his nightshirt.
“That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”

“
If you enjoy my vile singing you’re sure
to find my other talents, which I’ve studiously developed, even
more enchanting.” His smile hovered above her and then softly
settled on her lips to silently convey his appreciation.

Three weeks later at Lady Gillingham’s London
town house

Lady Gillingham was at her dressing table
having her hair done when she was informed that a male caller, a Mr
Penryth Bowen was requesting a private interview. She admired
herself in the mirror as she smirked in triumph. Her boot boy had
learned from Mr Bowen’s boot boy that the fat Mrs Bowen had indeed
been attacked by the stupid William and had her long orange wool
sawed off. The fact William had fallen over and hit his head and
couldn’t remember anything prior to waking was an unexpected piece
of good luck. It meant she was safe from Mr Bowen’s wrath. Her old
lover could hardly blame her for the antics of his drunken nephew.
He was probably calling to beg her to take him back after finding
his wife’s over voluptuous charms unwieldy. “Tell Mr Bowen he may
have five minutes.” She’d ensure his disappointment was heightened
by a glimpse of what he’d rejected for a whale. The familiar
footsteps were neither eager nor reticent. If he thought she’d
change her mind he’d be rudely disappointed. The thought made her
smile with pleasure as he was shown into her dressing room. “Return
in five minutes Millie; leave the door ajar.” The maid curtsied and
obeyed her mistress. “You wished to see me Mr Bowen? This is
unexpected. I thought you’d still be honeymooning…” She lowered her
voice, “…or have you found that bedding a whale isn’t as
pleasurable or easy as you hoped?”

“Good morning Lady Gillingham, Mrs Bowen
sends her compliments.”

“Does she? Well that’s very thoughtful of Mrs
Bowen I’m sure. Not every wife would be so understanding of a man’s
needs, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go unfulfilled Mr Bowen. I’d
rather sail to India then touch you.”

“Your husband may miss you, but I certainly
don’t. I merely called to give you a gift. Think of it as a
souvenir of our spent mutual pleasure.” The handsome man took a
long flat jewelry case out of his coat pocket and set it before her
on the dressing table. She met his eyes in the mirror over the
reflection of her shoulder. His face was an unreadable mask. “Mrs
Bowen picked them out. She tried to dissuade me of course, but I
was determined and after a few kisses she relented. It’s quite
pleasurable being loved by one’s wife; one of the most pleasurable
sensations I’ve ever known.”

“How nice for you. Your wife must be mad to
willingly choose a gift for your old lover. I won’t be surprised to
hear your children all end up in an attic.”

“Perhaps you should open it before you
question Mrs Bowen’s sanity. They were quite expensive. She
insisted on spending more than I intended, but then she is by
nature a generous soul.”

“She’s certainly generously proportioned. You
must be so proud to have finally married a Leigh. It took you
nearly twenty years…to think I was just a small child when you
failed your first attempt. Better late then never…”

“Yes, I should have married Lily years ago. I
could have been happy, but instead I was rolling about with
heartless jades who took my every kindness for granted. That was
rather stupid of me.”

Lady Gillingham gave the man in the mirror
her most disdainful expression before picking up the case. Opening
it she found a pair of silver scissors inlaid with swirls of gold.
“You bought me a pair of scissors? How thoughtful…” Her sarcastic
tone was matched by her look of disdain. “…you know I live for
needlework.”

“I didn’t say they were intended for
needlework. You will have heard that your scheme was
successful.”

“What scheme would that be?”

“Your scheme to convince William to cut off
my wife’s hair.”

“I did hear something about that, but if your
stupid nephew comes home drunk and attacks your wife with a
penknife it’s nothing to do with me.”

“No? He was mumbling your name. He stank of
your love nest.”

“Of course he did. He spent the night there
sleeping off however many bottles of port he poured down his
throat. A friend of mind sent me a note saying your nephew was
trying to find someone who’d accept his heart as collateral in a
game of dice. He was making a complete ass of himself. You should
thank me for rescuing him. You can’t blame me if he woke up, drank
all my port and then attacked your wife in a fit of insanity.”

“No? While attacking my wife, William was
mumbling that Lily was a witch, that she’d enchanted me. He said he
was going to save me by cutting off her hair…he kept swearing by
your breasts that he’d save me and win back Grace. I’ll wager you
smiled when you heard you’d succeeded. You’re smiling now.”

“Why shouldn’t I smile? It’s a beautiful day
and you’re weaving the most ridiculous story. I had no idea you
were so creative.” She tossed her head and laughed in amusement as
the man’s mask cracked showing anger. “Poor Penryth, his whale has
lost her hair and now she looks like a fat nun. Some men would find
that titillating…”

“If I’d been held up in traffic another ten
minutes my wife would have died of fright. She was insensible and
as cold as a corpse when I found her covered with blood.”

“How unlucky, her death would have saved you
a fortune in food bills.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes as he reached
over her and picked up the small clock sitting among her pots of
paint, ribbons and hair pins and plonked it down directly in front
of her. “You have five minutes to cut off your hair. If you fail to
crop it to at least two inches within that time I’ll be sending an
anonymous letter to your husband detailing your unwifely activities
along with a list of known and possible lovers. I’ve included
myself of course. If your husband wishes me to testify in divorce
court I will happily do so. I’ll be sure to mention that one of
your breasts is larger than the other to ensure the jury knows we
really were intimate.” She stared in horror at the smiling face in
the mirror. “I’d start cutting if I were you Melisande. There’s a
chance Gillingham might be dead, but what if he’s hale and hearty?
I’ve already written the letter. It’s on my desk ready to be sent.
You may only have less than five minutes between you and
divorce…cut, cut, cut…”

“I hate you!”

“You’ll hate me more if I send that letter;
snip, snip, cut, cut.”

“You’ll regret this!”

“I don’t think so. If anything happens to my
family, anything that I think you might have schemed…I’ll publish
the letter in Gentleman’s Magazine and you’ll be ruined.” The
smiling man in the mirror crossed his arms and raised a single
eyebrow.

“Gillingham will call you out…he’ll kill
you!”

“Perhaps…perhaps he’ll kill you and end up
swinging from the gallows. Start cutting!”

“
I don’t know what I ever saw in you…you
stinking Welsh turd.” She picked up the scissors, grabbed a handful
of her hair and started savaging her crowning glory. Penryth Bowen
was notorious for being exact in his word. If he said he’d send the
letter, he would. She stared at the hair in her hand and felt the
blood drain from her face.

“If you faint and fail to cut it off in time
I will post the letter; you have just under three minutes.” His
eyes were smiling with cold amusement as he watched her savage her
own hair. “You missed several strands at the back…half a
minute…pity…the last lock snipped off just in time. Well, at least
if you get nits they’ll be easy to comb out.” Lady Gillingham sat
there staring at the awful sight of her long chestnut brown hair
cropped to a short jagged rug. There was blood trickling down her
forehead where she’d stabbed herself in her haste. The man behind
her leaned towards her and whispered. “You were right; I do love my
wife.” She screamed in fury and threw the scissors at her old
lover, but missed. His parting gift smacked the wall and fell to
the floor as she raced to find a cap to cover her head and burn her
hair. If the servants talked…if anyone guessed her cropped hair had
anything to do with Penryth Bowen she’d be ruined.

…

Lily was alone at the breakfast table when
her smiling husband returned home with a suspicious bulge in his
coat pocket and a spring in his step. Humming a cheerful tune, he
draped himself over her chair and whispered in her ear, “Good
morning Beloved.”

“Good morning Mr Bowen…” She raised her lips
and was rewarded with an adoring kiss that made her forget what
she’d intended to say. “…you’re looking very handsome.”

“That’s because I’ve been thinking of
you.”

“Thinking of me can’t make your legs more
beautiful Mr Bowen, I’m afraid that honor goes to your tailor.”