Anne Barbour (18 page)

Claudia eyed him dubiously, but not nearly as dubiously as did the Pelican’s host. This burly individual gave them a look that indicated his lack of confidence in them as he ushered them to a table in the coffee room, and Claudia was surprised that he did not ask to see the color of their money before showing them the color of his mutton.

During a hearty luncheon of lamb cutlets, peas, and roasted potatoes, accompanied by a very respectable claret, Jem regaled her with stories of his adventures in London. She felt he glossed over a great deal of the unhappiness he must have suffered, for his stories were lightly entertaining tales of assorted interesting characters he had known, or of outwitting various persons in authority and assorted villains.

When they prepared to leave, Jem was happily able to pay not only for their meal, but to add a little something for the serving maid, who accepted his largesse with astonished thanks.

They parted outside the inn, each to accomplish a few small errands, and the sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon when they again met where Jem had left the gig in the market square.

They rode in silence for some minutes. Jem cast several surreptitious glances at Claudia, who appeared to be sunk in thought. “A penny for them,” he said at last in a light tone.

“What? Oh.” She assayed a not altogether successful laugh. “I was—looking into the future.”

“You do not seem pleased with what you saw there,” he said gently.

She made no reply, staring instead with great intensity at her fingertips, clasped tightly in her lap.

“It is not bleak, you know—your future. I believe you will be—good Lord!” His voice rose in consternation. “Don’t do that!”

For Claudia, to his horror—and no less to hers—had begun to weep. Once started, she was unable to stop, and tears poured from her in rivulets.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I d-don’t know what’s the matter with me. I know I’ve done the right thing—and you’ve been more than generous. It’s just that—”

Jem brought the gig to a halt at the side of the road and turned to her. After a moment of ineffectual patting and shushing, he placed an arm around her and drew her to him, oblivious to the curious stares of the few passersby on the road. He said nothing, merely clasping her tightly and stroking her hair.

After some minutes, her sobbing ceased, and after another short interval, she drew abruptly away from him. Gazing at him with drowned eyes, she tried to speak, but Jem lightly placed his fingers over her lips. From his pocket, he produced a clean handkerchief and applied it to her tearstained cheeks.

“Your reaction is only natural, you know,” he said gently. “You’ve been brave and good and, yes, even noble in relinquishing the home you love to a complete stranger. But”— having finished his mopping up, he handed the handkerchief to Claudia, who blew her nose prosaically—”it has been my experience that bravery and goodness and nobility eventually take their toll, and one begins to crack under the strain.”

She gave a watery chuckle. “I fear you are right, my lord.” She hiccupped away a few remaining sobs. “I don’t know what possessed me—I am not generally such a watering pot. I fear the fact finally sank home that I no longer own Ravencroft— that I shall live on sufferance on a tiny piece of it. It—it’s a very lowering thought,” she concluded, her last words muffled as she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes to prevent another freshet.

Jem pulled her hands away from her face and clasped them tightly in his own. His eyes as they gazed into hers, were like a morning sky, she thought irrelevantly, just before the sun appears to color the clouds.

 “Listen to me, Claudia. Just because you will not actually live in the house, as you used to, I want you to consider Ravencroft your home. I want you to move freely about the house—play the piano in the music room, if you wish. Read in the library, or any other room you choose. I hope you and your aunt will dine with me on a regular basis—for that is what will make it seem like home to me.”

Her eyes dropped before the intensity in his, and her heart, as it always seemed to do when she was close to him, began to beat violently. But she did not attempt to withdraw her hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know I’m being silly.” She lifted her gaze again. “I thank you for—”

He cut her off most effectively by leaning forward to brush his lips against hers. She stiffened in shock, but almost before she had time to realize what he had done, he released her hands. Grasping the reins once more, he slapped them smartly against the horse’s rump and the gig rattled into motion.

Jem chastised himself as the vehicle gathered speed. He had been as surprised by his action as had Claudia. Good God, what was the matter with him? He had never been the sort of man to be ruled by his emotions—indeed he had spent considerable time and effort in learning to keep his emotions under careful control. Yet, bringing his mouth to hers had been an almost involuntary action, like blinking in a sudden light. Well, he adjured himself severely, there would be no more such lapses. Claudia Carstairs was now his employee. A valued employee, but an employee nonetheless, who must be treated with the detached courtesy that such a situation called for. He turned to her, noting that her eyes were still wide and shocked.

“You have not told me,” he said, as though nothing untoward had just taken place, “how you happened to marry Emanuel Carstairs. I understand you were forced into it. You said something about a gambling debt?”

For a moment she simply stared at him. If it were not for the pounding of her pulse and the soft fire that his lips had left behind on hers, she might almost have thought the kiss had not taken place. She should have evinced more displeasure, she thought. She should have let his lordship know in no uncertain terms that she was not a lightskirt to be bussed like a wanton chambermaid. She opened her mouth to put her thoughts to action.

“Yes.” She listened in some surprise to the words that emerged from her lips. “My father, like yours, was an inveterate gambler. We lived in Newham, on the other side of Gloucester, but Father had a cousin living in Tetbury, which is not far from Little Marshdean. We were frequent visitors at his home, and that is where he met Emanuel.” She shivered. “I can still remember the way Emanuel used to look at me. I had never come up against pure evil before, but I found it in his gaze. His second wife had died a few months before, and I knew he was on the prowl for a replacement. He wanted children, you see, as well as ...” She shook herself.

“Emanuel soon had Father at his mercy, and, since I was at Father’s mercy, I soon found myself betrothed to a man whose very touch caused me to shudder in revulsion. I cried and cajoled and pled, all to no avail. My mother sympathized with my plight, but she was not a strong person. My sister thought my repugnance was the height of stupidity. Emanuel was even richer, or at least so we all thought, than Thomas. This is the standard she sets for a successful marriage, you see. She has never minded being bullied by Thomas as long as she has a nice house to live in, servants to do her bidding, and a little money doled out to her by her master to spend as she pleases.”

Jem’s expression was startled as he continued to observe Claudia closely.

“At any rate, despite all of my best efforts, I found myself standing at his side in front of the church altar, reciting my vows.” She drew a deep breath. “I guess the best thing to be said of the ensuing two years was that they were extremely unpleasant. Without the stables to manage, I think I would have lost my mind.”

“And yet,” said Jem carefully, “according to Jonah, you fared better with your late husband than did his previous wives.”

To Jem’s surprise, Claudia uttered a rusty little chuckle.

“Yes, well things started out badly. He beat me one night. I—I actually thought I was going to die. After he left me, I lay on the floor for hours, and by the time I pulled myself up, I had resolved that this was never going to happen again. I formed a strategy, and the next morning I bearded him in his study. Oh, Jem, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Jem’s heart lifted in absurd pleasure at the sound of his name on her lips, even though spoken unconsciously.

“I pushed open the door,” she continued, “and strode in as though I were the master and not he. I planted myself in front of his desk and said, ‘Emanuel Carstairs, I have come for your apology and to tell you that what happened last night will never occur again if you value your life.

“He simply goggled at me for several moments, and then came up at me like a hurricane. I stood my ground and simply held up my hand with an expression of great—and totally false—confidence on my face. He stopped, as though confused, and I began to speak. I told him that I had inherited certain powers from my grandmother on my mother’s side. People, I said, who crossed Granny soon wished they hadn’t. I listed a few examples—the bailiff who stole from her and was later found dead from unexplained causes, the neighbor who did her a trifling wrong and was struck down with a pain too horrible to describe.

“Like so many bullies, Emanuel was a coward, and a superstitious one, to boot. He blustered at me for a time, but I could tell he was uneasy. Then I pulled my coup de grace. In my best otherworldly tone of voice, I told him I would give him a portent. I pointed dramatically to a large plant that stood in the window of the study. Muttering a brief incantation, I waggled two fingers at it, then informed him that in three days time, the plant would be dead. He sneered and said that anybody can kill a plant. I retorted that he could keep the plant under guard during the specified time to assure himself that I would not touch it. Which he did! He locked it up in his dressing room! It began to wilt almost immediately, however, and three days later it was totally and undeniably defunct.

“After that, Emanuel gave me a wide berth. He would still lose his temper with me occasionally, but all I had to do was waggle my fingers to render him a spent force, so to speak.”

“But...” interjected Jem.

“How did I kill the plant? Earlier that morning, after I was able to move, I limped into his study and dosed the plant with massive amounts of salt water—enough to kill a tree, I think. By the time I confronted him the next morning, the poor thing was already on its way to plant heaven.”

At Jem’s shout of laughter, Claudia folded her hands in her lap and shot him a demure glance.

“And I thought
I
was a confidence trickster extraordinaire,” he gasped. “You are priceless, my dear, and I shall take great care never to get on your wrong side.”

So absorbed was he that he forgot for a moment to mind his driving. His inadvertent slap of the reins against the horse’s flanks caused some confusion in the animal, with the result that he hastened his stride at precisely the wrong moment. As they flew around a curve, two wheels of the gig went off the road into a shallow ditch, causing the vehicle to come to an abrupt halt, tilting precariously.

Jem slid with some force across the seat, and the next moment found his arms full of delectable widow. He gazed into her butterscotch eyes and was lost. Oblivious to anyone who might be passing by, he brought his mouth down on hers.

Chapter Thirteen

When Jem’s arms encircled her, Claudia knew she should pull back. The contact was unavoidable, of course. Indeed if it had not been for Jem’s embrace she might have found herself sprawled on the ground as the gig tilted crazily in the ditch. However, once the vehicle had stopped its sideways motion, and the horse had ceased its panicked whinnies, she simply remained where she was, gazing into the gray eyes that were so unnervingly close to hers.

She should have disengaged herself at once, of course, but she was aware only of the shattering rightness of the feel of his arms about her, and, with her heart thudding in her throat, she lifted her mouth for his kiss. Then she was conscious only of the warmth of his lips and of the slow fire that swept through her.

His arms tightened, and she pressed against him as though she might absorb his very essence. She had never dreamed a kiss could be so pleasurable—so deeply satisfying, yet creating such an urgent wanting. His hands moved on her body, stroking her hair, then her back, creating frissons of sensation along her spine. When his mouth lifted from hers for a moment, she felt instantly bereft, but the soft, quick kisses he pressed on her temple and her cheek caused her to gasp with delight. Her own arms had by now wrapped about him to draw him even closer, and her fingers wound themselves in the dark silk of his hair where it lay on the back of his neck.

As his mouth returned to hers, she felt herself slipping further into the wonder of his nearness. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain, she knew this was madness, but it was only with the rattle of harness and the sound of hooves heralding an approaching vehicle that she drew back. Jem, too, pulled abruptly away, and for a moment they gazed at each other, breathless and dazed.

“I—” he began, and lifted a hand to her. Then, casting a glance at the carriage that lumbered toward them, he shook his head and leaped from the gig. In a few moments, he was able to right the vehicle and to lead horse and equipage back to the road. He mounted the gig once more and turned to Claudia. Her eyes were still wide and distraught.

“It seems I must apologize again.” His voice was unsteady. “I do not generally find myself so susceptible to feminine witchery. In fact, I have no excuse for what just happened, except for the—the unusual circumstances, and...”

“Your apology is accepted, my lord.” Claudia found she was having a great deal of difficulty with her own voice.
“We
have both been under a great deal of strain today. However, it shall not happen again. And now,” she continued, gathering to her every ounce of control she possessed, “perhaps we had better be on our way.”

Jem stared at her for several seconds before replying. “No, it will not happen again.” He slapped the reins, and the gig moved off at a brisk pace.

It was nearly eleven by the time they reached Ravencroft, though the summer sky still held enough daylight to show them the way through the stone entrance gates. Their conversation during the remainder of the journey had been light and inconsequential, and Claudia felt utterly exhausted by the effort it had taken her to maintain her part.