Faith (24 page)

Quite by accident, she kicked out and found a sturdier branch upon which her toes found purchase. She reached up with her free hand to grasp the branch above and began cautiously inching her way toward the trunk of the tree. Once there, she wrapped her arms around it with a thankful little gasp before glancing back at the house—just in time to see Evelyn appear at the open window.

Their eyes met and widened. For a second, the two women just stared at one another, then both burst into activity. Evelyn disappeared from the window, while Faith began climbing downward, doing a better job of it than she might have imagined, given her lack of experience. Grace and Mercy had practically lived in the trees and on the backs of horses in their childhoods. Faith had stayed indoors, helping Patience and playing tea party. Still, she gained the ground in short order and began running for the rear of the garden.

Evelyn burst through the back door. “Faith! Stop! I’ll shoot!”

Faith didn’t even look back, just kept running, hoping to find a gate or something at the back through which she could escape. Instead, she found her worst nightmare. A hedge maze.

Her heart pounding from more than just exertion, she ran along its edge, looking for a way around instead of through. She heard Evelyn breathing hard, not far behind. For that reason, when she found the opening to the maze, she plunged inside despite her fears. She couldn’t take the chance that the hedge would end flat against a garden wall, effectively trapping her for the madwoman. Inside the maze, she would have numerous opportunities to hide, as long as she was able to keep moving.

The moon was her ally in this instance, shining brightly down into the garden. Faith made her way along the path, focusing only on
why
she was running, rather than
where
she was running. It was a small maze, not nearly as complicated as the one from her childhood or the one in Amanda’s garden, and before she knew it, she was through, emerging on the other side, where she saw, thankfully, the garden gate.

Praying she’d find it unlocked, she ran to it and fumbled with the catch until it sprung open with a sharp, metallic clang. Sobbing with relief, Faith hurtled through, then crashed headlong into a hard, male chest. She looked up into the Duke of Blackthorne’s surprised face.

“She’s got a gun,” she panted, then coughed with her effort to breathe.

Quickly, the duke pushed Faith behind him and stepped close to the marble wall, pressing them both back and against it. A moment later, Evelyn ran through the opening.

In a flash, Sebastian reached out and grabbed Lady Blakely with one hand, knocking the pistol from her grasp with his other. While he controlled the struggling madwoman, Faith turned to look for Gareth, but saw only Lachlan Kimball and her brother-in-law coming into the alley from the street. Processing this, her heart sank. Grace had figured it out and sent them. Not Gareth. Her husband hadn’t come for her after all.

Or had he?

“Faith.”

She turned slowly at the sound of his beloved voice, saw him standing just outside the garden gate. He’d gone inside to find her and come out through the garden. Her gray eyes filled with tears.

“Gareth,” she replied, and choked up before she could say more.

He held out a hand, and she took one small step toward him before running the last few feet and throwing herself into his arms. Burying her face into his shoulder, she sobbed. “I knew you’d come for me!”

He stroked her hair, his face stark with relief at Faith’s rescue…and at the fact that she had willingly sought his embrace. Stepping back, he held her at arm’s length and quirked a crooked grin. “Why, Lady Roth. I believe you look a trifle mussed. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you in such a state.”

Faith looked down at her smudged and torn gown. She tried to press into place a hanging bit of lace on her bodice, but it just drooped back down as soon as she let go. She gave up and bit her lip.

“I climbed a tree,” she explained with a wan smile, her voice a little wobbly. “And I w-went through the maze.”

“I’m proud of you.” He looked down and said haltingly, “I’m so sorry I didn’t trust in you.” He stopped and met her shimmering gray eyes, his own awash with regret and self-recrimination. “Looks as though you didn’t really need me to rescue you.”

Faith shook her head and laid a hand on his cheek. “But I
do
need you, my love. Every single day of my life.” She smiled softly. “This time,
I’ll
ask. Can we begin again?”

And Gareth pulled her close again, kissed her forehead, and whispered gruffly, “Let’s go home, princess.”

Thirty-seven

T
he men all sat on the terrace at Rothmere, watching the action taking place in the garden below. “Do you think he can pull it off?” Gareth’s question broke the tense silence.

“Of course he can,” scoffed Jon, but he sat forward a bit nervously in his chair.

Trevor grinned around his cheroot. “Care to place a wager on that, Roth?”

“Really, Hunt,” drawled Sebastian. The duke crossed his legs, a look of bored disdain on his handsome face. “You might try getting through at least one conversation without making reference to that rather unfortunate incident.”

The Earl of Huntwick’s smile broadened. “Would you rather discuss your eventual marriage to my youngest sister-in-law?”

As he spoke, something new distracted their attention from the display on the lawn: a quiet gasp and the sound of rustling bushes floated upward from beneath the terrace upon which they all sat. A moment later, the top of Mercy’s auburn head appeared.

“Push me up higher, Charity,” she hissed.

Charity grunted and stood as tall as she was able, stifling a groan as one of Mercy’s feet dug painfully into her shoulder. It briefly crossed her mind that at nearly seventeen years of age, she should certainly know better than to have become involved in her younger sister’s escapades, but Mercy had managed to talk her into it. “What in the world have you been eating? You’re heavier than you look,” she muttered.

The extra boost was enough for Mercy’s dark pansy-colored eyes to clear the edge of the terrace. She scanned the pairs of nearly identical boots, then looked up to find the men who wore them looking right at her. The Duke of Blackthorne’s golden eyes narrowed to slits.

With a startled squeak, Mercy tried to duck back below the edge. The sudden unexpected movement threw Charity off-balance, and she stumbled back, regained her balance, then lost it again as Mercy’s arms began flailing in an effort to keep from falling. The skirts she’d been holding up with one of her hands fell over her sister’s face, and Charity took a dozen or so awkward weaving steps before she finally fell, tumbling both her and Mercy unceremoniously to the ground.

The men on the terrace laughed. Mercy, as irrepressible as ever, laughed along with them, popped upright, and executed a jaunty little bow. Charity, who did
not
enjoy looking foolish, scowled. She chanced a look toward the terrace and locked eyes with the Marquess of Asheburton, who slowly shook his head as if rebuking her for such childish behavior. Charity lifted her chin and glared back.

Fortunately, Lachlan’s attention was diverted by a shout from Gareth. “By God, will you look at that? He’s doing it!”

The group stood as one and lined up at the marble balustrade, a privileged and powerful row of men, indeed, all awed and humbled by the event they were witnessing below.

Cautiously, Amanda let go of little Geoffrey’s hands and pressed her own hands to her cheeks as she watched her son, eyes glowing with pride as he took his first steps. His little face was aglow with a happy smile, and he toddled five full feet before falling into his Aunt Faith’s outstretched hands.

She swept him up and hugged him, then lifted his little hand. “Wave to Papa, Geoffrey,” she said. “Do you see him? Up on the terrace next to Uncle Gareth?”

Geoffrey laughed and waved his chubby little hand and wriggled to get down. Faith settled him on his blanket and looked back up to give her husband a radiant smile.

Gareth smiled back at her and sat down, his expression turning thoughtful. Faith, he thought, looked especially lovely with a child in her arms. Still smiling, he turned and clapped Jon on the back, adding his congratulations to those of the others. But a certain thought kept running through his mind.

For the remainder of the day, Faith felt her husband’s eyes on her. Really, she could concentrate on almost nothing else. She looked at him from the lawn, smiling quizzically as if to ask what he wanted. He shook his head slightly, his lips curving in a lazy grin. He reached up and kissed two of his fingers, then held up his hand and wiggled them at her. Her smile softened. A kiss. He was sending her a kiss. She turned back to talk with Amanda and Grace, but soon her eyes strayed back to the terrace.

Gone. He was gone. Her eyes flicked to the steps at each end of the terrace, but she didn’t see Gareth anywhere. He must have gone inside for some reason, she decided.

“Excuse me, please,” she murmured to her sisters and Amanda. Standing, she hurried across the lawn and up the steps, nodding at the men who stood when she appeared. She gifted them with a brief, distracted smile, opened one of the doors, and slipped inside the library.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust after being so long out in the glorious sunshine. Before they did, she felt strong hands settle on her shoulders.

“My lady.”

She laughed a little and turned to face Gareth, gasping a bit when he pulled her close and caught her lips with his. She melted against him, tilting her face upward. When she felt his tongue dance lightly across the crease between her upper and lower lips, she sighed happily, opening her mouth to let him deepen the kiss.

Gareth inhaled, taking in Faith’s intoxicating scent, that beguiling combination of sunshine and fresh flowers he had always loved, and felt himself harden with arousal. Reluctantly, he ended their kiss, but held his wife’s face in his hands, his forehead pressed lightly against hers.

When she could think again, Faith realized they were still standing near the doors. She whispered, “Gareth, anyone could come in here.”

He smiled teasingly. “And find me kissing my wife in my own home? My goodness…the scandal!”

She giggled. “They’re our guests, love.”

He scowled in sham annoyance and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go fulfill your duties, princess. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Impulsively, Faith threw her arms around his neck and pressed a last kiss to his ear. “I love you,” she whispered, then turned to go back outside.

Before she stepped out of reach, Gareth swatted her playfully on her backside. She jumped in startled reaction, laughed out loud, tossed him a last sweet smile, and left.

Dinner with all the Ackerlys present and accounted for was a loud, boisterous affair. Conversations swirled around the table. Charity scowled at Lachlan Kimball, who ignored her to converse quietly with her twin, Amity. Mercy flirted outrageously with Sebastian, who, given her persistence, could not have ignored the girl if his life had depended upon it. Patience took turns quietly and fondly admonishing both girls. Grace and Amanda chatted with their husbands and with their father, but Faith heard none of it, nor did she taste a single morsel of the impeccably prepared roast duck she ate primly and correctly, seated at the foot of the table. The only thing of which she was aware was her husband’s dark gaze, smoldering at her from his seat directly opposite hers.

She felt flushed and warm and slightly tingly. When a footman appeared at her elbow to offer more wine, Faith shook her head and smiled, then reached for her water, hoping the cool liquid would help moderate her overly warm state. Gareth cocked his head knowingly and raised a single eyebrow, which only made Faith blush more deeply.

Fortunately, her husband was distracted when Bingham Ackerly addressed him directly. “Have you heard anything from the authorities, my lord, about how and when Lord Jameson and Lady Blakely will be punished?”

Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze from his wife’s becomingly pink face to address his father-in-law. “I did not call the authorities.” With the exception of the younger men at the table, everyone stopped eating and turned to stare at Gareth. He sliced a piece of roast duck and calmly stabbed it with his fork.

When he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, Charity sighed with exasperation. “Why not?”

“There didn’t seem to be much point, since they were both departing the country within the week.” He took another bite, and stopped chewing when everyone continued to stare at him. “For America,” he added, by way of explanation.

“Why in the world would they go to America?” Grace poked her husband, who was smirking in the most provoking fashion, in the shoulder. “You know something, don’t you?”

Trevor’s smirk widened into a grin. “I think Jameson decided there would be room to breathe in a country so vast,” he provided helpfully. “And Lady Blakely wholeheartedly agreed.”

“Especially,” drawled Gareth, “when I showed them it would be impossible for him to continue to do so here.”

Charity laughed with impressed delight. “Welcome to the family, big brother,” she said, then scowled and looked down at her plate when the Marquess of Asheburton raised his brow and gave her a quelling look.

Finally dinner was over, cigars and brandy were enjoyed, and their guests found their separate ways to their chambers. Most everyone was weary with the day spent outdoors, the lively company, and the wonderful meal. Faith blew out the last candle and slid into bed, settling into the arms of her husband, which closed softly and securely around her. She sighed with happiness. It had been a truly lovely day, with their family and closest friends in attendance for the small country party to show off the renovated estate.

“Lord Asheburton seemed quite taken with Amity,” she remarked. She’d seen them conversing quietly several times during the day.

Gareth nodded and stroked her hair. “She’s young yet, but I have a feeling Ashe is going to be looking for a wife in the next couple of years.”

Faith giggled. “Wouldn’t it provoke Charity if he became her brother-in-law? She really cannot abide him.”

Gareth smiled into the darkness. “That one will be difficult to match when she has her Season. I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone with a temper quite like hers.”

“Perhaps she’ll learn to control it by then.”

Privately, Gareth doubted it, but he wisely held his tongue. Faith was fiercely protective of her sisters—a trait the entire family shared, and one he particularly admired. But tonight, he wanted Faith in a far different mood. “Do you know my favorite thing that happened today?”

His voice had dropped, had that husky, intimate quality she loved, and Faith shivered deliciously. She recalled their stolen kiss in the library and thought she might know, but she shook her head anyway. “Tell me, please?”

“The way you looked with little Geoffrey in your arms, darling. So happy.” He stroked her silky hair. “So beautiful.”

Faith caught her breath at the unexpected answer and tilted her head back on his chest to look at his face. She reached up with one finger and ran it across his stubbly chin. “We’ve never really talked about children.” Her mind skipped briefly to the one time they’d mentioned the subject, then skittered away, loath to ruin the moment with thoughts of the troubles they’d had on their road to falling in love.

“I rather thought they’d come along whenever they were meant to. Today, however…” He caught the tip of her finger between his teeth and then released it. “After seeing you with Geoffrey, I find I’d like to talk about it. And I’d like to talk about a few other things as well, princess. Things we need to address and resolve and get behind us.”

Faith’s gray eyes turned sober, and she nodded. “Go on.”

Gareth reached up, engulfed her hand with one of his, and brought them both to his chest. “Do you trust me?”

Her heart wrenched at the vulnerability in his simple question. “With my life,” she said softly.

“I should have trusted you. You’d never given me any reason not to. It was just my own foolish pride, and the notion that I could somehow make you love me despite everything that happened to rush my courtship.”

Faith rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, loving the hardness ofhis sinewy muscle against her soft skin. “I made you feel as though you had to win me over when I painted you with a brush colored by rumor, my love.”

He laughed softly. “Stop. You’re usurping my apology.”

Her eyes glowed silver. “We do seem to have a great deal of difficulty apologizing to one another, don’t we?”

“Then shall we call it even? Clean slate?”

Faith nodded happily. “You mentioned children, love?”

Gareth rolled her suddenly onto her back and took her lips in along, soft, poignant kiss that she returned, her heart fluttering. “Today, I positively ached to see you carrying our child,” he murmured against her mouth. He lifted his head and propped it on a hand, smiling down at her in the semidarkness.

“I’d like that too, Gareth,” she said quietly, and lifted her lips for more kisses. This time he cradled her face in his hands and took his time, savoring the way she responded, the way her mouth opened softly at his gentle coaxing. For a while they just tasted and tempted one another, whispering words that almost weren’t words, sounds that made no sense but said everything in the world.

After a time, he rolled onto his back, cupping her buttocks and nestling her securely against him. Faith rubbed her nose on the side of his chest and pressed a kiss there. “Gareth?” Her voice was small, hesitant.

“Mm?”

“When we are like this…,” she began, then stopped and chewed on her lower lip.

Gareth held his breath. This sort of intimate conversation was still new to his prim wife, and though it was becoming easier to her, he could still sense her internal struggle to be open and frank. She’d come a long way in the few weeks since they’d begun their marriage anew.

He smiled into the darkness. “Go on, princess.”

Idly, she began tracing a tapered finger through the hair on his chest. He reached deep inside himself and somehow found the strength to remain still, though her innocent caresses were driving him wild with need. “Well…sometimes, would it be all right for
me
to touch
you
first, or even to kiss you first?’

He almost groaned, desire building as she continued to draw circles on his chest, making them smaller and smaller until she encountered his puckering nipple. “I am your husband, Faith. I do not want a marriage that is one-sided. You may
always
feel free to touch me as you wish, and to speak your mind.” He caught that maddening finger in his hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me with just this one little finger?”