Marriage Under Siege (22 page)

No. Edward was not in this
bed.

But Francis was. And was
able to overwhelm her. Mind and body.

For Honoria it was both
reconciliation and revelation, that she could enjoy such intimacy, respond with
such freedom, banish her earlier experiences so totally from her mind and from
the reaction of her body. When he lifted himself over her, carefully, gently,
allowing her to take his weight, she shivered in pure pleasure at his
dominance. When he kissed a tortuous path between throat and breast, she
stretched, inviting him to touch, to linger, to delight in curves and hollows.
When his clever fingers sought out impossibly sensitive places, to stroke and
arouse, she murmured wordlessly, unable to resist the tremors that claimed her
limbs. When he parted her thighs with his own she sighed against his chest.
When he entered her with such tenderness, still considerate of her
inexperience, she gasped his name, arching her body to take him in. When he
thrust deeply, possessively, into her, she raised her hips to ease his access
and matched the movement of her body with his. When his own climax destroyed
his control and shook him with its power, she held him close in her arms, glorying
in her new confidence. And finally, when he lay beside her, replete and
exhausted, she turned within his arms to breath in the scent of him, to press
her lips to the hollow of his throat where his pulse still hammered in desire.

And yet, with honesty, she
recognised that she had held back from some unknown and thoroughly enticing
depth of pleasure, from the heat of sensation that had begun deep in her belly
when, with hands and lips, he discovered and tormented the secret delights of
which she had been unaware. She dare not allow it to engulf her and overpower
her. And so had, at the end, turned her mind from the treacherous demands of
the flesh, from complete and utter dependence on him.

'You learn fast, lady.'
Francis took his weight on his elbows to look down at her. Sensing her
withdrawal from ultimate pleasure, it had left him strangely disappointed, even
though his own arousal had been urgent and his satisfaction overwhelmingly
breathtaking. But he was encouraged by her growing trust, her willingness to
respond to his passion. And he could afford to wait.

'I do?' She risked a glance
at his face.

'Oh, yes.' He smiled at her
obvious and delightful confusion. 'To trust me. Not to fear my body. My needs.
One day, Honoria, you will give me more.'

Hot colour stained her fair
skin. 'I do not know how.'

'No. But you will.' One day
he would break through her reticence, make her tremble in his arms, her mind
overturned by physical splendour.

It was all too much.
Honoria fought to keep back the tears that threatened to trace their path down
her cheeks into her hair. It struck her with the force of a lightning bolt,
causing her own pulse to match his. She loved him. When and why simply did not
matter. Her heart beat in time with his, here in this bed, and always would.
And she would never tell him. She vowed her silence for all time, with her head
cushioned on his shoulder and her fingers laced in intimate unity with his. For
although he had given her such security, such kindness, such delicious
sensations, how could he be expected to love her? No one had ever loved her. It
would be better for him never to know.

Francis remained awake later
when she slept in his arms, his mind still alert, even though his body craved
sleep. He turned his lips against her hair, which at some stage in the
proceedings she had helped him to unpin, so that it now curled beneath his
cheek, and he allowed himself a smile of repletion. He would wager, thank God,
that he had banished Edward forever. And certainly to his own advantage.
Because her response had stunned him. She had given without hesitation,
answering his every demand, until his rigidly governed control had been swamped
by the generosity of her body. So soft, so feminine. So hot when her blood had
raced for him beneath her silken skin.

He would also wager, he
decided, as she moved a little in his arms, her breath warm against his throat,
that she was completely unaware of the effect she had on him. His arousal had
been iron hard and urgent when she had obediently lifted her arms to allow him
to release her gown. When she lifted the heavy fall of hair that he might press
his mouth to the shadow of her pulse in her elegant throat. When her skin had
warmed and glowed beneath his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body. If he
had the energy, he would think about that. But not now. He tucked her closer
against him. And finally allowed his mind to slide into sleep.

Chapter Nine

Mansell
lifted Honoria into her saddle and readjusted the girth and stirrup leathers
with brisk efficiency. The morning promised to be fair with light clouds blown
by a sharp breeze from the west. Master
Yatton
,
Wigmore's
Steward, prophesied rain later in the day, but
Captain Davies's men-at-arms were already engaged in tumbling the stone from
the breached wall into the deep ditch. Dust already hung in the air, with the
scrape of metal tools—and frequent shouts and curses.

'Take care of her, Priam.'
Mansell glanced up at his Captain, brows drawn. 'I am relying on you to deliver
her safely.'

'Of course.' The Captain
caught the tension in his cousin's voice, but shifted at ease in his saddle as
he motioned to his four men-at- arms to precede him from the courtyard to the
main gate. A small wagon, containing Honoria's prized glass from the windows,
was already being driven out on to the road. They would overtake it in no
time. 'We shall be there comfortably in daylight, Francis. I expect no trouble.
And I will return tomorrow.' He clasped Francis's hand, raised his own in a
quick salute and followed his small force.

Which left Francis alone
beside Honoria.

She looked down at his
upturned face, fighting to retain her equanimity. 'How long?'

'A week—two at the most
should do it. Just enough to make it untenable as a stronghold. You will be
better at Brampton away from the noise and dust.'

'I would rather stay here
with you.' She had not meant to admit it, to admit anything after their night
together, when he had seduced her mind and body into such depths of pleasure.
When he had all but destroyed her determination to remain cool and distant, to
keep secret the wilful state of her heart, so that he need never be burdened
with the unwanted knowledge of her love for him. But the words had come,
sharply, of their own accord.

'And I would rather you
were safe, now that we can no longer rely on the security here. We have had
this conversation before, lady!'

And indeed they had, as he
had kissed her into wakefulness that morning, holding her close against him in
the warm darkness, the hard planes of his body sliding luxuriously over her own
heated skin. Hon-
oria
knew there was no moving him.
And did not try, accepting the inevitable with a slight curve of her lips at
the intense memory.

Acknowledging her decision,
he reached up to tuck her cloak around her, at the same time taking possession
of her hand. He smiled as he saw the battle of will on her face.

And made her heart leap, to
beat uncomfortably against her ribs, her mouth becoming as dry as the dust from
Wigmore's
walls. It was a devastating smile, which
warmed his cold eyes, softened the harsh lines around his mouth lending a
fierce attraction to his face, and it destroyed all her good intentions all over
again. She found herself lifting her hand to touch the scar at his hairline.

'God keep you,' she
whispered.

'And you. I will soon
return to Brampton Percy. Priam will be back here tomorrow, so there is no need
for you to be anxious.'

'How can I help it?' She
appeared to have no self-control whatsoever this morning and buried her teeth
in her bottom lip against any further revelations.

'It pleases me that you are
a little concerned for my life and freedom.'

'Just a little.' At least
he seemed unaware of her inner struggle. She tried to joke, to keep the moment
light, but with no great success.

He lifted her hand to his
lips, warm against her cool skin. Again on impulse she leaned from her horse to
touch her lips to his cheek 'Goodbye, my lord.'

He let his fingers skim her
hair and cheek, the gentlest of touches, as if to imprint an image into his
mind, which he might hold and treasure when she was gone, then stepped back to
allow her to turn her horse and follow Priam beneath the raised portcullis.

She turned in the saddle to
look back once, to raise her hand in farewell, as they turned their mounts to
the north. And then no more. She did not wish to see the desolation of the
once-proud castle. So she did not see Francis climb to the battlements, to stand
there until she was safely out of sight. Nor was she aware of the heat in his
blood as he remembered the previous night when he had held her in his arms and,
to his amazement, loved her.

The little party, leaded
glass intact, arrived at Brampton Percy before dusk, in good heart with no
discomfort other than the arrival of the threatened rain. Honoria swallowed
hard against her reluctance to return, but the homecoming was a moment of
welcome from more than one inhabitant of the castle. Morrighan appeared, a
silent grey wraith, to press herself against Honoria's legs in renewed
protection. Setanta capered and barked, fell over his own feet and finally
sprawled before her to be tickled and petted. Honoria fended off the wet
tongue, laughed and obliged. Master Foxton and Mistress Morgan were there to
deal with all her needs—as if she had been absent for months rather than days,
Honoria thought. It touched her heart with warmth in spite of her rejection of
this house which would never be her home. Then she raised her head from the
puppy's antics as she caught movement on the steps above her.

'Mary. What are you doing
here? Indeed, it is not safe.'

'There! And I thought you
would be pleased to see me.' Mary came down with her usual energy to clasp
Honoria in an impulsive embrace. 'I have been released for a little time. All
is quiet so I pestered my father until he allowed Josh to escort me and leave
me here—he is on his way to Knighton—only to find you gone.'

Honoria laughed at the
bubble of words. 'Of course I am delighted. And that you stayed for my return.'
They turned to ascend the staircase together, carefully stepping over and
round and over again the ecstatic Setanta.

'Have you renewed your
acquaintance with Dr and Mistress Wright?'

'Yes. We have had some conversation.'
Mary directed a sly grin at her friend. 'I had hoped to find your other visitor
still in residence. Unfortunately he has gone home.'

'Who?'

'Mr Samuel More, of course.
Of Bishop's Castle. If you recall, I had the felicity of meeting him when I was
last under your roof!' Her friend's eyes, Honoria noticed, had acquired a
demure innocence, which she did not believe for a moment.

'There, now! And I thought
you had come to see me.'

'But of course. I simply
hoped to further my acquaintance with the gentleman. He was very handsome, did
you not think?'

'Oh, Mary!' Honoria felt
some of the worry, which had hounded her since leaving Wigmore, lift from her
shoulders. 'I am so pleased to see you.'

'I thought you might be!'
Mary laughed in perfect understanding.

'Come to the solar and talk
to me.'

'Nothing would stop me.
Tell me all about Francis.'

'Perhaps!'

'Have you had the
opportunity to put another bullet in him?'

Honoria blushed. The
thought had crossed her mind at Wigmore.

Mary chuckled as she drew Honoria's
arm through hers, leading her determinedly indoors. 'I knew I was right to
come. You must tell me all.'

Three letters awaited
Honoria.

She settled herself in the
solar, experiencing a certain comfort that every surface was not covered with a
thick layer of dust. Then poured wine for herself and Mary and sat down to
read.

The contents were
disturbing, leaving Honoria's usually well- ordered mind in some confusion. She
did not enjoy the sensation.

The letter from Lady
Scudamore, after polite enquiries about her health and that of her new husband,
saw fit to inform her that rumours in the south of the county suggested a
Parliamentarian force was making its way from the south-west. Sir William
Waller, already with a formidable reputation, was intent on reaching Gloucester
and strengthening Parliament's position in the area. When he was expected,
Lady Scudamore could not be more specific, but the movement of troops had begun
in earnest. The Royalist gentlemen of Hereford were in some turmoil over it. A
large Parliamentarian army in the vicinity was bad news—it should keep them
busy for some time to come. Lady Scudamore doubted that they would undertake
any new enterprises, particularly those that would tie troops down for any
length of time.

Honoria found no difficulty
in reading between the lines. A siege of Brampton Percy in present
circumstances was unlikely. She handed the letter over to Mary.

Lady Croft, of a much
chattier nature, filled two paragraphs about family births and deaths, but
finally got down to the purpose of the document.

My lord says to tell you that our Governor,
Fitzwilliam Coningsby, is still intent on moving against you at Brampton Percy.
He disliked your refusal to my Lord Hertford, and the failure of the
Radnorshire trained bands displeased him even more. He is an impatient, proud
man, as you are aware, and will brook no disobedience. I am sure I need say no
more. My lord says to look to your defences.

'So. With one breath we are
given hope...' Honoria handed over the second letter '...with another we are to
close our gates again. I hope General Waller reaches Gloucester and pins the
Royalists down.'

'Coningsby is all bluster.'
Mary read rapidly, then placed the second letter with the first. 'He will have
too much on his hands and my father thinks insufficient support to send troops
to the north of the county. I think we have a little respite.'

'I hope. Otherwise, you are
here for the duration of the siege.' Mary shrugged and nudged the third letter
towards Honoria's hands. 'Perhaps this will tell you more.'

'I think not.'

Honoria had deliberately
left this letter to the last. She did not recognise the hand on the cover, but
knew immediately the source. It was far more personal, touching Honoria with a
shiver of unease before she dared open it. It was from Francis's mother. She
read it carefully.

The initial content soothed
her. The lady might be surprised, but hid it beneath a fine hand and charming
words as she welcomed her new daughter-in-law. She was able to claim
acquaintance with Sir Robert and Lady Denham, although she thought that she had
never met Honoria. She hoped to see her soon, perhaps in London, when events
permitted.

Your letter suggested that there were overriding
reasons for your hasty marriage. Although I am unaware of the true circumstances,
dear Honoria, it pleases me that Francis has taken a wife. He needs someone to
think about other than himself. I pray that you will deal well together. And
perhaps you will have a little patience with his temperament, which leans
towards the authoritarian. It has not been an easy year for him as you will be
aware. Death of loved ones deals with us all in a different manner. Francis has
chosen to cut himself off from sympathy and family consolation. I trust that
you will help him to heal.

Honoria's brows rose at the
intimacy of the lady's remarks and determined to read it again in the privacy
of her bedchamber. Then she laughed quietly as she saw the content of the final
page. There was more truth in her lord's prediction than he had realised.

We hear that His Majesty in Oxford is intent on taking
the initiative again after the fiasco of the Battle of
Edgehill
.
His nephew Prince Rupert is giving his services. It is planned that the illustrious
Prince will lead an army to the west, probably against Bristol as the King
lacks the loyalty of a major port. This, I believe, will not be to the
advantage of you at Brampton Percy if the Royalists are in the ascendant.

'And if Prince Rupert does
appear on our doorstep, then we are indeed in danger.' Honoria frowned. 'But
listen—you will enjoy the postscript.' Honoria's frown cleared to be replaced
by a malicious little smile. 'Ned Parrish—I dispatched him to carry the letter
when his loyalty here was in doubt, you remember—is enjoying all that London
can offer. When it was suggested that he take permanent employment in the
Brampton household rather than return here, he accepted it! Lady Brampton says
that he is very pleased with his good fortune—spending his wages on ale and
gambling, not to mention the allurement of the fair sex offered in ale
houses—and will be no further worry to us. His interest in politics appeared to
have died a sudden death. I wish that all problems were as easy to solve.'

Honoria turned to close the
small document chest in which her letters had been stored against her return,
recognising in the bottom the package from Mistress James, still unopened, with
its contents of dried flowers and
seedheads
. She
lifted and fingered it thoughtfully, pressing the bulky outlines. She really
should talk to Mistress Brierly about it when she had the leisure to think of
such things. 'So, is Francis well, dear Honoria?'

Mary's apparently guileless
question forced Honoria to concentrate her mind on deflecting the lady's desire
for gossip. But a smile curled her lips—and it did not go unnoticed.