Married in Haste (25 page)

“That’s one lucky kitty,” the innkeeper said.

While the innkeeper did Brenn’s bidding, Tess petted the poor cat, saying calming words to it.

“I was afraid you were going to be murdered, taking out after those boys,” Willa said dramatically.

“Well, I wasn’t and I have this fine kitty for my troubles,” Tess answered.

Brenn reached out but instead of petting the cat as she’d thought he was going to, he rubbed the back of his gloved fingers against her cheek. “You were brave, Tess. Foolish but brave.”

Brave. No one had ever said that about her. In that moment, Tess could have fallen in love with him all over again.

A minute later, the innkeeper returned with choice table scraps and a hamper with a lid.

Brenn helped Tess and her new friend up into the coach. He knocked on the side, and they were off.

“Look,” he said to Tess.

She leaned across his lap to look out the window back the way they’d come. The innkeeper and his patrons still stood on the road, watching the coaches drive off in profound silence.

“Do you think they’ll write a poem to us?” she asked archly.

Brenn laughed, the hearty sound filling the coach and frightening the little cat.

He calmed it by scratching under its chin. “What are you going to name him?”

Tess considered a moment. “Miles.”

“Why Miles?”

“I like the name.”

For his part, Miles growled deep in his throat at Brenn, apparently not ready to forgive his capture.

“Quiet,” she told him. “If it wasn’t for him, those boys would have gotten you.”

To her delight, Miles stopped his growling, although he did keep a cautious eye on Brenn.

Miles was grateful for the food. Tess tore the pieces of meat into smaller morsels. Brenn warned her not to give Miles too much or he’d get sick.

She put a shawl in the bottom of the hamper and Miles curled up into an exhausted ball and went to sleep.

“What a sweet cat,” Tess said. “I can’t imagine anyone mistreating him. Especially over religion. I thought all of that was settled centuries ago.”

“It’s never settled as long as men have differing opinions.”

“But I thought there was only one church in England.”

“Tess, there are almost as many different faiths as trees in England. Perhaps in your circle most people are of the same religion but it is different out here in the country. Do you not have any friends who are Catholic?”

“No. I met a Catholic woman once…and I’ve seen Jews but I’ve never associated with them.”

“You did live a sheltered life.”

The criticism stung a bit. She crossed her arms and asked the question uppermost on her mind. “Will Erwynn Keep be like that village?”

“My uncle was a staunch Church of England man. However, don’t let different opinions stop you from exploring new ideas. The world is full of good people who share different beliefs.”

“Then you think those boys were justified in throwing rocks at poor Miles.”

“No, they weren’t. And that’s not what I said.”

“Then I hate that religion. I think Parliament should pass a law and make it a crime to practice something so horrid.”

Brenn took her hand. “Parliament did do that years ago and it threw us into civil war. Tess, don’t hate the religion. It’s intolerance that makes people do evil.”

“Is that what the village boys were? Intolerant?”

“Absolutely, but don’t stop with religion. Intolerance is everywhere. Why, in my few weeks in London, I witnessed members of the ton socially ostracize those who didn’t follow social protocol to the letter. It was ridiculous. Look at men like Deland Godwin. With his paper, he attempts to destroy anything that doesn’t fit his particular ideas—and for what reason except to puff up his own consequence?”

“Oh, yes, Godwin.” She frowned. “He is the reason Anne can’t find a husband. When she was first presented, he made terrible fun of her for no other reason than because he likes to choose one debutante to ridicule. It has been very hard for her ever since. I call her a friend, although some girls were afraid to.”

“I didn’t like him.”

“He’s very powerful though.”

“People like him exist because the rest of us are either followers or refuse to stand up to them. You are neither of those things, Tess. You befriended Anne and you chased off those boys. You were a fine sight.” He smiled as he said those last words, but there was pride in his voice.

Tess slid closer to him. She slipped her hand in his. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone in such a straightforward manner as I do with you. And in my first three days of marriage, I’ve had more new experiences and been introduced to more new ideas than in all the years since Minnie died.”

“At Erwynn Keep,” he said, “we will create the type of world we wish it to be. No war. No hunger. No selfish men wishing to rule the world with their own petty ideas.”

“No intolerance.”

“Yes.”

“But isn’t it already like that?”

Her question caught him off guard. He hesitated, his brows coming together in a frown.

“I mean, the pictures you drew,” she said lamely. “It looks so lovely and peaceful.”

“Yes.” His voice sounded distant. She looked up and discovered that he watched her intently.

“What is it?” she asked.

His fingers tightened around hers momentarily and then he released her hand completely. “It’s nothing. I’

m just anxious to return home.”

That night, they stayed at an inn that was not as cozy as the Faraways’ or as ostentatious as the King’s Crown. Miles delighted her by wanting to sleep on her pillow.

Later, while she and Brenn made love, Tess whispered the words she’d discovered in her heart. She told him she loved him.

He didn’t answer, but held her close and she fell asleep at peace with the world.

Brenn couldn’t sleep.

She’d told him she loved him. She’d spoken the words as he had released his seed inside her.

He stared up at the ceiling, not knowing what to say to her. Her words should have made him happy and yet he felt guilty. On the morrow, they would reach Erwynn Keep and the truth would be out.

The wealthy debutante he’d married was changing. She was giving far more to this marriage and to him than he’d ever imagined.

He could only pray that once she laid eyes on Erwynn Keep, she would forgive him.

Chapter Fourteen

Miles woke them both the next morning, anxious to go out. It was just as well; Tess was anxious to make an early start and to see her new home.

“When shall we reach Erwynn Keep?” she asked.

“By midday.” Brenn stood shaving in front of a square mirror. He was dressed except for his shirt. He rinsed his razor off in the basin and scraped a few more whiskers off. He wasn’t moving very quickly.

“Are you feeling well?” she asked.

“What?” He acted as if her question didn’t register a moment and then said, “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just preoccupied.”

She crossed over to him. “You act tired. Did you not sleep well?” She was teasing him but he answered her seriously.

“I slept fine.”

Still wearing her nightdress, Tess put her arms around his waist and rubbed his back with her breasts. “I slept wonderfully,” she whispered.

He froze, and then lowered the razor and turned to her. Half of his face still had the shaving soap on it.

“Tess—” He lifted a hand to her face. His thumb brushed her lips. She parted them and touched his thumb with her tongue.

His arm pulled her close. “It’s hard to believe you were once called the Ice Maiden.”

“That was before you.” She pressed her lips to the warm skin of his chest. “Before I fell in love.”

Brenn sucked in a breath. She snuggled closer, her voice humming with desire as she said, “Are my hands cold? Do you want to warm them?”

Placing his hands on hers, he moved them from around his waist. “I’m trying to shave.” He reached for a towel and dried his face. “You could cause a man to slit his own throat coming up like that.” He wadded the towel and set it beside the bowl before noticing the expression on her face. “What have I done?”

“Nothing.” She wasn’t going to tell him either but then the words slipped out. “You’re so distant.”

He raked his hair back with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Tess. I’m just ready to go home.”

Home. The word sounded solid. “Of course you are,” she agreed, anxious for any plausible explanation for his distant behavior.

Later, over breakfast, Tess watched him eat. Perhaps he’d learned her secret. Could she, at some time during the night, have whispered the truth about her fortune? She had always had vivid dreams and could talk in her sleep—

She set her teacup in the saucer, scarcely able to breathe.

Now it was his turn to be concerned. “Tess, what is the matter? You’ve gone pale.”

For a second, her mind spun with fear. She forced herself to look at him. “Is everything fine?” It took all her courage to ask those few words.

“Yes!” He slid around the table to her side. “I just have something on my mind. But are you all right? You look ready to swoon.”

She grabbed hold of his hand as if it were a lifeline. “If you had something to say, you would say it, wouldn’t you?”

He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but that was fine once he said what she wanted to hear. “Yes, of course I would.”

Her heart resumed its normal beat. Colors, shapes, objects returned to what they should be. He didn’t know.

But she could tell him.

Tess grasped his hand tightly. She looked up at him. “Brenn—”

At that moment the postboys tramped into the common room and gave Brenn the sign that the coaches were ready. “Tess, the time has come.”

She pushed aside the confession she’d just been about to make. Later, she would tell him—but not now.

She wouldn’t spoil his homecoming for him.

Willa was already settled in the luggage coach. Brenn handed Tess up into their coach, passing to her the hamper with Miles inside. Clarence and Tim hopped on their horses and without flourish they were off.

The day was overcast. Rain threatened but did not come. Occasionally they passed a farmer’s wagon or someone walking on foot but otherwise they saw no one on the road.

Tess asked to see the drawings in Brenn’s portfolio. She spread the pen and ink drawings out between them, running a finger over the proud dragon weathervane sitting on top of the cupola. “This house looks amazingly modern for its age. The windows are a nice size.”

“Hmmm, yes,” Brenn agreed noncommittally.

She glanced at him. He was staring out the window, lost in thought. Outside the coach, the terrain was changing from rolling hills to the steeper landscape of the Black Mountains. The curves in the road became sharper; the lack of decent springs in the coach more noticeable.

“What of the servants?” Tess asked. “I imagine many have been in the service of the earl of Merton for generations.”

That question roused Brenn out of his contemplation. “There aren’t any.”

“No servants?” Tess glanced at the large house in the drawing. “I would think an estate of this size would have a host of servants running it.”

“My uncle was eccentric. He didn’t like people around.” He stretched out his long legs before admitting,

“The house is the worse for his pigheadedness. It needs quite a bit of work. I, ah, took a bit of license with the drawings.”

“Oh,” Tess wondered what he meant by that. “Well,” she said with determination, “we’ll set it all to rights. I’ll hire servants from the village.”

That caught Brenn’s interest. She could almost see him relax, as if he’d feared her questions. He laced his fingers with hers. “Yes, together we’ll set it all back to rights, won’t we?”

“Together,” she promised. “Tell me about the village.”

“It’s called Erwynn Keep, after the house. The site of the house and the village both date to before the Middle Ages.”

“What is the history?”

“Nothing dramatic. This part of Wales is secluded, almost a world of its own. The events of history bypassed Erwynn Keep. The main house was built close to six hundred years ago as a nunnery,” he added with a smile. “It was confiscated during the Reformation and that is when the first earl took control in the name of Henry the Eighth. For two hundred years, an earl resided there until the family decided it preferred London. My father’s father was the first to move back.”

He took the drawings and paged through them until he found one of the landscape. It showed a wooden bridge over a bubbling spring and the rooftops of a village built into the sheltering haven of a mountain.

The paper, a smaller rectangle than the others, was curled and yellow.

“I didn’t draw this picture,” he said.

“Who did?”

“My father hung it on the wall of every house he lived in. Looking at it is what made me decide to try my hand at drawing.”

“And you found you had talent.”

He shook his head. “Not my father’s talent. I used to study this picture and wish I could put myself in it.

This is the village from the vantage point of Erwynn Keep.” Leaning toward her, he gestured to the bottom of the picture. “You walk over the bridge and around a bend and there is a long drive off the road. Huge pines with their boughs dripping needles line the drive like sentinels. Father said that in the autumn, you can walk knee-deep in those needles as if they were snow.

“You’ll walk a fair distance and then you will start to see a flash of the lake between the trees. The drive curves around and there you are with the whole valley laid before you and in its heart is Llyn Mynydd.”

“Llyn Mynydd?”

“Mountain Lake.”

“And the house?”

He shuffled through the drawings, pulling out the one of the front of the house. “It sits atop a crag of land jutting out into the lake. The house sits on top. On a clear day, the image of the house is reflected on the water.” He edged closer. “Tess, there is no water clearer than that of Llyn Mynydd. You can see straight to the bottom, and the fish—!” He measured a span of air with his hands.

He lowered his voice. “When I first rode to Erwynn Keep, I got off my horse and walked the distance from the bridge to the house. It all seemed so familiar…and then I realized it was because all the stories my father had told me as a child had originated in this house.”