Puritan Bride (14 page)

‘No, other than that she took her own life. She fell from the roof of the house here.’

‘And is not at rest. Unless Gilliver has specifically sent her to stir up the spirits at the Priory to force us to leave.’

‘No. But I would not put it past her—she hates the Oxendens beyond anything else in life. She thinks I should marry Richard.’ She did not know what moved her to say that. Unless she was at heart as devious and mischief-making as her aunt.

‘Does she, now? And what do you think?’ She could not mistake the cooling in his tone, nor the set of his jaw.

‘I have no choice in the matter.’ She sniffed disdainfully and raised her brows and chin, neatly evading the question. Indeed, she did not truthfully know what answer she would make.

‘No, you do not.’

She stiffened at the flat statement and the accompanying chill and turned away. As she did so, the keys that she had been carelessly holding clashed together in her hand. Marlbrooke’s eyes sharpened as he caught the faint chink of metal on metal.

‘What are those?’

‘Nothing that need concern you, my lord.’

‘Keys?’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘Would I be correct in thinking they are keys to rooms in this house?’

Her chin went up again. ‘Yes. Aunt Gilliver gave them to me.’

‘If they belong to the Priory, they are mine. I do not like the thought of them being in the hands of someone else. And certainly not Mistress Adams.’ He held out his hand with an imperative gesture. ‘Give them to me.’

Whereas she had willingly handed them to Lady Elizabeth, this was a different matter. ‘No. I will not.’

‘Give them up, Kate.’ His voice was soft, but she could not mistake the implied threat.

‘No.’ She shook her head and hid her hands—and the keys—behind her back.

He advanced. She retreated.

‘Kate. I shall have no mercy if you force me to take them from you.’

‘They are mine!’ With which she turned and fled down the length of the gallery, her heels clattering on the wooden floor.

‘Damn you!’ Torn between frustration and amusement, he flung aside his hat and gloves and launched himself in pursuit. She beat him to the end of the Gallery but there the chase came to a precipitate end when she found herself with no escape. She turned at bay, her eyes sparkling with anger as she silently dared him to take the keys from her. With a grin he picked up the challenge immediately, advanced with deliberate intent and pushed her back against the panelling, his hands easily capturing
and pinioning her wrists behind her back, the weight of his body holding her in submission.

‘That was not wise, Viola!’

She kicked his shin smartly, enough to cause him to flinch and draw in a sharp breath. She saw anger and frustration—jealousy, even—in his eyes, but only fleetingly, to be replaced by a far more intense emotion that she could not identify. He scanned her face intently, the flush in her cheeks, the angry glint in her eyes that turned them dark and lustrous, her parted lips as she gasped for breath. His heart picked up its beat and the tightening in his groin made him take a deep breath and pray for control.

‘Little Kat. What penalty shall I demand for that unwarranted attack on my shin!’

Her eyes flashed their defiance at his intimate misuse of her name.

He removed the keys from her resisting fingers and tossed them to the floor where they fell with an ominous clatter. Then he did not release her, but held her firmly against the wood, her soft breast crushed against his jacket, his hard thighs holding her still.

‘Well, little Kat?’

‘If my father’s will is hidden here, then I have a right to search for it,’ she spat at him, refusing to acknowledge the effect of his nearness, the spread of heat in her blood, the trembling throughout her body that owed nothing to her previous anger.

‘You have no rights other than those I allow you.’ His voice was gentle, against all her expectations—but without warning he bent his head and kissed her. It took her by surprise. She had expected him to take his revenge, all flash and fire, searing possession. Instead he touched her mouth with the utmost tenderness, his lips sliding gently, persuasively over hers, encouraging them to open to allow his tongue access. Her mind might resist him, but her body and heart betrayed her. She could not resist such gentleness and found herself sinking helplessly, treacherously into his embrace. He lifted his head and she blinked at him in shocked uncertainty.

‘Katherine,’ he murmured and smiled down into her face. ‘That was not so unpleasant, was it? From a Royalist and an Oxenden!’

Then the heat and passion in his fiercely narrowed eyes took her breath away. He released her hands, changed the angle of his head, holding her face exactly as he wished, his fingers, callused from reins and sword, rasping on her soft skin so that she shivered in anticipation, and took possession of her mouth once more, his tongue hard and deep in its invasion. When her hands were free, against all her intentions Kate found herself sliding her arms around his neck, pushing her fingers into his hair to glory in its silken strength, pulling him closer. She was aware of him as she had never been before, the hard firmness of his chest and belly, the strength in his well-toned muscles. It was so unfair of him to take advantage of her in
this way—and for her own responses to be guilty of such betrayal.

When he finally released her he stepped away, his grey eyes dark and watchful, flickering over her stunned expression, her softly parted lips. He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her palm.

‘You should know, Mistress Harley—the written contracts for our marriage are complete and I now have them in my possession.’ Kate shivered a little at the calm determination in his face.

‘So you have everything you want.’ He detected a hint of sadness behind the defiance and felt a need to soothe it, but sensed her withdrawal from him.

‘I do not need the legality. I have possession.’ There was an edge to his voice now. ‘I want you. And I learned in past years that you hold closely to what is yours. Do you remember what I said to you on the way to Widemarsh?’

‘Yes. I remember.’
I love you.

‘You did not believe me.’

‘No.’ Her eyes were wide and locked on his. A challenge again. ‘How should you love me?’

‘I will prove it.’ He knew it had been a gamble from the first, but he would risk it. For the first time in his life, when the cards were stacked against him, he would take the chance—to win this entrancing girl who fired his blood and possessed his mind and heart. He would risk the possibility of hurt and rejection. ‘There are three
things that I find I want from you, Mistress Harley. I want you in my arms and in my bed. That’s the first. Second, I want you to carry my heirs.’

‘Then the contract is a victory for you, my lord.’ There was no softening in her. ‘You will get all of that.’

‘Does the will matter so much? The legal recognition? You will live here at the Priory and your children will claim it.’

‘Yes, it matters.’

‘Very well.’ He released her shoulders abruptly, turned from her and stooped to pick up the keys. ‘I will allow you to do as you wish, search the house for any hidden documents, if that is what you wish, but I will not give you the keys to my house—yet. I will keep these.’ He tossed them lightly in the air, catching them, eyeing her with a narrowed stare, before dropping them into a pocket.

‘That is exactly what I would have expected from you!’ If her upbringing had not been so strict and ingrained, Kate would have stamped her foot. She hissed in frustration like the kitten he had called her when she recognised defeat for her intentions in the implacable grey of his eyes. She turned her back on him and tried for dignity as she marched down the Gallery She did not see the quick grin on his face or the softening of the light in his eyes as he noted the hint of a flounce when she swept towards the door. With a few strides he caught up with her.

‘You have not asked me about the third thing, my dear Viola.’

She clenched her teeth at the laugh in his voice. ‘So, what is the third thing, my lord?’ She fought hard to keep her tone uninterested.

Marlbrooke took her arm in a gentle clasp and drew her to stand before him. ‘Why, nothing of great importance.’ His eyes mocked her, but not unpleasantly. ‘I merely would have you love me. I want your heart, Viola.’

This time the flounce in her step was unmistakable as she pulled her arm free and made good her escape. But she could not quieten her feverishly beating pulse, just as she could not eradicate his words as they echoed hauntingly in her mind and her heart.

The Viscount watched her go, making no further attempt to detain her, his eyes a little pensive and the ghost of a smile touching his hard mouth. He was not dissatisfied with the outcome, sympathetic to the contradictory emotions that tore at her and left her uncertain and insecure. Resist him she would—but not for ever. He turned to retrieve his hat and gloves, haunted by the memory of a soft mouth and reluctant surrender in his arms.

In the following days Kate made the short journey between Widemarsh and the Priory on a number of occasions. She was allowed free rein to continue her explorations of the house and always found time to spend with Lady Elizabeth. She found that she began to look
forward to her visits, particularly, if she were honest, with the prospect of exploring her difficult relationship with Marlbrooke. Sometimes he was there, welcoming her with wry amusement in his smile. Sometimes he was engaged on estate business, when she was disappointed and felt that some of the brightness had dimmed from the day. Her mind returned again and again to the central problem. How could she find so much pleasure in his company, in his acerbic wit, the occasional touch of his hand on hers or the brush of his lips against her fingers? How could she desire above all things to be in his company, when she had vowed never to come to terms with the Oxenden family in general and the Viscount in particular?

She was forced to accept that she was not immune to his charm. As she was forced to accept two other important facts. In spite of her diligent searches, Kate found no trace of family papers or her father’s will. And as for Marlbrooke, he made no mention of his love for her again. Either his fleeting attraction had dissipated as speedily as it had developed, or he was giving her the space to consider and question her own feelings as she came to know him better.

‘Kate.’ Marlbrooke held out his hand in greeting as Kate dismounted one morning and handed her horse over to Jenks. ‘Come and walk with me.’ He drew her hand through his arm to compel her agreement. He did not need to do so.

‘So Mistress Gilliver continues to allow you to return to this Royalist pit of sin and depravity.’ His glance was cool and bland, hiding the humour. ‘I fancied that she might lock you in at Widemarsh and so effectively thwart our marriage arrangements.’

‘No.’ Kate smiled a little at the not-too-extreme likelihood of Gilliver taking such action. ‘But I admit she has been brutally outspoken on the subject.’

‘Who do you suppose Mr Adams was?’ Marlbrooke mused, taking Kate’s hand to lead her along one of the gravelled walks. The box hedges in the knot garden were beginning to put on spring growth with bright new leaves.

‘I have no idea. I do not remember his being mentioned in the family.’

‘Whatever he was, he was without doubt a brave man.’

‘Brave?’ Kate bent to pick a sprig of lavender, its scent warming with the sunshine.

‘He would have to be to tie himself to Gilliver.’

‘All I know is that he is dead.’

‘He would be.’

Kate could not suppress a laugh at the Viscount’s dry tone. The breeze whipped colour into her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. Marlbrooke watched her with pleasure as she relaxed in his company, crumbling the aromatic leaves between her fingers.

‘Does she, do you suppose,’ he asked idly, ‘dabble in the black arts?’

‘I think not.’ Kate took up the point in all seriousness. ‘But the only room in the Manor without a layer of dust is the still-room—it is so neat and well ordered I do not like to set foot there without her permission. Everything is labelled and in its place. The rest is a very poor apology for housekeeping, and she does not seem to notice when mice run across the hearth in front of you. But she undoubtedly has great knowledge and skill in the use of herbs and plants.’

‘Against my better judgement, I must acknowledge my gratitude to Mistress Gilliver! My mother continues to find relief from her potions. But it is hard to accept that she will never be restored to full health.’

‘I know. My uncle—Simon Hotham—is also afflicted with rheumatic pains, brought on by a badly attended wound. His joints become severely inflamed in damp weather. He finds it hard to tolerate his infirmity, I believe. My mother says that it has had a detrimental effect on his temper—indeed, on his whole personality.’

‘I remember him as a soldier. He earned a considerable reputation—at the Battle of Worcester he was instrumental in the victory for Cromwell’s New Model Army.’ Perhaps this was not a suitable topic for light conversation on a bright morning, particularly with a lady who was still a little reserved, conscious of the burden of the past and so reluctant to relax in his company. Marlbrooke adroitly changed the subject. ‘You will be gratified to know that your salves and potions—or Gilliver’s—have
given my mother so much ease and made her life so tolerable again that she is considering a total refurbishment of the Priory—with mention of the beating of tapestries and the clearing out of attics. Mistress Neale is, of course, in close collaboration. It makes my blood run cold to think of it. I
could
believe that perhaps that was your intent from the beginning, my devious child.’ He raise an expressive brow as he looked down at her.

‘Really, my lord?’ She smiled innocently, but the he caught the instant mischief in her eyes.

‘Really, Mistress Harley! Should I thank you or damn you for disturbing my comfort, do you think?’

‘If I were you, I would thank God for Lady Elizabeth’s improved health—and find as many opportunities as possible for business at the far ends of the estate!’