The Bridegroom (28 page)

Once both her hands were free, Reggie dove underwater and swam for the sheer love of it, heading for the
mound of large flat stones located in the center of the pond. When at last she came up for air, she realized she was not alone.

Carlisle was sitting atop the stones, his arm resting on one upraised knee, which coincidentally hid certain parts of his body. He was stark naked. His hair was still damp and slicked back from his face, and although his skin was mostly dry, here and there a pearl of water clung to him.

“Where did you come from?” she demanded angrily, treading water, unwilling to swim any closer, since she was equally naked. The ravenous look in his dark eyes left no doubt what he would like to do with her. To her. “How did you get there?” she snapped.

“I swam here,” he replied with a wolfish smile.

Reggie realized that the large flat stone was shaped like a step. Carlisle must have been hidden from view on the lower level. “Why didn’t you make your presence known sooner?”

He lifted a brow. “You must know the answer to that.”

“How would you like it if I—” That line of reasoning would not work. He obviously did not care if she saw him bare-bottomed, since he was sitting naked before her.

Reggie had been keeping her eyes cast downward, trying
not
to see him, and suddenly realized that the only way he could know what it felt like to be scrutinized was to do the deed herself. She lifted her gaze and did a slow, thorough survey of his body, starting with his face—
meeting his eyes to let him know what she intended—and then moving downward.

His hand dangled off his knee, and she noticed how large it was, how long and narrow his fingers. She was spared a full view of his masculine endowments, but there was enough of a shadow for her to realize he was aroused.

So was she, by the time she had finished. Which was the last thing Reggie wanted to be, when she had no intention of satisfying either him or herself. So far Carlisle had not made a move toward her, but Reggie did not think it would take more than an eyelash flickered in invitation for him to join her in the water.

The lesson she had hoped to give him had miscarried miserably. She sought some other way she might punish him for his flagrant behavior and realized reprisal was within her grasp.

“Where are your clothes?” she asked, backpedaling in the water, slowly but steadily putting more distance between them, hoping he would not notice.

He pointed toward shore, a short distance from where she had left her own. “There. On the bank.”

While his gaze had been distracted, she had put even more distance between them. Then, before he could discern what she intended, Reggie turned and swam as fast as she could toward the bank. She expected Carlisle to come after her, but it took him an extra few seconds to realize her intent, unwind his body, and dive off the rock.

In that time, she reached the bank, pulled her dress
over her head, yanked on her half boots, and ran as fast as she could toward where he had left his clothing.

She discarded his trousers, shirt, and smalls, but grabbed up his shoes and stockings.

“Reggie, I do not find this amusing!” he shouted as he ran toward her along the slippery mud bank.

“Have a nice walk home through your manicured lawn, my lord,” she said with a laugh as she raced for the castle.

“It is full of thistles!” he shouted. “And prickly weeds I cannot even name. And sharp stones!”

“I will make sure Pegg has some figwort waiting to salve your wounds,” she called back.

She was grinning from ear to ear, running as she had not run since she was a child. In those long ago days, she had pretended to be a wild horse, leaping from green hillocks and galloping down grassy vales, Becky chasing after her with a noose made of knotted scarves, trying in vain to capture her. Reggie had forgotten what it felt like to be so free. She had forgotten the feel of the wind in her hair, the aching stitch in her side, the burning in her thighs as she pushed herself harder and faster.

A figure stepped out of the darkness, and she started in fear and dropped everything in her hands. She paused, ready to dart away again, lungs heaving, side aching, legs burning.

“My lady, are ye in danger
rr
? What’s wr
rr
ong?”

Reggie managed a ragged, relieved laugh. “I’m fine, MacTavish. I’m only playing a trick on my husband.” She huffed out a breath, then reached down to retrieve her clothes, managing to hold up one of Carlisle’s Hessians.
“He’s walking back from the pond barefooted,” she explained.

The wizened old man laughed. “ ’Tis a good joke, my lady. Is he likely to be ver
rr
y angr
rr
y with ye?”

Reggie sensed the old man was ready to protect her, to be her
gille-coise
, if she had need of him. “He will do me no harm, MacTavish. Although, I believe I will play least in sight when he returns,” she said with a grin.

“I’ll take those boots for ye,” he said. “And give them a shine before I r
rr
eturn them,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “That way, if yer
rr
husband comes askin’ if ye have them, ye can honestly say no.”

Reggie laughed. “Thank you, MacTavish.”

She was inside before she realized she had been talking to MacTavish with her dress still unbuttoned! Reggie blushed when it was too late for anyone to notice, then finished dressing quickly and quietly by the fire in the empty kitchen, before she fulfilled her promise by seeking out Pegg.

She found him sitting in the wing chair in the library, a warm plaid wool blanket across his lap, a glass of brandy at his side, a book in his lap, looking very much like the lord of the manor. Except he wore a black eye-patch and a golden earring and only one foot stuck out from beneath the blanket.

“Carlisle will be needing some of your famous salve this evening,” she said as she stepped into the room.

He looked up from what he was reading and asked, “Why is that?”

“I believe he misplaced his boots and had to walk back from the pond barefooted,” she said with a grin.

“Ye can be a trial, lass,” Pegg said, returning her grin.

“What are you reading?” she asked, curious because she had not expected someone who had made his living as a card sharp to be an educated man.

“ ’Tis a pamphlet Clay asked me to look over.”

“Oh? What is it?” She crossed to Pegg, leaned over his shoulder, and read aloud, “
How to Make Your Farm Produce a More Substantial Yield
. Carlisle asked you to read this?” she said, her brow furrowing.

“I think, given the chance, the lad would rather farm than sail the seas,” Pegg said.

“But he has the chance,” Reggie said. “Castle Carlisle is surrounded by land he could farm.”

“Did ye not know, lass? His brother sold all the land to yer father. None of it is Clay’s. It all belongs to the duke.”

Reggie suddenly felt chilled. She walked around the chair and stood directly before the fire, searching for warmth. “No wonder he hates my father.” She had a sudden thought and turned excitedly back to Pegg. “Carlisle could buy it back!” she said. “He’s rich now, and I know my father would be willing to part with the land if I asked.”

“I don’t want any favors from your father,” Carlisle said from the doorway.

Reggie wished she had gone straight to her room. She glanced down and saw Carlisle was still barefoot. Blood wept from a dozen tiny cuts she could see on his ankles and toes. She did not wish to imagine the condition of the soles of his feet. She swallowed hard and met his
eyes. She had not intended to hurt him seriously. “Are you badly injured, my lord?”

He sighed and limped his way across the Turkish carpet. “There is no damage a good soaking and some figwort won’t cure,” he conceded.

“I’ll leave ye to tend to yer husband, lass,” Pegg said as he rose and stumped out of the room.

“But, Pegg—” It was plain she would get no mercy from him. “Will you sit, my lord,” she said, gesturing to the chair Pegg had vacated. “I will send one of the maids for some hot water.”

Then she realized she had given all the maids the rest of the day off. “Oh, dear. There is no maid to bring water. I will have to do it myself. Will you wait here for me, my lord?”

He raised a brow and said wryly, “I am not inclined to do a great deal more walking this evening.”

Reggie hurried away to boil some water and happily discovered that someone had put a large pot of water over the fire in the kitchen to heat for tea. She decided that Carlisle’s feet needed the hot water more, and she carried the teapot, and a pan large enough to hold both of Carlisle’s feet, back to the library with her.

She set the pan down without speaking and poured in the steaming water. She dipped her fingers in to check the temperature. “Hot, but not too hot.” She sat back on her heels and watched as Carlisle eased one foot into the pan of water, making a hissing sound like steam, as though his foot were a hot poker being dipped into cold water.

Reggie lifted the other foot and hissed in his stead as
she eased the wounded limb into the water. Once both feet were ensconced, she looked up and said, “I’m sorry, Clay. I didn’t think such a silly joke would have such cruel consequences.”

“There is a way you can make amends,” he said.

She met his gaze and saw the need he made no effort to hide. She rose and took a step back. “I think not, my lord.”

Reggie turned and walked away, leaving Carlisle alone to nurse the wounds in his flesh—and in his unforgiving heart.

S
imms entered the dining room at breakfast the next morning and announced in a loud voice, “Company has come to take you riding on a pig, milady. Or it might be rowing in a bog. I could not quite make it out.”

Reggie glanced at Carlisle, who was rolling his eyes at the deaf butler’s mutilation of whatever message he had been asked to bring. “Never mind, Simms. I will shortly know for sure,” Reggie said. “Please excuse me, my lord, while I see who has arrived.”

“As long as you return and tell me what was said. I must admit my curiosity is aroused.”

Reggie hurried to the drawing room and stopped in the doorway, moved beyond words by the sight that greeted her. “Becky! Mick! What a wonderful surprise!”

“We grew weary of waiting for you to come to us, so we decided to come to you,” Mick said with a grin.
“We’re here to have a picnic and go boating on the pond.”

Riding on a pig and rowing in a bog
. Reggie laughed with delight. “But what are you doing here, Becky? Where is Penrith?”

“Penrith has left the country,” Becky said.

While Reggie was still trying to absorb that astonishing piece of news, her sister added, “Actually, he has left me. My marriage has been annulled.”

“What?” Reggie cried. “What about Lily?”

“Lily is with me.”

“Thank God!” Reggie said, gripping Becky in a hug that threatened to crack both their ribs. She let go enough to search Becky’s face. “How are you faring? How did this happen? I have so many questions!”

“I will answer them all,” Becky promised, freeing herself from Reggie’s grasp. “But the day is so beautiful. And Mick has planned a wonderful picnic.”

“Of course,” Reggie said. “I will tell the servants to put together—”

“We have everything we need except you,” Mick said. “Kitt, your brother Gareth, and your sister Meg are all waiting in the landau.”

“And Papa?” Reggie asked excitedly. “Did he come?”

“I’m sorry, Reggie,” Becky said, laying a hand briefly on her sister’s forearm, communicating more in that small touch than in a thousand words. “He had estate business that could not wait.”

Reggie was certain Carlisle’s threat was the true culprit. She was sorry her father had allowed the warning to
keep him away, but she was not going to ruin what should prove to be a congenial afternoon’s visit with everyone else by worrying about it now. If she had to, she would sneak out in the middle of the night and visit her father.

“Let me go get Carlisle,” she said. “We were just finishing our breakfast.”

“Must he come?” Mick asked.

Reggie stopped and turned back to Mick, annoyed that he should want to exclude her husband, even if she understood his reasons. “I want him to meet Kitt.”

“He already knows Kitt,” Mick said.

“What?”

“Carlisle courted Kitt before your father married her,” Mick said.

“What?”
Reggie was aghast. “
Carlisle
and
Kitt
? He must have been a puppy at the time, years younger than she was!”

“Actually, three years younger,” Mick said.

“You are not making me feel better,” Reggie informed him. “Why did you not say something sooner?” She rounded on her twin. “Did you know about this, Becky?”

Becky shook her head. “I am as astounded as you are.”

“It was a long time ago, and nothing ever came of it,” Mick said. “I am sorry now I mentioned it.”

“Was Carlisle in love with her?” Reggie asked, her heart beating frantically, frightened of what Mick’s answer might be, but needing to know it.

“Of course not,” Mick said. “It was to be a marriage
of convenience for both of them. Neither was ever enamored of the other.”

“How can you be sure?” What if Carlisle still loved Kitt? Reggie wondered. What if it was not his dead wife he grieved for, but the living woman he had lost to Reggie’s father?

“If you don’t believe me, ask Kitt this afternoon,” Mick said.

Easier said than done. Now Reggie was not at all sure she wanted Carlisle to come along on the picnic. Her stepmother was still a very beautiful woman. And Reggie could not imagine how she might casually ask Kitt if she had ever been in love with the man who was now Reggie’s husband!

“Wait a minute,” Reggie said, even more bizarre thoughts racing through her head. “Do you think Papa might have accused Carlisle of all those crimes to get him out of the way, so he could have Kitt for himself?”

“That would be horrible, if it were true,” Becky said, reaching out to take both of Reggie’s hands in hers. “I cannot believe it of Papa.”

“It isn’t true,” Mick said flatly. “Kitt had already married your father before he accused Carlisle of anything.”