To Win His Wayward Wife (12 page)

They walked along in the water until they got to a part where Madison could no longer touch with her whole foot and stopped walking. “I need to stop,” she said softly. She might be able to do the backstroke in waist deep water with someone watching, but she didn’t like the idea of standing on her tiptoes just to be able to barely keep her chin above water.

“Come a little further,” he urged. “I’m not going to let you drown.”

She looked at him keenly. She knew he wouldn’t let her drown, but still the idea that for three seconds she could be frolicking like a scared fish before he could bring her to safety didn’t thrill her.

“Come on,” he urged again. “I’ll support you, I promise. I’ll never be more than an inch away.”

“All right,” she agreed, inching closer to him and his protective hold.

A few steps later she wasn’t even able to walk on her toes any longer and he used his arm to lift her and bring her squarely in front of him. He wrapped his other arm around her and walked her over to the closest wall. “This’ll do,” he said, favoring her with a grin.

She looked down at the end of the tub. “But we’re not at the end. There’s still a good two feet before we reach the end.”

“I know,” he said, moving his hands to hold her waist. “I don’t think I’d be able to support us at the end. Not unless I lean on the wall, too.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t float,” he said simply.

“I thought you said almost everyone floats,” she countered. Her feet were a good six or eight inches off the floor and she was being suspended in the water only by his hands on her waist and her back lightly pressing against the wall.

“I did,” he agreed. “But I’m not one of them. Well, actually, that’s incorrect. I don’t exactly sink, either.”

“How do you not float and not sink?” she asked dubiously. It was simple really, you either floated or sunk. Which was it?

He moved his body closer to hers and brought his thigh up in between her legs, resting his foot against the wall behind her. “To help support you,” he murmured when she gave him a startled look after she saw the new position of his leg. “About the sinking and floating business. Well, I don’t float at the top and I don’t sink to the bottom. It’s strange really. My body cannot stay on top of the water, but it can’t stay on the bottom, either. I seem to find myself sucked into the middle and struggle to come to the surface or stay on the bottom.”

“Why would you want to go to the bottom?” she asked doubtfully. And why would anyone want to
stay
at the bottom of a body of water?

He shrugged. “To look for things. As a boy, I didn’t have anyone to play with for a few years and when I’d go swimming, I’d throw something in and dive to retrieve it. It’s a great single-person game.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” she conceded. “I wonder why you can’t float or sink. Is that common?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve only met one other person that has the same difficulty. But I don’t know what causes it. Something about the density of the body being more than the water, therefore, you sink. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. All I know is my body—”

She cut him off with a quick kiss on the lips. “Sorry, you were starting to remind me of my overly scientific cousin Alex and I just couldn’t bear you ruining this moment that way.”

He looked to be in shock. “I’d say I’ll be sure to keep my scientific talk to myself in the future, but if my punishment for talking about science is a kiss, I believe I may take up an interest in biology, astronomy, chemistry, physics, horticulture and perhaps botany as well,” he told her with a grin.

“That may not be the punishment next time,” she retorted, resting her hands on his broad shoulders. He was actually a rather big man. Not enormous and fearfully intimidating, by any means, but not small and powerless, either. The muscles in his shoulders, chest and arms were so pronounced they were visible through his clothes. She’d barely taken note of that fact before they’d married. Before her wedding day he’d just been another man, nothing more. But in the past few days she’d taken notice on how his body filled out his clothing. Yesterday when she’d seen him in the water and lying on the grass, she’d noticed of just how big he was but hadn’t given it much thought. However, now that he was holding her so closely, she couldn’t notice anything
but
his masculinity.

His chest was just mere inches from hers and she had the strangest urge to reach her fingers into the middle of his small smattering of short reddish brown chest hair and feel his heartbeat under her fingers. Many doubted he had a heart, but she knew he did. And just now it seemed to be beating in time with hers.

“You know you still owe me a kiss,” he murmured in her ear.

“I know,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “As long as you didn’t think you’d just gotten out of it just now.”

“You mean that paltry peck didn’t count as my Waffle Law kiss?” she teased, bringing her cheek to rest against his slightly hair roughened jaw.

He shook his head and moved his hands from her waist and brought them up to caress her lower back. “No, it doesn’t count,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Heat she didn’t recognize pooled in her midsection as his hands continued their gentle and thorough exploration, climbing up her back. She may have been up to her shoulders in hot water, but she could feel every heated touch of his hands as if it were a brand. She closed her eyes and leaned against his powerful chest for the support she suddenly seemed to require.

Her body sank an inch or two more into the water and she rested on the muscled thigh he’d positioned in between her legs. His bristled jaw tickled a path across her cheek just before his lips landed on hers for tender kiss. His soft lips pressed hers with a gentle pressure that made her sigh with pleasure. His strong hands stopped roaming her back and came to rest on her shoulders, using their strength to pull her closer to him and hold her there.

His lips moved slightly lower to focus attention on her bottom lip, gently pulling it between his lips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and shamelessly she pressed her entire body closer to his. She could feel his strong chest against her swollen breasts and the hard planes of his stomach against her softer one. Below that, her knee brushed the hardness of his desire for her and she abruptly pulled her face back.

Embarrassment and shame washed over her. She’d just acted like a wanton by pressing her body against a man she hardly knew and was acting like a tart.

“Don’t pull away,” he panted as she scooted away from his body and toward the wall.

She couldn’t make herself look at him as she tried to scramble out of his embrace.

“Madison,” he said softly, moving closer to her as she backed up completely against the wall. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing me.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I know,” she whispered. But even whispering it didn’t keep her voice from cracking.

He repositioned himself to stand in front of her with one of his legs on either side of her and his body helping to keep her pressed against the side of the bath. Bringing his hands up to frame her face and tilt it toward his, he said, “There’s no shame in enjoying it, you know?”

She swallowed. Had she been so obvious? Of course she had. She’d just pressed herself to him like a tavern wench looking for side work.

“I enjoyed it,” he said with a smile. “Why shouldn’t you be able to?”

She lowered her lashes and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to tell me,” he countered softly. He leaned forward and brushed a sweet kiss on her forehead. “You don’t have to tell me today. You can tell me whenever you’re ready. I’ll be ready to listen.”

“Thank you,” she choked, bringing her fingers up to idly skate along the tops of his shoulders and down his clavicle.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, kicked off the wall to the middle of the bath and lifted her partially from the water before spinning her in a full circle that caused a large wave of water spray around the room. With a smile, he rested his forehead on hers and whispered, “I’ll always be there for you, Madison. Always.”

Chapter 13

Madison felt like a fugitive as she and Benjamin snuck back into Rockhurst after another meal of waffles (which she ate) and hot chocolate. It was nearly ten before their carriage entered the drive and dropped them off. Not that their hosts would have locked them out for being out so late. No, that would have been a preferable fate than what Madison assumed they’d have in store for them when they arrived: an interrogation.

Thinking it best to just sneak to her room and evade Brooke’s questions in the morning, they took hallways that led them away from the rest of the house in order to get to her room. She’d told Benjamin to just go to the gamekeeper’s cottage and she’d worry about avoiding her sister by herself. Of course he pulled the gentleman card (as if he’d ever been one before) and insisted he’d see her to her room.

They were just about to her door when Stevens suddenly appeared from nowhere. “I was told to have you report to the drawing room immediately, Your Grace,” Stevens said with a bow.

Madison turned to Benjamin and shot him an apologetic glance. She had no idea why they’d want to see him, but at least it wasn’t her they were summoning and for that, she was eternally thankful.

Benjamin grumbled something she couldn’t understand before turning to face the butler. “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Very well,” Stevens said. “And you, Your Grace?” he asked with a pointed look at Madison.

“Pardon?” she asked in confusion.

“Will you also be down shortly?”

She shifted her eyes to her snickering husband. “Oh, good grief. They did not tell you to call me that, did they?”

Stevens coughed to cover up his own snicker. That wasn’t an unusual habit for him. Before he became a butler he was actually a footman. When Andrew hit rock bottom a few years and had to pension off the majority of his servants, he moved Stevens to be his butlering footman here at Rockhurst. He had another, Addams, in London. Addams was always more professional about his butlering duties—actually he was quite snotty if one were interested in the truth. But Stevens, well, he had a lot to learn of professionalism. “I do believe it was Mrs. Grimes who directed me to call you that,” he said with a smirk.

Madison fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Liberty did that. Until she married Paul—wait, that wasn’t true, even for a while after she’d married Paul—she had a penchant for the rules of propriety to such a point that her husband still teased her from time to time calling her Live-by-the-rules Liberty. Madison warned Liberty the whole month of her engagement not to “Your Grace” her or she’d find a way to torture her. So far Liberty had followed the rules, but apparently she’d found a loophole. “Which one of us do they require for this blessed family event?” Madison asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Both,” Stevens said promptly.

Was it her imagination or did Benjamin groan at the same time she did? No matter. She shot him another apologetic glance and together they turned to walk back downstairs. Blast. All that skillful navigation of the halls only to be found out at the very end by the butler. Perhaps next time they’d just bore a hole in the ceiling and lower her in.

“It’s about time,” Andrew drawled as they walked in.

Madison felt a blush creep up her neck. “If we’d known you’d be waiting on us, we’d have stayed out longer,” Benjamin said smugly, leading Madison to lightly elbow him in the side. This was no time for jokes, not that she thought her family would get his humor anyway.

“Not to worry, I’ve been late once or twice myself,” Paul said dismissively.

“No need to bring up the past,” Liberty said lightly. “Now that everyone’s here, tell us what you’ve been torturing us with all afternoon.”

Paul reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a piece of paper. “There once was a time when I was filled with dread when I received one of these,” he announced with a grin directed to his wife. “But this time, I am proud to announce I have a piece of correspondence from one Mr. John Banks.” He held it up in the air for all to see. “Gentlemen, control your wives,” he commanded playfully a second later when the three women in the room ran to his side to try and grab the missive.

“Why did he send it to you?” Andrew asked testily, not bothering to pull his wife off the man.

“Because I’m his favorite son-in-law,” Paul retorted with a snicker, still holding the note as high in the air as he could.

Andrew frowned. “What makes you think you’re the favorite?”

All the commotion in the room came to an abrupt stop. Followed instantly by four people giggling, howling, shaking and bending over in laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding?” Madison said between ragged breaths of laughter.

“No,” Andrew said solemnly, shaking his head then turning to look at Benjamin who only shrugged in return.

“Putting aside that we’re both men of the cloth,” Paul broke in, still shaking with mirth, “you both married your wives due to scandal.”

“So did you,” Andrew retorted.

“Of her making, not mine,” Paul corrected, garnering a swat his bottom from his Liberty.

“And,” Brooke said, still giggling almost uncontrollably, “if you think about it, you helped create the scandal that led to Madison’s marriage to the man who hired you to create the scandal involving me.”

“I daresay, you just may hold the title of the least favorite,” Madison quipped.

Andrew shook his head. “All right, I’m the least favorite, as always. Now can we just hear what the letter has to say?”

“As soon as the vultures retreat,” Paul said.

Realizing the man wasn’t going to hand over the note to any of them, the girls backed away and waited in anticipation as Paul read the letter.

Most of it was a lot of huffing and puffing about how Andrew botched up his job as guardian and how disappointed Mama was she’d missed the one wedding that wasn’t a five minute ceremony thrown together on a whim with only a half dozen guests in a private residence. Then Papa went on to explain they’d be leaving on the next passenger vessel, which would be three days out from the one that carried the letter, therefore, technically they were only three maybe four days away by the time the letter arrived. Excitement skittered up Madison’s spine. She’d missed her parents dearly the past few months. At the very end of the letter there was mention of three small chests that would accompany the letter.

Madison’s heart pounded. She knew which chests her parents had sent. Each of the girls had a small chest two feet high, two feet long and maybe a foot and a half wide. They weren’t terribly big, just big enough to hold personal items that were special. Brooke’s and Liberty’s probably held things like favorite ribbons, dance card slips from their first dances, or other innocent things like that. Madison wished hers held innocent tokens like her sisters. Instead, she knew it was stuffed full of missives from Robbie, sketches she’d drawn of a stranger and even a few paintings. Nothing she wanted. Nothing that held an ounce of appeal.

“Would you like yours?” Benjamin asked, startling her.

She blinked up at him and turned to where Paul had a cabinet open and was withdrawing the chests he’d hidden there earlier. She shifted her gaze to Brooke when she heard her laugh at the dance card slip that held the name of a Russian Prince she’d once danced with when he’d come to America. Andrew was sitting with his arm around Brooke and acted somewhat interested in what she was showing him, but kept turning his curious gaze back to Madison and Benjamin. “I don’t believe so,” she said at last. “I’d like to go to my room actually.”

Benjamin wrapped a comforting arm around her and steered her from the room then down the maze of hallways and staircases that led to her room. “Madison, would you like to talk?” he asked when they reached her room. He moved to stand directly in front of her, resting his shoulder against the door. 

She shook her head.

“I’ll only listen,” he said, taking her hands in his. His blue eyes looked curious and intent as they stayed locked with hers while she debated her choices.

She shook her head again. “I’d like to be alone just now, thank you.”

He closed his eyes and nodded once. “All right. Will you come to where I’m staying tomorrow? I have something for you.”

Madison swallowed. “Can’t you bring it here?” she asked a bit nervously.

“I could,” he mused. “But I’d rather not. Just come see me.”

“All right,” she said quietly.

The corner of his mouth tipped up and he brought both her hands up to his mouth and feathered kisses on each of her knuckles. Lowering their hands, he leaned forward and every so lightly pressed a kiss to her lips. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.

***

Madison sat on the edge of her bed staring at the wall in front of her far longer than she should have. She just couldn’t force herself to get up and get changed for bed. She’d already been unnerved by the crashing end to her bright day by the delivery of those blasted trunks with the blasted letters from the blasted Robbie in them. But then to come into her room and find another blasted letter from blasted Robbie only served to fray her edges. She might have stared at the wall for a week straight if Brooke hadn’t arrived.

“Madison,” Brooke said softly, coming into her room and shutting the door. “Do you want to talk?”

Madison handed Brooke the new blasted note from blasted Robbie.

Brooke’s fingers snatched the unsigned note and she scanned it, moving her lips as she read the words. “Where did you get this?”

“On the bed,” Madison said, pointing to where the note had been lying on her pillow when she’d opened the door.

Brooke sat down next to her. “Madison, the note was delivered by a paid messenger and isn’t even signed, why are you so upset over it?”

“It’s from him,” Madison said evenly, falling back to lie on the bed.

Brooke lay next to her. “Who? Your husband?” she asked doubtfully.

Madison brought her hands up to cover her face to stop from laughing and sarcastically said, “Yes, Brooke, Benjamin wrote me an anonymous note to warn me he was a murderer.”

“Well, you knew he was dangerous before you married him. He had to earn his title of Dangerous Duke somehow,” Brooke quipped.

“I don’t believe the content of the note for a minute,” Madison cut in before Brooke could make any more asinine comments. “It’s the ‘who’ of the matter that bothers me.”

“Not following you,” Brooke said, getting off the bed and going to Madison’s chest of drawers. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a cotton nightgown then tossed it on the bed next to Madison.

“Robbie,” Madison said.

“What are you talking about?” Brooke asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She walked to where Madison was laying on the bed and motioned for her to get up.

Like the good younger sister that she was, she dutifully stood up and turned her back to Brooke so she could undo her gown. Having grown up in America without lady’s maids, the girls had always helped each other dress and undress if needed. Having never had strangers help her disrobe before, Madison had been slightly uncomfortable with Lottie’s help and had given her time off until she was ready to leave Rockhurst. “The note. It’s from Robbie,” Madison clarified as Brooke quickly undid her buttons.

“Pffft. Toss it in the trash. Robbie hasn’t two thoughts to knock together in that empty space he calls a brain box.”

Madison shook her head. “I just wish he’d leave me alone.”

“We all do, trust me. He just cannot stand for you to be happy without him. Remember what happened w—”

“Do not speak to me of him,” Madison cut her sister off sharply.

“All right, I won’t. But the fact is, Robbie cannot stand for you to be happy with anyone else,” Brooke stated flatly, stepping away from the back of Madison’s gown and picking up her nightgown.

Madison stepped out of her slippers and got ready to pull her gown down. “And what makes you think I’m happy with someone else?”

“The fact that you’re not wearing your chemise,” Brooke said in a sing-song voice.

Heat rose in Madison’s face. “It’s not what you think,” she said hastily. After their bath, she’d had to retire her wet chemise for the day.

Brooke shrugged. “I’m not passing judgment.”

“Brooke, just leave it alone. Nothing happened.” She quickly brought her nightgown over her head and turned to face her smiling sister.

“If you say so,” Brooke said, disbelief filling her voice.

“Well, I say so,” Madison countered with a hint of annoyance.

Brooke took a seat on the bed and patted the space next to her until Madison gave in and plopped down. “Say I believe you and nothing happened,” she cast her a doubtful smile, “do you think it’s possible something could happen?”

“It’s possible,” Madison confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Brooke tucked a raven tendril behind her ear and wet her lips. “If he makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Madison said softly. “But that’s what you said about Robbie, too.”

“I know,” Brooke said, nodding. “But I mean it this time.”

“You’re a good sister,” Madison said, leaning her head on Brooke’s shoulder.

“You are, too,” Brooke said. “Even if you do have abominable taste when it comes to men.”