Briar Patch (15 page)

‘Thank you, no. I shall leave you to your cosy chatting since you have company. Roz, perhaps we could have a talk one day?'

‘Call whenever you please. I am sure Harry will be pleased to see you.' Roz stood up and began to pull on her gloves. ‘I ought to be leaving, Julia. I shall see you both next week. If what you have to say is urgent, Philip, you may walk me to the door.'

‘It will keep,' he said and sat down, looking at his wife. ‘I think perhaps I will have some tea after all.'

Roz walked from the room. The footman sprang to open the door for her and she nodded to him as she passed through. Outside, a cool breeze had sprung up and there was a hint of rain in the air. Perhaps she ought to have brought the carriage rather than riding the five miles from the Towers. If it started to rain heavily she would be soaked by the time she got home.

The rainstorm burst as Roz was leaving Thornton land. She put her head down and kept riding but it was heavy going, the wind driving the rain into her face. When she saw the lean-to at the side of a hay barn, she changed direction and headed for it, even though it was on Tom Blake's land. Dismounting, she led her horse into the shelter and tied the reins to a wooden post.

‘It was sudden,' a voice said from behind her. ‘You look wet through. Here, take my coat.'

Roz turned and saw the man who had spoken. Her heart did an odd somersault and she found herself smiling, reminded of a summer's day when he'd helped her by finding her brother's horse.

‘Mr Blake,' she said. ‘I am wet but I can't take your coat. You will turn cold yourself.'

‘I can use some of this sacking.' He removed his heavy grey coat and placed it about her shoulders. Its weight made her feel warmer at once. The cloth smelled of horses and hay and something more she couldn't define but associated with him.

‘You are generous to give me this,' she said. ‘Do use some of those sacks. I feel so guilty taking your coat.'

‘I got here before it came on heavily. Come and sit on these hay bales. If I put them either side of us they will keep out the cold.'

Roz hesitated, then took the hand he offered. He had made a place for them to sit on the bales and sat next to her, pulling the bales round them. The hay smelled sweet and dry and Roz felt warmth beginning to spread through her.

‘How are you, Mr Blake? And your mother – and Carrie?'

‘Ma and Carrie are all right. Pa had a stroke and he's been a right devil since he came through it. I'm getting married this Saturday.'

‘Really?' She did not know why the news should come as a shock. ‘I must congratulate you. What is the fortunate lady's name?'

‘Mary Jane Forrest. She and her ma do sewing for you and Lady Thornton sometimes.'

‘Yes, I know Mary Jane well. She is pretty and a happy girl, which must be a good thing in a wife, I think. I wish you both happiness, Mr Blake.'

‘Do you think you might call me Tom?'

‘Yes, if you wish it.' Roz laughed softly. ‘You keep rescuing me, Tom Blake, so perhaps I should treat you as the friend you've been to me.'

‘You're beautiful,' Tom said and leaned towards her. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes. Roz felt her heart begin to beat wildly and something moved inside her.

His kiss took her breath away, sending little charges of excitement through her body. Without realizing what she was doing, she ran her hands into his dark hair and kissed him back. The hunger in the kiss shook them both and they drew back, staring at each other in shock.

‘Oh . . .' Roz put a finger to her lips. ‘You kissed me . . .'

‘I shouldn't have done that – but I'm not sorry. I've been wanting to kiss you since the day you got caught on the briars.'

‘You scolded me for taking the roses that belong to the poor people.'

‘I shouldn't have done that.' Tom reached out to touch her face. ‘I have to marry because Ma can't manage alone and Carrie is more trouble than she's worth, but I haven't stopped thinking of you. I dream of you all the time – of loving you.'

‘You shouldn't . . .' Roz began, then leaned into him and kissed him. This time he put his arms around her and held her close. She was trembling when he let her go. ‘I married for the wrong reasons too. I wasn't in love with Harry. I'm so unhappy, Tom.' It had come out so suddenly; all she'd wanted to say to Julia and couldn't. The tears slid down her cheeks and he wiped them away with his fingers. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that – it was wrong of me.'

‘It's being here in the rain.' Tom brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. ‘You're Roz and I'm Tom while we're here. When you get on your horse and leave I'll be a farmer you know slightly and you'll be Mrs Rushden who lives at the Towers. Nothing will have changed.'

‘But it has already. I feel wanted, loved.' Roz moved closer, her lips seeking his once more. ‘Love me, Tom. Just this once. Let me live in your arms and then we'll part. We'll never do this again.'

‘Are you sure?' His look was disbelieving, his eyes searching her face. ‘It's what I want but . . .'

‘Don't question, just love me,' Roz whispered against his lips. She was reckless, lost to all caution. Here, marooned by the rain, nothing else seemed real. ‘I'll never ask you for anything more. Please . . .'

‘I'm the one who should be saying that,' he murmured and drew her back into the hay bales. His hands caressed her face, his lips moving against her throat and her hair. ‘I've dreamed of this so many times. I know it's a dream. I shall wake up soon and find you gone.'

‘If it is a dream let's make it one to last a lifetime.'

Roz trembled as his hands moved over her body. She lay back, gazing up at him, expecting the feelings of revulsion to start, to feel herself freezing, rejecting him, but it didn't happen. She was alive and warm, her flesh leaping at this man's touch. She didn't understand why or what had happened, just that she was on fire with need and wanting, the wetness between her thighs testimony to her willingness for what happened next.

Roz arched her back, a long, shuddering sigh leaving her lips as Tom moved inside her. It was such a sweet feeling, her breath coming faster and faster as she moved in time with his thrusting, reaching out to him and welcoming him deeper and deeper inside her. She had never known there could be such pleasure, never understood that she could be so abandoned or eager for a man's touch.

When he came inside her, Roz felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. She tasted their salt; it mingled with the taste of him on her lips and she ran her tongue over them.

‘You taste so good,' she murmured and opened her eyes to look up at him.

‘Tears? Did I hurt you?'

‘You made me feel wonderful.' Roz reached up to stroke his cheek, feeling the faint roughness where he was beginning to need a shave and touching the tiny cleft in his chin. ‘How did you learn to do that?'

‘I've no idea. It has never been that good for me before.' He bent and kissed the bridge of her nose. ‘No regrets, then?'

‘None. It was lovely. Something I shall remember when I'm sad.'

‘I won't marry Mary Jane. We'll run away together. Ma can have the farm and I'll find work . . .'

‘Hush, Tom.' Roz touched a finger to his lips. ‘You know it can't be that way, my love. This was just a dream we shared. When we leave here after the rain it will be as if it never happened. You can't desert your family or Mary Jane and I . . .' She leaned up and brought him down to her. ‘Just hold me. Let's keep the dream alive for as long as we can.'

‘I want you so much. Why did you have to be a lady and me a farm labourer?'

‘It isn't that keeping us apart and you know it. If we were both free – but we're not and we never can be, Tom. Marry Mary Jane and be happy. You can't break her heart and I can't leave my husband.'

‘You don't love him.' Tom grabbed her hair and held her face close to his. ‘You love me. Say it, Roz. Say you love me.'

Tears were trickling down her cheek. She gazed into his eyes and knew that it was the truth.

‘Yes, I love you. I think perhaps I've loved you since we first met that day I was caught in the briar patch but I didn't have the sense to see it.'

‘One day I'll have you again,' Tom said and bent his head to kiss her. ‘One day you will be mine, Roz – and then I'll never let you go.'

Ten

‘Where have you been?' Harry walked in as Roz was rubbing her hair with a towel. He looked at the gown lying on the floor where she'd dropped it; the material seemed to be drier than he'd expected. ‘It stopped raining an hour ago.'

‘I took shelter in a lean-to that was full of hay and I didn't realize the rain had stopped,' Roz said without looking at him. ‘I'm sorry if you were worried, Harry. I didn't think you would notice.'

‘What is that supposed to mean?' He glared at her as she slipped out of her wet petticoat, standing naked before him until she pulled on a silk dressing robe. ‘You're my wife. Of course I worry if you're caught in a storm.'

‘Then I ask for your pardon, Harry. Next time I go visiting and the sky looks dark I'll take the carriage.'

‘How was Julia? You seem in a better mood than you were earlier.'

‘Yes, I am.' Roz smiled at him in the mirror. ‘Julia told me that she may be carrying Philip's child. Don't you think this quarrel between us is foolish? I know I was nervous on our wedding night but it won't happen again. I'm sure you want an heir – don't you?'

‘Perhaps. Something is different – what has changed you, Roz? Why are you looking at me that way?'

‘It's foolish to go on quarrelling. I can't force you to come to my bed, Harry – but I shall not be frigid if you do.'

‘I'll think about it. You'd best hurry and get dressed. We have guests for dinner this evening. Raymond and Madeline came earlier than I expected.'

‘Very well.' Roz turned away and walked into her dressing room.

Harry stared after her, suspicion in his eyes. Something had changed Roz. She was like the girl he'd wanted to marry him, before their wedding night and the subsequent quarrels.

‘How are you, Madeline?' Roz kissed the Frenchwoman on the cheek. ‘That dress is so beautiful – is it the very latest style? I love the colour and the way it sweeps up dramatically to the bustle at the back.'

Madeline was stunningly beautiful with her blonde hair and blue eyes, and she had a rare sensuality that turned heads.

‘Yes, it is the latest thing.'

In Paris Roz had been quiet, reserved, and she knew the Frenchwoman had dismissed her as a nobody. Roz was aware that Madeline had flirted shamelessly with Harry and they'd possibly had an affair, but she hadn't minded. She still didn't mind but she had no intention of being eased to one side in her own home.

‘I thought it must be – but you are always so elegant.'

‘You are better now? In Paris perhaps you were unwell?'

‘I may have been a little queasy; the food at the hotel was very rich and not particularly well cooked. Home cooking is so much better if one has a good chef – do you not think so?' Her gaze flicked to Sir Raymond who was an older, distinguished-looking man; the perfect foil for his wife's outstanding beauty. ‘I am so pleased you were able to come sooner than expected, sir.'

He moved forward, bowing over her hand. His eyes travelled over her with new interest. In Paris he had ignored her but now he was noticing her.

‘I am delighted to meet you again, Mrs Rushden. I was uncertain as to whether I would enjoy a stay in the country, but now I'm certain it will be much more interesting than I'd thought.'

Roz pretended not to understand him. ‘Harry has had the house renovated to a high standard. The plumbing is modern and less noisy than at the hotel – and the gardens have been redesigned.'

‘I wasn't thinking of the renovations,' he murmured as he kissed her hand. Roz laughed. She had rediscovered the art of flirting and saw to her satisfaction that both Harry and Madeline looked less than pleased at her performance. ‘You must show me the gardens tomorrow morning.'

‘I should be delighted,' Roz said and took his arm. ‘My housekeeper is looking desperate. Perhaps we should go into dinner?'

‘Harry is a lucky dog,' he said close to her ear. ‘I didn't notice in Paris but here you have blossomed.'

‘An English rose does best in English soil, perhaps?'

Roz laughed as he whispered something in her ear, then drew a chair for her at the table. They were dining in the smaller parlour; the atmosphere was intimate and Roz suddenly found herself the centre of attention.

Harry was staring at her with new interest. Roz felt the laughter bubble inside her but she held it back, giving Harry an enigmatic look across the table. In Paris he had responded to Madeline's flirting but she did not particularly care. At this moment she was bursting with happiness and nothing Harry could do or say mattered. For the moment she was nursing her secret, holding the memory of those precious hours with Tom in the hay barn inside her.

Roz had forgotten all the things she enjoyed, her natural sense of self-worth repressed and buried beneath a mountain of shame. But she felt no shame in what had happened that afternoon. Tom's uncomplicated loving had set her free of all the doubts and humiliation. Paul had raped her, making her feel dirty and worthless. Harry said she was frigid and without feeling – but Tom made her feel as if she were special.