Kane, Samantha - Brothers in arms 7 (4 page)

“You didn’t know?” Anne seemed surprised, but it was quickly replaced by exasperation. “Of course you don’t. North wouldn’t offer and you wouldn’t ask.”

Sarah didn’t know how to defend herself against that. Anne was right. She didn’t know him well enough to ask such things yet.

“Did you know I was the daughter of a vicar, like you?” The change of subject took Sarah by surprise, but not nearly as much as Anne’s startling background.

“You?” Sarah exclaimed. “But you are a duchess.”

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Anne laughed. “Well, yes, now I am a duchess. But I used to be the only daughter of the local vicar. My father served the parish here before Mr. Matthews.” She paused and scanned the crowd again, catching the duke’s eye. They smiled at each other. “I was engaged to the duke’s older brother, Viscount Talmadge. He died on the Peninsula.”

Sarah just nodded. She had the feeling Anne was leading to something as she revealed her past.

“Brett—Mr. Haversham—was my fiancé’s dearest friend during the war. He was injured in the same battle where Bertie was killed. When he returned to England, Freddy took care of him.” She turned and gave Sarah a meaningful look. “They have been inseparable since then.”

Ah. Sarah nodded with a smile. “I see. And you are saying that Mr. North and Mr.

Borden are similar?”

Anne chuckled. “I think I can say with certainty they are similar, although not quite the same.”

Again Sarah got the impression she was missing something important. Anne sighed. She put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder and turned her to face the guests. Sarah had unconsciously taken a sideways stance with her unmarred cheek exposed to that side of the garden. “There,” Anne pointed, “did you meet Mr. and Mrs. Westridge?

And their friend, Mr. Schillig?”

“Yes, I met them earlier. The baby is beautiful.” Sarah had cooed over the gorgeous baby girl with plump cheeks and bright blue eyes, making herself very agreeable to the Westridges. The baby really was adorable, bald as could be but lively and happy.

“Oh, isn’t she? I absolutely adore Violet. Leah made me promise not to whisk her off to the nursery and stay there all day.” Anne laughed. Sarah liked her laugh. She seemed to do it all the time, laughing at everything and everyone, including herself.

Sarah had never met anyone like her. Anne wagged a finger at Sarah. “Now, don’t get me started on babies. I am trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“I am sorry,” Sarah said a little desperately. “I know you are trying to tell me something, but I simply don’t understand. I am very gauche, aren’t I?”

Anne impulsively hugged her. Sarah was shocked but pleased and hugged her back awkwardly. She didn’t have a great deal of experience with hugs between adults. She’d really only hugged the children when they were small.

“Don’t be silly,” Anne told her. “You are not gauche. But you are unfamiliar with all this, I understand that.” Anne sighed. “Mr. Schillig lives with Mr. and Mrs.

Westridge, just as Mr. Haversham lives here with us.” She shook her head. “Just remember, Sarah, that the war was a terrible thing, and hardest on Gideon. These men…” She paused again and sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her cheeks and Sarah realized she was crying.

“Your Grace,” Sarah exclaimed. She reached out to touch Anne on the sleeve but pulled back at the last second. It seemed too familiar a gesture.

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From the corner of her eye Sarah saw the duke crossing the garden toward them, but Anne waved him off. She sniffed and tried again. “These men have been through so much, and they need each other. They helped one another through the worst of times, and they can’t, won’t, give up the closeness they shared during the war.” She gave a watery laugh. “I am overly emotional because of the baby.” Anne shook her head. “I know you don’t understand, not yet. But you will.”

Sarah rushed to reassure her. “I have no desire to make Mr. Borden leave, Anne. I was just unsure as to the exact nature of their relationship. They seem inseparable, and yet they are always at odds.”

Anne nodded with a laugh. “Yes, yes they are. I think Mr. Borden was the one thing that made North so annoyed he had no choice but to survive and get well, simply so he could give Borden a piece of his mind.”

Sarah bit her lip to hide her smile. “I do believe you may be right.”

Anne reached out and took Sarah’s hand, clasping it gently. “When the time comes and you need someone to talk to, you must come to me.”

Sarah was lost in the quagmire of the conversation again. She shook her head in confusion.

“You will know what I am talking about very soon,” Anne said, turning back to the garden, where the duke would no longer be held at bay. He was walking toward them purposefully, and as he passed Mr. Haversham he paused and the other man joined him. Anne gave Sarah a secretive little smile. “I wish you joy, Sarah. I think you will find it with Mr. North.”

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“Jesus bloody wept, Gideon!” Charles exclaimed in frustration. “She’s your wife. I won’t do it.”

They were standing on the veranda that looked out over the gardens of Ashton Park, watching laughing guests attempt to find their way through the maze. Charles had gone through it with Mrs. North and Mrs. Westridge earlier. Gideon wouldn’t attempt it because of the uneven ground, so Charles volunteered.

Mrs. North was quiet and so serious with her honey hair and pretty brown eyes that saw too much. She made him nervous and self-conscious, which was quite out of the ordinary for him. He’d let the two women chat as they got to know each other.

Watching Leah Westridge dance around her relationship with Valentine and Kurt had been highly amusing. But one thing had become clear—Gideon’s new bride was as innocent as a newborn foal.

“It is precisely because she is my wife that you will.” Gideon’s calm only fueled Charles’ ire.

“I will not interfere between you two on your wedding night,” he spit out between gritted teeth. “She is so innocent that to do so would surely cause her distress.”

“And this won’t?” For the first time in the conversation Gideon lost his control, holding his ruined hand up to scars on his face. “If you were a young, innocent bride, would you want this to be what you found in your marriage bed?”

“Yes.” Charles answered without thinking it through and then winced. Gideon’s face immediately closed down.

“You knew me before Badajoz.” Gideon turned away to look out at the garden again.

“Yes, I did,” Charles said softly, a wealth of meaning in those three words.

Gideon took a deep breath and Charles saw his nostrils flare in irritation.

“She deserves her first time with someone…perfect.”

Gideon’s observation was both reluctant and sincere. Charles wasn’t sure whether or not to be pleased. “I am not perfect.”

Gideon turned a baleful eye on him. “Do not play coy, Charles. Physically you are perfect. You are fit and strong, attractive, a male in his prime.”

Charles was amused in spite of his anger. “Shall I let her check my teeth?”

Gideon snorted. “If she wishes to, yes.”

“And while the perfectly fit and attractive me is divesting your new wife of her virginity, where will you be?”

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“I do not want you to fuck her.” Gideon slowly turned to face him. “I am not a complete idiot. She is my wife. And I am able to perform my duties. I simply want you there so that she has something pleasant to occupy her while I am, as you so aptly put it, divesting her of her virginity.”

“Bloody hell, Gideon,” Charles whispered. He had to turn away. His anger was gone, replaced by despair. “You ask too much of me. You want me to be a…a plaything.

Is that my value, then? After all these years? To amuse your wife but not to touch her?”

Gideon moved closer on his crutches. “It is because I value you so much that I ask.”

He spoke right over Charles’ shoulder, so that he felt Gideon’s breath against his neck.

It made him shiver. “I would ask no other to do this. But you have seen me at my weakest, Charles, and at my best. You know me. You know I cannot do this without you.” Gideon gripped his upper arm and it was then Charles realized how stiff his arm was, how tightly he was holding himself in check. He fought his grief over the memories Gideon pulled forth. “Why is this different than the other times we have done it? It does not have to be different.”

Charles spun around to face him. “But it does have to be different, Gideon. It must be different. She is your wife. So much depends on this night.” Charles wiped his hand across his mouth and chin. “She is not like the others. She is not a whore. She is an innocent woman who has entrusted you with her future.”

“I know that. I know.” Gideon sounded as distressed as Charles felt. For the first time in a very long time he did not try to control his emotions. Charles would have rejoiced in any other situation. But not here, not now. “It is different for me. But it need not be different for you. You don’t have to care for her. But surely you can see she is beautiful? It would not be a hardship to help me bed her.”

“Not care for her? Gideon, have you gone mad?” Charles tried to keep his voice down. “Of course I care for her! She is your wife. As such, I will care for and protect her to my dying breath. And that includes protecting her from you and your idiotic notions.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She does not find you offensive, Gideon. I’ve seen her watching you. She is fascinated by you. Every word you utter is gospel to her ears. Trust me, bedding you will be no burden for her.”

“If you watched her so closely, then you saw her shudder today when I took her hand in mine.” He raised his scarred left hand. “In this one.”

Charles was taken aback. “No, I did not see that. You are being overly sensitive.”

Gideon’s laugh was bitter. “You call me insensitive twenty times a day. Now I am overly sensitive.” He turned away. “What if I can’t do it?” Gideon’s whisper was harsh.

“It has happened before.”

He didn’t have to explain. Charles knew how difficult it was for Gideon to talk about that. Gideon hated to show his weaknesses. But he had them. His lack of confidence with women was one of the worst scars he carried from the war. Once again Charles silently cursed the French defenders at the fortress of Badajoz. “That was with a 23

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whore. An uneducated, coarse girl who knew nothing. It was my fault, really. I chose unwisely. Neither of us performed that night, and you know it.”

Gideon waved away his assurances and moved over to a chair against the wall. He sank into it and then leaned his head against his crutch. He looked so defeated. Charles’

hands began to shake.

“Please,” was all Gideon said. And Charles knew he was going to say yes.

* * * * *

Sarah was nervous. Not worried, exactly. Surely every woman was nervous on her wedding night. It was expected. And she knew Mr. North would be gentle. He may be gruff and silent most of the time, but she’d seen something in his eyes when he’d offered to release her from her obligation before the wedding. He’d been happy she had declined. He must desire her in some way. Mustn’t he?

But he was an experienced man. A soldier. Sarah was not so ignorant she didn’t understand what that meant. Loose women followed the drum, and soldiers certainly took advantage of their availability. It was impossible that he should expect Sarah to know what she was about tonight, no matter what he was used to.

She was pacing, and when she realized it she stopped immediately and sat down in an overstuffed chair before the empty fireplace. She’d opened the window earlier and the breeze carried in the scent of newly cropped hay. Sarah tried to relax. She rolled her shoulders and leaned back in the chair, attempting an inelegant, nonchalant sprawl and failing miserably. She simply wasn’t the kind to sprawl, unfortunately. She refused to give up and stiffly laid her head along the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

It had been a lovely day. Ashton Park was glorious, and Sarah had floated through the day as if under some enchantment. There was a brief moment of self-consciousness, but her walk with Anne settled her nerves in spite of their odd conversation. Mr.

Borden took her through the maze with Mrs. Westridge. Poor Mr. Borden was so nervous he was overly solicitous the whole way. He was so gentle with everyone else and so terse and cross with Mr. North. Sarah hoped she could smooth the way for the two men. They clearly cared for each other. She would figure out why they always seemed at odds. Surely it would be a simple matter to settle.

Sarah pictured her groom. Mr. North had looked austere and quite sophisticated in his somber clothes. He had the most amazing eyes. The more she saw of him the more mesmerizing those eyes became. Anne had described them as sea-glass blue today, and the description fit. They could seem so cold one moment and the next appear as the blue center of the hottest flame. The contradictory combination was fitting for the man.

Sarah compared him to the other men present today, her mind naturally going to Mr. Borden since she had spent so much time in his company. The two men were so different physically. Mr. North was tall, or would be if he did not have to lean on his crutches. He was dark, swarthy almost. His light eyes had bushy, dark brows 24

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accentuating them. He was quite handsome in a rather ruthless way. He more than held his own against Mr. Borden.

Although, to be fair, Mr. Borden was quite attractive as well. He was shorter than Mr. North but more muscular, which made sense. He did a great deal of manual labor with the horses. His face was ruddy and tanned from the sun, and his blond hair thin and slightly curly. His brown eyes were the soft brown of a doe. He was quiet and approachable and usually unfailingly polite. And in spite of his cross words she could tell he had a great affection for Mr. North. He was always by his side, watching, waiting, jumping to help if North needed it. Sarah smiled. He was a bit of a mother hen, actually. No wonder North became irritated with him.