Married At Midnight (8 page)

"Perhaps
he
feels
you
don't want the matter raised. Come, come," she said briskly, "no good will ever be done by shilly-shallying and talk might clear the air.

"Talk might dig me deeper in the hole," Kate muttered, burningly aware of one possibility. That she might be Major Tennant's true and only wife and therefore have to save him from a life of chastity or sin. The thought was terrifying, but it carried a certain
wanton appeal.

In the weeks after the birth she'd thought herself drained of all desire. Time had healed, however, and now at moments her body longed for a man. She would have expected her desire to be for Dennis, who had been a satisfying lover on his good days. Instead, memories of lying in Captain Tennant's arms, of that long and stirring kiss, spun off into more erotic fantasies.

It was really all most embarrassing.

"Perhaps I should wait," she said, rising to fuss with the copper molds on the shelf. "Stephen's too young to be an easy traveler ..."

"Stephen's six months old and able to do without you, now that you're no longer breast-feeding him. He's taking pap

and goat's milk well."

"I can hardly travel cross-country alone."

"Take Jess."

"I hate to leave you ..."

"We coped before, and can again."

Kate pushed back a lock of escaping hair. "You're determined on this, aren't you, Mama?"

"It's right, my dear."

Kate sighed. "Yes, it's right. And as with a trip to the toothpuller, it will be horrid, but I'll feel better when it's done."

Her mother stood. "Good. I pray it will put an end to this moping around. But don't tell your father why you're traveling. It will only fret him. We'll just say you're going to visit an army friend."

"Lies, Mama?" Kate teased.

"Not exactly." But her mother's color was high. "You know how he frets."

"Just as much as you do." Kate hugged her mother, who was a head shorter than she. "Is that what love is, all this protection?"

Shrewd blue eyes looked up. "Love? Is that why you're trying to protect this Charles Tennant?"

Kate could feel her color flare. "Love? I hardly know the man!"

"I met your father at the Michaelmas fair." Kate's mother's eyes became unfocused as she looked into the past. "Of course, we had seen one another about. But that was the first time we really noticed, if you know what I mean. We spent most of the day together, and we both knew. Sometimes it's like that, Kate."

Kate shivered with a kind of recognition.

"But what if it's impossible?"

Her mother patted her cheek. "Few things really are, dear. You go to this Strode Kingsley and talk to your young man."

Aylesbury to Strode Kingsley was not a great distance as the crows fly, but by stagecoach it would require another journey into and out of London. So Kate used some of the remaining fifty guineas to hire a post chaise for herself and Jess to travel cross country.

Jess was mightily impressed. "Very nice," she said, settling into one of the two red-upholstered seats.

"I've never traveled post before."

"Nor have I." As the coach pulled out of the inn yard into the road, Kate added, "You've always known about Major Tennant and me, haven't you?" Jess shrugged. "Rumors reached the camp before we left.

Didn't surprise me. I'd seen

the way he looked at you now and then." She clutched onto the strap. "Lordy, we're going fast."

"The advantage of traveling in style. How do you mean, looked at me?"

Jess turned to her. "All the men looked at you, and that's no lie, but the captain, he had that look in his eye. Not just admiration. Not just lust. More than that. Can't describe it if you don't know it. It's when you know a man's yours for

the wink."

"You must be mistaken! We scarcely ever spoke."

"What's that got to do with it? He was hardly going to make a play for a fellow officer's woman now, was he?

Especially when relations weren't too cordial between them at the best of times."

Kate tried to make Jess's comments fit her memories. "They didn't like each other, did they?"

"Never did, and less so when the lieutenant came back with you. But he was a good soldier, the lieutenant, and in a strange way the two of them worked well together in the fighting. The captain would never risk messing that up over a woman." Kate smiled ruefully. "That puts me in my place." Jess shook her head. "You gentry folk. Everything has its place. Do we worry about the men's feelings when there's a baby to be born?" "I certainly didn't."

"So I should hope. And look at marriage. I gather you were upset because the lieutenant didn't marry you, but what good is marriage and those so-called sacred vows? Does the parson come around and tell a man he's to worship his wife and hand over all his worldly goods? Not bloody likely. But he'll preach about how a woman should obey her husband. Can't see the sense in marriage, myself."

"It gives a woman legal protection, and it makes her children legitimate."

"And who makes life difficult for poor little bastards?" Jess was warming to her subject, and Kate couldn't help feeling that she'd be a fine orator. "The church and the men who make the laws, that's who!

And as for protection, a few words don't make a man respectful or faithful. It's how they treat you that counts. And if they treat you bad, you land 'em one, or just go find a man who appreciates what he's got.

If you're not married, there's nothing to stop you."

Kate burst out laughing. "Oh, Jess! How true. It doesn't work that way in Aylesbury, though."

Jess grinned. "So I gather. When I've got you settled, I think I'll get back to the Buffs. Things are a deal simpler in the army."

* * *

Kate had already ascertained that Strode Kingsley had a small inn, the Jerrold Arms, and had written to request accommodation for a few days for herself and her maid. The innkeeper greeted her courteously and his curiosity about her purpose was subtle enough to be ignored.

She was astonished that he didn't seem to see that she was pulled tight as a harp string.

From first rolling into the tiny village she had expected to see Major Tennant at any moment. She'd studied the few people on the evening street in search of him. What foolishness. There was no reason he should be there when light

was fading.

She was worried that she wouldn't recognize him, yet certain that was impossible. True, she'd be hard pressed to draw an accurate picture of his face even though she had some talent, and her memories of that wild night in the farmhouse were almost dreamlike. But for all her time with the Buffs she'd been aware of his presence—his height, his broad shoulders, his walk. Yes, his walk. For a big man, he moved gracefully, seeming more comfortable in open spaces than when confined. And he walked confidently, as if sure of his place on the earth.

She would recognize that walk.

Surely she would recognize his features, too, unless he had relatives who very closely resembled him. She could never forget that combination of dark hair and dark eyes along with a very determined chin.

Jittery, Kate decided that evening, was the only way to describe her state. If it wouldn't be outrageous, she'd storm up to the Grailings immediately and demand to see him. It was bad enough, however, to turn up unexpectedly in the middle of the day. She couldn't possibly do it in the evening.

She picked at an excellent dinner glad that at least Jess was doing justice to it. After prowling their room for a while she announced she was going out.

Jess heaved to her feet somewhat reluctantly, so Kate waved her back. "I'm just going to walk up and down the street a little before the sun goes down. In such a small place I won't even be out of sight of the inn."

She swung on her cloak and went down the stairs, which emerged into the one open tap room. She was aware again of the curious looks from the innkeeper and his patrons. Any new face would be remarkable a small village like this, and she knew her face was remarkable in any location.

Trying to look uncaring, she strolled to the door and almost collided with someone coming in.

She looked up into dark, well-remembered eyes. Startled eyes.

"Kate?"

"Oh.
Oh no!" She turned away, hand to face, and heard herself babble another embarrassing, "Oh no!"

He seized her arm and turned her back. "If you try to persuade me that this encounter is entirely by accident, you will stretch my credulity, you know."

At least a smile lurked in those eyes, allowing her to rally. "I'm sure, sir, that any number of people stop in this charming inn for no particular reason at all."

"They must all be ghosts, then, for we never see them. How are you, Kate?" His hand remained on her arm, and those eyes were fixed on hers.

Despite hot cheeks, Kate tried to be cool. "Very well, Captain. My maid is upstairs." It seemed important that he knew she had one. Then she realized who the maid was, and turned even hotter. Then she realized she'd called him "Captain."

This was not how she'd planned this important encounter.

His lips twitched slightly. "I have the feeling that I should go out and come in again when you've had time to compose yourself."

Kate took a deep, steadying breath. "I did come to speak with you. I intended to call upon you tomorrow."

"That would, of course, be delightful. But for the moment, why don't we stroll outside, since I assume that to be your purpose." He held out his arm, and she placed hers upon it. A flickering glance at the locals showed them to be deep

in their ale pots but looking smugly satisfied that they'd solved the problem of the mysterious visitor.

"How are you, Kate?" he asked again as they began their walk down the simple lane that was the nearest thing Strode Kingsley owned to a road. The repeat of the question comforted her. Perhaps he was as flustered as she.

"Very well. And you?"

"In prime twig. The baby?"

She smiled up at him. "Is beautiful and healthy. He's sitting now."

"I presume that's on schedule or ahead of it, since you look pleased."

"He is a little ahead."

"You make an excellent proud mama, Kate. And you're looking well. I assume you have a suitable place to live."

"I'm living at home, of course." She felt her color rising. "Everyone thinks ... I let everyone think that my marriage—to Dennis, I mean—was acknowledged. That I'm just a war widow."

"I'm sure that was simplest."

Was that reserve in his voice? "Yes. But it was mainly you I was thinking of." They'd come to the end of the village, and a curve in the road brought them out between fields gilded by the setting sun.

He paused. "Me? Why?"

She studied him as she explained. "As soon as we arrived in England I heard about your cousin. I wondered about the implications. I wasn't sure it would be wise ..."

"To advertise the fact that we were married? Why ever not?"

Yes, it was reserve. Or even leashed anger. Why? "You can't want Dennis's son to be heir to your uncle's title."

He separated from her and leaned back against a rough fence. The flaming sun glowed along the edge of his strong cheek, and down the length of his body, reminding her disturbingly of him by firelight. "Perhaps you regretted your involvement with me."

"No, of course not! I was, am, very grateful."

"Grateful. You are very welcome, I'm sure."

"Well, really! If you
wanted
to see me again, Captain—Major—you had only to visit."

"I would have been pleased to do so if I'd had any idea of your hometown or your maiden name. Have you any idea how many booksellers there are in England?"

Kate put a hand to her unsteady chest. "You've been looking for me?"

"A good officer does not mislay his wife."

"I'm not really your wife ..."

"A fact I am very aware of."

His meaning caught her breath. "You can't want to—"

He pushed sharply off the fence. "I see the notion is distasteful. We'll say no more—"

"Stop!" She physically blocked his way, terrified he would storm away. "I didn't mean that."

He didn't push past her, but he was rigid. Guarded.

Gathering her courage, she placed a hand on his chest. "I'm not accustomed to even thinking of... of fully being your

wife, Captain. Major, drat it!"

Perhaps he relaxed a little. "If you called me Charles, it would solve one of your problems."

She licked her dry lips. "Charles, then."

"Thank you. Now, about fully being my wife?" Perhaps it was just the setting sun that made his eyes look hot. Kate didn't think so. She felt rather hot herself, and the evening sun gave little heat. But what did she want in this regard?

"It is not. . . not entirely out of the question," she whispered.

He covered her hand, and through two gloves she clearly remembered his touch—big, strong, callused from his trade

of war. "I, at least, have thought about it. God, have I thought about it. I want you, Kate."

"As your wife?"

One eyebrow quirked. "You
are
my wife."

"But it's so complicated!"

"Is it? It seems quite simple to me." He tilted her chin and kissed her. It was a slow advance, allowing room for retreat, but when she put. up no resistance, he pushed forward and captured her entirely.

They'd kissed in the night, two strangers brought too close, too soon, but needing contact in the dark hours.

This time, it was as if it were a first kiss, and she tasted him with interest and with wonder. How different he was to Dennis, who had kissed greedily, or else with planned seductiveness.

Charles kissed as if exploring, and relishing what he found. Or perhaps it was just that she felt that way about him. His arms came around her tight and strong and it was as well she had no mind to escape, for it

would have been impossible, especially with her hands clutching his shoulders.

He turned her, pressing her back against the fence. His raised leg captured her on one side as he molded her body to

his in a sensuous possession the like of which she had never encountered. Clothes hardly muted the intensity of such an embrace.

When he released her swollen, tingling lips, she felt dazed, and he looked it.

He trailed kisses from temple to jaw. "I don't want to trap you, Kate. But we are married." He was breathing as if he'd just run a race.

"You really want me as your wife."

He laughed and pushed against her, so that even through her petticoats she could feel his erection.

"As your
wife,"
she repeated, studying his face. "In sickness and in health. Till death us do part. I'm a shopkeeper's daughter, Charles."

"And I'm the black sheep. I'm sure my family expect me to marry badly, and you aren't bad at all."

"Except that I bring the complication of a son who isn't yours and yet is, legally, your heir."

"What's your solution then?" Perhaps unconsciously he pushed against her, almost hurting her against the rough, fence. "Do we hide our marriage and both set off blithely into bigamy?"

She pressed away from him, but there was nowhere to go. "I don't know. That's why I came."

The pressure increased suddenly. Then he stepped back. "I see. You are seeking a way out."

It was as if a chill wind blew.

"For
you."

"But I don't want a way out. I want you. In sickness and in health, Kate. Till death us do part. I wanted you nearly the whole time you were with Dennis. I watched you move. I listened to you singing. I was aware of you every bloody minute. I saw how you treated all the men with kindness. I thought of getting wounded just to have you nurse me. I

saw you cry when one of them died. I love you, Kate."

She turned away. "Oh, don't!"

"Are you saying you cannot feel that way for me?"

At the hurt in his voice, she had to turn back. "No! I'm saying I don't want you to hurt as much as I do. It can't work, Charles. Stephen's looking more like Dennis every day. He's going to be the exact image of him when he's a man. We can
never
pretend he's yours."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Kate, I've faced the enemy from thirty feet and not flinched. I won't let this ruin our lives. Be with me. Be my wife. And we will win."

"Some battles cannot be won. . ." But this was Charles the Bold before her, the man who could inspire raw recruits to valor, and turn a forlorn hope into a brilliant success. Could she resist?

He kissed her again, quickly, passionately. "That's for tomorrow, Kate. Tonight we seal our marriage

with our bodies. Tonight I know you in the depth and heat I need, I've longed for, and you learn me so that nothing can ever part us

short of death. Say it will be so. Say it."

"It's madness ..." But the power of his will battered hers. She didn't know if she were ally or enemy here, but he
would
prevail.

And she didn't want to resist. She'd been sleepwalking through the past six months, only half alive because this man was not by her side. She didn't see how she could live the rest of her life without him.

"How?" she said, and it was surrender. "Where?"

She looked around but he shook his head. "In a field? In a barn? Kate, we are
marriedl
I've already told my family, and had the devil of a job coming up with reasons for your long absence. You have a very frail and sick father, by the way."

He was tugging her back toward the street but she resisted. "You
told
them?"

"Of course. They were suitably dismayed." Victorious, he was grinning.

Kate broke free to put hands on hips.
"What
did you tell them?"

He sobered a little. "Just that you were the widow of a fellow officer. That wasn't what dismayed them.

And that you

are the daughter of a bookseller. That didn't upset them, either."

"Then what did? Our scrambling marriage?"

"I didn't tell them about that. They are just sure you'll be impossible because I married you. My mother and sisters do

not think much of me. Because of some youthful indiscretions, they always think the worst."

Kate melted, wanting only to hold and comfort him. "Why do I think that I am not going to enjoy meeting them?"

"It need only be briefly, thank God, and another day. I'm living with my uncle at Marchmont Hall. We rub along well enough." He put an arm around her and began to propel her toward the inn. "Let's collect your bags and your maid