Never Marry a Stranger (7 page)

“When did you become a romantic?” she asked with suspicion, but her voice was mild.

“Perhaps Emily made me one.”

“You
are
very different since your marriage.”

He did not explain that marriage had had nothing to do with the way he’d changed his life. “I hope you mean that in a good way.”

“You are happier, Matthew,” she said softly, touching his arm. “The entire family has noticed. And if only for that reason—and my deep joy at your return—I will
briefly
acquiesce to what you’re asking of me.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“It will be very difficult, do not doubt that.”

“Oh, I know. We males of the species are terribly difficult to get along with. But I thank you for humoring me.”

“We’ll have to prepare Mama. Otherwise she will faint with shock when I willingly attend the dinner tonight.”

Matthew decided not to let her know he’d already discussed her problem with his parents. As they left the drawing room side by side, he was already focusing on Emily, and the afternoon he had planned with her.

Emily couldn’t return to Matthew’s suite—he would certainly come upon her reading the letter, and she couldn’t risk that. So she headed for the library and closed the door behind her.

Then she looked at the letter again, angry with herself for the way her hands shook. The penmanship was a man’s. Who would be writing to her?

She broke the wax and unfolded the single piece of paper. Her stomach twisted with fear when she
saw the initial at the bottom. Then she forced herself to read.

Emily’s eyes finally blurred as she reread the threat again, and then once more. Stanwood had found her at last. She’d always known there was a chance, but as the months went by, she thought herself safe.

Matthew’s return—and her crime—had finally given Stanwood new leverage against her. She impatiently pushed away her guilt, for it could only weaken her. All she could do was try harder to make Matthew love her, and think of what she’d say to persuade Stanwood to abandon any mad scheme he’d concocted. He was a murderer, and she was
someone
now, Captain Leland’s wife. Stanwood had no proof otherwise.

She tossed the letter onto the open coal fire,
watched the flame light, and walked swiftly from the room.

It had been difficult to sneak away from Matthew, the entire Leland family, and the servants, but he’d managed it. Now he was hidden within an overgrowth of tropical ferns in the conservatory, watching Emily Leland through the open library doors. He could tell nothing from her expression as she read the letter. Why had she felt the need to hide from the family?

She tossed it onto the coals before leaving the room. He silently ran in and managed to pull out the charred paper. Dropping it to the marble hearth, he put out the flame with his foot, then picked it up, holding two scraps together.

Most of the letter was gone, but he did see “you’re not his wife” and “will contact you soon.”

He felt stunned at the treacherous implications for the family. He would have to keep a very close eye on Emily Leland—or whoever she actually was.

♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥

E
mily leaned her forearms against the stone balustrade of the terrace, looking out over Madingley Court’s beautiful park, the one Matthew didn’t remember. As she squinted up at the overcast sky, she thought again of the letter from Stanwood. Though nausea still churned in her stomach, she was determined to keep a clear head, to protect herself. This afternoon alone with Matthew, flirting and enticing, would be a good start.

Someone spoke her name, making her jump. She turned around to see Matthew’s smiling face.

“My, you’re jumpy,” he said casually.

His gaze dipped down to her breasts, which were already rising and falling far too quickly with each breath. And his intimate look only encouraged her reaction.

She pasted a smile on her face. “I didn’t even hear you cross the terrace.”

“It’s all my expert training in the art of sneaking up on people.”

“Then you’re a success.”

Before she could even ask, he indicated the basket in his hand. “Treats in case we’re hungry.”

She smiled. “Your mother?”

“Actually, my sisters.”

“They are thoughtful young ladies,” she said, leaving the balustrade to walk down the broad steps to the gravel path.

Matthew walked at her side. “I spoke to Susanna. She agreed to my proposal.”

Emily widened her eyes. “So easily?”

“I think she wants to please her brother who’s so recently back from the dead.” He grinned. “And the way marriage has changed me also persuaded her.”

She deliberately brushed her shoulder against his. “We wives work magic on our husbands’ stern temperaments.”

He laughed. “Then we begin tonight. She’ll see that she doesn’t have to be alone.”

“It can be a terrible thing,” she said, a shade too solemnly.

He glanced at her with sympathy, then took her hand. His was warm, rough with calluses, so very different from hers.

“Much as I love my sisters,” he said softly, “today I am finding you much more interesting.”

She forced a laugh. “But we have all afternoon to talk.”

“Don’t we have the rest of our lives?”

She caught her breath. When she met his gaze, she felt the power of him, the intent focus of those changeable eyes. How could any woman resist him? She squeezed his hand.

At the main stable, grooms and stable boys were hanging on the paddock rails, staring at Matthew with open curiosity.

“I recognize no one,” he said quietly.

She gave him a reassuring glance. “They’re young boys. They grow like weeds in two years. Why would you recognize them? I’ll tell the head groom that we’d like two horses saddled.”

She went inside, and by the time she returned, Matthew was sitting on the rail between all the young stable boys.

“No, I tell you, it wasn’t jolly fun to aim your musket at the enemy and fire,” he was saying. “And a soldier only does so because of his duty to queen and country.”

The boys watched him solemnly.

“They thought ye was dead,” said an older lad, John, with several missing front teeth.

“It was a terrible strain on my family. I’m certain you all did your best to help them during the difficult times.”

“Is Mrs. Leland happy now?” John asked. “She sometimes seems so sad.”

Matthew’s eyes found her. She
had
done her best to portray a woman in mourning.

“It is a sad thing when a wife thinks her husband is dead,” Matthew said, not taking his eyes from her. “Does she come to visit the stables often, boys?”

She felt uncomfortable, uncertain of his purpose. Why did he not ask
her
how often she liked to ride?

“Usually when she goes to the village,” John said candidly. “And that’s a lot.”

Just then, Lavenham, the head groom, emerged from the gloomy recesses of the stable leading two saddled horses. He gave her a polite nod, but was already looking past her to grin broadly at Matthew.

“Master Matthew,” Lavenham said. “I saddled Spirit for you.”

Matthew put out a hand and they shook. “Lavenham, good to see you’re still here.”

Emily relaxed when Matthew remembered his name. The two men spent several minutes talking about the breed of horses used by the army, until at last Lavenham noticed Emily watching.

He harrumphed. “Been keepin’ ye from Mrs. Leland.”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“No, you’re right, Lavenham,” Matthew said. “A lady shouldn’t be kept waiting. We’ll speak another time.”

He transferred several wrapped parcels, a corked bottle, and a blanket from the basket to a saddle
bag. Before she could mount, he took the reins of both horses, leading them down the path. She knew the grooms and stable boys were gawking, wondering why they didn’t ride wherever they were going. She was wondering, too.

Only when they’d passed through the more formal gardens and into a clearing out of sight of the outbuildings did Matthew turn to her.

“Since I don’t know where I’m going,” he said, “this would probably be easier if I could just ride with you.”

Though she was surprised, she gave him the smile of a wife starved for intimacy. “That sounds wonderful.”

With one powerful spring, he lifted off from the ground, swung his right leg high and settled into the saddle. Spirit tossed his head, even as Matthew leaned down and caught her hand. “Ready?”

She kept hold of her own horse’s reins but swung onto his, settling into the saddle right behind Matthew, snug between the cantle and his body. He was between her thighs, his strong back against her breasts, her arms around his waist. Her skirts were stretched tightly to accommodate him—and then slid even higher up her calves. She could feel the muscles of his stomach contract as he adjusted to both of them in the saddle. Soon Spirit was walking slowly across the meadow.

Then suddenly he was urging the animal into a
gallop. She had to let go of her horse’s reins, trusting the animal to follow, because all she could do was hold on to Matthew for dear life.

By the time they’d galloped across a field and had to slow down at the approach of a woodland, Matthew was finding it difficult to focus on his need to learn everything he could about Emily, with her breasts flattened against his back. All he could think about was his position between her thighs.

Where he wanted to be.

He forced himself to remember his purpose. “Where should I go?” he said over his shoulder. “It’s all still a blank to me.”

She spoke into his ear. “Ride up the hill. It will take us away from the park and out into the countryside.”

At a slower pace, they rode through the trees and up the gradual incline of a hill blanketed in grass and autumn’s purple heather. When Emily suggested she ride her own horse as they approached the cottages of tenants, he wouldn’t hear of it.

They rode for several hours down country lanes as she played guide, showing him again all the places he’d haunted as a boy, which she had apparently learned from his family. He was amused by the way she recited the names of each neighbor who lived in each house, adding more details if they would be attending the dinner party that night. He let her
think what she would about his lack of memory, admiring her animation and her knowledge. After all, he’d spent two years away; he should learn the local gossip. Occasionally people waved at them, and although Matthew waved back, he didn’t ride close enough to talk.

At last, when the countryside spread out around them and Madingley Court sat like the gilded throne of a king in the midst of rolling hills, he drew the horse to a halt. A breeze ruffled through the long grass. It had obviously been a while since sheep had been turned loose up here.

“Shall we rest and see what my sisters sent with us?” he asked.

He closed his eyes as her warm body slid along the width of his. Her toe found his in the stirrup, and she used that and his hand to help her dismount. On the ground, she turned away from him and looked out at the view, hugging her shawl tighter about her. He didn’t know how she could be cold after the heat they’d generated between their bodies.

He dismounted, removed their picnic provisions from the saddlebag, and spread the blanket on the ground. Emily’s face was suffused with pleasure and contentment as she sat down beside him.

The wrapped parcels turned out to be sandwiches of beef and cheese, as well as several peaches. They took turns sipping from the bottle of apple cider. Her mouth on the same place his had been seemed
incredibly erotic—obviously he’d been without female companionship for far too long.

They ate in silence for several minutes, and he watched her rather than the countryside. He stretched out on his side, propped up on his elbow, so he could be closer to her. Emily sat so demurely, legs folded beneath her, her yellow skirts a touch of spring in autumn.

After a swallow of cider, she handed him back the bottle. “I am curious why you chose the army, surely unusual for an only son.”

“Did we not have this discussion early in our marriage?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “You were an eager soldier then, ready to be away from England and see the world.”

And that was the truth, he mused, impressed by her deduction.

“You only told me you were looking for adventure,” she continued. “But as I settled in my role as your wife and grew to understand you better, I didn’t believe that was the entire truth. A wealthy man can find adventure traveling on the Continent.”

He reminded himself that keeping to the truth might help him—and would be easier to remember than piling on more lies.

“Yes, I wanted to see the world, because I knew I could do as I wished away from England, be the man I thought I always wanted to be.”

“Were you hiding yourself up to that point?”

She was far too intelligent—but then she would have to be, to have succeeded in this ruse. He rolled onto his back, hands clasped beneath his head, his elbow deliberately touching her thigh. She didn’t move, and neither did he.

“I was,” he said in a low voice. “I felt the need to contain myself, to set a good example for my sisters, to be a good son.”

“And those were the things you hid the truth behind?”

He sighed. “They were part of the truth, of course, but I felt…too contained, too limited, as if I could never do what I wished, but was always doing what was expected of me. I didn’t want to hurt my family, living outside the boundary of Society—even though I secretly longed for that. The military is often an answer for young men, so I decided to try it.”

“You never told me any of this,” she said solemnly.

“Perhaps I never had the chance, since we were only together mere months. But we’re starting over, you and I, and you deserve to know the kind of husband you have.”

“And what kind is that?”

She was smiling at him with amusement, and for a moment it rankled him. He wanted to unsettle her, to make her uneasy about her tenuous position here, alone with a strange man.

He came up on his elbow, and although she was still seated, her face was now close to his. “I wanted to be…wild.”

Her smile faded.

He lowered his voice, watching her mouth. “I wanted to do whatever I wished, be reckless and live life to the fullest.”

“But instead you married a simple English country girl,” she countered softly.

“Perhaps it was another reckless deed on my part.”

She licked her lips. “Reckless would be seducing me and leaving me behind.”

“No, that would be cruel. And I’m not that. But I take what I want, do what I want.”

Her smile was faint. “Oh, so threatening. Do you mean to entice me with these playful love words?”

Her fearlessness was impressive. If she was afraid he’d discover the truth, she didn’t betray it.

He slid his hand along her thigh. “Are you enticed?”

“Of course. I married you, didn’t I?”

“I’m a lucky man.” She was surely expecting him to kiss her, even leaning toward him, a woman bent on distraction. He decided to change the subject back to her. “You didn’t just sit around waiting for me to come into your life. What did you do with yourself while you sifted through the local gentlemen?”

She laughed. “I spent many hours helping our parish.”

“With Mr. Tillman?” he said, feeling a heightened sense of anticipation. The man’s name had been on their forged marriage license.

Her expression gradually became bittersweet as her blue eyes seemed to focus on the past. “Yes. He never married, so he did not have a wife’s aid. My mother used to assist him, so it naturally fell to me after she died. I used to lead the various women’s societies, the ones to provide for families with a new baby, or to help feed a family when their only source of income was cut off.”

He wondered if any of this were true. She’d said Tillman was already dead, but certainly there must be others who could confirm or repudiate her story.

“I especially enjoyed working with the children,” she said.

Her expression was soft and feminine, as if she longed for her own child.

“Did you wish for
my
child?” he asked.

“Of course I did.”

“Then it must be difficult that I am not yet a proper husband to you.”

“But you’re alive. I can wait for the rest.”

“And what if I don’t fall in love with you again?”

She only lifted her eyebrows, her expression amused.

He laughed. “Or are you confident that we will magically find our way back to each other again?”

“We’re different people now,” she said slowly, looking away from him and back toward Madingley Court, gleaming even under the overcast sky. “Perhaps it won’t be the same kind of love again, but I’m willing to trust in us.”

He slid his hand just a bit higher up her thigh. “I find myself impatient to recapture what we had together.”

She waited, her focus on him.

“Teach me, Emily,” he murmured. “We need to begin to know one another again on a more intimate level. Teach me how we liked to kiss.”

“I believed you proved yourself competent just this morning,” she teased.

“That was just the start. I remember so little, and you promised to teach me.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He wanted to taste her, explore her far more than he had that morning. But he had to be patient, for he felt a wild, reckless desire for her that he’d never felt for another woman. His body was already anticipating touching her, tasting her.