No Other Love (20 page)

“You’re not?”

“No, far from it. I want to make everything perfect for you, including this house.”

“You needn’t worry on that score. I’m not so terribly hard to please. In any case, this house is perfect. I think we’ll be very happy here,” she added shyly.

“As do I,” he replied, smiling down at her.

A week later Luke came to the door with a pleased grin on his face. He whistled happily as he handed her into the little buggy, the top down to enjoy the day. Rose sat beside him as he drove Samson and Delilah out of town, the reins easy in his hands.

The sky was a terrific clear blue, soft with clouds, the air warm but touched by the breath of autumn. All around them the maples and oaks were turning their brilliant colors – flaming orange, red and yellow. The first fallen leaves laced the ground, their colors as bright as her hopes.

Stealing a look at Luke, she almost wished he wasn’t being such a gentleman. His strong profile and thick lashes, combined with the slight bristle of his jaw, left her weak with desire. So it was several minutes before she noticed the basket at her feet.

“What’s this?” she asked. “Surely you haven’t hidden more books in a basket?” she teased.

“Not this time,” he grinned. “What do you think of a picnic?”

Rose opened the lid to the delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread, cold chicken, decadent squares of chocolate and a jar of raspberry jam that gleamed like jewels when she held it up to the sun. He had even included a bottle of Champagne.

“Edward would insist on acting chaperone if he knew you’d brought this,” she teased.

“Edward knows I’ve lost my head over you. He’s not worried.”

Rose couldn’t think how to respond, so she said nothing. Instead she reveled in the feeling she heard in his voice. Could it be that he loved her a little?

They followed the road for a ways until Luke turned onto a smaller lane that led along the Charles River, a sparkling swath moving lazily between clusters of trees. Stopping the horses in the shade, he pulled a plaid blanket from beneath his seat, took her hand and together they made their way to the bank. A few feet from the edge he arranged the blanket and set the basket down.

The sun shone down as if in blessing, the river flowed past, and Rose felt as if she’d wandered into a dream.

Luke stretched out, his long muscled body at ease as he leaned on an elbow, his shirtsleeves rolled past his forearms. It was all Rose could do to keep her eyes from wandering over the perfection of his body and his almost too-handsome face.

Luke poured them each a glass of Champagne and then watched as Rose took a sip.

“Oh, my. This is much better than whiskey.” Happily she drank more and before long finished her glass. Laughing, Luke leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

Rose’s mouth fell open. She’d never known a man could kiss a woman’s nose. It was so different from what he’d shown her so far.

“We’d better eat some of this feast Mrs. Williamson so kindly packed, or you’ll be feeling a little too good,” he said, turning to the basket.

As they laid out the picnic he told her about his boyhood days picking apples and learning how to make cider. The sun moved overhead as they talked and ate, and Rose grew drowsy in the late afternoon heat. She curled her legs beneath her, her buttercup-colored cotton dress draped demurely over her ankles. A soft breeze blew the fallen leaves in shifting layers of color.

“If I could paint, I would portray you just as you are now,” Luke said, watching her with an intensity that had her pulse racing. “You’ve no idea how lovely you look, with your yellow dress and your hair the color of the maple leaves behind you. I fear my poor sketches will never do you justice.”

Heat shot through Rose’s veins at this quiet declaration. Never had she felt more beautiful, more desired. They looked at each other for a long moment, the air charged with their mutual longing.

Luke moved closer and took her left hand in his much bigger one, holding it as if she might break.

“Even your hands drive me mad,” he said, sounding bemused. He gave a shaky laugh. “I’d like to shower you with jewels, but this will have to do for now.”

Rose watched without comprehending as he slipped a ring onto her finger.

A dozen small garnets were set like rose petals around a larger center garnet, all of them glowing with their own inner fire.

Too awed by the gift to speak, Rose simply looked at him, tears shimmering in her eyes.

Luke smiled at her, his expression filled with fierce tenderness. He kissed her hand. “Now there’s no mistaking you’re mine.”

“As if I’d be anyone else’s,” she replied, her heart so full she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

Luke too looked caught in some inner struggle, watching her as if he might give in and kiss her. After a moment he shook his head and smiled ruefully, pouring more Champagne into their glasses.

“You must try this tart,” Rose said, holding the confection out to him as she licked the raspberry from her lips. “It goes wonderfully with Champagne.”

The look in his eye stilled her hand in midair. His body, a moment ago utterly relaxed, was now strung taut as a bow, his eyes dark with desire. With a low groan he leaned forward and slanted his lips over hers, his hand cupping the back of her neck. His tongue coaxed her open and Rose yielded to him utterly and immediately, drugged by the devastating kiss, the warm sun and Champagne. She was all feeling and need, and she wanted more, more of everything – the rough scrape of his jaw, his musky scent and playful tongue, the seductive taste of him.

A longing so intense it was painful suffused her. Her whole body was striving for something, Luke’s passionate kisses pushing her closer and closer until finally it dawned on her that one of them would have to keep their wits about them, and it wasn’t going to be her fiancé.

Reluctantly she pulled away.

Luke closed his eyes a moment as if to collect himself. Opening them, he smiled ruefully at her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“If you knew how much I wanted you, you’d never come near me.” Standing up he held his hand out for her and helped her to feet. “It’s high time I got you home.”

Silently, utterly aware of one another other, they packed up the basket and headed home.

Rose was busy packing her clothes the day before they were to be married, laying each dress and undergarment neatly into the new trunk Edward and Vivian had given her as a wedding gift. Tucked deep into one of the corners and wrapped in a linen handkerchief was Nathan Byrne’s soiled glove. Everything in her recoiled at the thought of bringing the glove, and all its attendant secrecy, into her new home. But her grief over her father and her love for Luke were both part of her now.

There was no dispelling the melancholy that attended thoughts of her wedding, and it went beyond her father’s murder to encompass all the difficulties that came after it. Now , in addition to everything else, she worried over her aunt. Not surprisingly, Olivia’s reply to her last letter was all Rose had feared. Her aunt was shocked and worried Rose was making a mistake, one she’d come to regret. And how could Rose blame her? The situation was so strange and fraught with complications, she could hardly expect Aunt Olivia to accept it with equanimity.

Edward had offered to host the small ceremony at his house, for which Rose was grateful. It would be a great comfort to take such a big step in a safe and familiar place. She and Luke would stay to celebrate with some food and drink, after which they’d leave for the house on Walnut Street.

Rose didn’t know whether she wanted to rush through the events of the day or make them last as long as possible. Her wedding night loomed at the other side of the celebration, and each minute that passed increased her anxiety. What if she didn’t know what to do? She was well aware Luke desired her. It might even be the only reason he wanted to marry her. What if she disappointed him?

Sally came into the room to see how Rose was getting on.

“Sally,” Rose began, embarrassed before even saying a word, “may I ask you something about tomorrow night, after Luke and I go home together?”

Sally looked momentarily surprised but quickly recovered. “Yes, what about it?”

“Well, what exactly…what I wondered was…will he want to share my bed? All night? And how often do you suppose he’ll want to? And will I like it, and what if I don’t?”

“I suppose you’ve kissed already?” Sally asked.

Rose nodded, her face flushing at this understatement.

“And you liked it well enough?”

Again Rose nodded, unable to speak.

“Well then, likely you’ll like the rest as well. Your Mr. Fletcher is quite taken with you. I daresay you could wrap him around your little finger, if you haven’t already. Beyond that, it’s hard to say. Men are a mystery, even for those of us who’ve lived with one. Now then, have you anything in need of pressing?”

It seemed that was all she was going to get out of Sally. But if what she said was true, then Rose had little to worry about. After all, Luke’s kisses were heavenly, and he was nothing if not desirous of her pleasure. A tendril of heat unfurled in her belly at this thought, but her musings were interrupted by the sound of the door pull.

Sally hurried downstairs to answer the door, only to return seconds later.

“Rose, Mrs. Charlotte Fletcher is here to see you, and she isn’t the most pleasant creature we’ve had call on us.”

“Good Lord, whatever can she be doing here?”

Rose stood up, smoothing out her dress as she tried to imagine what possible reason Charlotte could have for calling on her. She checked her reflection in the oval mirror on the wall. Satisfied that she looked calm and unruffled, and that Charlotte had been kept waiting a sufficient amount of time, she headed down to the parlor.

Charlotte was standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, a moué of displeasure on her face. She turned as Rose entered the room and regarded her coldly.

“I will make this brief,” she said, looking disdainfully at Rose and then at the room. “Clearly you’ve managed to capture Luke’s attentions. Men often have no sense, even when it’s obvious to everyone they’re being taken for a fool. However, while I have no sway over him, I do have some say in how you’ll be received in this town. I’ll make certain every last Cabot, Adams, Gardner and Winthrop knows exactly what you are.”

“If you came here merely to insult me, Charlotte, then consider your errand complete and take your leave,” Rose said, pleased by the outrage that flared in Charlotte’s eyes at the use of her given name. “If you have more to say, do come to the point.”

Charlotte’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed.

“No doubt you’re quite pleased to have caught Luke. Perhaps that’s what you hoped for all along. I would put nothing past you. But I will not sit idly by while you make fools of us. Make no mistake, if you go through with this marriage I will find out whatever it is you don’t want Luke to know, and I will send you packing for good. All of that unpleasantness can be avoided, however, if you’re smart.” Here she paused dramatically before continuing.

“I am willing to offer you the sum of five thousand dollars if you agree to leave Boston. No one can know of our arrangement. You will leave town, without explanation, and Luke will never hear from you again. If you don’t accept my offer, rest assured I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from gaining anything from this marriage. You can save your outraged protestations, I want only an answer to my offer. You won’t receive a better one.”

Rose listened to this speech, more furious and disgusted with every word. She was also shaken, for though Charlotte was mistaken about her motivations, she was all too accurate about her secrets. But she would not let this woman see weakness or doubt.

Her voice was filled with cold fury when she spoke.

“You come to me in my friend’s home and simultaneously insult, threaten and bribe me. Clearly you are the one capable of anything. But I’ll not waste my time explaining myself to you. Your offer, your presence here, was a gross miscalculation on your part. You can see yourself out.”

With this, Rose swept out of the room, so incensed she could hardly see straight. Once out of the room she flew up the stairs and she paced the parlor floor, shaking with rage.

Her first instinct was to tell Luke, but after considering all the ramifications, she thought better of it. There was nothing he could do, and in any case he knew already that his stepmother was against the marriage. Furthermore, she felt terrible about the rift she’d already caused in his family. And, all that aside, Charlotte was not wholly off the mark in her suspicions.

No, she would say nothing. She had enough to worry about with Nathan, never mind his mother.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning Rose slid quietly out of the bed, careful not to disturb Vivian, who muttered something unintelligible in her sleep and turned over. Pushing aside the curtain, she looked out the window at the empty street, the other houses ghostly in the pre-dawn light. Little by little the neighborhood came awake as people left their houses and headed into the rest of their lives.

Behind her Vivian was also waking. Sitting up in bed she smiled widely at Rose.

“Good morning, Mrs. Fletcher,” she chirped excitedly, hopping out of bed. “Time to get you ready for Mr. Fletcher.”

There was a knock at the door and Rose opened it to find Sally holding a tray. “Oh, Sally, this is heavenly,” she sighed, breathing in the glorious scent of cocoa, biscuits and jam. She couldn’t remember anyone bringing breakfast right to her when she wasn’t even ill.

“Pshaw. If today isn’t special, then I don’t know what day is. But I daresay you’re likely to get anything you want brought to you at your new residence. You’ll be a woman of leisure, don’t forget.”

“Yes, I suppose I will be,” Rose replied, unsure how she felt about it.

“Eat up, girls, and then we’ll get our bride ready.”

Soon Vivian and Sally bustled around her, helping her dress in the delicate lace undergarments Madam Beauchamp had made for her. On her legs were sheer silk stockings held up by lacey garters. The white silk slid over her skin like a kiss and was so fragile she doubted she could wear them again.