Perilous Pleasures (16 page)

“It is as I thought,” he said, and she remembered too late that he didn't need to see her face to know what was in her mind. “You
would
stay, if I could forgive your mother. But how can I forgive her, without betraying Charlotte? She comes to me in dreams, and looks at me with such reproach because I haven't avenged her. How can I love you, when you only lived to wed me because she died?”

“It is impossible,” she agreed, facing him once more.

“And yet, were it not, I
could
love you, Zoe.”

His words shocked her. He mustn't talk this way. His talk of love was more painful than his icy distancing, for it gave her hope that swept away all her defenses. But when she got up the courage to meet his eyes she knew he was telling the truth. His eyes glowed with it, despite the torment it cost him to admit it.

“Give me time,” he said. “That's all I ask of you.”

“A year and a day?” She caught her breath.

He nodded.

The love that tore through her heart now made the pain of the virgin's sickness seem like a mere scratch. She couldn't resist the hope he held out, that with time he might come to love her. As impossible as she knew it to be, hope bound her to him more firmly than chains.

It must be the power of the spell. But even now, as she felt the last of her resistance to him melt away, she wouldn't let him know how thoroughly he had conquered her. Making her voice as light as she could, she said, “Then I'll remain your bride. What other choice do I have? The spell can't be undone, and I should be foolish to turn away from the honor you've thrust on me. A courtesan's daughter is practical. So I will take what I can get.”

“And I will give you all that I am capable of,” he said quietly. “Marriages have succeeded with far less.”

Chapter 11

S
he would remain his wife
. He hadn't expected it. He'd been prepared to give up everything to make up for the wrongful way he'd used the spell, even his chance to earn the Final Teaching. No power the Ancient Ones could give him would make up for ruining another woman's life.

But when he'd offered her her freedom, she hadn't taken it.

A tingle of anticipation ran up his spine at the thought. She would remain his wife. He need no longer be alone, no longer vowed to sacred isolation. What had been forbidden for so long would be permitted—more than that, it would be required. He must make their flesh one to fulfill the Dark Lord's final command. He could barely suppress the joy that filled him when he thought of taking Zoe in his arms and merging himself with her as he had longed to do, so desperately, for so long.

He was tempted to call for the landlord of the inn, to demand his most comfortable room, and order the finest food and drink to make a wedding banquet for his bride. As if she had picked up on his thoughts, Zoe asked, “Will we stay here tonight? And will you bed me?” The blood rushed to her face, giving it a glow.

“Is that what you want?” He forced his voice to sound calm.

Her blush deepened. “If I'm really to be your wife, it must be done.” But then her voice trailed off. “Though perhaps it would be better to wait. We've both of us already acted too rashly—that's what got us into this predicament. Let's not compound the damage. Once our marriage is consummated, it can't be set aside.”

Though he usually valued the way her calm practicality balanced his unworldliness, right now he could have done without it. He wanted her so much. But he mustn't be so selfish. She was right. Matters between them
were
too delicate to be rushed. How could he have deluded himself she'd welcome him that way so soon, when he'd just barely convinced her not to leave him. To say nothing of the fact that she was still recovering from the wound in her leg. How could he have forgotten that?

He released her hand and stood. “You're right. There's no rush. We have time.”

“A year and a day,” she said with a shy smile.

“And many more years after that, if the Ancient Ones will grant them.”

Years.
As he said the word, he imagined the joy of spending those years with this slim girl with the lustrous eyes. Warmth filled his heart at the thought of watching her go from girl to woman, and become the mother of his children. But at that thought, his veins filled with ice. He couldn't ask
that
of her. Not yet. Not until he told her about the curse. It
was
best to wait. He'd already been selfish enough.

He spoke as calmly as he could. “We won't dally here, but travel to my home at Strathrimmon, the Ramsays' ancestral seat. That, too, was what the Dark Lord wished me to do.”

Her eyes lost something of their liveliness. “Of course. You must do as he asked.”

He wanted to tell her there was more to it than that, but they'd already spent too much time discussing things that could not be resolved by conversation, so he said nothing.

She forced a bright smile. “How far is Strathrimmon?”

“Only another day's journey over those hills you can see in the distance from this window.”

“I look forward to seeing it. I've never been to a grand estate.”

“It's ancient, but far from grand. Indeed, I hope it won't disappoint you. I fear it's been sadly neglected in my absence.”

“No estate that is to be mine could ever disappoint me.” Her expression had become mischievous. “I never expected to ever own property—and if I did allow myself to dream of it, I contented myself with the thought of a small house in London with a tiny garden.”

“Strathrimmon encompasses some five thousand acres, enough for a largish garden, I should think.”

“Five thousand acres. How rich you are, Lord Ramsay!”

“ ‘Lord Ramsay'?” He raised his eyebrows. “Now that we are wed, you must be less formal with me. My name is Adam and I'd be honored if you would so address me.”

“Oh, I shall call you Adam, if that's what you wish,” she said with a twinkle, “but only if
you
will call me Lady Ramsay. You've been far too familiar with me since the outset of our connection. Now that I am to be a baroness I shall be very much on my dignity.”

He grinned. “It shall be as you wish, Lady Ramsay.”

A
s the traveling chaise made its way into the grounds of Strathrimmon, Zoe wondered how the man who was the lord of such a beautiful place could have ever left it. How could he have wandered through the world for so long with a home like this to come back to?

The Ramsay lands stretched out as far as she could see. Where the land was level, rows of stubble marked where fields of grain had been harvested the previous fall. Farther away, where the land rose in gently swelling hills, sheep fed on the greensward. Small cottages dotted the landscape, and in the distance, a tall tower rose.

“Adam, you didn't tell me you owned a castle!”

“How else would my ancestors have defended what was theirs? The Scottish borders were a lawless place. But don't get your hopes up too much. The castle is more impressive from a distance than it is when you're huddling in the drawing room in January, desperately trying to keep its stones from sucking out what little warmth remains in your body. I've often wished my ancestors had settled in a more peaceful spot where they might have built more for comfort than defense.”

Zoe laughed. “It can't be any colder than some of the garrets we lived in when my mother was out of funds. You needn't fear that I'll be too nice to be your chatelaine.” But that reminded her of something else she hadn't had the courage to ask him about before. “Does
your
mother still live here?”

“No. She remarried when I was twelve and went to live with her new husband farther north. Since he didn't wish to be burdened with another man's children, she left me here with Charlotte and the servants, and soon after that I was sent off to school.”

How bleak that sounded. But even so, she was glad she wouldn't have to confront a new mother-in-law immediately. She couldn't imagine that any mother would welcome an unannounced daughter-in-law with much joy—especially one as basely born as herself.

Adam went on. “My father's bailiff has stayed on all these years and run things, keeping me informed by post. But the heart goes out of land when the owner isn't there to keep his eye on it. It will be good to be home again and pick up the reins.”

“Then you don't plan to return to the Dark Lord's island in the near future?”

“No. It was my teacher's wish that we dwell here, and I am more than content to do so.”

“It
is
beautiful country, though wild, and isolated. Will we live here throughout the year?”

“You've spent all your life in the city, haven't you?” A troubled look filled his face. “Would you hate living so far from town? I'll take you to London for the season when the year is over, should you wish it. And if that isn't enough—well, I'll find you permanent lodgings in Town.”

She recoiled inwardly at his casual mention of their separating forever. But then, it was she who was bespelled into loving, not him. But when she peered more closely at his features, she saw that his lips, which had been set in a warm smile only a moment before, were tight with concern. Perhaps he'd only made this last offer in an attempt to be kind.

Acting on that hunch, she reassured him. “With a garden and dairy to keep me occupied, and some villagers to attend to, I see no reason I couldn't be very happy here.”

The corners of his mouth relaxed. She had been wrong to think he was already looking for some pretext to send her away.

“Perhaps I might start a Sunday school,” she added, “to teach the crofters' children their letters. Would that please you?”

“It would, but only if it pleased you. I told the truth when I said I wanted to make you happy in return for the sacrifices I've asked of you.”

“It would make me happy to behave in a way that would make me worthy of the rank you've conferred on me. I want to be a wife you can be proud of—despite my origins.”

“We shall get on a lot better if we look to the future, not the past,” he said quietly. “I can't do anything about your origins, but you have my word, I will never reproach you for them. But that reminds me. When we spoke earlier, you said something about your father being a nobleman. Is that true?”

“Yes. A duke.”

“Which one?”

She looked away, ashamed. “I don't know. My mother told me very little about him—only that he was brave and resourceful, and that he'd loved her dearly before matters of great importance had forced him to leave her behind.”

“She didn't tell you his name?”

“No. I suppose she was afraid I'd seek him out. Perhaps she'd taken money from him when they parted, with the promise that he'd never be bothered by us again. I can't say for sure. She told me when I was small that he would never come to see me, but I still used to pray that he would. I worked so hard at school to learn to speak like a lady and master the manners the other girls displayed so effortlessly, because I thought it was he who'd given my mother the money for my education. I hoped that if I proved worthy of it, he would visit.”

“But he never did?”

“No.”

“And then, when I took you to Mrs. Endicott's, you learned it had been the Dark Lord who had paid your school fees all along. Not your father. How painful that must have been for you.”

She had to look away, not just because of the shame of what she'd just confessed, but because of the sympathy she saw in his deep gray eyes. She mustn't give in to the temptation to throw herself into his arms and seek comfort there. She couldn't ask so much of him so soon. She hurried on. “My mother promised she'd tell me who he was when I turned one-and-twenty. So I still have that to look forward to.”

“And when she does, what will you do?”

“Write to beg him to let me meet him. My mother said he never would, but perhaps he'll change his mind now that I'm Lady Ramsay.”

“If he did, would that console you for having to be my wife?” His tone was quizzical but she was not taken in. It was a serious question about a serious matter.

She gave it a serious answer. “It has always been the deepest wish of my heart to meet him, if only once. So, yes, indeed, it would.”

T
hey turned into a broad avenue lined with tall oaks that cast their shadows across the road. Now that they were closer to the castle, Zoe saw that, as Adam had warned her, the tower was in poor repair. Windows gaped, unglazed, and many stones had fallen from the crenellations that topped it, leaving holes like the gaps in an old man's smile.

A newer building stretched beside the castle tower—Jacobean, judging from the tall, mullioned windows and the domed turrets—but it didn't look to be in good repair, either. They came to a halt in a courtyard of tamped earth, in front of an elaborate doorway crowned by a flattened arch. After asking her to await him in the chaise, Adam alighted, walked up to the oaken door, and pounded on it with the end of his serpent-headed cane.

There was a long wait until the door creaked open and an older man, whose long white hair was tied in a queue, peered out at her new husband for a moment, before rushing toward him and embracing him with the agility of a much younger man. The two conferred intently for a few moments, then Adam returned to the carriage.

“That's my bailiff, MacAlpin,” he said when he rejoined her. “He's gone to assemble our retainers for a formal welcome. He's a man of the old school, and it would pain him deeply if Strathrimmon's new lady weren't to be greeted properly. I hope you don't mind the wait.”

“Of course not. It isn't every day that one is welcomed as the lady of a manor. I intend to enjoy every moment of my reception. But how will they expect me to behave?”

“The servants will line up on either side of the entry. You need only smile and nod your head as we pass through. I'll introduce you to those I remember, but it's been so long since I was last here, there may not be many. Don't worry about remembering their names. There will be time to learn them later. For now all you need to do is give the people a chance to show their respect.”

“But my dress! It is hardly what they will expect of a baroness.” She looked down at the drab garment that was much the worse for having been worn every day of their journey.

“You're dressed like a lady. It will be enough.”

And sure enough, as his servants straggled out of the castle and the tenants in from the fields, her concerns about her wardrobe vanished, in view of the rags that clothed them. Compared to the rough, ill-cut garments that enveloped the women who came to meet them, her gown was indeed luxurious. And the men! They seemed to all be wearing smocks of some rough fabric that, no matter what color it might have once been, was now the uniform tan of the soil. Both men and women wore their hair long and matted, and few of them wore shoes. Adam had not been exaggerating when he warned her that his estate might be in poor condition—not if the condition of the people who labored for him was anything to go by.

When the men and women of the estate had lined up in two ragged rows, Adam reached for her hand to lead her out of the carriage. The feeling of his long fingers against her palm made her feel suddenly breathless. As they walked together through the line of servants, Zoe smiled as graciously as possible. Adam, for his part, had again assumed the look of cool authority she was so used to seeing on his features.

Now that she'd seen the vast acres he had been born to rule, that air of authority made more sense. But she also noted how as he greeted the people of his estate, he seemed to freeze back into a kind of wooden formality, which would leave a stranger thinking he was haughty, as she had done when first they'd met. But she knew him well enough by now to sense it was his inner uneasiness that had deepened his reserve. This delayed homecoming was hard for him. Very hard. It was taking everything he had to get through it.