The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (9 page)

“Aye, perhaps…” Rachel shook her head as if remembering where she was and dropped another quick curtsey. “Me mum would have my head if she heard me talkin’ to gentry, like. Will that be all you’re needin’, ma’am? Mum sent biscuits for your man, in case he wakes hungry and all.”

“Thank you, Rachel. Yes, that will be all.” Kendra bolted the door after her departure and poured herself some tea, with a small sigh. Mr. Thomas and his friend Edmund had taken on quite the task. Kendra would offer help to their cause.

If she couldn’t read, she resolved to do all in her power to see that others did not suffer her same fate. She could support Mr. Thomas’s dreams, on some level, at least.

She meandered to the doll and tugged the yellowed missive from its pocket. Smoothing the note on the table top, she looked at the words she couldn’t begin to make out a week past. She studied their shapes as Mr. Thomas had suggested. While only a few stood out now, it was indeed progress.

“…you…shall…” she murmured. She studied the smaller words and traced them on the flat surface of the table, also as Mr. Thomas had encouraged, making out two more, “or” and “to.” She’d learned from him that “bo” was, indeed,
not
a word. A vague recollection touched her. Had Joseph read the note aloud when she was ill? Everything was such a blur.

“Something, something, “or” something…” Kendra still had a long way to go.
Oh! It is so frustrating.

Niccòlo’s sardonic words regarding a “curse” and “true love” came roaring back, and with it, his quick humor and earnest admiration. Tears filled her eyes. Had he made it out alive? What of the others? Were they tortured?
Dead?
She would likely never know.

A heavy weariness settled over her. Carefully refolding the note, she stuffed it back in the gypsy’s little pocket. Kendra placed her in the chair near the window and walked to the bed. Joseph’s harsh expression softened a bit in the firelight. He was going to be fine. She might as well try to rest. With the long journey ahead, ’twould be important.

She contemplated her mule shoes—a lucky find, indeed, short-heeled, in a lovely green with pink roses atop—before slipping them off. It was all the little store in Gretna had without making a special order. The shopkeeper said someone from the local gentry had them specially made, then never picked them up. She changed into her night rail, guilt consuming her. Winifred and Julia might never have new shoes ever again.

Suddenly weary, she decided to lie down. If Joseph needed her, she would be right here. She lay atop the covers, certain she’d never find sleep. ’Twas her last waking thought as her head touched the pillow.

****

Warmth in a spot about the size of a hand seeped through Joseph’s shirt to wake him in a state of desire. But events from the night before rushed back. What the hell happened? One minute he was ready to devour his sweet young wife, the next he was expelling the food he’d just consumed like an
enceinte
woman three weeks after she’d learned of her errant condition.

He pried open his eyes to find painted ones watching him. He would swear amusement dripped from the bizarre orbs.
Impossible
.

He swerved his head the other direction, away from the doll, where Kendra’s mussed hair tickled his nose. One ungloved hand lay on his chest, and once again the tiny scars across the back teased his curiosity. He raised that hand to his lips, touched the tip of his tongue to the ridges, wondering what had happened to cause them. Laying her palm back flat against his chest, he covered it with his.

Shifting once more, he squinted at the morning sunlight unshielded by the aged, moth-eaten curtains. The fantasy of initiating Kendra into her role as a married woman tempted him beyond measure. Yet they’d lost the night, and she deserved and needed his patience, not the rushed act of a lust-filled scoundrel unable to control his desire.
Non
. There were several nights ahead in which to sate that need. Daylight travel hours were few, indeed, if the angle of the sun was anything to go by. He disengaged himself from her warm body and slipped from the room to take care of other pressing needs.

His head pounded, though he knew he hadn’t over-indulged in spirits the night before. He found the pitcher of water and drank deeply. The memory of Kendra holding the cup to his lips flooded him. He groaned.

Kendra was still sleeping soundly when he returned, and Joseph couldn’t resist the temptation to lie back down beside her. He took up her hand and set it on his chest again, and reveled in the odd comfort of its warmth. So lovely, she was.

He was watching her when she stirred against him.

Her eyes widened in a surprise that touched him, eyes quickly dropping to the hand that trapped hers. “How are you feeling?” she asked. In a discreet maneuver she tried reclaiming possession of her hand.

He bit back a smile at the attempt. “I believe I shall live, after all.” Her face, flushed with sleep, had him rethinking his strategy of a quick departure. Perhaps he could kiss her into a gentle submission. Surely they weren’t in that much of a hurry? Might they spare two…even three…hours?

A fresh scent of soap had desire surging through him. All rational thought fled. He tugged her atop his body.
Oui,
he could spare four hours if need be. His lips grazed her forehead.

“W-what are you about, sir? You’ve been quite ill.”

“I seem to be much better now,” he murmured. “Due to your ministrations, I’m sure.”

A soft mewling cry erupted from her. Oh, he liked that. His lips found hers. He braced her body, straddled, over his. His tongue teased her mouth apart. ’Twas all the invitation he needed. With soft strokes he suckled, possessed, indulged in the sweet offerings. He cupped one hand on her nape, the other pushing aside the shoulder of her night rail. Skin as soft as silk tempted him beyond measure. He dragged his lips from hers to touch the contours of her collarbone.

Mon Dieu!
How had he made it past two days married to such an allurement?

“My lord, are you certain you are well enough for such activity?”

“Just try and stop me, my lady,” he growled against her neck. Her slight body quivered against him. Pounding throbbed in his head.

“Someone’s knocking, my lord…”

“What?” he whispered against her ear. She tasted delicious, and he was ravenous.

“The door,” she squeaked, somewhat adorably breathless.

“The door?” he repeated.
What was it about the door?
She made it sound incredibly sensuous.

Kendra shoved against his chest with flattened palms, but he held fast.

“We must answer.” She broke away, panting. “The door.”

Joseph blinked as her words sunk in.
The door
. Someone was knocking on the door. Soundly.

He groaned. “I suppose someone should answer it, lest they think we did ourselves in,” he said against her now puffy lips.

“I’m afraid so,” she whispered. “I fear they were quite concerned for you last evening.”

“
Oui, oui
. By all means, see to the blasted door. Rest assured, madam wife, we are not finished here,” he growled, releasing her, however reluctantly.

Chapter Ten

The spectacular weather was an anomaly, Kendra knew. She refused to worry that not every hair was in place, with the gentle breeze stirring about. Stretches of green sprawling hills, dotted with livestock, did much to calm the tumultuous thoughts of Joseph’s incandescent touches earlier that morning.

From her peripheral vision, it was clear he’d recovered from his aberrant attack of that mysterious illness. The cheerful anecdotes he dished out served well in passing the long hours on the road. His questions appeared genuine, but she couldn’t quite stave off the niggles of doubt swirling through her mind.

“…and you believe that same?” he asked.

Same?
Lord, she’d missed every word. “Well, of course,” she said slowly.

“Mmm. That the Egyptians wore cosmetics for their healing powers? And, yet you don’t appear to don them yourself.”

She scowled. “I once discovered my governess’s hidden rouge. Papa nearly locked me in the nursery when he saw those two red spots on my cheeks.” She looked out over the horizon, inhaling the fresh summer air. “Actually, their cosmetics were originally used as protection from the sun rather than as adornment. Or for hiding scars. Some women use them for that today.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think they smell bad.”

“You certainly don’t require enhancements,” he said. The wolfish grin he tossed out so casually flamed her cheeks to such a warmth she was certain there was no need for any rouge. “Your lips were quite red and luscious this morning, as I recall.”

“I fear,
monsieur
, you shall land us in a ditch if you do not keep your attentions on the road.”

“There is that,” he muttered.

Kendra hid a grin and opted for a change of subject. “The women of ancient Egypt enjoyed legal and economic equality with men.”

“I begin to sense a recurring theme,” he said.

“Women could barter goods, own property, even dissolve their unions, if they so chose.”

The carriage wheel hit a rut and she latched onto him for support, then quickly let go.

He narrowed his eyes on her. “ ’Tis lucky for me, then, that this isn’t ancient Egypt, and that a partitioning of nuptials is almost impossible.”

“Yes, lucky for you,” she murmured.

“I suppose you’ve imparted this invaluable information to a journal somewhere.”

Kendra froze. “N-no. ’Tis n-no need.” She stumbled over the words. She looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. “I’ve fairly g-good retention abilities.” With supreme effort she loosened her grip, lightening her tone in the same vein.
If he’d any idea…
She shuddered at the thought of the pity, ridicule,
scorn,
she would see in his eyes if he discovered just how dimwitted she truly was. She forced herself to swallow the self-imposed ridicule. Mr. Thomas had promised she was just…different. She clung to the thought.

His body went tense next to her. “What is it?” he demanded sharply.

“N-nothing.” She drew in a deep breath, determined to keep the demons at bay. In a benign tone, she continued. “Though the pharaoh owned all the land, the landed property was passed down from mother to daughter. And if the woman expired prior to her husband,
he
, not
she
, lost the use of the land.” Kendra ended the statement on a small huff.

“Is that so?” Joseph said, thoughtfully. “I can think of an instance or two where such a situation might be preferable.” That was uttered under his breath before he let out a small cough, as if he were embarrassed or had said too much.

She ignored the remark. “Yes. Property was inherited by a daughter and her husband rather than the surviving husband…er…spouse.”

A bark of laughter erupted from him, and the glance he shot her held a warm gleam. “Tell me not all your knowledge surrounds women’s superiority to men,
s’il vous plaît.
I fear for my fragile ego.”

A rush of relieved air escaped, and she sought for the safe haven of her proper English upbringing. “It seems, in fact, that women occupied a minutely higher status than their male counterparts.”

“And did your father follow those values, as well,
ma chère
?”

“Why, yes,” she said softly. “I do believe he did.”

“In what way? After all, ’tis common knowledge you, as a female, cannot inherit his entailed lands. Even as his only child.”

“No. I cannot. But I know much regarding agriculture. He’s taught me well and listens to me. Papa and I purchased one of the first seed drills Mr. Tull invent—” She stopped, embarrassed. “I’m sure you would not care to hear me prattle on.”

Her husband did not answer. Instead, he guided the horses onto a side road and drew back on the reins. “This looks as good a place as any for our midday meal,
non
?” He jumped down and held out his arms.

Hesitating only a second, she leaned down. Strong hands circled her waist, hitching her breath. He lowered her as if she weighed no more than the doll Lady Esmeralda had given her. She slid down his body in a slow descent. She swallowed, experiencing every well-formed ridge of his body. Every muscled contour.

“You’re wrong.” His voice was gruff, raspy, as if speaking were…difficult.

“Wrong? In what way?” she whispered.

“I love hearing you prattle.”

****

Joseph couldn’t resist brushing his lips over Kendra’s, but took care not to linger. She was too irresistible, and now was not the time or place. He dropped his hands and stepped to the door of the carriage to retrieve the large basket of food the Harpers had generously put forth.

It was heavy. Kendra must have made quite the impression. She certainly had on him. Her outrageous notions for women were endearing. It had him pondering how many other similar ideals she harbored. He carried their treasure to the copse of trees where she stood, framed by a backdrop of a placid lake and a nearby herd of grazing sheep. An increase in his pulse thrummed.