Bride Enchanted (18 page)

“Ah!” her father said with vast relief. “Just as I thought. A spat between lovers. Well, feel free to stay on here with me, but not too long, mind,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “The silliest quarrel gains seriousness the longer the silence lasts. Sometimes just a word heals all. You might try it.”

“True, true,” Eve said. “I know. I won't. I will.”

It was late that night when Eve heard Sherry coming home. He made heavy going of it, humming a little tune as he clumped up the stairs. He bid a cheerful good night to the footman who'd
let him in, and from his voice, Eve could tell he was a few sheets to the wind. She'd been waiting for him with her bedchamber door half open. This was a good time for her to talk with him; no one else was awake or about. She stole out of her bedchamber and down the hallway, and accosted him as he reached the second floor.

“Sherry!” she whispered.

He leapt back. She reached for him, but he regained his balance by grabbing on to the banister. “Lord! You frightened me,” he said, one hand on his immaculate shirtfront.

She sniffed. “You're too drunk to be frightened. Come away, I don't want you to fall down the stairs.”

“Then don't leap out at a fellow when he's on the top step. What are you doing here anyway? Is Aubrey here?” he asked eagerly.

“Aubrey is not here. I am. Are you in any condition for rational speech?”

“I can hold my spirits,” he said proudly. Then he added, “I'm a trifle foxed, but by no means insensible. What did you want to talk about?”

“Come,” she said, and led him to her room. When he'd seated himself in a chair by her hearth and stretched out his long legs, she sat at her dressing table and stared at him. It was true: he
was a little well to live, but not terribly drunk. But he was overeager, leaning forward to listen to her. Her heart sank at his first question.

“Is this about Arianna?” he asked. “I've written to her, but she hasn't answered yet. Did she send you with a message for me?”

“I don't have a message from her,” Eve said blightingly.

“Have you seen her? How is she?”

“I have, and she's fine. In fact, that's what I came to talk to you about. I know you're a bit infatuated with her, but I've gotten to know her better, and I just wanted to warn—ah, uhm, talk to you. She's much older than you are, Sherry. And she…” Eve paused.

She still didn't know how to tell him the dangers and extent of the family obsession, without telling him about Aubrey's part in it. She didn't want to hint at any of Arianna's possible motives either. Nor did she want to say anything terrible about the woman, because nothing could make a young man like Sherry want to defend her more.

So she compromised, with half-truths. “She's passionate about genealogy and family, and I think that since her brother found me such a good match, she's beginning to wonder if you'd be one for her too.”

He grinned. “Capital!” he said.

“Sherry! You're just a boy, really. Not even at your age of majority yet. A flirtation is one thing. I meant for marriage. You can't be contemplating that? At your age? At her age? Anyhow, you're supposed to be going back to University next term.”

He got up from his chair and looked down at his sister, his expression as cold and serious as a half-drunk young man's could be. “I'm more mature than you realize, Eve,” he said in a hurt voice. “I can decide what to do by myself, for myself, thank you very much indeed.”

He walked to the door with stiff correctness. “So as for your advice, thank you, but no thank you,” he said, and bowed. He swayed, regained his balance, and left her.

Eve lay awake a long time that night. Not because of Sherry. However infatuated he was, he was a long way from Arianna. And time might disenchant him.

But Eve's body ached all over. It might have been from the constant traveling she'd done, but she knew better. She missed Aubrey so much it was paining her, heart, mind, and body. She lay on her back and put her hand across her flat abdomen, thinking of what might come. She turned over, pounded a pillow, and laid her aching head on it, trying to think of what she could or should
do. She missed her husband. She missed his voice, his scent, the solid warmth of his strong body next to hers. How could she sleep in peace without him, wherever she was?

How could she ever rest easy if he took it into his head to let his daft sister help bring up their child? And how could she remain married to a man with such strange fancies?

How could she not?

She turned over in bed again, and closed her weary eyes. They felt sandy, gritty from lack of sleep. She couldn't go on as things were. This was no way to live, longing for her lover and afraid to go to him. She had to return to see him soon, and not just so she could hold him close and feast her eyes on him once again. She had to go back to tell him what she'd decided. Whatever that was.

 

The wind blew Aubrey's black hair and spread his black driving cape streaming out behind him until he looked like an avenging specter. But he only stood still, alone in the night, facing the coming storm. He couldn't sleep. He'd gone out to the stables to get a horse and ride like this freshening autumn wind to join Eve. Then, once out into the night, he'd decided it was better to take a coach so he could bring her back with him straightaway. But now he couldn't move from where he stood in
the drive. Because he knew there was nothing for him to do. Or rather, nothing he could do.

He knew where she was. She didn't know that there was no place on earth she could go where he couldn't find her. She might not yet realize that she carried his child. And though he could easily pursue her, persuade her, bring her home and keep her at his side, it wouldn't be fair or honest of him. She had to decide without any enchantment or coercion of any kind on his part. Of course, if she stayed from him until she bore the child, he'd have no choice. The baby was his. But he wanted Eve too. And she had to choose him, his life and his decisions, all on her own. His sister might laugh, his cousins might think him mad, but it was, after all, how he'd decided to live his life, long ago.

So now he had to wait, and waiting was never easy for him. He missed her fiercely, he'd never missed a female more—or a male, come to think on it. He worried about her and for her. He wanted her for more than her bright conversation, her warm and willing body, and the delightful workings of a mind that so strangely dovetailed with his own. She also held in her possession two wonderful, incredible things he'd never thought to have in his long lifetime: not only his child, but his heart.

T
he physician was well known for his treatment of the insane. He headed a famous and famously expensive private madhouse for the incarceration of the infirm of mind and the hopelessly insane. That was why Eve had hesitated to consult him. But he was everywhere recommended, and he was elderly and seemed wise and understanding. He pretended to believe it was a friend she was consulting him about. She was grateful for that, and for the advice he gave her.

“Do you think this deluded fellow could do your friend, or you, or anyone, any physical harm?” he'd finally asked.

“Never,” she'd said.

“Or harm himself?”

“No, there's nothing to indicate that.”

“So, in other words, he's a kind, intelligent, well-bred and wealthy gentleman, who happens
to believe he's nearly immortal, is of an ancient race, and has got magical powers of some sort, but he never presses them on anyone?”

“Just so,” she'd said, tight-lipped now, her color rising.

“And your friend has never seen him try to cast a spell or do magic?”

“Never,” she said, shaking her head. Then she blushed, remembering. “Unless you call the way he charms her, and everyone he meets, magical.”

“I don't,” he said. “Does he brag about his powers all the time, and bring them up frequently?”

“No,” she answered. “In fact he only told his wife when his sister gave her the questions to ask him, possibly to make trouble. And at that, he was only trying to be honest about his past and his family, he said. He is otherwise closemouthed about it.”

“I see,” the doctor had mused. “And so, apart from the fact that he seems to be a thoroughly likeable fellow, I can't see how he's different from many people who have delusions of glory, except that he tells his wife about them. He harms no one, makes no disturbances, doesn't frighten the neighbors or alarm his relatives. Even his sister seems to accept his nonsense. My dear lady, if you only knew the sort of things I hear and see each day! Half my patients are in my institution, the
other half only steps away. From what you say this gentleman seems perfectly normal to me. Well, perhaps not perfectly so. But who is? He hurts no one and nothing, and keeps his secret to himself most of the time.”

“He also says he's had three wives. But there's no proof of that and my friend has never attempted to prove it.”

“Nor should she. He may well have done. Life is short, and many husbands and wives are left alone after illness or accident befalls their partners. If he has not been married before, but only says so, then again, whom does he harm? Marriage is a sacred bond. He treats his present wife well, from what you say. She has no other complaint about him?”

“No, none,” Eve said.

“Then she is a fortunate woman. I suggest your friend return to her husband and only leave him if she feels his temperament is changing in any way to her danger or displeasure.”

“And their children?” she asked, leaning forward, clutching her hands together. “If she has them, that is to say. He wants to educate them in his ways.”

“A child's education is the father's choice,” he said gently. “You know that. Most children are sent away to be schooled by the age of eight any
way, so your friend can always campaign that he wait for that, or even ask if they can send the children to a place of her choice earlier. No one would think her presumptuous or incorrect, because it is the general practice among those of her class. But if she ever feels that her child is being wrongly tutored, it is her right to protest. If her husband loves her, he may see her reasons for it. If not, she may attempt to hire another tutor, more to her own liking. Many children have several tutors.”

“And what of his sister, who suffers from the same delusions?”

“Does she? Or is she merely trying to make trouble?”

“I don't know,” Eve admitted.

“Keeping them apart would be a good thing, whichever it is,” the doctor said. “Introducing him to new friends and relatives would be beneficial too. In fact, I believe that the longer your friend is married to this gentleman, the more his delusions may fade away. Leaving him at this juncture is not a good solution. It might even exacerbate his problem by causing him to turn to his sister for comfort and friendship, and she, as you say, isn't good for his state of mind.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, rising, and smiling brilliantly. “You said just what I wanted to
hear. I mean, just exactly what I want to tell my friend.”

 

That was why Eve was now standing with her bags in the hallway of her father's town house, waiting for a carriage to come out of the stables to return to her home, and her love.

“I'm glad you're doing this,” her father said, lacing his hands behind his back as he watched her preparing to go. “Lover's spats are best mended with a kiss. That's difficult by letter.” His smile faded. “But you came alone. That was dangerous. You must take a maid back with you.”

“No need,” she said. “I came with the Royal Mail, and I'll be safe enough in your carriage with an outrider and the strong footman sitting with the driver on the way home. They've said you've already sent word ahead to a fine inn where we can stop for the night. Thank you for thinking of it. That's far better than sitting awake through the night. All's prepared. But I did think to ask Sherry if he wanted to come along. He seemed eager to speak with Aubrey again. I can't find him. Where in the world is he?”

“I've no idea. I hear he was gone at dawn. Or he came in at dawn, and left soon after, I'm not quite sure. The boy is a whirlwind; he hardly ever
touches down here for long these days. Here and there, here and gone again. I suppose he's thinking of all the friends he'll miss when he returns to University, and is trying to see them all before he goes. Do you want to wait for him?”

“I dare not,” she said. “The weather is cold and the ground is hard, perfect for travel, John Coachman says. So I must go straight away before rain or snow makes it a chore. Come visit me soon, Father. Come visit
us
soon, I mean. And again, thank you for all your help.”

“I didn't do a thing,” he said, as he watched a footman carry out the last of her bags. “And you may come to visit with me, or stay with me, or live with me, anytime you wish. I only pray that you don't feel the need to do the latter, but know that you're always welcome to.”

She kissed his cheek. “I know, and I thank you. I'll send a note back with the coach when I get safely home. Don't worry about me. I think all will soon be mended. And if that whirlwind of a brother of mine returns anytime soon, tell him he's always welcome to join us at Far Isle. As are you, Father. As are you.”

She sniffled back a tear, smiled at him, and hurried out and down the front stair to the coach, so she could start her journey home again.

 

Eve thought of all the ways she could explain her absence to Aubrey, all the way home to Far Isle. But when the door to the manor house opened, and she saw him standing there: unsmiling, sober, somber; looking like a demon, looking like a dark angel, looking like a deserted lover, she couldn't think of a thing to say. It didn't matter. He opened his arms wide, and seconds later she was in them. They looked at each other and kissed. And kissed again. And then it was Aubrey who spoke.

“Welcome home,” he said.

And then she wept.

“Don't,” he said, holding her close and whispering in her ear. He drew back so he could look at her face. “Unless you're ill, or hurting?”

She shook her head. “I'm sick thinking of how I left you, and ill at the thought of how I may have hurt your feelings.” She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I don't know why you so readily forgive me. If I were you I'd be very angry at me and very hurt to boot.”

“I was,” he said in a low voice. “And then I realized that I'd told you some things that made you doubt me. They would have made anyone doubt, and be perhaps a little afraid. I should have thought of that, but I never told any other mortal before.”

She tried to conceal her wince as he said that.

“How can I blame you then? At least, you came home again. You trust me now, don't you?

“I do,” she said, tears starting in her eyes, “with my heart and with my life. I wouldn't have come back to you otherwise.”

“Welcome home again, and thank you,” he said, taking her hand tightly in his own. “So now come upstairs, bathe and change and then talk to me. Or talk to me while I help you bathe and change.”

She smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Getting your nice new kid gloves all wet,” he said, watching her. “I see you bought new ones. And that's a new bonnet. Very attractive.”

“I bought a few new things,” she explained.

“Good,” he whispered, bending to put his lips at her ear again. “We'll just idly mention that you went to London to buy some new clothing that you needed. That will stop the servant's gossiping, as well as anyone else. I'm used to it. But I don't want you plagued by so much as an inquiring look. Now, come. You must be chilled and travel weary, whatever you say.”

“I am, a bit,” she said, as she went up the stair with him.

He was as good as his word. Within moments, he had footmen bring a steaming tub to her dress
ing chamber. Eve's maid had hurriedly helped her take off her gown. When she'd left, as had the footmen, Eve, wrapped in a towel, came into the dressing room. She saw the steaming tub of scented water, let out a long, satisfied sigh, and took Aubrey's hand so she could step into it.

“I've made some modernizations here, but we must put in a proper bath now,” he grumbled as he watched her. “One with the sort of new plumbing they have in London. With water piped into the house, and out of it as well. This must seem primitive to you.”

“It seems delicious,” she said, sinking into the warm water, laying her head back on the rim of the tub, and closing her eyes.

He knelt at her side, and smiled at her. “You must be exhausted,” he said. “I'll just stay until you've bathed, and then help you into bed.”

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “You'd better help me more than that. It's been a fortnight since I've seen you. I don't know how much more deprivation I can take.”

He laughed, and reached for a sponge. “Then let me assist you now, so we can get to bed sooner. It's seemed like a much longer time than that to me.”

He rolled up his sleeves, dipped the sponge into the water, lathered it with soap, and then slowly
washed Eve's arm. She offered him her other arm, and then her throat. She stretched like a cat under his hands. He laughed. “I can do better,” he purred. “But it wouldn't do for me to get soaked, it's you taking the bath.” He stopped, pulled off his shirt, and turned to her again.

He rubbed soap on the sponge and pumped it until it frothed with scented lather. Then he let the sponge drift over her body, gentle and lingeringly on her breasts, carefully moving over her stomach, asking her to move this way and that as he thoroughly caressed every other part of her. Soon, Eve's eyes were half lidded, slumberous, but not with weariness, and Aubrey's chest was as drenched as her body was.

“I think the water's cooling,” he said in a husky voice, “so it's time for you to get dry. Wouldn't do for you to catch a chill.”

“No,” she agreed as she rose and stepped into the toweling he held out for her. “Yes,” she said as she came into his embrace. The towel served a dual purpose, drying them both as they stood and kissed.

He lifted her and carried her to their bed.

“I've missed you so much,” she whispered as they sank to the downy featherbed together. “I've yearned for this as well.”

He didn't tell her again how much he'd missed
her. He showed her until she was thoroughly convinced.

They lay together afterward, close and sated, and still not speaking. There was too much to say, and nothing at all to tell each other now.

They woke early, at sunrise. Eve turned to Aubrey, reveling in the sight of his inky hair on the white pillow, his long lashes closed over those sparkling mirrors of his eyes. It was as though he felt her stare. His eyes opened and he smiled. But he only kissed her lightly, and tucked her close to him again.

“Oh-o,” she said, wriggling against him, laughter in her voice. “Now that you're an old married man, you don't believe in greeting the dawn the way we used to do?”

“I thought that females in your condition didn't feel well in the mornings,” he said.

She sat up abruptly. She stared down at him. “How did you know? I barely knew myself. Does it already show?” she asked with worry, looking down at her belly.

He laughed. “Nothing shows. But I know. I told you that there were things I could do that men couldn't. That was one of the things I worried about when you left me. I knew you were safe, but I longed to be there to ensure it. I couldn't be
happier, Eve. I just could not be more pleased and grateful to you.”

But she didn't relax. “Arianna told you,” she said flatly.

“Arianna?” he said, sitting up to face her. “I haven't seen her since you left. I went to her at first, wondering if you'd gone with her as she asked you to do. That would have been disastrous. It terrified me. She means you no good, Eve. Not that she'd dare hurt you. But she'd confuse you if she could, and get you to desert me if you would.”

She knew he was upset by the way he was rhyming his words, and her stomach clenched. The doctor was right. The less he had to do with his sister, the less they so much as spoke of her, the better off he would be.

“She guessed about my condition,” Eve said, forcing herself to sound light-hearted. “Now, I know it's true. Isn't it wonderful?”