Bride Enchanted (6 page)

Eve gave him a misty smile. “Thank you,” she told him. “The only problem will be that I'll miss you two so much.”

“It's all for the best,” Sheridan said, breaking the silence. “I'll get to know those chestnut prancers of his sooner too.”

And then, relieved, they all laughed.

 

The groom, all said, was paler than the bride. He was as pallid and pained, as beautiful as one
of the grave, stone saints that stood so patiently by the entrance to the tiny, ancient church. At least, so he was when he stood by the altar, side by side with his blushing new bride. This usually would have made the fashionable in the congregation whisper to each other, spreading rumor of a reluctant match, but the place was so hushed they were afraid their voices would carry too far. And for all his graces, Ashford was said to be an excellent swordsman, and a top-notch fellow with a pistol.

Still, in a few moments they reckoned it must have only been a usual case of nerves for the groom. Because once out into the bright autumn-light morning again, color came back to his face, and life into his eyes, which now sparkled in the sunlight.

“Welcome one and all,” he said, as he stood on the front steps to the church and addressed his guests. “The weather's been kind, and with winter on its way, I thought we'd all enjoy an outdoor festival today.”

Eve smiled. Her new husband's speech, she'd realized, fell into rhyming patterns from time to time. It was a thing that must have amused him. The guests loved it. Eve loved everything about him today. He was dressed in formal black and white, which made his hair shine blue black in the sun. He glowed; he gleamed and looked magnifi
cent in the open air, which seemed to be his natural element. But so was candlelight and torchlight, she thought, and moonlight, especially.

She'd wanted to wear a green gown, because that was her favorite color. But there were too many jests to be made about “a green gown for a bride,” since that was what a rustic lover was supposed to give his lady when he tumbled her in the grass. Anyway, superstitious people in the countryside considered green unlucky, since in legend it was the color of the mischievous, wicked elfin folk.

So the bride wore a rose-colored gown with long russet sleeves, and red roses twined in a crown on her curly hair. She looked delightful. But she didn't care how she looked. She had eyes only for her new husband.

“So come along, enjoy food and song,” he went on, “the sun's shining and soft breezes play. Come join us on our happy day. This way,” he said, pointing in the direction of Eve's father's estate.

The guests laughed, he bowed, and then, smiling, led his bride to his phaeton, bedecked with bright garlands of flowers and autumn berries; his horses crowned with asters woven into wreaths of golden leaves.

They drove off first, ducking their heads against the showers of petals, coins, and rice that the guests threw at them.

“That's done,” Aubrey said, as they went down the winding country road to her father's estate.

“And done well,” she agreed, untangling a wayward bramble from her hair. “But I worried there, for a moment.”

He turned to look at her. “Why?”

“When we stood at the altar I looked at you. You were so pale and still. I thought you'd suddenly changed your mind.”

“You could have cut off my head and I wouldn't have changed my mind,” he said, laughing. “It's only that churches affect me oddly. They make me nervous. I think it's the enclosed space, the way sound and air is cut off by the thickness of the stones. It's hardly bearable for me. It's like a dungeon. The older the church is, the worse it seems. But I bore it bravely,” he said, smiling at her, “and all for you.”

“Well, we could hardly have wed in the churchyard,” she said. “Don't worry, I'll go to church by myself of a Sunday, if you wish, although it will look strange.”

“Not to the vicar at home,” he said. “He knows my crotchets by now.”

“Good,” Eve said. She sounded nervous, no doubt realizing that after today her life would change in more than one way. She had a life partner now, a new name, a new home, and new
people to become used to. “Anyway,” she continued lightly, “you won't have to go back to church until our first child is baptized.”

“True,” he said, and thought, with a touch of sadness:
My first lie to you. Because no, never, Eve. That will not happen.

But that was a long way off. Content at last, the aching pain in his bones finally gone, and the air clear again, Aubrey relaxed. He sang a sweet old country tune to make his bride smile as he turned to his team to drive them onward to their wedding breakfast.

“Y
ou're nervous,” Aubrey told Eve as their carriage drove through the lingering twilight. This time, for their wedding trip, they sat in a well-padded barouche, a driver, a guard, and two outriders outside. “Don't be uneasy,” he went on. “We'll travel slow and steady. We're going to stop at an inn when it gets dark, and stay the night before we move on. I've made arrangements. It's a decent place with passable food. And if you're worried about our wedding night, you needn't be. It's been a tiring day for you: a wedding and a reception to get through, and now this journey. So if you don't fall into my arms in a fit of passion the moment we're alone in a room together, I'll understand. We'll just go to sleep. But there's no ‘just' about it. We're together at last.”

“I'm not worried about our wedding night,” Eve said. “Well, a little, because I don't want to disappoint you, and please,” she added quickly,
“don't say I won't, because that's just the sort of thing you'd say to be polite. But it's new to me and naturally, I feel a bit of trepidation.”

“Naturally,” he said, smiling. “So there's nothing to do but forget about it for now. Unless you want to start here and now?”

She looked at him in shock.

He laughed. “See? You forgot for a minute. Don't worry. We'll wait until comfort, desire, and privacy match, and you are absolutely willing—no, desperate, to begin. Don't make a face. So will I be by then. There's nothing wrong with that. You'll see,” he said, drawing her closer to his side. “Now, what else are you worried about?”

She looked at her lap. “I'm anxious because I'm going to a whole new life. Oh, Sheridan promised he'd come visit us, and Father expects us to come visit him, and all my friends said they'd see me again. But Sherry forgets everything, and who knows when we can see my father again? And my friends have their own lives to get on with. I know no one but you where we're going, and nothing about your home. It feels like I'm stepping off the end of the earth. I wonder at my own bravery. Only I don't feel so brave just now.”

“That's to be expected,” he said. “There's nothing I can do about it but tell you again that I know you'll be happy at Far Isle. Come, move closer, lean
against me. Maybe that will help you feel brave again, seeing that you're not alone.”

She moved to his side.

“Eve,” he said, putting an arm around her, “I tell you there's nothing to fear. You're a lucky lady. You'll have no mother-or father-in-law to trouble you. Those few relatives I have are distant. We have no ghosts or specters rattling around. No near neighbors either. You'll be queen of our manor, with no one to impress but me. And you've already done that. Don't worry about being lonely. We'll travel to London whenever you wish. But in truth, I tell you I can't like being gone from the Hall for too long.”

“Then how did you manage all those years before you came back to England?” she asked curiously.

He was still a moment. “I meant,” he said, “since I've come back, no place on earth pleases me so much. You'll think so too. It seems the grass is greener there, I swear it even looks like the sun even shines more brightly. The dew sparkles, even the rain seems like silver drifting over the land. The gardens are beautiful and the forest, deep and cool. It's the way England itself looked long, long ago. Or so I think it must have been. You'll see for yourself. But not today, it's north and west, on the border between England and Wales, so we'll stop
to play at being tourists before we get there.”

She yawned. “Excuse me,” she said quickly.

He laughed. “Excuse me for nattering on. It's been a long day. Here, rest against me.” He moved her closer. “Close your eyes. I'll wake you when we stop at the inn. There's a good dinner and a soft bed awaiting us there. Now sleep.”

“I couldn't possibly sleep now, here, on my wedding day,” she protested. “I can never sleep in moving carriages anyway. I feel if I close my eyes I'll lose control and something will happen. It's as if I keep the coach on the straight path if I'm awake, by the sheer force of my will. And if I sleep, how will I know if the coach goes into a ditch?”

“I'll tell you,” he promised. “Now try.”

She rested her head on his shoulder.

“No wonder you can't sleep in a carriage,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Shoulders are to cry on, not to rest on. They have too many angles. Here, put your head on my chest. It's not softer, but there's more room. You can put your hand on my heart and rest your head on that.

“Now relax and close your eyes. I'll take the reins by thinking as hard as you ever could, and I'll make sure the coach doesn't go into a ditch. If it does, I'll wake you, I promise.

She gave a sleepy chuckle and burrowed into
the comforting solid warmth of him. He began to hum that old country song, and she smiled to herself, pleased he was serenading her. It was like a lullaby. She felt the vibrations thrumming through his chest. She slowly began to close her eyes. In fact, she found it harder and harder to keep them open. When he fell still, she heard his strong slow heartbeat against her ear, the rise and fall of his chest, and snuggled up closer. Then, breathing in the clean fresh scent of him, of deep forests and fresh meadows, she sighed, and slept.

“Wake up,” he whispered in her ear, after what seemed like minutes later. But when Eve's eyes fluttered open, she saw it was entirely black outside the coach windows.

She sat up quickly. “It's night? We've stopped. Is everything all right?”

“We're here,” he said. “We've stopped at the inn.”

“Already?” She stretched and yawned. “I haven't slept so well in days! In truth, now I can tell you, I was thinking so much about our wedding, how it would go and such, that I stayed up nights worrying.”

“I wondered if it would go on at all,” he said. “You were so hesitant to say yes that I sometimes imagined I'd find myself standing up at the altar, alone.”

She stared up at the face so softly lit by the glow of the carriage lamp by the window. As if any female would ever disappoint him. But she was glad he'd said it. “This is all a great adventure for me,” she said seriously. “Forgive me if I sometimes seem ill at ease, but remember that I haven't been many places or done much.”

“You are as you are and how I found you is how I love you.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You almost speak in poetry sometimes, did you know that? Do you write any?”

“No!” he said, throwing up his hands. “I leave that to Mr. Byron and his friends. It's just a tic, a habit of mine. You don't mind?”

“Mind? I love it.”

“Good, now come, let's get out,” he said, rising to stand half crouched over her because of the lack of height in the carriage. He offered her his hand. “We'll rest here for the night, and we'll be able to reach the Hall by nightfall. Is that all right with you, or would you rather go slower, and in shorter stages?”

“I can't wait to see it,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “Neither can I.”

It was a comfortable old inn; the floors and ceilings tilted by the weight of centuries, the rooms
small, but clean. The air smelled of woodsmoke and good things cooking.

“You wash, change, whatever you want,” Aubrey said. “You won't have to share. There's a room down at the end of the hall with a wooden tub, for me. Or do you want me to assist you? Your personal maid didn't want to leave London. We'll find you a new one when we get to my home. Since the servant's carriage stopped a while back on the road anyway, there's no one to lend you a hand, but me. Do you need any help now?”

“Help?” she asked, puzzled.

“Assistance. Getting off your gown, undoing the catches and hooks, and the rest.”

She laughed. “I'm not helpless. And there aren't any hooks, stays, or cinchers these days, or at least I don't use them.”

He paused, and then grinned. “What was I thinking of? I suppose you can imagine. Don't look so stricken! I'm joking. Now, do what you will, but please don't take forever. I'm hungry.”

She went into the bedchamber and bit her lip. He hadn't seemed to be joking. He'd seemed surprised, and only then amused, as though he'd just made a recover. She hoped she hadn't displeased him.

It didn't seem so.

He was charming at the dinner table, and made her laugh and drink, and toasted their marriage until she was dizzy with merriment and wine.

The only thing that bothered her was how the serving girl was eyeing him, simpering, casting him glances beneath her eyelashes. The landlord's wife and little daughter had ogled him too. So had the few old women in the common room they'd passed. She didn't blame them. He was something to see. Tonight he was dressed in autumnal colors, the gold of his waistcoat and the brown of his jacket complimenting the deep color of his eyes. They all must be wondering how a simple curly-headed young woman had snared such a magnificent male, even for a night. Eve knew many of her own friends wondered about that. She couldn't blame them. But somehow she
had
snared him and rejoiced in it.

She sat back and waited for dessert. Lud! She thought, looking at him but he was a magnificent looking male. Would she ever get used to it? It was odd that sometimes she didn't notice and other times she couldn't take her eyes from him. She hoped that as she grew accustomed, she'd be less stricken by his masculine beauty. And she hoped that would never happen.

He leaned forward. “You look wonderfully well tonight,” he said.

She was just merry enough to answer him with a peal of unrestrained laughter. “Just the right thing to say to a bride,” she said when she'd done, and he sat watching her, puzzled. “You're either so in love that you can't see straight, which I don't see. Or you're foxed. Or you're trying to make me feel better about how our serving girl is mooning over you. Because I think that any minute she'll serve herself up on a plate with your pudding.” She giggled, picturing it.

“I look neat, tidy,” she went on. “But not much more, I seldom do. I'm wearing a russet frock, and it's true that it's very nice. I brushed my hair and it curled right up again. Still, in no way do I look
wonderful
.”

“To me,” he said simply, “you do. So. You think I ought to order up cakes instead of pudding, for fear of getting a lass in my dessert?”

They laughed. By the time they'd finished, it was quiet in the old inn, the serving girl had finally, with many a backward look, left them. Only the sound of the crackling hearth fire competed with their murmurous talk. Eve had one more glass of port.

“If you were trying to make me addled,” she said with a lopsided grin, “you've succeeded.”

“Come,” he said, rising “I wasn't trying. And it's definitely time for you to sleep.”

This time he escorted her up the stairs and into the bedchamber. Then he bowed and said, “I'll be back soon. Go to bed, Eve.”

When the door closed behind him, she looked around, made sure the shutters were closed, and quickly drew her gown over her head. She hurried to her trunk. She tossed open the lid and found the finely embroidered gown she'd gotten from a friend for her wedding night. She flung it on, and shivering, jumped into the bed. One lamp was lit. She wondered if she should lie down or sit up, waiting for him. He'd said they wouldn't make love tonight. But they were going to sleep together. Who knew what would happen? She could hope, or worry. She did both.

The room grew chill, so she lay down and pulled the coverlets up.

She was drowsing, between sleep and ragged bits of dreams, when she felt the high feather tick tilt down on one side. She sat up, surprised, blinking, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. Aubrey sat in the bed beside her. He wore a white nightshirt.

“Sleep,” he said, gently turning her, guiding her down to the feather tick with him. “We'll both sleep, together, as though we've done it all our lives.” His voice became soft and dreamy as he drew her down into his embrace. He lay behind
her, an arm tucked over her waist, his lips to her ear. “Sleep now,” he purred, “sleep as though we were two birds in a nest, two fawns in the heather, two sheep in a clover-filled meadow, sleep, and dream of morning. Sleep, Eve. Sleep.”

When she finally lay breathing slow and steady, he laid his own head on the pillow behind hers.

Her hair smelled clean and lightly perfumed. He felt the stirrings of desire as she sighed in her sleep and drew up her knees so she could curl up closer, pressing her rounded bottom until it fit tightly and so sweetly into the curve of his body. He suppressed the urge to wake her with kisses and caresses. He'd waited too long and worked too hard for such simple surcease. Desire was nothing to him. What he wanted was everything. All had to go right. However much he wanted her, he would not conceive his first child here. They had to go home.

He lay awake, eyes open, planning. He didn't sleep for a long time. But he was not unhappy.

 

“It's nothing like I thought it would be,” Eve blurted.

“Disappointed?” Aubrey asked, as he lay back so she could see it better.

“No, fascinated,” she said, bending to look out the window on his side. She turned her head and
gazed out the other window as the coach turned in the drive. His estate was nothing like any other stately home she'd ever seen. The front of grand estates she'd seen were bare of trees and their drives were barren twists of roadway made of shells or sand.

Aubrey's home was huge, surrounded by ancient trees, and the road to it was more like a drive through a meadow. The house itself was made of grey stone, and huge. But it didn't tower over the scene. In fact, it seemed longer than high; shaped vaguely like an inverted U, with the sides going off behind the front. It glittered, but only because of the last of the sunlight echoing off all the windows. She could see a huge glass dome in the center of the house. Behind and to the sides were trees, a wood full of them. A soft mist had begun floating up from the forest in the last light, making the scene look magical.