Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption (47 page)

Strand sat beside her, took the hand she held out and murmured
an adoring, "Beloved, will you—"

His words were drowned as the musicians were augmented by a
tenor
who apparently deemed it vital he should be heard in Brighton. Strand's
lips tightened, but persisting, he dropped to one knee beside his love.
"Lisette," he said, "you know—"

She cupped a hand about her ear. "What?"

"Lisette!" he roared.

"Yes, dear," she answered, a dimple peeping as the serenade
increased in volume.

Strand whipped around to glare at the window and knocked over
the
glass of wine Lisette had just set down. "Blast and damnation!" swore
the ardent lover.

Lisette clapped one hand over her twitching lips, but her
mirthful eyes betrayed her.

Strand groaned and clutched his fair locks in frustration.
"Dammit all! Why don't they stop?"

Instead, a new note was added to the uproar: The deep, fierce
barks
of a large dog preparing to protect his property. The tenor's
stentorian tones became a shriek. Violin and mandolin were abruptly
replaced by voices raised in alarm. Whether from determination or
because of the speed of their departure, the castanets could be heard
until they, the shouts and the barking faded into the distance.

Strand slanted a woebegone glance at his lady.

Lisette struggled but, overcome, leaned back, dissolving into
helpless laughter.

"Wretched girl!" he expostulated. "And that abominable hound!
No,
how can you laugh so? You must know I shall have to pay those
pseudo-serenaders three times the exorbitant price they demanded for
that caterwauling, to say nothing of possible doctor bills!" But he was
not proof against the ridiculous and, sitting at his wife's feet,
succumbed and laughed with her until they both were gasping for breath.

A tambourine sounded outside.

"Oh, no!" moaned Strand.

Brutus jumped in through the window, the considerably tattered
instrument between his jaws. "Idiotic creature!" his master declared,
standing. Brutus shook his prize enthusiastically. Astonished by the
resultant clamour, he hurriedly dropped it, leapt back, then barked
fiercely at it.

Strand took up the tambourine, tossed it into the garden, and
ruthlessly closed the window on the pursuing dog. Returning to aid
Lisette to her feet, he sighed, "You see how it is? I cannot even
attempt to be the romantical type. Everything goes wrong."

"Well," she said helpfully, "how had you meant it to go?"

"Why, I would arrive, to find you awaiting me with maidenly
blushes and bated breath."

She nodded. "You did."

He lifted her hand and kissed it, and still holding it,
stepped
closer. "And after some small talk, I would give the signal to the
musicians (if you could call 'em that!) and they would play soft, sweet
love songs, whilst I dropped to my knees and—er— did the pretty."

Her lashes were lowered at this rather clumsy summation. "And
what,"
she murmured, "would you have said—had everything gone properly?"

He sighed. "All the beautiful and expressive things Leith says
to—"
He broke off, biting his lip and furious for having mentioned his
rival. "God!" he gritted. "What a gudgeon I am!"

"Yes," confirmed Lisette, smiling up at him, her eyes very
tender.
"A gudgeon indeed to speak such fustian, sir! What other wife has had
more beautiful words said to her than you have written to me? What
other husband would spend so many patient, caring hours with a troubled
boy, as you did with Norman; or be kind to an awkward girl and help her
move more graciously into young womanhood, as you did with Judith? No!"
She placed soft fingers over his lips as he bent worshipfully towards
her. "Let me finish, if you please. I think I know what you have heard,
and so I will admit to you that as a young girl I built an altar in my
heart to manliness and gallantry. I put a splendid soldier on a
pedestal, endowed him with godlike qualities, and childishly fancied
myself in love with my impossible creation. Until I grew up and was
besieged by a fierce, brusque, demanding, and—altogether adorable
gentleman. And then…" Her lashes swept down at last, concealing the
glow in her great eyes, and a rosy blush swept up from her throat to
warm her cheeks. "Then—I really fell in love," she finished shyly.
"Totally, and for all time, with my own—"

Strand's control broke. He pulled her into an embrace that was
fierce indeed. Lisette was kissed as he had never kissed her before, so
that she was dizzied and exhilarated and trembling when he suddenly
released her and stepped back. Holding her at arm's length, he scanned
her face intensely. "Are you sure, my dearest beloved? Are you
perfectly sure you can endure me? I swear I will be as good a husband
as I know how."

"And you will never again doubt me or call out any man you
suspect of admiring me?"

"Never!"

Caressing his still gaunt cheek, she said tenderly, "And you
will
try to be more restrained in your activities and not rush about wearing
yourself to a shade even when you are not entirely well?"

"I will be a veritable sloth!"

"And should we…" she looked away, blushing, "should we be
blessed
with children, you will be patient with them and not fly into the
boughs do they not achieve as much, or as rapidly, as you would have
them do?"

The thought of her giving him children brought a dazed look to
his
eyes. Puling her close once more, he breathed, "My dear blessing… I vow
I will do none of those things."

She laughed merrily. "Oh, what a Canterbury tale! You will do
them
all, and I shall constantly have to watch over and guard you from
yourself. And—oh, my very dear, how I shall love that precious task!"

There was nothing for it, of course, but to kiss her again.
Having
done which, he said briskly, "Hurry and get your cloak. I am taking you
on your long-delayed honeymoon! Never argue, wife. Denise knows exactly
where we go and has already packed for you. Hurry now!"

Her eyes full of stars, Lisette answered, "Yes, Mr. Strand."

The afternoon was not particularly pleasant, for the sky was
neither
blue nor sunlit, the air held a blur of mist and was quite chill. On
the box, Mr. Best grunted to the guard, "At least it bean't raining."
And the guard, jerking a thumb at the carriage, grinned. "Much they'd
notice!"

He was quite correct. Had it been blowing a blizzard, Lisette
would
have thought it a golden day, and Justin, his love fast cradled in his
arms, was in a joyous daze of contentment. He turned her chin with one
gentle finger and bent to kiss her yet again, and snuggling her head
against his chest, Lisette thought that never had she dreamt to be so
blissfully in love.

They had been travelling for some time before she awoke to the
fact
that she had paid no heed to their route. "Justin," she asked, "where
are we going?"

He kissed her ear, making her shiver deliciously. "Wait and
see."

She nestled closer. They came to the river and drove along
beside it
for a long way, the birds swooping and calling over the water, and an
occasional gleam of late sunlight drawing sparkles from the ripples.
After some while, the river curved to reveal a fair prospect where
sweeping meadowland gave way to neatly scythed lawns. Far off, a great
old house sprawled, smoke curling from several chimneys, the latticed
windows gleaming in the reddening glow of sunset, the whitewashed walls
and half-timbering warm and immaculate. Woodland hid the sight, but
Lisette sat straighten "Did you see that lovely old place? It reminded
me so of Silverings."

"Foolish little love." Strand smiled. "It
was
Silverings."

"What? But it cannot be! How on earth—"

He chuckled and would only say again, "Wait and see!"

Lisette leaned to the window in a fever of impatience, and
they came
at last to a familiar curve in the drive, lodge gates, and a small
cottage where the gardener and his wife hurried out to wave a welcome.

"It is!" cried Lisette, clapping her hands like a little girl.
"Oh, it is!"

The carriage swept along through the park, and the house again
came
into view. Scanning it eagerly, Lisette said, "Oh, how beautiful it is!
Is this where we spend our honeymoon, dearest?"

"No, my blessing. I only wanted to show it off a little, on
our way."

She leaned back in his embrace and, her eyes fixed on the
rebuilt
structure, murmured, "How wonderful that you could get it all finished
so quickly. You must have had lots of people working.'

"A small army. I gave Connaught the task the very day we
returned to
the Hall. Please do not be disappointed when we go inside. Save for a
few rooms, it is not furnished. I thought we would enjoy to choose the
pieces together."

"Yes! I should like that."

Best halted the carriage before the wide, arched doors. Strand
jumped out, and Lisette was handed down as though she were fashioned of
sheerest crystal. His leathery face wreathed in smiles, Best drove
around to the side yard. Lisette did not see that merry look, for she
stood with hands clasped, drinking in the restored splendour of
Silverings. "How I wish we could live here," she sighed.

"We shall. I am closing the Hall but shall keep it maintained
in
case Charity might someday wish to dwell there. She has a fondness for
the old place."

Her eyes alight, Lisette clung to his arm. "Do you really mean
it? Oh, but how splendid! Justin,
must
we leave?"

He laughed. "Would you really give up the delights of London,
Paris, and Copenhagen for an almost empty house in the country?"

"I would! For a while, at least. Dearest one, would you mind
terribly?"

He said nothing but, bending suddenly, swept her up in his
arms and carried her to the steps.

Oliver Green, who had happily watched their coming, opened the
door, keeping well out of sight.

On the threshold, Strand paused, looking down at his wife's
beauteous and cherished face, his heart in his eyes. "Lisette," he said
huskily, "I—I still cannot believe that you love me."

"You will learn to," she asserted. "For I mean to do just as
you wrote, most beloved of husbands."

Uncertain, he raised one brow questioningly.

Lisette leaned her cheek against his shoulder and, whispering,
for
she was not quite sure who had swung open the door, quoted, " 'To with
happiness surround you, for as long as I may live.' "

For an enchanted moment Strand was silent, standing there,
gazing at
this slip of a girl who was his dream, his love, his way of life. Then
he bent and kissed her, and was still kissing her as he carried her
across the threshold into the true beginning of their marriage that
was, most decidedly, past redemption.