What Rumours Don't Say (6 page)

“Yes, my lord.”

Reeve watched as the groom went to fetch the stallion, then sent a servant to fetch his riding gloves and boots.

He had no idea where Axelle was – given her penchant for wandering around on her own adventures and the unpredictable temperament of the stallion she took, she could be lost anywhere amid the acres of lands he owned – but he was determined to find out and bring his wife home at the soonest opportunity.

Axelle was, in fact, already on her way home, having left the Westbury estate after finishing her tea. At first, Lady Caroline had been reluctant to let her go but she had insisted, saying that she had to go home to see to supper before Reeve returned, which was not exactly a lie since he could already be on his way home or worse, he could already be home and waiting expectantly and perhaps even impatiently for her return.

At that thought, she spurred the chestnut stallion beneath her into a gallop, intent on reaching the Manor as soon as she could. After a few minutes, however, she noticed the horse getting tired and so she pulled him to a halt beside a stream and dismounted, fastening the end of the reins to a low tree branch.

As she watched the horse drink, she silently berated herself for having chosen the chestnut stallion over the grey and white young mares she usually rode, not having anticipated that she would go for a long ride, which the stallion was apparently not used to. She regretted having gone to visit the Countess of Westbury more, though. Already, she had formed a dislike for the older countess, not only because she was pretentious like many of the women she had met in London but also because she reminded her of her Aunt Gertrude in the way she seemed to fawn over her with feigned, unnecessary concern.

Just the recollection of their conversation made Axelle want to yawn and roll her eyes at the same time. Still, there had been one interesting thing she had said, or had almost said that had caught her attention, the one regarding Reeve and Anne’s death.

Leaning on the tree, she wondered what Lady Caroline had been about to say, detesting the other countess more for not simply having said it on the pretense of propriety.

Why would Reeve want to forget her? Because he had driven her to her death just as the rumours had said? Because he had murdered her?

Well, he might have refused to talk about her, but he definitely had not forgotten her. Besides, as cold and intimidating as Reeve could be, Axelle knew he was not capable of murder, especially not of the murder of a woman he loved.

She was still speculating about Anne when a voice interrupted her thoughts, and when she turned her head, she saw a few shepherds approaching the stream with their flock of sheep.

“Have you heard?” one of the shepherds, a tall, young lad, spoke. “It seems Ravenhall finally has a proper countess. I heard Sally say that she isn’t quite the beauty but at least, she can ride a horse and apparently knows how to cook.”

Upon hearing the words, Axelle was tempted to reveal herself then and there, horrified that she was being the subject of gossip even in the countryside, but her curiosity won out and so she decided to conceal herself behind the tree, pulling the horse back to hide with her, and listen in a little longer.

“The previous countess…”

“Oh, come on. She was no countess, Roger,” another voice cut in.

“Well, she never rode a horse and Sally said she hardly spoke to the servants.”

“Probably because she was a commoner just like them. One could just tell by looking at her.”

“You saw her?”

“She sometimes took walks around,” the man answered. “She looked pretty, alright, but I knew the Earl would tire of her. If he hadn’t killed her because of the babe, I’m sure he would have…”

At that moment, Axelle appeared from behind the tree, deciding it was opportune to make her entrance, and cleared her throat. Seeing her, the three shepherds stopped talking at once, their mouths gaping as they seemed to realize who she was. Then, quickly, they took off their hats as Axelle moved closer to them.

“Do these sheep belong to Ravenhall?” Axelle asked, her gaze sweeping across a small group of sheep near the stream.

“Yes, my lady,” the oldest shepherd answered. “We can take the flock elsewhere if…”

“There is no need for that,” Axelle said. “I was simply passing by on my way back to the Manor.”

 “There are more sheep this year, my lady,” the younger shepherd who had spoken first offered. “Not too many getting sick.”

“That is fortunate,” Axelle said, though she wasn’t really interested in the sheep. “Do you live in the village?”

“We live in a cottage just over the hill, my lady,” the oldest shepherd replied.

“I see.” Axelle nodded. “So you are living on and off my husband’s land and yet you have the daring to call him a murderer.”

“We meant no offense, my lady,” the oldest shepherd said. “We didn’t…”

“If I ever hear you speak ill of his lordship again, I will have you cast out of these lands no matter how long you have lived here,” Axelle said. “And let everyone else you meet know the same.”

“Yes, my lady,” they all answered meekly, their voices barely above whispers and their heads bowed.

“It was true that his lordship’s first wife was murdered, though,” the younger shepherd added.

“Thomas,” the older shepherd chided.

The younger shepherd ignored him. “So her ladyship must take care…”

“I will take care of her myself,” Reeve’s voice interrupted them, making the three men bow their heads lower and Axelle quickly turn around, her eyes glistening with astonishment at the sight of her husband atop his able-bodied ebony stallion.

Five

“My lord?” Axelle asked, trying to read her husband’s expression.

Reeve ignored her, turning to the shepherds. “If you value your lives, you will not speak of my former wife again. Is it understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” the oldest shepherd answered with his hand still bowed down.

Reeve turned to Axelle. “Let us be on our way home, Madam Wife. I have had a rather exhausting day and prefer to recline by the hearth before a hearty supper.”

“I understand, my lord.” Axelle unfastened the reins of her horse and mounted it.

As soon as she had, he drove off and after giving a nod to the shepherds, Axelle rode after Reeve, tugging at the reins so that she could keep up with her husband.

He was going too fast however, seemingly in a hurry to reach the Manor since his horse was in full gallop, and so by the time she caught up to him, they had already arrived at the front courtyard, both of their stallions covered with a sheen of sweat from the exhausting run. Axelle herself felt a little breathless, her cheeks flushed and tendrils of her hair out of place, having been whipped by the wind out from under her hat and their pins. She did not allow that to deter her, though, quickly following after Reeve as soon as she had dismounted in hopes of speaking with him.

“My lord,” she called to him, gathering her skirts so she could walk faster. “Forgive me. I was not aware that you would return today.”

“Indeed?” He continued walking, not even glancing at her. “I would never have guessed.”

“I…” She stopped when she recognized the sarcasm in his tone. “You sound displeased, my lord.”

“I have just come back from London, riding on horseback in haste for nearly a day only to find that my wife, whom I hoped would be delighted at my return, is not yet home and that I have to ride yet again to search for her and ensure she is neither lost nor unharmed.” Reeve glanced at her. “Tell me I have no cause to be displeased.”

 She gritted her teeth but tried to stay calm as she resumed walking after him, entering the house. “I would appreciate it, my lord, if you would not equate my absence with lack of fervor for your return. I would have stayed at the Manor if I had known you were headed home.”

He said nothing.

“And I would have you know, my lord, that I was not riding out of leisure this time,” she added. “I was paying a visit to the Countess of Westbury, since Mrs. Chapman informed me that she was in residence.”

Still, he said nothing.

“And you needed not have come to fetch me, my lord. I was…”

“So you are now purporting that my displeasure was my own fault,” he stopped to interrupt her. “That it was completely unnecessary for me to have gone after my own wife after learning that she is not yet home at the usual hour, disregarding the possibility that she might have come to harm or lost her way?”

She frowned. “I am merely…”

“Reeve,” Rosalind interrupted them as she came down the stairs to greet her brother. “So you have already returned, after all. I trust your…” She stopped as she saw the expression on both her brother and Axelle’s faces. “I suppose I shall see you at dinner.”

She walked past them, leaving Reeve and Axelle in silence. For a moment, they both just stood there, Axelle trying to remember what she had been about to say and thinking if it was still worth saying. Then, Reeve started up the stairs and Axelle followed.

“My lord, I regret that circumstances have turned out unfavorably,” Axelle said. “But I assure you, my lord, I was hoping for your safe return and was eagerly anticipating it.”

Again, he said nothing.

“As much as I appreciate your yearning to see me, my lord, I wish you…”

“My yearning to see you?” He turned to her as they entered the second study adjoining his bedchamber. “I am afraid you do not comprehend, Madam Wife.”

He placed his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her then, letting her know just how much he had longed to be with her, a desire which, unbeknownst to her, had been fueled by the pride he felt at her earlier defense of him when the shepherds had accused him of murder.

He had meant to keep his desire reined in until after supper, which was one of the reasons why he had tried to keep his distance from her, but she had kept at him and as it was, he could no longer control his lust for her, his lips and tongue pressing firmly against her perfectly shaped mouth and fiercely holding her captive.

She clung to him, fearful she would lose her footing from the force of his kiss, which was sufficient to knock the breath out of her lungs and cause a searing heat to course through her veins. Strangely enough, though, it did not terrify her. Rather, it made her chest swell with warmth to know the intensity of his desire for her and her head almost dizzy with excitement.

“Damnation, Axelle, you certainly know how to drive a man mad,” he said as he freed his lips from hers only to kiss her again while his hands worked to rid her of her purple riding habit.

When it was apparent he was struggling, she made an effort to assist him and when she was finally clad in just her chemise and her drawers, he led her to his bedchamber and laid her down on the bed where he kissed her again as he reached under her chemise to cup her breasts, delighting in how perfectly they seemed to fit in his hand and how they ripened at his touch.

When he took one of them in his mouth, she threw her head back, a wave of excitement assaulting her. She was suddenly very aware of him, of his tongue on her taut nipple, his hand stroking the inside of one of her thigh and his manhood as it brushed against her leg, making her quiver.

“Ssh.” He lifted his head to look at her, then, framing her face between his hands, he pressed a reassuring kiss on her forehead. “Do not be afraid, little one. It will be alright. I give you my word I will strive to be gentle.”

She looked at him and for a moment was tempted to tell him that he needed not concern himself with her fragility but instead, said nothing, simply nodding, thinking that perhaps, for once, a little cosseting would not hurt her.

He removed her drawers and settled between her thighs, stroking them before his hand came to rest between her legs. She closed her eyes, anticipating his touch in her most intimate of places and when she felt it, she gasped, his fingers stroking her soft mounds and making her lose control.

When his finger brushed against a sensitive nub concealed in her nest of curls, she cried out, the pleasure overwhelming. Pleased by her reaction, he fondled the exquisite nub slowly with his thumb, which succeeded in eliciting another cry from her as she scored the sheets at her sides with her nails. Afterwards, he slid one finger into her softness. Instinctively, she tightened around him and he groaned.

“You are so warm and soft and tight, my sweet,” he told her, his voice hoarse.

She did not respond to his remark, her mind already clouded with lust that she could not form a coherent thought, and when he started moving his finger inside her, probing her, she felt as if she would go mad and she wondered if perhaps he was exacting revenge on her for having made him wait.

As she looked at his face, however, she knew that she was not the only one suffering, his contorted features making it plain that he was exerting a great deal of effort to hold himself back. The knowledge that she could reduce such a powerful man to such a state had an exhilarating effect on her and she was suddenly filled with a desire to have even more control over him so that she lifted herself up and reached for his breeches, her fingers boldly tracing the bulge that had formed there.