A Convenient Bride (25 page)

As if on cue, they passed a field with what seemed like a hundred of the woolly creatures scattered about the grass. Brenna smiled. “They do paint a pretty picture, with all that white against the green field. I have decided I like sheep, too. We are lord and lady of the sheep.”

There was a brief silence, until his laughter startled the horse. The beast quickly settled with his firm grip on the reins. He stopped the carriage and peered down at her. “What am I to do with you, Wife? You do try my patience.”

Brenna joined his laughter. “But I do amuse you. You will keep me around if for nothing more than my jests.”

His mouth twisted, yet there was humor in his eyes. “You do have your uses.” His attention flicked to her mouth, and Brenna held her breath. She desperately wanted him to kiss her.

Sobering, he cleared his throat. Brenna was not about to lose the opportunity to steal a kiss. She pushed up, leaned toward him, and quickly brushed her mouth over his, startling him. Then she dropped back down on the seat, tucked her shawl back around her, and stared straight forward.

“Onward, Richard. The Cooksons are waiting.”

A moment passed, then he clicked his tongue, and the horse continued on. If a simple kiss unsettled him, what would he do if she asked him to pull into the nearest field and have his way with her in the grass?

Mischief welled as she remembered Mother’s advice. If she wanted a happy marriage, she’d have to reintroduce him to seduction.

By this time next year, she hoped to have Richard so besotted that he’d not refuse her no matter where she asked him to take her, be it bed, floor, or open field.

W
hat to do about his wife? Richard sighed. Brenna had agreed to keep their relationship friendly and out of bed. However, she’d just kissed him without invitation. It was clear that she had no intention of keeping her word.

Staring down at her, with an unobstructed view of her lovely breasts where the shawl gaped away, he knew the next few months would be torture. If she did not adhere to the bargain, he wasn’t certain he could keep from pushing her down on the bed and burying himself into her sweet body.

“You cannot kiss me, Brenna,” he scolded. “Kissing leads to other things, and we have a bargain.”

“I like the other things, and I hate bargains.”

As he suspected, she wasn’t a bit contrite. He grumbled under his breath. “I should send you back to London with your parents when they leave.”

“You won’t,” she replied. “In spite of everything, you want me here. I have brought light into your musty and cobweb-filled old manor, and you would be lonely if I was gone.”

“The manor does not have cobwebs.”

He felt her silent laughter as she shook beside him. She was a minx. All he could think about when she was near was the way her body responded to his when he made love to her.
Hell, she only had to come into his thoughts and he suffered the same malady.

He shifted on the seat, hardening beneath his breeches. His wife was torture in its purest form.

Perhaps the solution to his torment was cold baths. When they returned to the hall, he’d instruct Miles to begin new bathing procedures. If icy water could not cool his ardor, nothing could.

“I should pull over and paddle you for teasing me,” he ground out, his hands tightening on the reins.

“I would not protest.”

This was becoming an argument he could not win, and his erection was becoming an uncomfortable distraction. Thankfully, relief came in the form of a tidy stone cottage. “Ah, there is the Cookson home.” Grateful for the interruption, he eased the horse up the narrow lane to the cottage.

Smoke rose in a thin gray plume from the chimney and dissipated on the light breeze. Richard slowed the carriage, and a pair of little girls with matching gold hair hurried from the house to welcome the visitors.

Molly and Mary were bright girls who took lessons with the children of his staff in a small schoolhouse on the property. Richard believed all children should know how to read and write and had hired the best instructor available to take over the school, after the last man retired.

“They are adorable,” Brenna said. The girls ran over, a pair of matching smiles on their faces. They jumped around like excited puppies as Richard helped Brenna down from the carriage.

“Did you bring us a treat, Lord Ashwood?” Mary asked. One year older than her sister, at eight, she was also the more outspoken of the two.

“Let me see what I can find.” He patted one pocket, then another. His brows came together. “Hmm. I was certain the candy fairy visited last evening.”

The girls giggled. “There is no candy fairy,” Mary said.

“Oh, there is a candy fairy,” Richard assured her. “You have to believe, or she won’t visit.”

“I believe, Your Lordship,” Molly replied, around the thumb in her mouth.

“Then I should keep looking, for surely she would not
deprive little girls of candy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of maple candy that the kitchen staff had made the day before. He handed it to Mary.

“See!” Molly cried. “There is a candy fairy!”

The girls squealed with delight and darted off toward the house. He shouted after them, “Make certain you share with your brothers!”

“Yes, Milord!”

He chuckled. When he turned back to Brenna, she was staring at him with a soft expression.

“Those girls worship you,” she said, blinking as if she had dust in her eye. She appeared on the verge of tears. “You are a kind man, Lord Ashwood.”

“It was just candy,” he replied. Brenna’s emotions swung wildly back and forth like the wind. “Please don’t cry.”

“I cannot help myself. It is part of my condition.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her gloved knuckles. “You will make a fine father,” she said, and held his gaze.

He removed his glove and brushed a tear off her cheek. “You are not planning to kiss me again, are you?”

“I may. You have certainly earned a kiss.”

Richard knew he should step away but discovered his feet would not move. Her sweet expression held him enraptured. Truthfully, he wanted to taste her mouth.

Her sneeze broke the moment. A second sneeze caused him to reach for his handkerchief. A third brought her laughter.

“Sometimes when I am outside, my nose tickles,” she explained, and waved away the handkerchief. She scrunched up her face and paused. No more sneezes. “There, I believe I am finished.”

Shaking his head, Richard collected the large basket the cook had prepared. “Perhaps we should get you inside before the sneezes begin anew.”

“Excellent idea.” She made a funny sound and sneezed again. This time when he held out his handkerchief, she did not refuse.

T
he cottage was clean and tidy. A small fire burned in the fireplace, and the scent of baking bread permeated the room. The interior wasn’t spacious, and Brenna marveled at
how such a large family could fit within the walls without constantly tromping over one another.

Mrs. Cookson, a small woman in the last stages of pregnancy, with a warm smile and tired eyes, waddled over with a baby in her arms, the little mite shyly turning his head to his mother’s shoulder.

“So pleased I am to meet you, Lady Ashwood.” She curtsied awkwardly. Her protruding stomach, and the baby in her arms, made the effort a chore.

“Please do sit, Mrs. Cookson.” Brenna hurried over to help her into a chair, fearful the woman would topple over onto her face if she dipped too far forward. “We can dispense with formalities today.”

The woman smiled gratefully. “Mary, can you take baby and put him down for his nap?” The older girl who’d met them outside popped a piece of candy into her mouth and collected her brother. She made faces at the boy, who offered a toothless grin for his sister.

“You have lovely children, Mrs. Cookson.”

“I have two more outside. My older boys are working in the fields to bring in the hay before the snow comes. His Lordship has sent over workers to help.” Mrs. Cookson indicated a chair, and Brenna sat. “Your husband is a fine man, Milady.”

Brenna nodded as Richard sat the basket near the fireplace. She was discovering much about him this day. There was another side of her husband she was just learning about.

“He is,” she agreed.

A shuffle brought her attention around. A man of middle years came from a back room, leaning heavily on a cane. The left side of his face was scarred, as well as his left hand. Brenna assumed the rest of that side of his body, covered by his shirt, was similarly afflicted.

He waved off Richard, who walked over to assist him.

“I can manage,” he said, and limped to the table. Easing into the chair, he looked at Brenna. “I see you ’ave finally brought your missus, Milord,” he said. “I thought she was made up by gossips.”

Brenna smiled. “I assure you, I am very real, Mr. Cookson.”

The man nodded. “It pleases us to ’ave a new Lady at the manor to keep ’is Lordship ’opping.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I will do my best.”

Covertly, Brenna examined his scars when he turned away to speak with Richard, feeling for what he’d suffered. For him to have survived such a tragic event spoke of his fortitude and a strong will to live.

For the next hour, the women talked of babies and the Cookson children, Brenna envying the large brood. Though Mrs. Cookson was weary from the burdens she carried, it was clear she loved her family.

The men spoke of crops and the coming winter, and it quickly became clear that the two men were more than landlord and tenant but friends.

When Richard finally stood and made their good-byes, Mrs. Cookson took Brenna’s hand. “Please visit again, Milady.”

“I will; I promise.”

Once seated in the carriage, Brenna stared off at the cottage. For the first time, she noticed the soot stains on the roof where it had recently been patched. Thankfully, the cottage had not been fully destroyed.

“Their burdens are great,” she said softly, her eyes troubled. “It is tragic what happened.”

“It is,” Richard agreed. “I have known Alfred since I was a child. He worked for my father. He is a prideful man. I’ve offered to do more, but he does not want too much charity. Thankfully, his sons are strong and capable lads.”

She touched her stomach. “If we have a son, I hope he is like his father. You, too, are strong and capable.”

The horse rattled his harness. Richard eased them back onto the road. He shot her a quick glance.

“If she is a daughter, I pray she has a gentle temperament and does not cause her father grief.” He snapped the reins. “One termagant in the family is more than one man can take.”

The comment ruffled her feathers, but she knew it was in good fun. “Truly? You managed to get past my prickly nature to get me with this child. There must be something you found appealing about me. Please do tell me what it was.”

“Hmm.” He made a play of deep thought. Then, “If I were to choose one thing appealing about you to me, it has to be your breasts. They are immensely pleasing.”

Brenna’s mouth snapped open. What on earth could she say in reply to such a bawdy comment?

Laughter bubbled up. “You are scandalous, Richard Ellerby.”

“You asked, and I replied.” He shrugged. “If I cannot bed you, I can certainly enjoy the view of the perfect pair at my leisure.”

She placed both open hands over her mouth but could not staunch the ripple of laughter. “What has happened to my staid country gentleman husband? Did my father rattle something loose in your head when he hit you?”

“I just thought you of all people appreciated honesty,” he said. His mouth curled up.

“Oh, I do,” she said. “Feel free to ogle at will.”

He chuckled. They fell into a companionable silence as the clip-clop of horse hooves and the squeaks and rattles of the carriage filled the silence. The wind began to pick up, and leaves fell slowly off the trees. Though still warm enough for a light shawl, the trees shedding their leaves indicated that the weather was changing.

The manor came into view just as a loud snap sounded, followed instantly by a sideways jerk of the carriage. Brenna cried out, just managing to catch the side of the seat as the carriage dropped sideways, the harness trapping the horse to the disabled carriage and keeping it from flipping over.

The panicked horse tried to free itself, spinning the carriage. Richard fought for control and to keep his seat.

Brenna struggled to keep from being thrown. The effort wrenched her back, and she slid sideways against Richard. The carriage rattled and the horse kicked, trying to free itself from the harness. It seemed as if the battle went on forever, as Richard tried to soothe the terrified animal. Finally he gained control, though the horse shook, sweat foaming on his skin.

“Easy now.” Richard quickly climbed down from the carriage. He gripped the reins in one hand lest the horse bolt. He reached for Brenna. She wasted no time launching herself awkwardly off the conveyance. He released the reins and caught her against him.

A distant call sounded, and several men came running down the drive. “What happened?” one asked. The men took hold of the skittish horse.