A Convenient Bride (8 page)

“The meal is sparse but should keep us until we stop for the night.” He shook out his coat. “Come, eat.”

She pushed from the tree and took a place on the coat. “I could eat a whole cow,” she said, behind a yawn, and indicated a small group of bovines across the field.

“Unfortunately, we only have bread, cheese, and wine.” He placed a cheese wedge between two bread slices and handed it to her. “The cows are thankful.”

She paused in mid bite and stared. “Did you make a jest?”

He brought the wineskin to his mouth. “I have been known to do so now and then.”

A smile weaved its way across her sun-kissed face. His breath caught with his focus on her mouth, the sort of full mouth that was made for wicked things.

Seeing the destruction of his friendship with her father looming, he cleared his throat and turned away.

Brenna shifted, and her knee came dangerously close to his thigh. “There is more to you than what you let me see.”

He ate and said nothing. His silence did not discourage her attempt at conversation. She’d been quiet all morning. Whether it was the sunny meadow, the food, or her renewed energy from resting in the shade, something shook loose her tongue, and her target was him.

“I’d enjoy seeing you dressed in something other than
faded breeches and a dusty coat,” she continued. Her gaze drifted over him. “You should find another tailor.”

He frowned. Her look was pure innocence. “You clearly need a wife.”

Manners kept him from looking skyward. “I promised to consider marrying you if you helped me find Anne. ‘Consider’ being the word of choice. Thus far, you have done nothing but follow along and test my patience.”

The chance he’d marry her was minute. He’d vowed to never remarry, and he intended to keep to that promise.

Of course, a marriage of convenience would certainly chase off the several marriage-minded women of his acquaintance who had no qualms about openly seeking him out as a potential mate.

That alone should make him consider her proposal.

“And yet, you keep me with you. Why, I ask?” She took the wineskin and sipped. “Perhaps you are not finished kissing me?”

Richard scowled. Why couldn’t Walter and Kathleen have whelped a less beguiling and aggravating child? By the time they reached Gretna Green, he’d likely be more inclined to strangle the chit than to wed her.

“Did you miss the lessons on proper behavior?” he said. His guilt weighed heavily on him. Her reminder did not ease his regret. “You must forget the kiss. It was a mistake, yours if I recall, and will not happen again. You are Walter’s daughter. I will not ruin my friendship with him by kissing you again.”

Brenna stared. “I talk of kissing, and you talk of my father. Interesting.” Her eyes seemed to slip into his soul. “You have had too much darkness in your life. Once your sister has been returned home safely, and we are wed, I will make it my duty to see that you find happiness.”

He crossed his arms. She was like a tiny dog attached to his boot by its sharp little teeth. No matter how much he tried to shake her off, she would not be dislodged. She planned to marry him, and that was that. “I have not agreed to wed you.”

“You will.” She smiled. “I always get what I want.”

There were many ways to respond to her simple comment.
Even if she’d not carried the beauty of her mother, he’d still know her as a Harrington. Every one of them was born with a supreme confidence others lacked.

It was time to be honest with her before she turned her thoughts of marriage into a fanciful notion of happily ever after as his viscountess. There was no such thing as true happiness. Life was brutal, and marriage for love was a false illusion.

“I gave away my heart once, Brenna, and will not do so again,” he said, with a harsh sigh. “If I do marry you, it would be a matter of convenience, nothing more. Do not ever expect me to love you.”

T
he bluntness of his comment took her aback like a slap. There was no questioning his feelings. When this adventure ended, she’d have a husband to satisfy her father, but Ashwood would not love her. Ever.

She’d not truly considered her life much further than the wedding. She assumed they would eventually grow fond of each other, and that would lead to love. Now even that had vanished under the brutality of his truth.

All her dreams of marrying for love would never come to fruition. Would a loveless marriage be the price worth paying to keep from having to marry Chester Abbot?

She tamped down her misgivings. She had no other options. She’d have to learn to live with her disappointment. “I do not ask for love,” she said, hoping for an emotionless tone. “I have given up on that emotion. All I ask for now is a way out of my dilemma and for children someday. Certainly one does not need affection from one’s husband to accomplish those goals.”

Even as she said the words, defeat filled her. For years she’d avoided the trap of a loveless marriage. Now she’d agreed to one without argument.

“Then we have an understanding,” he said, handing her the flask. “Let us eat. We have miles yet to travel today.”

The bland meal stuck in her throat, to be followed by several more hours of searching, until her hands cramped on the
reins and her back cried out for a soft bed. While Richard questioned the innkeepers, Brenna questioned the maids. At the Black Crow’s Inn, she learned about a woman who fit Anne’s description.

“I am not convinced it was Anne,” he said, after talking to the maid himself. “Lockley has taken an interest in her that defies his unhealthy proclivities. I suspect it has to do with her sizable dowry. He will be with her to keep her from changing her mind and fleeing him.”

Brenna led him out of the inn. “Could you be wrong about their elopement? Nothing we’ve learned thus far has led us to conclude they are heading for Gretna Green.”

Richard helped her mount before answering. “I’ve searched hill and dale around our village. I’ve sent men in all directions. There are no clues to lead me to conclude they’ve gone anywhere else but north. Lockley must know I’ll kill him if he ruins her. He will marry her to save his neck.”

“Then we shall continue toward Scotland.” Brenna wouldn’t argue. She knew nothing about Anne. If Ashwood was certain Anne had run off with Lockley, then she would keep her doubts to herself.

The day aged as the sun began to set. They took a room just before dark. The innkeeper assured them he’d not seen Anne. Brenna felt her companion’s frustration.

“We are two days from Scotland and still nothing. And my steward is still missing.” He tossed his pack on the bed. The maids set out food, filled the bathtub with hot water, and withdrew. “We are on a fool’s errand.”

Brenna leaned to sniff the lamb stew. Her mouth watered. “You cannot give up. Even if we are too late to save her from the marriage, you will have tried.”

Eager to eat, she laid out the meal on the scarred table. In addition to the stew, there was wine and bread.

He grumbled under his breath as Brenna ate with vigor. The meal infused her tired limbs with warmth. “I shall take the first bath,” she said, not waiting for his reply. Her achy bones longed to soak in the hot water.

She stepped behind the screen and slipped out of her clothing. She wanted to kick her offensive garments into the fire,
but thought that traveling the roads wearing nothing but her cloak might be pushing the boundaries of propriety. Even for her.

Bathing with Richard—as she’d begun to think of him—just outside the screen was scandalous enough. As she lowered herself into the tub, she did not care. A low groan escaped her as the water closed in around her.

Silence fell as she scrubbed with a chunk of crude soap. Though coarse enough to scrub pots clean, the soap left her skin tingling and her hair free of debris.

She knew by the clank of spoon against bowl that Richard was eating. She wondered if he was thinking of her naked in the tub as he spooned stew into his mouth.

If so, she hoped he was tortured by the image. It was the least he deserved for all the aggravation he’d caused her with his grumbles and scowls.

Once clean, she leaned back and closed her eyes, a wistful smile on her lips. The bath was heavenly.

A chair scraped on the wood floor. His gruff voice carried past the screen. “Do you plan to stay in the tub all evening? If not, you have two minutes to exit the tub or we will soon be sharing the space.”

Brenna sat upright. Share the bath?

Scandalized by the thought of their bodies intertwined in the tub, her face warmed, and her body tingled. She stood quickly, letting the night air cool her tempestuous thoughts.

“I am getting out.” She stood and scrubbed dry with a towel, untangled her hair with a brush left with the soap, and stepped into her chemise. Without a robe to cover the thin fabric, she kept the damp towel clutched against her as she walked from behind the screen. “I did not expect to be traveling or I would have packed a valise. I have nothing else to wear.”

Richard nodded, his eyes on her. His mouth tightened. “Tomorrow we will get you a gown.”

“Thank you.” She walked over to stand by the bed. Contemplating the night ahead, and her troubling attraction for the man, she took a quilt from the chair, rolled it up as best she could with one free hand, and divided the bed with the makeshift barrier. Then without asking which side of the bed he
preferred, she dropped the towel, scooted beneath the sheet and quilt, and pulled them up to her chin. “Good night.”

“Good night, Brenna.”

R
ichard watched her adjust the covers to her chin, her back to him, the shape of her curves not as well hidden beneath the faded quilt as he would have liked. She was like a siren leading him to his death, and he struggled to fight her silent call.

Even now, the image of her body barely hidden under her thin chemise caused him to harden beneath his breeches.

With a low curse, he tore his eyes away and walked behind the narrow screen. Doffing his clothes, he stepped into the rapidly cooling water. Knowing she’d been naked in that same bath moments previous hardened his cock a second time, and he silently cursed his lack of control.

He struggled to regain his wits, turning his thoughts to her father, to Anne, to parliament, anything that would keep him from thinking of Brenna lying warm and soft in the bed.

The effort gained him little, but he did manage to finish the bath without spilling his seed in the water.

After, he dried off and reclaimed his breeches. Brenna was breathing softly when he returned to her, her exhaustion from the day’s ride having taken a toll. He watched her sleep, his arousal returning with a vengeance. Emitting a low frustrated growl, he snatched the rolled quilt from the bed, dragged the room’s only chair to the window, put his bare feet on the sill, and jerked the blanket over him.

A night of suffering in the uncomfortable chair would be his penance for his heated thoughts. A mistake would be to share the bed with her. He knew better than to tempt fate.

With moonlight filtering over his face, he slowly drifted into a fitful sleep.

R
ichard waited downstairs while Brenna reluctantly climbed from the bed to dress. The crumpled shirt and makeshift trousers had smelled so much like horse and grime the previous night that they offended her senses. She blanched at the thought of putting them back on and wished she’d thought ahead to pack a gown. Unfortunately, without that option, she had no choice but to seek out the offending items.

With her resolve weakening, she forced herself toward the corner where she’d tossed the garments, but they were not to be found. Then she noticed a dress hung over the chair behind the screen. Upon further investigation, she found it to be nearly new, blue cotton, with the skirt divided for riding astride.

Beside it was her slightly frayed cloak, shaken free of road dust and pressed.

She smiled, delighted.

Richard. He’d obviously ordered the dress sometime after she’d fallen asleep so that they could continue north without the delay of searching for a shop, though she suspected a delay was not his only reason for the purchase. His senses were likely offended by her old clothing, too.

She didn’t care where the dress came from, only that it was clean and the skirt altered for riding.

After hurrying through her toilet, she braided her hair into
one plait down her back and stepped into the gown. Though slightly bigger than she, the item fit nicely.

When she joined him a few minutes later, she found him halfway through a breakfast of sausages, ham, and coddled eggs. A second plate awaited her arrival.

The great room was half full of travelers and surly characters, but she gave them little notice. Richard had chosen a table in a corner, his face still unshaven and looking far more handsome than he should. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you for the dress,” she said, taking a seat across from him and placing the cloak on an open chair. She picked up her fork and gave him a luminous smile. “I hoped you burned my old garments.”

He grunted in reply. Brenna was certain she’d seen a brief flicker of appreciation over her fresh appearance, despite his surly mood.