Her Highness, My Wife (18 page)

“Oh?” His brow raised in a wicked manner and he drew her body close to his. “And what do you have to accomplish?”

“Well…” She brushed her lips back and forth across his mouth and his arms tightened around her. She could feel the heat of his body through the layers of their clothing and pressed closer, wondering if he could feel the throb of her own body in response. Her eyes drifted closed and she savored the warmth of him. She sighed. “Well…”

“If you do not stop that, we will not make it to our bed,” he growled against her ear.

“I have much to tell you. I promised.” She rested her head on his chest and sank into his embrace. It was as if she were in a dream, at once familiar and exciting. And indeed, had she not had this dream so many times before?

“I’m sure you do.” Matthew sounded oddly distant and resigned. She snuggled closer against him.

Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms and started toward the door and the corridor beyond. Her eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly as the dowager instructed.” A wry smile quirked the corners of his mouth. She wanted to touch

his lips, but it required far too much effort. “I am putting you to bed.”

“Excellent.” She closed her eyes and curled against him, then summoned all her strength and lifted her head. “Alone?”

“It appears that way.”

“Pity.” She sighed.

“My sentiments exactly.” He shifted her weight in his arms and started up the stairs. Tatiana struggled to open her eyes. “Not that it would mean anything to you.”

He chuckled. “Nothing at all.”

“Just lust?”

“Nothing more.”

“You are lying, Matthew.” She smiled with a wonderful sense of contentment. He did care. She knew it.

“My lord husband.”

“Your Highness. My lady…” He paused for a moment, then she felt him sigh in surrender. “Wife.”

The next thing she knew, he was placing her on the bed in the room that adjoined his and… leaving. She struggled to prop herself up on her elbows and stared after him.

“You are not staying?”

He paused at the door to the dressing room. “Not tonight.”

“But tonight…” Tonight, what? She could not find the words. Tonight was important… why? She could not… of course. “You called me your love.”

She couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but she could hear his smile. “A slip of the tongue.”

She sank back onto the bed with a sense of joy she had not had for a very long time. “You do not lie as well as I do, Matthew.”

“Thank you.”

“I have to tell you… everything. You really should… know.” But she could not grasp what everything was. What did she have to tell him? What did he have to know? A moment ago it had seemed so urgent; now it scarcely mattered.

In her fogged mind only one truth surfaced. “You hate my brandy.”

He laughed softly. “I confess, it isn’t exactly to my liking.”

“It is an acquired taste, Matthew.” She rolled onto her side and curled her hands under her cheek. And murmured in the last second before sleep claimed her, “As am I.”

… and, in truth, Ephraim, I am as befuddled by her as much now as ever. I must confess, she makes me smile and I have laughed more in recent days than I had thought possible. While I am not happy with the deception she has woven around us, nor do I as yet trust her intentions toward my family or her true purpose, I have found myself beginning to believe in the woman herself. It is an exceedingly odd admission, given both our pasts and our current circumstances, yet when I look into her eyes, I see a depth of affection and, indeed, a truth, that I am hard-pressed to disregard. It catches at my breath and melts my resolve and I forget my own intentions. I began this adventure of hers determined to remain in command of my emotions, of my heart, as it were. I swore to myself that my agreement to accompany her was for the prime purpose of the protection of my family and only incidentally to resolve what was still unsettled between us. I can now admit, to you and perhaps to myself, there was an element of retribution as well. Do not think poorly of me at this confession, old friend. I have still retained that sense of honor you find so inconvenient. I did not plan to wound her as she had injured me; however, I fully intended not to especially care when next we parted. To be unconcerned and aloof when we bid one another farewell, as surely we must. She is a princess and I am the disinherited youngest son of an English marquess, as unsure of his future as he is of his own dreams.

Knowing this, I would be a fool to fall under her spell again, yet I cannot seem to prevent it. It is as inevitable as my next breath and the beat of my heart.

She loves me, Ephraim, I am certain of it. As certain as I am that I feel the same. It is the nature of such emotion to be optimistic and so, no matter how foolish, for now I live only in the moment. And in her laugh and her smile.

I know not how this farce of ours will play out. I have no clue as to the true purpose of her quest, nor what will happen should she succeed. Or, perhaps, should she fail. Fate has thrust us together once again, but to what end?

Somewhere in the far distance, where the gods that rule such things reside, I hear the faint sound of laughter…

Chapter 12

Tatiana was indeed an acquired taste and, God help him, he had acquired it once and, it now appeared, acquired it for life.

Matt strode back toward Effington Hall, his step determined but his heart lighter than it had been in more than fifteen months. He grinned to himself. It was past time to admit there hadn’t been a week, a day, a minute when the thought of Tatiana hadn’t lingered in his mind. His feelings about her had never changed. Not for a moment. And he was confident, no, he knew she felt the same. Oh, certainly last night hadn’t turned out as he’d expected. He still did not know what his princess was

up to, nor how his family entered into it. But her long list of regrets had revealed much about her life and her choices and, more importantly, how she felt now. It would not be easy to put the past behind them, and he refused to consider what marriage to a princess might mean for his future, but for the moment, all he wanted was to clear the mistakes between them. And take her in his arms. He’d slept later than usual this morning and she was still abed when he’d checked on her. It was apparent now that it was not the rocking of a coach that lulled her to sleep but that foul drink with which she began every trip. Perhaps she had some sort of fear of travel. Odd, since he’d never believed she feared much of anything.

Matt had spent the day assembling the various fittings, riggings and myriad of other components required to get his balloon airborne. His experimentation was for the most part complete. While his system worked in principle, in practice each effort proved the need for additional modification. Still, he was confident that it was nearly perfected and he was planning to take the balloon up in an hour or so. The sky was overcast but did not threaten rain and he did not anticipate any particular problems. Even now, eager Effington servants were tunneling hot air into the taffeta body. He grinned at their enthusiasm. Ballooning was not quite as fashionable as it once was, but it still held a fascination for most people. If he didn’t win this competition, he could always go back to selling balloon rides in Paris parks and make his fortune in that manner. Of course, by then he could well be too old to care. And he did have a princess to provide for.

His step slowed. Matt was not a man of means. If he and Tatiana remarried—and indeed it seemed they headed toward that end—what then?

He’d never concerned himself with the question of supporting her. Their time in Paris had been far too short to consider the realities of life, and then he’d had no idea of her title. Their time together now was an adventure, nothing at all like his usual way of living. Wasn’t she, in fact, paying for their travels? Why, she had provided the clothes that were on his back at this very moment. Even if he managed to win the funding needed to invest in a ship, his finances would not be substantially improved for a long time. Tatiana was a blasted princess. She was used to luxury. To palaces and places like Effington Hall. Not cottages that were little more than shacks. The hall loomed in the distance and he could make out figures seated at a table on the terrace. Perhaps the idea of spending the rest of his days with her was as absurd as the fairy story he’d likened her life to. Perhaps he should simply let her go when the time came and be grateful they’d had the chance to resolve the past. Perhaps her decision to leave him in Paris, disregarding the manner of her leaving, had been the wisest decision for them both.

Matt drew closer to the hall, following a gravel path dividing a formal garden. Tall boxwood mazes flanked the gardens. Tatiana waved from the terrace and he responded with feigned enthusiasm, his lighthearted mood gone.

There was nothing to be done now. It was entirely possible he was mistaken about her feelings and her return was prompted by no more than her need for assistance from an Englishman. It was possible he was simply a convenience. And possible as well that she had no intentions toward him beyond sharing his bed.

“My lord,” Tatiana called and waved again from the terrace. “Will you join us?”

He skirted a fountain and continued along the gravel path to the broad stone steps of the terrace.

“Good afternoon, Matthew.” The dowager duchess waved at an empty chair. “Do sit down and tell us how your aerostat is progressing today.”

In spite of his now dour mood, Matt smiled. He appreciated the older lady’s use of the proper term, and while he’d never admit it to Tatiana, in his own mind he did tend to refer to the aerostat as nothing more exotic than a balloon. “Quite well, thank you, ma’am.”

Tatiana poured a cup of tea and handed it to him. Her fingers touched his and electricity sparked between them. His gaze jumped to hers and his breath caught at the emotion simmering in her green eyes.

“I can just see it from here.” The dowager shaded her eyes and stared out in the general vicinity of the lake. “Do you see it, my dear?”

Tatiana reluctantly pulled her gaze from Matt’s and followed the dowager’s gaze.

“I think so.” She squinted and held her hand out to block the bright late-summer sun. “That is it, is it not, my lord? That bright yellow blob?”

“If you can see it, it should no longer be a blob,” Matt said, scanning the distance. He spotted it, noting the inflation was nearly completed. “Once it’s fully inflated it will be tied down. I plan to go up in it in a bit—tethered to the ground, of course.”

“Oh, Matthew, may I come?” Tatiana’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “It has been such a long time.”

“Indeed, far too long.” Were they talking about his balloon or something entirely different? And far more important?

“I do understand how perhaps today is not a wise choice—the sky is far too gray—but”—Her Grace leaned closer—“you will take me soon, will you not? Preferably before any of my family arrives.”

“You fear they might forbid you to go up because of the potential danger.” Matt nodded sagely.

“My dear young man. No one forbids me to do anything I wish to do. Why, the very thought is absurd. No, I am simply afraid that once the numerous members of my family arrive, they will monopolize your time and I shall not get to fly at all.” She smiled. “I should then be most unhappy.”

Matt chuckled. “I shall make certain, Your Grace, that you get to fly.”

“I thought you would. Now, enough fun for the moment. It is time for more serious matters.” She turned to Tatiana. “Do you prefer to ask me questions about Sophia or should I simply ramble on until you are bored?”

“I cannot imagine being bored, Your Grace.”

“Very well. Let me think. It was a long time ago, 1760-something. The exact date eludes me.” The dowager settled back in her chair in the manner of a master storyteller. “The old duke was still alive. My husband was the Marquess of Helmsley then. Sophia’s mother, then the Queen of Avalonia, was a friend of my mother’s, although I have no idea how they were acquainted. At any rate, if memory serves, the

queen gave Sophia the names of three ladies who could lend her their assistance.

“She and her daughter arrived in England with very little.” Her Grace shook her head at the memory. “It was really quite sad. She had some clothing and trinkets, the type of sentimental odds and ends one might grab as a keepsake. I recall she had a small portrait of her husband. He’d been killed only recently.”

The dowager gazed off into the distance and the long-ago. “It was apparent she’d loved him a great deal, yet, for the most part, she kept her feelings to herself. We became firm friends during her stay here—of course she had no one else—and she once told me mourning was a luxury she could not indulge. She could not allow her personal sorrow to cripple her. She had a child, his child, to protect, and that was paramount to her.

“She remained here, oh, let me think.” Her Grace paused to gather the years. “A month or so, I believe. Sophia was extremely restless, and rightly so. She’d had no word from Avalonia and feared she could have been followed by her family’s enemies. She felt compelled to move from one location to another. That’s why she stayed so briefly with Lady Hutchins, barely more than a week.” She glanced at Tatiana.

“Pity she is no longer with us. She might be able to tell you more.”

“I cannot imagine how difficult this must have been for her. Forced to flee with nothing more than a handful of keepsakes. The princess had spent her life surrounded by the finest things, clothing and jewels and whatnot. What a shame she had to leave it all behind.” Tatiana’s comment was offhand, but something in her manner caught Matt’s attention and he studied her carefully.

“Indeed, she had no more than a single bag with her and no jewels that I was aware of.” The dowager thought for a moment. “A ring, I think. Perhaps a necklace as well. I don’t recall more than that, although she was not penniless.” She cast them an apologetic smile. “I fear I can tell you little else. Soon after leaving Effington Hall, she met the Earl of Worthington and married him. He was considerably older than she, but I think she had had love and was now looking for a safe and secure home for her and her daughter. The earl died, oh, ten or fifteen years later and left her quite well off.

“Sophia and I saw each other a time or two after her marriage, but she rarely left Worthington Castle. I always thought she considered it her haven and was therefore reluctant to stray far from its gates. We corresponded sporadically until her death, twenty years ago now.” The dowager shook her head. “I must say, it’s depressing to note now many people in this story are no longer with us. Such is the curse of a long life, I suppose. And in truth”—she smiled—“I am willing to bear it.”

Her gaze met Tatiana’s and her voice was firm. “When you write this history of yours, speak well of her courage. I have never met another woman, and only a handful of men, with her strength of character and depth of determination. I have often wondered if that is why she spent the long years after her marriage and the earl’s death in relative solitude. If she had exhausted her reserves of strength and valor and now had to concentrate on the simplicities of an ordinary life.” The lady chuckled. “A rather fanciful notion, I suppose.”

“Not at all,” Matt said thoughtfully. “I can see your point. It makes a great deal of sense.”

“You are a charmer, Matthew.” The dowager had the look of a grandmother about to ruffle the hair of a small child, and Matt braced himself. Thankfully, she did no such thing. Her gaze slid to Tatiana. “Last night you mentioned seeing her rooms. I believe she had a suite in the guest wing, but in this my memory fails. It could well be the rooms you and Lord Matthew share, as those are the best-appointed rooms in that wing. However, they have been refurbished once or twice since Sophia’s stay.

“She did spend a great deal of time out-of-doors, though, always on foot, and never went out of sight of the hall. She was far too cautious for that.”

“Of course, she would be.” Tatiana nodded.

“By the look on your face, I fear I did not give you what you wished for. I hope you are not disappointed?”

“Not at all, ma’am.” Tatiana shrugged as if it were of no consequence, but Matt noted a touch of concern in her eyes. “I am merely trying to tell her story. Nothing more.”

Her Grace turned back toward Matt. “Well, perhaps your grandmother can add to the story.”

Matt winced to himself. “Perhaps.”

“Your grandmother?” Tatiana said slowly. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage, my lord. What does your grandmother have to do with this?”