His Yankee Bride (18 page)

She gave a wobbly smile at his attempt at a jest. “Can you not explain to him the extent of your involvement and that you did the right thing?”

“It won't matter. According to Edward the story has circulated around London already. If I had a title like Edward or pursuing a profession in the military, this wouldn't matter, but likely the rumors and exaggerations will make it impossible to weather as a vicar.”

“But isn't that what the Bible is all about? Love, redemption and forgiveness?”

“Yes. And even if those who fill the pews each Sunday don't believe it, the Bible is also full of immoral sinners in need of those things. But sometimes it's hard to see your own mistakes, when someone else's are so blatantly obvious. I think that's the archbishop's real motive. I might have been innocent that night, but nobody except those who were there knows that.” He gave his head a shake. “But it matters naught, because until some machine is invented that can wipe clean the mind of anyone who's ever heard the story, one version or another will always be remembered. This isn't one that goes away.”

“So what does all of this mean?”

“Besides that I cannot return to England and live the life of a respectable vicar?” he asked with a hint of his usual crooked smile.

She nodded.

“That depends on you, Carolina,” he said, the humor once again gone from his voice and face. “Since we are not legally married, you have a decision to make.”

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

John could barely hear his own words over the sound of his blood roaring in his ears. What would she say? Would she agree to marry him now that she knew the truth of his past, or would she not want to tether herself to a man who truly would live out the rest of his life in exile?

“May I ask you something?”

“I would have told you,” he blurted. “Perhaps when you were giving birth to our first child and were already angry with me. But I would have. There just wasn't a good time to tell you before we married.” He snorted. “I didn't even think I'd marry you until just hours before I did, and for some reason, our ride to the city didn't seem the most appropriate time. But I swear I would have told you.”

She pressed the tips of her delicate fingers to his lips to stop his sudden flow of immaterial explanations. “As charming as it is that you thought to tell me of this while I'm delivering our first child and not wanting to ruin our elopement with this, I hadn't planned to ask if or when you planned to tell me. I might be a bit...er...lively at times, but I'm not completely silly. This isn't one of those things you just blurt out. Even I understand that. But that wasn't my question, anyway. I already know you would have told me.”

He knit his brow. What else could she think to ask? Surely, she had to know by listening that he hadn't found enjoyment in what he’d seen. She should also understand now why he was so coarse with her the first time. A lump formed in his throat. He hadn't meant to hurt her; he just didn't know that he would.

“John?”

He started. “Sorry. I was...”

“Thinking of the same thing I was, I suppose,” she said with a telling blush. “It's all right, John. I couldn't possibly hold
that
against you. Besides, you certainly made up for it soon after.”

“Then what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Why would you think I'd have changed my mind?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. “I—I don't know,” he said at last. “I thought you might think less of me and decide I wasn't the man you wanted to spend your life with.”

“How could I possibly feel that way? You did the right thing.”

“But I didn't go out there intending to do the right thing. I went out there just as set on bedding her as my friends.”

She waved her hand through the air. “That may be. But I don't think you'd be the same man that you are today if you hadn't gone. And he's the one I love...”

John's heart soared, and elation at her admission of love cut off whatever else she was saying. She loved him. Of course, he already thought she might, but to her hear say it— “Wait. What did you just say?” he asked, as the words she'd said following her confession of love started filtering into his mind.

“I said that I don't understand why you'd think so little of me as to think I'd throw you over now that I know the truth.” That usual light in her eyes was gone now, replaced with a stony hardness he hadn't seen before. “Do you think so little of me that you believe I'd leave you now that your future is uncertain?”

He pressed his lips together. “No. But I wanted you to know that you have a choice. That you do not have to be condemned to be the wife of a depraved warehouse laborer, if you don't want it.”

She lowered her lashes and shook her head. “I know better than to think you're trying to talk me out of the commitment I made to you.”

John reached forward and tipped her chin up, so she couldn't look away unless she really tried. “It won't be easy, Carolina. There's a man I met in Boston who said he was looking for someone to start a church somewhere in New York. I refused him at the time, and I don't know if it's still available. But I'll go to Charleston tomorrow and send him a letter explaining the situation. If he doesn't see fit to hire me or doesn't need me, then all that's left is a mill, or warehouse, or some other equally laborious job. You do understand what that will mean, don't you?”

She nodded and threw her arms around him. “I don't need money, John. I just need you.”

John wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “You do know we won't be able to hire someone to help around the house or help you with the children?”

“I don't care about that. I don't want anyone raising my children, but me. And you, of course,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Well, I should hope so,” he added with a chuckle. He scattered kisses along her cheek on his way to her mouth. “We should probably get to sleep,” he murmured against her lips.

“Of course,” she murmured back, not taking her lips from his.

He pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. “I should go. Now that my chances of ministering to the lost souls of England have evaporated, I need to be more mindful of what I do while here in America, or we might have to leave this country as well to escape my tarnished reputation.”

She grinned at him. “You don't actually have to leave.”

“I think I do,” he said, desire thick in his voice. “A few more minutes in this room with a bed and your sultry smile, and I might be tempted to knowingly dishonor you.”

That brazen minx had the nerve to peer down at his lap. “Oh, I see.”

“Yes, and now you know why I must bid you a good night,” he said, brushing another kiss across her soft lips.

“You can stay if you want,” she said.

Honor and desire began a battle that would have no victor in his mind. He
wanted
to stay. They wouldn't do anything they hadn't already done. But still, he shouldn't. “Carolina, you know that I want to stay more than anything. But I can't. I can't share your bed again until we're properly married.”

“Sure you can,” she argued, reaching for something on her nightstand. She straightened, showing him a needle she held between her fingers.

Instinctively, he closed his legs together. “What exactly do you plan to do with that?”

She laughed in that carefree way she always did that made his innards flip. “Not what you're thinking.” She took to her feet and pulled back the coverlet. “Take off your boots and shirt and lie down.”

He stared at her. Was she cracked? “Carolina, I don't think this is a good idea.”

“If you'd prefer not to share my bed, I'm sure my mother's is comfortable.”

He scowled. “There's nothing wrong with the barn.”

“Are you saying you'd rather sleep with the animals than me?” she asked lifting her dark brows.

“No,” he said slowly, still eying the needle in her hand.

“Take 'em off,” she encouraged with a gesture to his feet.

He obliged, then removed his shirt and climbed into her bed. “Nothing will happen, Carolina.”

“Oh, something's about to happen,” she muttered, covering him with a sheet.

He shut his eyes and willed the vivid memories of the last time they were in a bed together to leave his mind. “What are you doing?” he demanded as her soft breasts pressed against his chest.

“Making a bundling bag,” she said as if that meant anything. She moved farther down his body, her soft body pressing against his and making him hard. “Hold still or I might prick you.”

He groaned at her unintended reminder of what he'd like to be doing with her tonight. “You must stop this madness.”

“Not until I'm done.”

“And what, pray tell, is it that you're doing?”

“Sewing the sheets together.”

He caught her eye. “And you think that will stop me?”

A slow smile spread her lips. “Yes. And if you get tempted, just remember, I'll be sleeping with the needle by my side.”

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

Carolina wasn't sure who got less sleep: her or John. Between the two of them fidgeting or trying to get closer to the other and being stopped by the barrier she'd sewn between them, it was pure torture.

“This is ridiculous,” John said, attempting to tear the row of seams between them just as the first ray of sunshine filtered in through the window next to her bed.

Carolina laughed at his attempt to free himself from the bag she'd sewn him into, starting at the top of his left collarbone then going all the way around his body to stop at the right, sealing all of him except his neck in a pocket of sheets, just the way Marjorie had described.

“Carolina, please, have mercy on a man and come help me,” he said, scowling.

Carolina smiled and climbed on top of him. “I rather like you this way.”

“You mean, at your mercy,” he said, craning his neck just enough to give her a quick peck on her cheek. He looked so helpless trapped in his bag; it was adorable.

“Just so.” She bent to give him another quick kiss and was taken by surprise when two bare hands came up and took hold of her.

“Got you,” John growled, rolling her onto her back and showering her with kisses.

“You tricked me.”

“Just a preview of what life will be like as my wife,” he said between kisses.

“The kisses or the trick?” she asked, pretending to push him away.

He gently nipped her jaw. “Both.”

Good, because there was no way she'd want one without the other.

He nipped her again and she squealed.

“Shh.”

“Don't worry,” she said, running her knuckles over the coarse stubble on his cheek. “The worst they can do is demand we marry, and we've already decided to do that anyway.”

His smile vanished, and he rolled off to the side. “About that.”

“Yes?” She ignored the way her voice hitched on the word. Surely he wasn't about to insist they wait to get married until he secured a job. Though, it wouldn't surprise her since he was such a serious sort at times. “John?”

He brought his hand up to idly scratch his cheek. “Do you remember what I did just a minute ago?”

“Yes. I also remember agreeing to remarry you last night,” she said pointedly.

“I remember that, too.” He flashed a smile at her. “But I meant, do you remember when I pretended I was trapped?”

“Yes.” Was he addled? His kisses were drugging, but not
that
drugging.

“Right. Well, I might have played a similar trick on someone else,” he said with a slight cough; his face turning an unusual shade of red.

“What have you done?”

“I might have played a trick on your—”
cough, cough, cough
.

“You what?” she asked, trying not to laugh at the way he was struggling to keep a straight face, despite his body's reaction to his obvious discomfort.

He took a deep breath; then another. “I told your father that I didn't plan to marry you—”

“Yes, I do believe I was in the room when you made that pleasant announcement,” she said sarcastically. “I was the one who entered the room as your wife, stood beside you when it was explained that we weren't legally married, then remained frozen in place as you announced to our families you had no intention of making me your wife and left.”

He knit his brows, twisted his lips, and cocked his head to the side. “That was
you
?”

She playfully swatted at his arm. “Yes, and I already know you told my family you wouldn't marry me—” she frowned— “though I still don't know why. You didn't talk to Edward about your trouble from England until after you'd said that.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And I also talked to your father privately, later.”

“And you told him again that you had no intention of marrying me?” she asked, to clarify.

He nodded. “I want something from him, and he wants something from me.” He came up on his knees and pushed a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. “No matter what, I intend to marry you, but I don't want him to know that until he agrees to give me what I want.”

“What is it you want? Employment?” She sorely hoped not. It had been hard enough living in this madhouse for nineteen years. Any longer and she might need to be locked away.

His rich chuckle brought her from her thoughts. “Do you think my prospects are so dim I'd have to accept work here?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I just didn't know if you'd planned to work here until you hear back from your friend in Boston.”

“Carolina, I mean this as no offense to you, but there isn't enough gold in England that would make me want to work here another day. The only reason I worked here as long as I did was because of you.”

She started. “You did?”

“Yes. I had enough to pay the passage before my sunburn.”

“You'd planned to marry me even then?”

“No,” he corrected. “I didn't plan to marry you. I just—” his cheeks reddened— “I wasn't quite ready to leave yet.”

“I knew it, you rascal. I knew you felt the same way I did the night we met.”

He tipped one shoulder up. “I don't know if I'd go that far. But you seem to think my eyes were speaking to you that night, so I can't deny it completely.” He straightened. “But regardless of how I felt for you then, I do love you now, and I plan to make you my wife as soon as I can. But I need your help.”

“You mean you need me to pretend we haven't decided to marry,” she said flatly.

“Exactly. Just until I get what I want.”

“And is this how a future Man of God should be acting? Playing tricks and being deceptive?”

“Ah, but you forget, we don't even know if I will be a Man of God or a coal miner.”

“Nobody will get hurt by this, will they?”

“No.”

“Well...” She tilted her head to the side and tapped her index finger against her cheek. “If nobody will be hurt by it, and it's for the greater good—” she queried him with her eyes, waiting for him to nod— “then I suppose I'll play along.”

“Good. I thought with your flare for dramatics you'd enjoy this.”

He was right, of course. As long as nobody would get hurt by his scheme, she saw no reason not to join him.

He dressed and went to the window. “How did you get down from here the night I came to your window?” he asked, poking his head outside.

“I climbed down the tree that's in front of the other window.” She pulled on her stockings and slipped her feet into her shoes. “Why?”

“I don't think it's wise we go down to breakfast together.”

“So you'd planned to avoid that by jumping out the window?” she asked flatly. When he nodded, she laughed. “And you thought
I
had a flare for dramatics. You can just take the backstairs down to the kitchen and then wait there a few minutes before joining us for breakfast.” She finished dressing then stepped into the hall and motioned for John to join her when she saw that it was clear. “Go through that door and go slowly down the stairs; they're steep.”

John placed a chaste kiss on her temple and then walked very carefully to the door she'd indicated.

Carolina took a deep breath and made her way to the dining room, hoping it was still too early for anyone else to be up yet.

No such luck.

Gabriel and Father were already seated at the table, and the thunderous footfalls of a four-year-old descending the stairs echoed throughout the house.

“I see we'll all have a pleasant breakfast together,” Mother said a moment later, gliding into the room just as Carolina was taking her seat.

“Not quite all of us,” Father said with a pointed look at the empty chair beside Carolina.

Carolina shifted in her seat. Father was clearly unhappy and likely it was because of whatever John had asked him for. “I'm sure he'll be along soon.”

“He'd better be. We have things to discuss,” Mother said, placing her napkin in her lap.

Just then, to Carolina's great relief, John walked in and wordlessly took the vacant seat Carolina had saved him.

“Where have you been, Uncle John?” Alex asked before anyone else could.

“Taking care of things I hope you never have to worry about,” he told the boy.

“Well, I hope he does,” Edward said, frowning. “I would like to have grandchildren one day.”

Beside him, his wife nudged him and John shook his head. “You'll have to excuse Edward. He often speaks first and thinks second.”

“Then he and Lina shall get along quite well,” Gabriel teased.

John shook his head again, slower and with a hint of sadness on his face this time. “I don't know...” he said without much emotion, staring at Gabriel who winked then turned back to his breakfast.

Carolina's heart skipped a beat. Gabriel knew what John was doing, and he seemed to be willing to playact with them.

“They may not spend much time together,” John continued with a casual shrug. “There will be an ocean dividing them, after all.”

Father's dark eyes locked with John's, a silent message passing from one to the other. All movement and noise in the room evaporated, giving way to amazement at the intensity in John's blue and Father's gray eyes. Neither man seeming to back down. Thank goodness John wasn't fibbing about the ocean separating her and Edward, or he'd give himself away with one of those coughing fits he was prone to have when he was found out.

The silent tension filling the air made it too thick to so much as breathe. Even little Alex seemed transfixed on the stare-down going on between John and Father.

A muscle in Father's cheek ticked, and Carolina was sure she'd find John's hands clenched into fists in his lap if she could tear her gaze away long enough to look. But she couldn't. Like everyone else in the room, she didn't want to miss a second of what she might forever remember as the true final battle of the Revolutionary War.

“Whatever it is the man wants, just give it to him, Calvin,” Mrs. Ellis snapped, only adding to the tension.

“Is that what you want, Hazel?” Father asked, his eyes not leaving John's.

“Yes,” she said. “Lina and I have a wedding to plan.”

Carolina twisted her lips and fought the urge to look down at the end of the table to confirm that was her mother speaking with that nauseating, sweeter-than-sugar tone and not a being from another planet that had taken over her body.

“All right, John, you win” Father said slowly. “I'll free Bethel the day you marry Carolina.”