Lady Trent (23 page)

“Thank you,” she returned, almost
smiling.

He guided her to the chair opposite his and
pulled it out so that she could seat herself. He then motioned to
the servant, an order for him to serve her as well. While she
wondered how she had made it without falling—her legs did not seem
so stable as before—he returned to his seat. She held her back
straight, folding her hands and placing them atop her lap. She
parted her lips to speak, but something other than what she
actually intended to say came out instead.

“How was your visit…in Arlington?”

His eyes became downtrodden and he lowered
them. “Although I would speak with you about just about anything,
this I would rather not. It was an unusual visit. I am yet to fully
comprehend its basis.”

“I was relieved to see you return home
safely.”

“I suppose I could have paid you more mind
than I did.”

“I imagine you were distracted by Sir Marcus
and his condition.”

“Yes, and it did come as a surprise to
me.”

“Has he discovered a reason for the
attack?”

“It seems he is just as apprehensive about
speaking of that as I am about Arlington. He does not speak and
neither do I. It makes one wonder if the two are not linked
together in some way. So long as he is rested, relaxed and
recovered…as of now I care about that most.”

Yes, he was rested and relaxed she recalled,
her mind taking her back to the sight of him lying in the bed, the
covers pulled down to his waste…his naked torso and arms revealing
smooth and strong skin. She recalled the touch of her hands upon
his shoulders and…

She glanced up to find Jacob staring
awkwardly upon her. Her thoughts had wandered, and to such a scene,
a handsome one, of Marcus Wren lying injured and nearly naked in
his bed. Could Jacob read her mind?

No, she decided. Her conscience was simply
working against her. And why, she wondered, had that scene of him
popped back up into her mind? Honestly, it had tweaked at her
imagination since observing it.

She quickly dismissed the recollection,
focusing upon the reason she had invited herself to Jacob’s table
to begin with. “I do believe I have an apology to make.” She
studied the large candle centerpiece all surrounded by flowers and
greenery. She searched for the proper words to express herself.
“The things I said to you before…as you were leaving.”

He did not look at her, in fact seemed to be
fighting to keep from doing so. This made her think he had, indeed,
done exactly as she’d given him permission to do. She was also
reminded of Sister Camille’s words saying she could not be ignorant
of natural things, and then of the truth to that…for she had seen
this far. She had even planned these feelings of jealousy and
resentment. But the dread of them she had not prepared for. They
washed over her, and like a stone settled deep in the pits of her
stomach.

The servant came in with a plate and a
chalice, filled it, set the bottle aside and then left them alone.
A few silent moments passed. She took a drink of her wine, in the
process realizing how often she had been drinking the past few
days, especially the one. But if that’s what it’d taken to get her
to visit Sister Camille, so be it. She truly needed to hear her
story.

But this varied at so many aspects. She was
actually married to Jacob. A choice few may have been aware of the
truth. For the most part people assumed the marriage had been
consummated and were probably awaiting word of a child.

And there she’d been, even persuading her
husband to commit infidelity. She’d never felt so certain that she
was the most horrible woman who’d ever walked the face of the
earth—giving her husband permission to sleep with another woman,
drinking to excess, entertaining anger and jealousy and all sorts
of malicious emotions. The thought of him being with another woman
pierced her through so that she could hardly withstand it. Should
she give herself to him right now? Should she recommend it?

“I accept your apology,” he came to say,
glancing up at her.

“Thank you,” she managed. “I was terribly in
the wrong. And I was not speaking from the heart. I did not mean it
at all and—and…” Would she break down and begin to cry right then
and there thinking she may have caused him to be unfaithful, and
that she would now cause him to lie to spare her feelings?

“I knew you did not mean it,” he quietly
replied, his voice very soothing to her. “And, milady, my dear
beautiful wife, Lady Trent…with or without permission, I would not
have strayed from you.”

She looked into his eyes and knew one thing
for certain; Jacob Trent was telling her the truth. A weight lifted
off her shoulders. She felt a rebirth of happiness, which he
obviously shared.

“You haven’t taken a single bite,” he
noticed.

“Truthfully, I’m not the slightest bit
hungry,” she admitted. “I just wanted speak with you.”

He raised his glass. She raised hers. They
toasted without a word to something neither of them even knew.
Perhaps simply closure. They drank, each looking at one another
over the rims of their glasses, and were both smiling when they
lowered them.

He wiped his mouth, dropped his napkin to the
table and stood. “Let’s you and I go out to the terrace. The moon
should be big and round tonight, and the sky cloudless.”

He took her hand; together they stood, and
did exactly as he’d offered. Afterward, she did not want to leave
his company. If anything at all, she wanted to simply fall asleep
in his arms. He left her at the doors of her private chambers,
dropping a kiss on her cheek and wishing her a good night. Tilly
assisted with brushing her hair and afterward left her alone. She
put on her gown and lied down. However long she lied there, she
didn’t know. It was a while, and the guards at the doors of Jacob’s
room were perplexed when she came up between them, pushed the doors
open and went inside.

She crept her way to the door of his
bedchamber and peeped inside. It was dark so she could not see,
only his shadow when she came closer. She heard the soft, steady
sound of his breathing as he slept. Quietly she slipped into the
bed beside of him, pulling the covers back so that she could slip
beneath them. Jacob stirred and she snuggled against him, laying
her head on his strong, smooth chest. She felt his body go tense as
he realized he was not alone. He raised a hand in the air while she
whispered, “It’s just me,” and as his hand fell to touch her
shoulder, “go back to sleep.”

She snuggled closer into the warmth of his
body, relaxing beneath his snug embrace. This was just as she’d
imagined. She felt secure, safe, and closer to him. Yes, this was
intimate…completely innocent and intimate.

She fell asleep there with him. But she
awakened at one point. They had both shifted, and the sheet was no
longer covering them. She arose to pull the sheet up over them
again, and as her eyes adjusted, simply from the light of the moon
thru the window cascading over them, she was captivated by a sight
she had not before known, but had, indeed, heard of. No, she was
not ignorant when it came to the union between man and woman and
how it was possible. And here, now, there it was before her very
eyes. The arousal of a man sound asleep—her husband. This she was
at first intrigued by, for she would not have imagined the extent
of it, the way in which the male body reacted to physical need. She
was a bit startled; blinking her eyes to be sure she was seeing
correctly. Yes, he was aroused, and a generous arousal it seemed to
be. Large came to mind, then again she had never saw such a thing,
had only been aware of it.

She considered her own body, clothed in the
silk gown she’d put on that evening, and imagined lying back down
next to him, pulling the covers up over them, but now she could
not. Half asleep, she crept up out of the bed, reached for the
covers and pulled them up to his waist.

He was sound asleep and did not notice that
she slipped from the room, not until the next morning when he
awakened and she was gone.

******

Jacob had requested Marcus join him at the
table that morning—some matter of importance he wanted to speak to
him about. He hadn’t gone into any detail.

Marcus was there and seated at the seventh
hour. He was served breakfast alone, but did not eat very much. His
appetite had suffered lately. There was too much going on to be at
complete ease.

He had heard while recovering from his wound
that Jacob had travelled to Arlington during his absence. The
details of that trip had been kept secret, apparently under strict
orders. Marcus hated to see him traveling about under the
circumstances, and with no explanation as to why…at least nobody
would tell him. And he had questioned the guards. They simply said
he had, indeed, travelled there, but did not know his reasons, and
did not know anything at all about the visit. It sounded like a
cover-up to Marcus. Just what exactly was Jacob getting into and
why? It simply concerned him when descriptions of his actions
became such a secret thing…and that this trip had not been
mentioned by way his mouth, only others. He wasn’t accustomed to
Jacob keeping anything from him. Perhaps he planned to fill him in
this morning.

About twenty minutes into the hour the doors
opened and Jacob burst inside. Percival was not far behind him,
rattling off something about the staff, which did not appear to
interest Jacob in the slightest.

Marcus watched him very closely, for every
time upon first sight of him, he automatically wondered if he’d had
the honor of consummating his marriage, something few knew had been
agreed upon as unnecessary for the cause of Rachel’s future, as she
had more a promise of a longer one than he. It made perfect sense
to Marcus, but he doubted he, himself, could make such an
arrangement let alone follow thru with it. How did a man contain
himself? And from his own wife? From Rachel?

He took his seat at the head of the table, to
the direct right of where Marcus sat. As usual, no matter the
place, Marcus felt at perfect ease in the palace…at Jacob’s home.
He had been made to feel that way for many years, even before the
change in the man which to this day still perplexed him.

It had truly been for the best. But he
remembered the child, thought it a shame he could possibly now die
childless because of a decision on Rachel’s part to keep her
virtue. But it was obvious she cared about him, that she loved him,
even, and was attracted to him. When in the same room with the two
of them, one could feel it in the air, as if it could be cut thru
with a knife.

A servant entered and placed a plate and
chalice before Jacob on the table. Percival yet stood there
awaiting an answer on whatever he’d been rambling about. Jacob
waved a hand at him as if to shoo him away. “We can discuss it
later. Not now.”

Percival started to say something else. Jacob
raised a stern hand saying “Later” with a bit of a harsh tone.
Shoulders slumped, Percival turned away and left the room. Jacob
exhaled as if from pure exhaustion.

“First thing in the morning,” he complained.
“Doesn’t a man deserve at least an hour or so of peace this time of
day?”

He seemed perturbed all around, so Marcus
could not help but ask, “Are you well?”

“Yes, yes,” he quickly agreed and reached for
a glass of wine as soon as it was set out before him. This wine was
not the most potent kind, but had a far less influence than that
offered at later hours in the day. This was offered as a choice
during morning time meals. Marcus had chosen cider instead.

“I am well. I just have, it seems, hundreds
of things on my mind.”

“And which of these did you want to speak to
me about? I imagine it to be of importance since you requested my
company at such an early hour.”

“It is of great importance. It has to do with
my wife.”

“And is she well?” He found himself
asking.

“She is,” he agreed. And for the first time,
he grinned. “I am very pleased, my friend.”

Marcus felt a peculiar sinking in his
stomach…very unsettling. It wasn’t quite right. For upon hearing
him, images of them making love came to mind, and for the life of
him he could not imagine why that disturbed him so.

He did not know what to say to it, so he said
nothing at all, and would have fallen into his own little world had
Jacob not continued.

“She has gained the approval of those in
Orland, which pleases me very much. You recall the trouble I had in
the past. Isabelle was the worst, horrible for the position
although trained for it. She was not prepared at all. Matilda was
so very backward. The people had little respect for her…the lack of
‘backbone’. She was not prepared either. But then Rachel, who has
had no such training at all, has taken the position well. She has
solved many of the problems facing the community, and I hear she is
praised as a queen over a nation.”

“I am hardly surprised,” Marcus told him,
still thinking of that grin and that reaction, saying he was “very
pleased”. Had they finally consummated their marriage? He was
suddenly very glad the two of them never discussed such things.
Why, he wondered, did this thought of them making love disturb him
so much? He silently scolded himself, and not for the first
time.

“It seems as if she was meant to be here all
along,” he told Jacob.

“I will not argue that, my friend. Now, it
seems the people of Orland have planned some sort of festivity in
her honor. I considered going against traditional orders, thinking
perhaps my presence would not take the attention of the people away
from her if I were to attend. But that is the sole purpose of such
a decree. It has been exercised amongst the gentry for decades.
Unless necessary, a noble needn’t appear in the realm of his wife.
So I have decided against it.”