Married in Haste (28 page)

Water splashed out of the pump. Its force knocked over the bucket and wet her shoes.

With a soft cry, she righted the bucket and managed to fill it. She might not be able to build a fire, but she could pump water.

Of course, the full bucket was too heavy for her to carry. Sighing, she poured some of it out. Now she’d learned something else, she told her self. Don’t ever fill the bucket too full. She carried it into the cottage and came to a halt.

Brenn stood in the middle of the room.

He turned to her. “I thought you would have left with the others.”

Sitting the bucket down on the table, she straightened. “I have nothing to return to.”

“I didn’t mean to be so harsh earlier.”

“No, you were being honest.” She danced her fingers along the tabletop. “I don’t think we should keep any secrets any longer.”

“Sounds fair.” His voice betrayed no emotion. He barely looked at her.

Tess struggled with the sting of tears. She blinked them back. If he showed no emotion, well then, she wouldn’t. “I can’t make a fire. Show me how.”

“Where’s Willa?”

“She went back with the coaches. She’s a London girl.”

He didn’t acknowledge her poor joke. “I’ll get wood.”

They were strangers, she realized. Intimate strangers. She knew his body almost as well as her own. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him inside her, feel his strength moving against her.

Many women had marriages in name only. As an heiress, she had been expected to make one. Of course, proud, proud Tess had wanted something more. Brenn had taught her that there was.

He’d also, just as easily, destroyed her trust.

He returned with his arms loaded with wood. He set it in the hearth and began building a fire.

“I don’t think I want to sleep with you anymore,” Tess said softly.

His hands stopped moving. But he didn’t look at her. “I’ll sleep in the barn. You can have the cottage.”

The agreement didn’t make her happy. It only made matters worse.

For a stark moment, she wished they were back on the road, that they didn’t know each other’s secrets.

Dinner was quiet. Neither one of them had an appetite. Brenn counted the money in the chest. “Two hundred and thirty-seven pounds and a fistful of change.”

“That’s a goodly amount.”

“I spent a portion on the seed and supplies that will arrive in the next week or so.” He put the money back into the chest, the coins jangling together. “However, if we are frugal we shall be able to make the best of it. Rents are due, so there will be income.”

Sitting across the table from him, Tess picked at her skirt nervously. “How much would it cost to rebuild the manor?”

“That’s out of the question. We may be able to think about rebuilding, but not at any time soon.”

“How much would it cost?” She’d never considered the cost of anything in her life. This, too, was a new experience.

“I’d estimated twenty-five thousand pounds should be enough.”

“Twenty-five thousand pounds?”

His lip curled. “I suppose it doesn’t sound like a great deal to a woman whose petticoats cost three hundred.”

She stood, her chin lifting. “That wasn’t fair. My father was alive then. It was a different time and a different place.” She almost added that she was a different person now but stopped herself, surprised by the thought.

Instead, she marched over to the hearth, attempting to sort out her confusion.

His chair scraped wood as he pushed it back. “Good night, Tess.”

She didn’t answer but listened to his boots walk across the floor. The door opened, and then closed. He was gone.

Tess sank to the floor, buried her head in her arms, and cried.

Once Tess was able to pull herself together, she almost had to crawl to the bed. Tears were exhausting.

She climbed under the sheets, certain she would be fast asleep in no time.

But sleep was long in coming and when it did, it was fitful. She dreamed that everything in the world was gray. She was standing on the crag jutting out into Llyn Mynyndd but there was no house.

Slowly, walls materialized out of air and before she realized it, a house was being built around her.

Her father stood beside her and Neil was there, too. She reached for them but they turned their backs.

Hurt rushed through her. She shouted at Neil, blaming him for her disgrace as she left the room and went in search of Brenn. Wandering from room to room, she called to him. He didn’t answer.

She entered the dining room. Her mother’s furniture was there but not Brenn. She went to leave but the door had no handle. Frowning, she turned and discovered she wasn’t at Erwynn Keep any longer but back in her house in London. Someone told her to set the table.

She had to set the table.

And she kept trying to but there were no plates, forks, or knives. Only spoons. Hundreds and hundreds of spoons. They seemed to fly out of nowhere toward her…

Tess bolted upright from the dream. “I know what to do,” she said to the empty room. “I know how to rebuild Erwynn Keep.”

Brenn lay in the dark, staring up into the barn rafters, listening to the rain.

He felt ashamed of himself. He should not have lost his temper but Tess’s news had been almost more than he could stand. How could she have deceived him?

Still, he wasn’t ready to forgive her yet, even if his conscience bothered him. She’d helped her brother play him for a fool.

He would rebuild Erwynn Keep even if it took most of his life. Over and over in his head, he worked the numbers from the rents. But the land needed so many improvements.

Neil Hamlin was a bloody bastard.

Brenn considered riding back to London and confronting the man.

Bundling his jacket up under his head, Brenn closed his eyes. He needed sleep. Tomorrow the good people of the village would want to know the status of the building. They had been more excited about the restoring the manor than he’d been. It meant jobs, wages, and prosperity for these people.

Purring interrupted his thoughts. Miles. The cat curled up next to his head, swishing his tail under Brenn’s nose.

He pushed Miles away, but his rejection only served as a challenge to the animal. He crawled back toward Brenn.

A man shouldn’t have to cuddle a cat. Especially when he had a wife like Tess. She had turned into the kind of bedmate that kept a man warm at night. And he hadn’t minded her whispered words of love. In fact, they’d meant a good deal to him.

Miles settled down to loud purring and soon Brenn found himself dreaming.

At first, he didn’t realize he was dreaming. Everything was vividly real. He was in the cottage. The main room was lit only by a cheery fire. All else was dark.

And then Tess walked into the room. She was naked. Her firm breasts, flat stomach, and long, lean legs shimmered in the firelight. She turned to him and he saw that her eyes had been replaced by diamonds.

In fact, she was covered with diamonds, thousands and thousands of diamonds. They coated her skin, winked at him from her hair, tipped her eyelashes.

She placed a finger against her lips, warning him to silence. Bending, she began to softly blow air over his skin.

He was nude, too. Nude and aroused. He reached for her, wanting to be inside her, to feel her pulsing around him. She resisted at first, backing away.

Brenn grabbed her and pulled her to the floor with himself on the bottom.

Slowly, she sank down on top of him.

This was heaven.

He placed his hands on her breasts, thrusting up—

But there was no welcoming warmth.

This phantom of light and diamonds was not his Tess. He could tell now. She moved against him but there was no feeling, no joy.

He ordered her to get off, to leave him alone but the words did not leave his mouth. Instead, she stared at him with her blank diamond eyes. They held no emotion, no feeling.

He struggled to free himself. He wanted his Tess! Not this she-devil. He wanted the real woman! He didn’t want the money in place of her.

“Brenn! Wake up!”

Her voice came to him as if from a great distance. He heard her call his name again.

The dream demon faded and he was again in the dark barn. “Tess?” It had seemed so real.

Tess knelt down beside him. She was still dressed and her clothes were wet. Her damp hair hung loose over one shoulder. “I know how to raise the money.”

He came up on his elbows, still groggy—or else he would have told her that it didn’t matter. But his mouth only formed one word. “How?”

“This.” Tess stood. A moment later, he was pelted with hard objects. He sat up and pushed them off.

One was a fork. Another was a spoon.

“What is this?” he asked.

“The contents of my mother’s silver chest. Even Neil agreed that they don’t fashion silver like this any longer.”

“Silver?”

“The finest. Brenn, we can sell them.”

Now Brenn woke up. He picked up a spoon, feeling its ornate pattern and heavy weight.

“There is drawer after drawer,” she told him, excitement in her voice. “Forks, knives, serving pieces!”

“There must be a bloody fortune here.” Hope rose inside him. He leaned back and laughed. “Yes! Yes, this will do!”

She stood, a silhouette in the darkness. “It is enough then?”

“Aye. I imagine it will be more than enough.”

“Good. Good night.”

Before he could blink, she turned and started walking toward the open barn door.

He rolled to his feet, pieces of silverware dropping off of him. “Tess?”

She kept walking.

The image in his dream flashed into his mind. His body hardened and he wanted her just as he’d dreamed her, gloriously naked and sitting on top of him. He trailed after her.

“I’ve been thinking, Tess,” he started. She didn’t slow her pace or answer. He lengthened his stride. “I should never have blamed you for Neil’s actions. He robbed both of us.”

The night was dark. The rain came down steadily. He splashed through a puddle. She seemed to skirt them without having to watch her step.

He hurried to catch up. Rain plastered his hair to his head. “Ah, Tess. I was a bastard. I don’t lose my temper often but when I do, I’m not the better for it.”

“Ummm,” she answered. The door to the cottage opened and for a second, the still burning fire in the hearth filled the opening with light.

“Tess!”

She turned, one hand on the door, the other against the door frame. “What is it?”

Brenn hobbled to a stop in front of her and tried his most charming smile. “I forgive you, Tess. Your brother tricked us both, but, ah, I won’t hold it against you.”

With her back to the light, he couldn’t see her face. He leaned closer. “So listen, love, let’s be off to bed now and put our argument aside.”

His answer was to get the door slammed in his face.

A heartbeat later, the bar scraped the door as it fell into place. She had locked him out.

Chapter Sixteen

Brenn debated breaking down the door. Especially when Miles hopped up on the window and looked outside at him standing in the rain. The cat pressed a paw against the glass.

“No, that’s fine,” Brenn told him. “I don’t want to sleep with her if she’s going to be that way.” It was lie, but it made him feel better to say it.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of someone talking. Ill-tempered, he rolled over, pulling a horse blanket over his head in an attempt to shut out the noise.

“Hold still,” Tess’s voice said.

Brenn poked his head out from under the blanket. “Tess?”

“Now, stop that,” her voice said. “You almost stepped on my toe.”

He sat up. Every muscle in his body ached. He rose stiffly and followed the sound of her voice. It came from the direction of Ace’s box.

Sure enough, there she stood, dressed for riding in a military-styled habit cut of gold velvet cloth. On her head was a smartly designed cap modeled after a Tarleton helmet, the military headgear of the artillery.

Of course, the artillery’s helmets were not fashioned out of leopard skin and trimmed with a ruff of matching gold feathers.

She would have looked bang up to the mark in Hyde Park…but was a bit overdressed for the wilds of Wales.

Brenn rubbed a hand over the rough beard of his face and wondered what she was up to.

Ace whinnied, a distinct plea for deliverance.

Brenn propped his arm on the stall wall. “Having problems?”

Tess flashed him an irritated look from under her lashes. She’d known he was there. “No, I’m doing fine.” She finished buckling Ace’s bridle. “Don’t you have a side saddle?”

“No. Never had a call to use one.”

“All right then,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I’ll just have to use this.”

She picked up Brenn’s saddle, the weight of it almost too heavy for her, and struggled to get it up on top of the horse.

Ace sent Brenn a desperate look.

Tess picked up the girth and studied the buckles.

“I doubt if you’ve ever saddled your own horse,” he said.

“There can’t be that much to it,” she said briskly, lifting up the saddle skirt. She started buckling the girth in place.

“No,” Brenn said agreeably. “But usually you put a saddle pad on before the saddle. Protects the horse’s back.”

Tess hit herself in the forehead with two fingers. “Yes, a saddle pad.”

She looked around. Brenn’s arm had been resting on it. He lifted it off the stall’s half-wall and offered it to her.

“Thank you,” she said in that preoccupied voice. She pulled off the saddle, put on the pad, and then heaved the saddle back up again.

Brenn couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. “Do you want me to adjust the girth?”

She glared at him. “No, I will do it.”

“Make sure you get it tight. I’d hate for you to fall off on the other side.”

“Well, maybe you should check it,” she said.

He did so. “Where are you off to?” he asked.

“I’m going to the village to hire help. I have a list of chores that need to be done.” She showed him a page from her copybook.

He took the paper from her. Hire a cook. Hire one maid. Search for chair fabric.