Never Less Than a Lady (7 page)

She checked Randall’s temperature and the bandages. No sign of fever. No further bleeding, either. As she’d told Mrs. Ferguson, he’d do.

After turning the lamp down to a faint glow, she slid under the covers on Randall’s left, keeping as far away as possible. She was too tired even to feel alarmed at sharing a bed with a large male. Luckily, he was practically in a coma.

Even without touching, she was aware of the warmth of his body. As she closed her eyes, she had to admit that warmth was pleasant. Very pleasant.

Randall drifted to awareness slowly. His head suggested a little too much drink and his right leg ached, but the pain was no longer acute. His internal clock said it was around four in the morning, so he’d had a good night’s sleep already. Not that he felt inclined to move. Not with a warm, soft female cuddled against his left side.

The fact that Julia hadn’t chosen to sleep on the floor gave him hope for their evolving relationship. She fit under his arm nicely. Her own arm was draped around his waist. He wondered which of them had moved during the night. Both of them, perhaps, since they seemed to have met in the middle.

Enough moonlight came in the window to illuminate her face. She looked like a sleeping angel with dark hair flowing softly over her shift-clad shoulders. He felt a stirring of emotions. Awe. Gratitude. Tenderness.

Neither of them would feel properly married until they had a real wedding in Edinburgh. Yet here they were, sharing a bed. Part of each other’s lives.

He was startled by another stirring that was purely physical. Thinking back, he realized that desire had been muted to almost nothing since he was wounded at Albuera. That muting had been mental as well as physical. Now, finally, the black cloud that had engulfed his life was beginning to dissipate.

Gently he stroked Julia’s back. He’d wanted her since first seeing her. That desire had been rooted in mind and emotions. Now it was strengthened by unabashed lust. Desire would complicate their situation greatly. Yet he couldn’t be sorry.

He wasn’t sorry at all.

Julia woke slowly, feeling peaceful and…safe. She floated in a contented haze until she realized that she was pressed against Randall’s side, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her.

She stiffened, wanting to withdraw, until his deep voice said, “No need to run off. Even if I forgot my promise to leave you alone, I’m not in any condition to assault you.” He rolled his head on the pillow so their gazes met. “Unless you hate being held?”

“Actually, no.” She relaxed again. “I quite like being cuddled up on a cool morning.”

“Of which Scotland has an abundance.”

“Hartley had its share.” And her bed had been much less cozy. Her cat did her best to bring warmth, but Whiskers was only little.

“I think this is one of the main reasons people get married,” Randall said reflectively. “For touch. For warmth and closeness. Passion is all very well, but it’s brief. Affectionate touching can be done much more often.”

She tilted her head up to study his face, surprised. “I didn’t know you were a romantic.”

He laughed. “I’m not. This kind of closeness is more of an animal pleasure, like kittens or puppies piling together.”

Branford had never touched her with that kind of pleasure in mind. He was more interested in pain. Tensing, she changed the subject. “Have you had mistresses who gave you the taste for puppyish pleasures?”

“I think it came from my mother,” he said thoughtfully. “She loved hugging. I hadn’t realized it before, but you remind me of her a little. Not so much looks or personality, but there’s a warmth of the spirit that you have in common.”

She knew from her patients that many long-term marriages had little physical intimacy. If Randall could be content with an affectionate mothering female rather than a passionate wife, they might suit very well.

“My mother also loved to hug. Not very duchesslike.” Which might be why Julia also loved this warm, undemanding embrace. She had spent many years without enough touching. “I would like to lie this way for the next week.”

“So would I,” he said with regret. “But we need to be up and on our way.”

“We won’t have a carriage until tomorrow.” She burrowed deeper under his arm. “So resign yourself to a day of eating and sleeping.”

He laughed, the rumbling in his chest reminding her of a purring cat. “Outmaneuvered, I see. Very well then, today we rest. We should be safe enough here.”

As Julia dozed off again, her body molded to his, she decided that if this was Randall’s idea of marriage, she liked it very well.

Julia gazed out the window as their carriage rolled from the King’s Arms’ yard and swung north toward Edinburgh. “After so many quiet years in Hartley, now I feel like I’m in constant motion. Yet it’s been only three days since I was abducted.”

“Three very eventful days,” Randall reminded her. “But yesterday was peaceful.”

Blessedly so. Randall had proved himself an undemanding husband by sleeping most of the day, surfacing twice to eat voraciously before returning to his slumbers. But his body had its own wisdom. When she’d checked the dressing on his thigh late the previous afternoon, the surgical wounds were halfway to being healed.

“You’re a very satisfactory patient,” she observed. “This morning you’re so hale and hardy you barely need that twisted old cane Mrs. Ferguson provided. I can tell myself that I’m a masterful healer.”

He laughed. “You are. I’ve been chopped by experts, and not only do you measure up well against them, but you’re much better looking.”

She looked away, uncomfortable with the compliment. “A gallant lie, Major.”

“Truth, Lady Julia. You’ve been practicing invisibility so long that you’ve forgotten what an attractive woman you are.”

She kept her gaze on the dramatic Scottish hills, torn between pleasure that he thought her attractive, and extreme uneasiness.

His warm hand enfolded hers. “You really are lovely, Julia,” he said quietly. “Once, before you married, you must have known that, and surely you enjoyed being admired. That’s natural. Though you had reason to forget during the years since, reclaiming your life means accepting all that you are. And that includes lovely.”

She smiled crookedly. “I can’t manage that yet. Let me work on accepting the idea that I’m passable.”

“Very well, my lady.” His voice was warm with humor. “You look quite passable today. Such a very passable complexion. Pray remove your bonnet so I can admire your passable chestnut hair.”

Laughing, she was able to look at him as she took off her bonnet. She had once found his austere, chiseled features intimidating, but no longer. “I can’t believe how very agreeable you are, Major. You were so prickly when we first met.”

“You’re right, it’s most unlike me to be agreeable,” he said solemnly. “For your sake, I hope I don’t revert to my usual surly self.”

Though his expression was sober, humor lurked in his eyes. No longer was pain shadowed in his face. “Ever since we met, you’ve had metal bits slicing out of your body. That would explain a fair amount of surliness.”

He sighed. “I’m hoping that you got the last of shifting shrapnel. Though my leg aches, for the first time in over a year, there’s no acute pain.”

“My blades stand ready if needed to cure your bad temper again.”

His brows arched. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“A threat,” she said sweetly.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” He turned thoughtful. “I think it also helps that once I stopped resisting you, I became much more relaxed. For many years, my life had been about pain and war. With you, I can now imagine a life beyond that.”

“The life of a country midwife is about as far from war as can be imagined,” she agreed, understanding better why he was drawn to her. “Now that we’ve moved beyond our old lives, what lies ahead? Not being the intrepid sort, I’m glad not to follow the drum, but where will we live? You said you have a small estate?”

“I inherited Roscombe from my mother. It’s near Cirencester, and I lived there as a boy. Though nothing like so grand as where you were raised, I think you’ll like the place.” He grinned. “I’m looking forward to pottering around my own estate and learning more about sheep and crops. Perhaps I shall become a hunting squire. A pack of hounds, side whiskers, and a red face.”

She laughed. “Now that I cannot imagine. But I like the idea of a gentry life, comfortable and not too grand. I suppose there would be occasional visits to London?”

“Of course. As you know, Ash has given me the use of a suite of rooms at Ashton House, but we could lease a house if you prefer.”

“I might not like London well enough to want a home there. If Ashton doesn’t mind, it would be pleasant to stay with him and Mariah when we’re in town.” She looked pensively at the rugged Scottish hills. “The north is beautiful, but I’ve missed the friendly fields and villages of southern England. I’ll be happy to return there.”

“Will you continue as a midwife?” His voice was casual, as if the question was no great matter.

Her head whipped around. “You would allow it?”

“After marriage to my despicable cousin, I think you’ve earned the right to make decisions about your own life,” he said peaceably. “Besides, if I try to lay down the law too often, you’ll leave me. I’d rather that didn’t happen.”

She realized her hand was still in his, and she was squeezing hard enough to cut off the blood flow. Gently she released her grip. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but you’re right. I like delivering babies, and I will never live in a cage again.”

“Nor do I want to put you in one.” His gaze was intent. “You have a gift for healing. I don’t want to deprive the world of your skills. But Gloucestershire doesn’t lack physicians and surgeons, so perhaps you could restrict yourself to midwifery. That way you could deliver babies and still have time to be the lady of the manor.”

“That sounds like a very sensible plan,” she agreed, marveling that he accepted the value of her work, and understood what it meant to her. “I’ve had no experience of men who don’t simply lay down the law and expect women to obey.”

“I have spent most of my adult life both giving and receiving orders that were often half-mad or tragic,” he said wryly. “I find the gentle art of compromise appealing.”

Under his dry humor, she heard the weariness produced by years of war and command. Her lips curved into a slow smile. “I begin to think, Major Randall, that perhaps a marriage between us would have a real future.”

More surprisingly—she was starting to really want this match.

Their journey to Edinburgh was fast and efficient, made in one long day with post horses and brief stops for refreshment. Despite the bouncing of the coach, Randall managed to sleep for a good part of the journey. Julia envied him. It was a useful gift, and would aid his healing.

At dusk, they rolled to a stop in front of Kirkland’s handsome town house. Randall had offered commentary as they drove through Edinburgh, which was attractive and more rugged than Julia had expected. She hoped they would have a chance to visit the castle that loomed portentously above the city.

As Randall helped her from the post chaise, he said, “This is where I stayed with Kirkland on my recent visit. Since he travels a great deal for his shipping business, his favorite aunt lives here and looks after the place. You’ll like Mrs. Gowan, and she will love helping you prepare for a swift but respectable wedding.”

She looked up at the stone façade uncertainly. “You’re sure Lord Kirkland won’t mind you bringing me here?”

“Quite sure.” Randall took his cane in one hand, then offered her his other arm. “He likes you. He said that having you and Mariah with us vastly improved the journey from Hartley to London.”

She took his arm and they climbed the steps. He was hardly limping at all. “Apart from you scowling at me, it was an enjoyable trip.”

“As I’ve said, life is much easier now that I’ve stopped resisting your charms.” Randall knocked on the door, then said to the butler who answered, “You thought you were free of me, Tanner, but your relief was premature.”

The butler chuckled. “A pleasure to see you again so soon, sir. Lord Kirkland will also be pleased.” His curious gaze went to Julia.

“My plans changed,” Randall said with a smile.

The butler bowed them in. “If you would care to wait in the salon, I shall inform his lordship of your arrival.” He opened the door on the right.

Julia entered the salon while Randall lingered to talk to the butler. She was stripping off her gloves when she saw a familiar figure at the writing desk in front of the window. “Lord Masterson?”

The large, calm major was another of the Westerfield friends who had searched for the lost duke, and he’d been the most accepting of her and Mariah. “I had thought you were campaigning in Spain.”

The man glanced up, then stood and moved away from the window. “Sorry, I’m not Masterson. I’m his less respectable, not to mention less legitimate, half brother, Damian Mackenzie. And you are…?”

Without the glare of the window behind him, she recognized her mistake. He and Masterson had similar features and broad, muscular bodies, but this stranger had more auburn in his hair and a roguish gleam in his eyes. Which were of two different colors, she saw as he approached. One brown, one blue. Startling and a little distracting.

She wondered briefly how to introduce herself. Highborn Lady Julia Raines wouldn’t deign to do so, but despite Randall’s desire to reclaim her rank, she didn’t feel like that ducal daughter any more. She had never really been Mrs. Bancroft, she refused to be Lady Branford, and she was not yet Mrs. Randall. She settled for, “I’m Julia. Quite boringly legitimate.”

“Well played,” he said lightly. “Yes, my esteemed brother is in Spain, having the sense to duck quickly when necessary, I hope.”

“Did you also go to the Westerfield Academy, Mr. Mackenzie?” she asked. “I gather the friendships made there tend to be enduring.”

“Please, call me Mac. I hate it when people take me seriously.” His smile was distinctly wicked. “Yes, I’m another product of Westerfield, two years behind Will.”

“Mac is living proof that even Lady Agnes can’t work miracles on all her bad boys,” Randall said as he entered the room behind Julia. He came forward to offer his hand. “Good to see you. It’s been”—he thought—“a lot of years.”

“I was sorry when Kirkland said I missed you by a day,” Mackenzie said as they shook hands. “What brings you back to Edinburgh?”

Randall rested a warm hand on the small of Julia’s back. “We’re betrothed, and I thought Kirkland would help us arrange a Scottish wedding.”

“You’re marrying this girl?” Mackenzie exclaimed, jaw dropping.

“I hope you didn’t mean that to be as insulting as it sounded,” Randall said coolly.

“Sorry, no insult intended.” Mackenzie bowed to Julia. “I just never thought of you as the marrying kind, Randall. My best wishes to you both.”

Julia nodded thanks while wondering if Mackenzie was covering up surprise that a man as handsome as Randall would marry a drab sparrow like her. A fair question, but not something even a self-professed rogue would ask.

The awkward moment ended when Kirkland entered, as dark, handsome, and enigmatic as she remembered. “Randall, what brings you back…? Julia!” He dropped his usual detachment to smile broadly and clasp her hand. “Randall is the bad penny that will always return, but it’s a most unexpected pleasure to see you.”

“Julia and I are betrothed, and I hoped we could be married from your house,” Randall said. “It’s…rather a complicated story.”

Kirkland also looked surprised, though he hid it better than Mackenzie. “My Aunt Maggie loves a wedding, and she’ll be delighted to help you plan yours. She’s out for the day, but she’ll be back this evening. Let me show you to your room, Julia. After you’ve refreshed yourself, come down and we can discuss complications over dinner. Randall, you’re in the room where you stayed last time. Mac, will you tell Tanner to increase the place settings to four, please?”

An efficient man, Lord Kirkland. As he escorted her upstairs, Julia tried to recall the little she knew about him. His title was from his English father, but his mother had been the daughter of a wealthy Scottish merchant. As a boy, he had been regrettably intrigued by his Scottish relatives, and trade, so he’d been sent to the Westerfield Academy. Instead of turning respectable, he’d become a shipping magnate himself.

Kirkland took her to a spacious guest room with a splendid view of Edinburgh Castle in the distance. “I believe the room is in fit shape. A maid will come to check.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” More than fine. A quick survey showed that Kirkland kept his guests in comfort. “You’re very generous to take us in so unexpectedly.”

“I’ve had far more unexpected guests than you.” His eyes twinkled. “And less respectable ones, too.”

On impulse, she said, “Randall tells me that in Scotland, a woman can sue for divorce on equal terms with a man. Is that true?”

“It is.” Without moving a muscle, Kirkland became very intent. “Did you doubt Randall’s word? You shouldn’t. He’s alarmingly honest.”

“I don’t question his honesty.” She turned away to remove her cloak. “But he might have been misinformed.”

“He’s seldom wrong.” Kirkland regarded her thoughtfully. “It’s odd to be inquiring about divorce on the eve of a wedding. Are you having second thoughts?”

Though his tone was neutral, his concern for his friend’s future was clear. “I like Randall very well,” Julia assured him. “I’m not sure I like marriage as much.”

“Samuel Johnson said a second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience,” Kirkland said. “Where would we be without hope? Randall can be prickly, but he’s one of the most perceptive men I know, and his loyalty is absolute.”

“So I have found. I’m fortunate.” She smiled wryly. “He is less so.”

“Doubt is natural when contemplating such a major step, but I think you might suit rather well.” A knock on the door announced the entry of a maid, who entered with Julia’s modest bag of belongings and a pitcher of steaming water. Kirkland headed for the door. “I shall see you downstairs when you are ready.”

After Kirkland and the maid left, Julia poured water into the basin and began to wash up. So one of Randall’s old friends thought he and Julia would suit? Perhaps hope really would triumph over experience.