The Gallows Bride (17 page)

It
cemented Peter’s opinion that Jemima was indeed his soul
mate.

Although
she tried to be as matter-of-fact about it as possible, Jemima knew
what the arrival at the inn heralded.

At
Havistock she had readily agreed to travel with Peter as man and
wife, although that also meant they were expected to share a room.
Peter had insisted that they travel as man and wife to allow him to
protect her as much as physically possible.

It also
meant that they would be sharing a bed.

As she
disembarked and entered the inn, Jemima was thinking about the next
few hours and what it would mean for their relationship. Was she
ready to be intimate with Peter again? She wasn’t certain. She was
so lost in thought that she didn’t see the man approach her until
they bumped shoulders.

Immediately she jolted and looked up, straight into familiar
eyes. Everything within her froze as she studied those eyes for
several moments, before Peter gave her a gentle nudge. His hand at
her elbow encouraged her into the main tap room where he quickly
arranged a room for them and ushered her up the stairs. By the time
she had the chance to glance behind her, the man had
gone.

Once in
their room she immediately moved to the window and glanced down at
the street below, but darkness had descended and she could only see
her own reflection.

“
Draw the curtains, Jemima,” Peter ordered, depositing their
bag on the bed.

Jemima
did that with a sigh of relief, and turned back to Peter, a frown
on her face.

“
Did you see that man?”

Peter
paused, his gaze meeting hers directly. “Yes. Does he look familiar
to you?”

Jemima
considered for several moments and then gasped, “Oh!”

Peter
nodded slowly. “He is going to follow us down. There is another man
following Edward and Eliza.”

With his
hair plastered to his head with a liberal amount of grease and
combed over his high brow, several days’ growth of stubble, and old
farmer’s clothing, Hugo had barely been recognisable.

“
I didn’t realise he would be so close,” Jemima muttered,
feeling vaguely reassured that there was additional support should
they need it. Although she trusted Peter with her life and had no
doubt of his fighting capabilities, it reassured her that, should
he be outnumbered, someone who knew what he was doing was able to
fight at his back.

She had
learned from both Eliza and Peter that on previous excursions,
Peter had been supported by Edward, Sebastian and Dominic. This
time Dominic and Sebastian had been forced to remain at home.
Isobel was due to give birth any day now, and Amelia was also
expecting her baby in the near future, and needed to return to her
own home for her own confinement once Isobel had given birth.
Despite Dominic and Sebastian’s protests, they were not allowed to
put their lives at risk, given the imminent arrival of their
children. They were outvoted, and were forced to watch the rest
leave without them.

“
It’s his job,” Peter replied, sitting on the bed and tugging
his boots off with a sigh. They were a little thinner than his own
boots and pinched his toes. He wiggled the bruised digits
tentatively for several moments. “He can hardly expect you to put
yourself in such danger, while keeping himself at a safe distance.
He clearly has every intention of carrying out his orders as fully
as possible, even if that means guarding us himself,” Peter yawned.
There was a knock at the door: their dinner had arrived. He rose to
answer the door.

Silence
descended for several minutes as they sat at the small rickety
table before the fireplace, and ate the delicious food the maid had
brought up.

Once her
empty stomach was full, Jemima sat back in her chair and watched
Peter finish his own meal.

“
Have you seen anyone who is familiar?” he asked her, washing
down the last of his bread with some wonderfully aromatic
brandy.

Jemima
shook her head. “Apart from Hugo? No.”

“
Good,” Peter replied, studying her for several moments.
“Which side?”

As they
ate, he had sensed her discomfort at the sight of the bed only a
few feet away from where they were sitting. Clearly, she wasn’t
entirely comfortable with the idea of sharing it with him, but he
certainly had no intention of sleeping in a chair or, even worse,
on the floor again. However, he knew it would be folly to make any
advances toward her until she was ready.

It was
going to be a very long night.

“
I need a few words with Hugo about tomorrow,” he murmured,
rising to his feet. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? I’ll
only be a few minutes.” He didn’t wait for her agreement, and was
aware of her watching him leave the room.

Once
outside, he carefully checked the corridor before locking the door
to their room behind him. Although he hated to lock her in, he
couldn’t risk leaving the door unlocked for anyone to wander
in.

He
waited for several moments, but when there was no objection from
Jemima, quietly eased away from the door and headed to the tap
room. He had no intention of approaching Hugo at any time during
their journey.

Before
they had left, he had agreed that Hugo would leave his horse
tethered in the stable yard of the inn they were meant to stay in
overnight. An inn that had good exit routes, and secure locks on
the doors to rooms that accommodated respectable clientele. At some
point, Hugo would cross paths with Peter to confirm all was well.
Hugo would then leave and find his own accommodation for the
night.

After
several minutes of sitting in the tap room looking bored, Peter
returned to the room. As predicted Jemima was already in bed,
curled up facing the window, the covers tucked up to her
ears.

With a
casual yawn, Peter blew out most of the candles scattered around
the room before taking off his clothing and climbing into bed
beside her. Although the progress they had made throughout the day
had been wonderful, he knew he had to be patient. To rush her,
might push her away, and he couldn’t bear her to look upon him with
any kind of wariness. Although she was no stranger to him, it had
been several long months since they had last made love and a lot
had happened since. She had allowed him to share the bed with her;
he couldn’t expect any more than that.

Blowing
out the last candle, he settled down under the covers and fell
asleep.

Her
cries woke him sometime later.

Immediately alert he jumped from the bed and studied the
room, checking the latch on the door to make sure it was still
locked. The room was still bathed in darkness, and he could see
little else. Quickly lighting a candle, he looked at Jemima and
cursed.

She was
clearly trapped in a nightmare; perhaps of her ordeal at Derby. He
didn’t want to think about what she was remembering. Given the
horror clearly etched on her face, and the gut-wrenching sobs that
were being torn from her, she was trapped in her own personal
hell.

Peter
quickly lit several more candles before resuming his place in the
bed. He tried to ease her into his arms, only for her to thrash out
wildly and protest.

“
Jemima?” he whispered softly, giving her a gentle shake.
“Come on, darling, you’re dreaming. Wake up for me.”

When he
got no response, he shook her harder. He didn’t bother to whisper
when he called her name again, and again. Eventually his
persistence won through, and with a jerk, she cried out and sat
upright.

Jemima
stared at the unfamiliar fireplace blankly for several moments
before she realised Peter was beside her. She turned tearful eyes
to him as she waited for her nightmare to fade. As her breathing
calmed, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow. Her eyes remained
locked on Peter’s. His presence beside her was a safe haven while
the stormy sea of dark memories began to calm.

“
Come here,” Peter whispered, hating the lost look in her
eyes. Encouraging her to lie back down, he pulled her tightly
against his chest, relieved when she snuggled against him without
issue.

He
thought she had fallen asleep and jumped when she tipped her head
upwards until her eyes met his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, still
shaken by her nightmare.

“
Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” Peter replied, wishing he
could fight the nightmares as easily as any physical
adversary.

Sleep
was beginning to soften the edges of his world, when he became
aware of gentle fingers teasing the liberal smattering of hairs on
his chest. Trying to ignore his body’s instinctive reaction, he
shifted a little to ease the ache and waited, hoping she would go
back to sleep.

She
didn’t.

“
Jemima,” he muttered, capturing her hand against the warm
flesh of his stomach. “We can’t.” He didn’t need to look at her to
see that she was frowning up at him. Opening his eyes, he sighed
deeply and turned to her. “It isn’t that I don’t want you, please
don’t misunderstand. It is just that I want you to want
me
, not the comfort I
can give you because you have nightmares.” He didn’t add that he
wasn’t going to allow anything to damage the progress they had made
the previous day, not even his desire for her.

“
I love you, and I want you more than anything in the world,”
Peter whispered, capturing her hand and holding it against his
chest. “But only when the time is right,” he added, remembering her
anxiety when they had first entered the room.

“
When will that be?”

“
You’ll know,” he replied. The first time they had made love,
she had been filled with worry for her safety. Although their
attraction had been mutual, he had often wondered if it had been
fuelled by the desire to have a protector, rather than desire for
him
per se
. She
wasn’t cold-hearted or devious enough to sleep with him with an
ulterior motive, but he wanted – needed – to know that she
wanted
him
. If he
had to wait until Scraggan was dead, and they were settled at
Willowbrook free from threat, then so be it. He had waited months
to find her again: a few more weeks of physical pain and discomfort
would be worth it in the long run, if Jemima accepted his hand in
marriage.

As sleep
claimed him, the image of the old Norman church on the edge of his
estate in Willowbrook swam in his mind, beckoning him with the
tantalising promise of what could be. It was enough to reassure him
that, despite the physical discomfort, he was making the right
decision. For both of them.

“
All right, the cart seemed a good idea at the time,” Jemima
reasoned. “How was I to know it would be so darned uncomfortable?”
She winced as she shuffled on to a particularly bruised part of her
bottom and immediately began to wriggle.

“
I’m sure I have got splinters in my backside,” Peter
grumbled, wincing as the hard, wooden bench bit into his bruised
upper thighs.

Despite
her discomfort, Jemima giggled.

“
I told you we should have bought the whole pillow and not
just the cases,” Peter added, shooting her an arrogant
look.

Jemima
shook her head at him. “We are thieves, and will be lucky if we
don’t end up in gaol.”

“
I left the innkeeper some coins; that means we have paid
handsomely for them so, in theory, we haven’t stolen them,” Peter
reasoned, pleased that they were back to their easy camaraderie
again. He liked to banter with her, and loved to see the way her
eyes lit up, free of shadows, when she smiled at him. It made him
want to make her laugh more and more.

“
But did you ask him if he wanted to sell them to
you?”

“
No, but I could hardly say we were so tired we didn’t wash
the boot polish off our hair last night, and the pillow covers look
like they have been in the stables with the horse,” Peter declared
ruefully. “Taking them and leaving coinage seemed a reasonable
exchange, and has stopped us leaving a trail of gossip in our wake
about the strange couple who have a penchant for boot
polish!”

Jemima
smiled and shook her head, wriggling at the discomfort in her upper
thighs.

“
We are going to stop at the next village,” Peter nodded at
the small group of buildings ahead of them. “Not long now,” he
added encouragingly, flicking the tired horse with the reins in the
hope the horse was as eager to finish the day as they
were.

It took
an age before the cart turned into the road leading to the
village’s one and only tavern. Jemima gazed at it longingly for a
moment.

“
Shit!” Peter tilted his head down to her. “Duck your head low
and keep your face as hidden as possible!” He made no attempt to
mask the urgency in his voice.

“
What?” Jemima frowned, trying to see past his
head.

“
Do it Jemima, don’t look up until I tell you.” He knew he was
scaring her. She had suddenly gone pale and her eyes were
wide.

“
What’s wrong? Is it Hugo?” she whispered, ducking her head
low. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t tied her hair back so severely
and instead left it loose so it could fall around her face, but
there was little she could do now.