The Marriage Ring (17 page)

“Well, inn mistress,” Richard said with the good humor of ale, “we need a room. Do you have one available with hot bath, soap and razor, a good comfortable bed?”

Mrs. Fraley laughed. “I believe I do.”

“Is the bath big enough for two?” Grace wondered. At the other woman’s raised eyebrows, she explained, “My husband”—how sweet those words were—“is a good-sized man.”

The inn mistress nodded agreement. “Aye. As of fact, my late husband was a good-sized man. I happen to have such a tub. Come along.”

“We’d like a good meal, too,” Richard said.

“Roast duck?” the inn mistress suggested.

“Perfect,” Richard answered.

“One moment please,” Mrs. Fraley said and disappeared down the back hall. When she returned, she said, “We have the water heating for your bath and the girls will be up with the tub soon.”

“I can carry it up,” Richard offered.

“Absolutely not. You are our guest of honor,” Mrs. Fraley said, indicating they should follow her up the stairs. “Business has not been so brisk,” she confided. “’Tis a good thing you came to town, sir. We’ve not come together for a good evening at the pub for a long time.”

“Why is that?” Grace asked. The pub was the center of village life.

“The times,” Mrs. Fraley answered. “The world is changing. The old ways no longer matter the way they once did. The landowners talk about raising sheep instead of taking care of their kinsman. But then, missus, you are Scottish and know what I mean. Ah, now, here we are,” she said as she stopped at a door. She used one of the keys on the ring tied to her waist and opened the door on a charming room that made Grace gasp in delight.

A lovely four-poster bed covered in a blue counterpane and stacked with several large feather pillows took up a good amount of the floor space. In one corner were two upholstered chairs beside a small side table. Mrs. Fraley lit the lamp on the table and then went to work lighting the fire in the grate.

There was a knock at the door and a serving girl entered with a covered tray full of delicious-smelling food and a stoneware jug. Grace’s knees went weak from hunger. It had been a while since they’d had a decent meal.

Behind the girl came a hired man carrying a huge ornate tub.

“Set it in front of the fire, Olin,” Mrs. Fraley instructed. “And go fetch the water.”

Within twenty minutes, Olin had carried enough buckets up and down the stairs to fill the tub full of steaming water. Mrs. Fraley provided milled soap scented with roses, a razor, and linen towels. She smiled as she closed the door on Grace and Richard.

Grace poured each of them a glass of cider from the stoneware jug. She now raised it in a salute to Richard. “To Sir Galahad.”

He laughed at her reference and set down his glass. Placing his arms around her waist, he drew her to him. “I fear I’m no celibate.” His arousal, strong and insistent between them, gave proof to his words.

She set down her own glass and looked up to him, so full of love she could have burst from it.

“Very well,” she said softly. “So what shall it be first—the bath and shave, dinner or—”

She stepped back, reached behind and unlaced her dress, letting it fall to her ankles before she finished her question. “Or do you want me first?”

Grace knew the answer she wanted. Her body ached to join with his.

And to her everlasting gratitude, he came straight to her.

Chapter Seventeen

R
ichard was a God-fearing man, but he had not expected God to bless him. He prayed but hadn’t believed in divine intervention or that God truly knew his deepest secrets, his doubts, his wants—until now.

Taking Grace in his arms, having her cling to him as tightly as he held her made him realize how deeply he’d lacked faith. Her love defied rational explanation. He was a lump of a man, full of human failings. She’d seen him at his worst and at his best—and loved him anyway.

And if that wasn’t a gift from God, Richard didn’t know what else could be.

He carried her to the bed. They didn’t speak as they undressed each other. He was so nervous his fingers shook. She seemed just as anxious.

They worked together. While he unlaced the back of her bodice, the one she’d ripped from her skirt to save his life, she unbuttoned his breeches. Throwing their clothes to the floor, he leaned Grace back on the bed.

She was so very precious to him. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her chin, the curve of her breast. Her lips curved into a smile. Her hands ran down his arms, over his chest, along his side.

Richard took his time making love to her. They’d been through so much together. In the short span of their acquaintance, he’d come to know her almost better than he knew himself…and that’s because he loved her.

Her legs parted, cradling him. Richard reached for her hand. He pressed a kiss in her palm, closing her fingers over it before slowly sliding himself inside her.

Grace’s eyes widened and then her lashes lowered as she made a satisfied sound. “My man,” she murmured.

He leaned over her, brushing a stray curl back from her cheek. She turned, kissed his hand, and he said what was in his heart. “I love you, Grace. I adore you.”

Tears came to her eyes. Richard wasn’t certain what he’d done. He’d upset her. He’d held very still, enjoying the sensation of being joined with her, but now, he started to pull out. She stopped him, her hand on the back of his neck.

“Don’t you dare stop now,” she warned. “We’re only beginning.” She began moving her hips, letting him know what she wanted, and he was only too happy to oblige.

Together they moved, his rhythm matching hers.

“What did you say to me?” she whispered in his ear. “Please tell me.”

“I love you, Grace. I love you, I love you.”

She purred at what he was saying as if she could not hear it enough. The intensity built between the two of them, and he realized this was what making love was. It wasn’t just the coupling. It was this need to be closer, to share not only their bodies but also their lives.

There were no barriers between them. The act of sex was no longer about lust, but about giving. Not about desire, but about sharing. Not about that moment of release, but about that moment of life, of creation.

Richard felt the quickening inside her. Deep muscles tightened, held him, melded with him. Her eyes had closed, her lips parted as she drew a deep wavering breath, and he didn’t think she could ever be more beautiful to him.

He found his own release. He buried himself deep, losing his mind, his soul, his very being, in the wonder of her.

This was his woman. The one he wanted by his side forever.

She’d branded him. Marked him. He’d never stray. In this moment, he was hers.

Grace held Richard tight.

She’d not known the act of mating could be like this.

It wasn’t just that her body joined with his. There was more. They
fit
together. He, a giant of a man, and she, as petite as they come—they meshed like pieces of a puzzle. And it wasn’t just their bodies that perfectly connected. Their minds and hearts were in harmony, too.

At last, she understood. Life,
her
life, suddenly made sense.

Grace had been looking for
him
. All her experiences, all the trials, the evils, the small successes had been bringing her closer to him—and to being the woman he needed, too.

She loved him.

And miracle of miracles, he loved her, too.

The world came back into focus in that persistent way. She melted into the comfortable softness of the mattress, playing with his hair, stroking it. His weight felt good on her.

He raised himself up to look down at her. Their noses were inches from each other. He smiled. She smiled back.

“I love you,” he said.

Grace could have laughed with happiness and that wonderful sense of completion. “I have never loved anyone,” she said. “But I love you, Richard Lynsted. I love you with all my being.”

“You must,” he agreed. “You’ve put up with my whiskers.”

She ran the back of her fingers along this jaw. He turned his head and kissed them. “Let’s have a bath now,” Grace suggested. “And then I’ll give you a shave.”

The offer didn’t need to be repeated. Richard rolled off her, scooped her up in his arms, carried her over to the fire, and lowered her into the tub of still hot water, but not before he’d threatened to drop her into it. She shrieked with laughter and gave him a kiss to behave.

He sat down beside the tub and picked up the soap.

“What are you doing?” she asked, knowing full well.

“I thought I’d give you a scrub.”

“And then do I receive the opportunity to return the scrub?”

His smile widened. “I was hoping you’d offer.” He reached for her foot, her most ticklish part, and scrubbed her up from there. It wasn’t long before they were both in the tub together.

Later, Grace straddled his legs in the tub as she gave him a shave. She’d not done it before. Richard teased her by pretending to be nicked here and there, but overall, she believed she did a very good job. The task was a challenge with her subject intent on teasing her breasts and nibbling on her earlobes, her most sensitive spots.

But her favorite part of the evening came when they curled up in bed beside each other, their bodies spooned together, his arm resting protectively over her shoulder.

“So, what is the biggest difference?” she whispered, setting her wonderings to words.

“We are no longer alone,” he answered, a yawn in his voice.

He was right.
Her life had been busy and full of challenges so she had not realized how tired she was of always being alone. Even when there had been a man in her life, she’d been lonely because there had been no meaning in those relationships. None at all.

“I wish you’d been my first,” she said.

He snuggled her closer, surrounding her with his masculine presence. “I am,” he said confidently. “I’m the first you’ve loved.”

That was so true. She was no longer alone. She was loved.

Grace rubbed her back against his chest and fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

Richard was the first to wake.

The day was well under way when he opened his eyes. Grace still slept soundly and he didn’t have the heart to wake her—although he was sorely tempted.

Instead, he watched her sleep, realizing her well-being meant more to him than his lust.
He loved her
. The words had a music all their own.

He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be the woman to wear his ring. He couldn’t imagine spending even one day more of his life without her as his wife.

Richard became a man with a mission. He would buy her a marriage ring. He knew a ring would surprise and please Grace. They could marry here in Lanark. He was certain the vicar at St. Nicholas would perform the ceremony. Banns were not needed in Scotland. For that reason, couples eloped here all the time.

But first, he had to have a ring.

He rose from the bed and hurriedly dressed. They were going to need some new clothes, too. Especially Grace. The dress she’d ripped wouldn’t be decent much longer.

Shaving was a bit of a chore. Looking in the small mirror over the washstand he could see a number of places she missed and he had a good idea why. He’d done his best to distract her.

He rinsed off his razor, catching a glimpse of her in the mirror. She hugged the pillow like someone who enjoyed her sleep, whereas he never missed an early morning. But the difference, like all the others between them, made her more perfect to him. They were a team. When one was weak, the other strong. When one was afraid, the other bold.

The ring he’d buy would be a simple band. First, he’d arrange for their transportation to Inverness and with the rest settle his bill and buy the ring. Then, in London, where he would have easy access to his funds, he’d buy her the marriage ring of her dreams. And earrings and a necklace to match, he decided. He’d deck her with jewels from head to toe. He was a wealthy man and he wanted to spend it all on his wife.

As he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, he wondered if she’d want sapphires the color of her eyes, or perhaps rubies. The bold red would look good against her skin and with her black hair.

Mrs. Fraley was sweeping out the taproom. “Good morning to you, Mr. Bull.”

Richard laughed at the title, but didn’t correct her. “Good morning. I need to settle the bill, Mrs. Fraley.”

“You are going to break your fast, aren’t you? Your wife needs her food for the bairn.”

The baby. He’d forgotten their ruse.

In fact, by now it might not be a ruse. Grace might actually be carrying his child. The thought filled him with pride.
His
child. His family.

“Something must please you,” Mrs. Fraley observed. “You have the largest smile across your face that I’ve seen on any a man.”

“Yes, Mrs. Fraley, something has pleased me. It pleases me very much. We’ll breakfast here but I want to do a bit of shopping. I’d like to buy a dress for my lady and a ring. I also need to hire a vehicle to take us to Inverness to meet her father. Where should I go to find all these things?”

The inn mistress directed him to the blacksmith on the other side of Lanark who could help with the horses and mentioned a dressmaker who often had items made up. The ring was more of a challenge. There had been a tinker in the market that carried gold.

“I’m assuming you want it of gold and not base metal?” she asked, her tone letting him know what his answer should be.

“I do.”

“Then go to the field where you had your fight and see if the tinker is still there. His name is Liam. He’s an Irishman and has the charm, although he’ll talk your ear off, and you into a higher price if you let him.”

“I won’t let him.”

“Good,” she said, smiling her approval. “If your lady wakes, what should I tell her?”

“Don’t tell her about the ring. That’s a surprise. Just say I’ve gone to hire a vehicle to take us to her father’s. That should be enough.”

“Very well, sir.”

Richard paid for their room and went off to see the blacksmith. There weren’t any vehicles to be had around Lanark but he knew someone leaving for Glasgow after noon who could give him a ride there. “You can hire a fine post chaise in Glasgow,” he told Richard and sent his son off to deliver a message to Angus Livingstone asking if he would like passengers. “He’ll say yes. He saw your fight yesterday and will want to give you some tips.” He said that last with a wink before turning back to his fire and anvil.

The dressmaker did have a frock that should fit Grace. The dress was the dark green of summer with a square neck trimmed in lace. The dressmaker had been refashioning it for a local woman who had decided she no longer liked the color. “Some women can never make up their minds,” she confided to Richard.

“Would you wrap it up?”

“Certainly. And if it needs a stitch or two to make it right, bring her by,” the dressmaker offered. “By the way, that was a good fight yesterday.”

“Yes, thank you,” Richard said.

The dressmaker didn’t take more than a blink to wrap the dress in paper. Richard left the shop with a sense of pride over his purchase. He liked the color and thought it would suit Grace. He also liked having a woman in his life and buying gifts for her.

His next search was for the tinker. He caught Liam the Irish tinker in the field of yesterday’s fight, just as Mrs. Fraley said he would. The man was readying to leave but was more than happy to open his cart when he heard what Richard wanted.

“A marriage ring,” Liam said, searching through the boxes and bins in disarray inside his cart. “Keep them all here, well, I thought I did. I tell you a man would lose his nose, or something more important, if it wasn’t attached to his body.” He laughed at his own humor and went digging some more.

“Here it is,” he said at last, pulling out of a tiny box a dirty wad of rag.

Richard wished now he’d not come. He’d been gone an hour. Grace might be up and wondering where he was. “That’s all right. I don’t really need the ring.” He started to walk away but Liam grabbed his arm.

“Here it ’tis, right where I thought it would be,” he said, pushing back the dirty cloth to reveal a ring of solid gold.

But it wasn’t just any ring. Tiny, delicate leaves were carved into the design and after every third leaf was a Celtic symbol.

“It’s a lover’s knot,” Liam said, pointing to the four symbols. “One to the north, one to the south, then the east and west. The symbol has no ending and no beginning. It means forever.”

“I’ll take it,” Richard said, holding the ring to the light. The band was a delicate thing. It seemed tiny. He slipped the ring on his own hand, fitting it to the top of his little finger. “How much?”

“Ah, well, a ring like this…’tis one of a kind.”

“All I have is twenty pounds,” Richard said.

“That hurts,” Liam said, dramatically clutching his chest. “Look at the ring. I carried it straight from Ireland, I did. And you can only offer twenty pounds?”

“It’s all I have,” Richard answered, wise to the tinker’s ways. He handed the ring back to the man. “Thank you.”

He turned away, started to walk off when Liam called him back. “Very well, twenty pounds but only because I have a soft spot in my heart for a lover—and because you did so well in that fight yesterday.”

Richard pulled out the coins before the tinker could change his mind. With a good day, he set off with his purchases, very pleased with himself.