Twixt Two Equal Armies (83 page)

That thought awakened expectations in both his lordship’s stomach and mind, so he got up and sauntered back to the inn. With the last of the posts departed and most of the cold and weary travellers having retired to their well-earned rest for the night, the stately Clarion Inn was very quiet. There was sure to be more life in the taproom, but his lordship realised he was not in a taproom frame of mind since he was waiting for his bride-to-be and her mother to join him for dinner, so he hung about the stairs, at first politely answering inquiries and looks from staff and fellow inhabitants but soon growing restless and unable to ignore the growling noises from his stomach.

Then he heard a door close and footsteps in the gallery above his head; it surprised and pleased him to realise that, even in such a place, he immediately recognised to whom they belonged. He turned on his heel and took the first three stairs in one go on his way up the narrow stairwell to meet the one who was long overdue to spend her time with him.

The moment he set foot on the landing, he saw her disappear into her room. He walked down the hall and just as he reached the doorway, the door was flung open and he was face to face with a flurry of light coloured skirts and a whiff of a feminine smell he knew very well. Nearly losing his balance, he caught her in her rush, taking several steps forward to steady himself until he was pushed against the wall just inside her room with a bump. Not deterred in the least, he noticed to his delight he had caught hold of her around her waist and that she was leaning against his chest with only her shawl in a bundle between them.

“Oh!” she said faintly

“Well, oh, indeed!” he said and smilingly raised her up again, leaving the support of the wall behind him, but not loosening his grip one bit. “In a hurry somewhere, madam? I am, perhaps, in your way?”

A slow smile spread across her face. He was the last person she had expected to run into upstairs, but though she was very surprised, it was a most pleasant surprise.

“What are you doing up here? You should not be in here. I was coming down to meet you.”

“Too late,” he smiled slyly. “Too slow. I had to find you most urgently.”

With one hand still holding her shawl, she leaned into him and looked up into his face with an amused expression.

“Well, now you have found me. What do you intend to do with me?”

“Hm, well let me see . . . I could tease you with the fact that I have taken it upon myself to order your entire dinner for you and insist you come down to the dining room and eat it this instant. Or I could jealously ask you if you have made plans to escape my tyranny since you are clasping your outer garments so passionately to your person . . . Or I could begin the difficult work on trying to balance my faults with my virtues and keep you right where you are . . . ”

“Ye-es, you do have a great many faults for which to atone. Perhaps a recitation of your virtues would be beneficial to your cause.”

He tightened his hold on her just a little and was pleased to notice her breath quickening slightly and a faint blush creeping over her cheeks.

“On the other hand, actions speak louder than words. And, of course, if one would persuade, one must appeal to interest rather than intellect . . . ”

Giving him a look that could only be described as saucy, Holly tilted her chin up in playful defiance.

“I will have you know that I highly prize my intellect and I fail to see how a right and proper listing of your good qualities would fail to convince me.” Her smile turned sly, “And I’m sure I do not know what you mean when you accuse me of having interests.”

An overwhelming feeling welled up in him; he could not tell if it was love, appreciation or gratitude, or perhaps all three, but he delighted in the fact that she was there with him, alone and playful, yet without a hint of playing games.

“At this moment I find the thought of pursuing anything remotely intellectual, tedious in the extreme.” He leaned in closer. “As for your interests . . . perhaps you would allow me a small demonstration. I believe it will prove my point.”

And indeed his point was well made. There were a number of things she was suddenly very interested in — his arms, his hands, his mouth, his scent, his warmth, his ability to make her feel so completely out of control and beyond her own knowledge.

She lost her grip on the shawl as she wrapped her arms around his neck and it fell to the floor between them in a flutter. Neither of them paid it any attention. He walked her back against the wall and along with the hard panelling against her shoulders, she could feel him pressed against her on the other side, just as hard and unyielding — and yet she found she wanted to draw him even closer still. When his lips released hers and moved over her temple and down her cheek and over her ear, she moaned slightly and then gasped in surprise.

“Holly,” he murmured in her ear, his breath tickling her, his elbows moving to both sides of her head, leaning against the wall behind her. “Oh Holly . . . ”

“Yes,” she said without really understanding what she meant by saying it, but it was an answer to something and it came instinctively from deep within her. “I . . . yes . . . ”

He lifted his head and met her eyes. She was shocked by what she saw in them. His eyes, a dark violet with unimaginable storms raging behind them, bored into her and she almost lost her ability to breathe. In fact, she was distinctly short of breath and her body trembled with something . . . something deep within her spreading throughout her stomach, down to her legs, arms and finally head, making her eyes lose their focus and her cheeks flame with heat.

When he kissed her again, she did not even flinch when she opened up to him, so ready to have him come even closer, even further, even harder . . .

But then suddenly he broke off and she grabbed the lapels of his coat in desperation as he pulled back, certain she let out a cry as well. His breathing was rapid and harsh. His hands were on the wall behind her again and he held himself away from her.

“Oh Lord,” he said in a strangled voice. “This won’t do. It won’t do. I think I must go . . . ”

“No, don’t go. Please.” Struggling for control herself, Holly tried to speak evenly. “I am sorry. I should have . . . I should have not . . . ”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Holly,” Baugham took a step backwards and ran an agitated hand through his hair, “No
shoulds,
no
should nots.
My mistake, my fault . . . When you are this close, I lose all sense of myself. I lose all sense of anything but you . . . I should just leave now . . . ”

“No, you can’t. Please don’t leave like this. We’ll have dinner. We can walk down, talk, wait for Maman . . . ”

He looked at her smilingly, a little calmer.

“No, my dear. We cannot,
you
cannot, go in right now. Look at yourself.”

While she blushed, tugged, straightened and adjusted in front of the mirror, he looked up and down the hallway and tugged at his coat and waistcoat nervously.

“It really is quite a good thing I will go tomorrow,” he said quietly. “To Cheshire. It is no use, I cannot . . . We have some time yet to get through until we are married — everything must be done properly, arrangements, settlements, matters of great importance that I will not allow to be rushed or poorly done just because I cannot control . . . it has hardly been four days and look what I am doing. Look at what a desperate fool and graceless cad I am. It is your mother’s garden all over again . . . ”

She finished her adjustments and he held out his arm to her.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered, taking it cautiously and allowing him to lead her slowly down the stairs. “About now and . . . about earlier, when you left. I don’t want to lose my temper with you but when you . . . something just happens . . . ”

If she could have seen his face fixed on the stair ahead of them she might have felt slightly offended again, because Baugham indulged in a wide, impish grin.

“I know, my love, something does.”

“I suppose it is because you break through every wall I have built around me that I feel the need to defend myself, to lash out at you. In a good way, I mean.”

Baugham’s smile turned tender and he looked at his bride-to-be. “A very good way, love,” he said, addressing her in a soft voice. “You’ll see. All will be perfectly well. We will just have to wait a little while longer and I am certain that when we . . . get to know each other even better, everything will be just as it ought.”

“I do love you,” she muttered, “and I don’t understand why I should . . . ”

Baugham shushed her and in a quick gesture, just before rounding the last corner of the corridor, turned her chin upwards, kissing her soundly and holding on tightly to her elbows, both to keep her near and far enough. For now.

“But soon,” he said while looking down at the increasing floor space between them. “On St Thomas’ Day . . . my wife.” A smile spread across his face. “In everything and every way.” Only then did he dare look at her and she saw he was almost physically hurt with the effort he had just displayed.

“I cannot wait,” she whispered. “I . . . I want so very much to . . . ” she dropped her eyes, “In every way . . . ”

“I thought that was my confession to make,” he smiled impishly. “I very nearly did not just now . . . wait, that is. You are . . . you are all that I could wish for.”

She reached out her hand and he took it, once again putting it through his arm but keeping the distance between them. Holly looked at him awkwardly and he returned it with a sheepish smile. She was bewildered, disoriented and a bit short of breath.

“I think dinner,” he said gesturing towards the door to the dining room. “Don’t you?”

T
HEY WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR
and found Mrs Tournier already seated at a table close to the fireplace. Her expression changed from irritation at being kept waiting to expectation when she noticed their entrance to curiosity upon their coming closer. She said nothing as Lord Baugham pulled out the chair for her daughter, but when they were both seated she noted dryly, “You were quite right in forgetting your shawl after all, my dear. I think even you will have to agree that his lordship did splendidly in his highhanded arrangements this evening, providing us with seats close to the warming fire.”

She nearly startled when, within seconds, first one then the other jumped up and cried:

“Oh, my shawl. I must have dropped it! I’ll go and . . . ”

“No! Please, allow me . . . ”

“Goodness!” Mrs Tournier commented, not a little alarmed, before turning to his lordship and saying crisply, “Did you plan that, too?”

Apparently, Mrs Tournier reflected, she had hit a raw nerve because Lord Baugham rose with a murmur and hastily walked out. She cast her daughter a glance, but Holly was arranging her skirts and saying something inane about heat and fires. When his lordship returned, he was carrying the missing garment as if it was a rag of undeterminable origin and instead of returning it to its owner, he gave it to her with another murmur.

“Maman thought I might be cold,” Holly said in a queer voice. “She didn’t know . . . we didn’t know about the fire.”

“Oh, I didn’t light the fire!” his lordship protested and then pointedly looked about for the staff.

“No, of course you didn’t,” his betrothed said. “No, you couldn’t have known about the fire. Being so hot, I mean.”

“But it is good,” Lord Baugham said while still eyeing the room. “Hot fires are good. Just as they should be on cold . . . cold winter . . . nights. And all the way into spring of course.”

“Of course,” his bride agreed enthusiastically. Mrs Tournier narrowed her eyes.

“You must be hungry,” she said slowly. “You are no doubt affected by the excessive heat after your extended wanderings around cold hallways.”

She noted that at exactly the moment she chose to deliver this observation, Lord Baugham’s imperious look finally attracted a servant and Holly chose to take the shawl out of her mother’s hands and busily fold it into exemplary neatness.

Mrs Tournier sighed. So there was a “garden” in this place, too, but instead of abruptly finding business with his horse like the last time, his lordship had come into dinner with them. She decided to make the best of the evening and its incomprehensible conversation and thank the heavens that a separation was forthcoming.

The conversation part was perversely entertaining. Everything she said was met with excessive interest while the comments of the other party were met with hasty acceptance and monosyllabic replies — and no eye contact. The obvious trespass on polite intercourse and decorum from earlier in the day was compensated by such formal drawing room manners that Mrs Tournier was certain she was going to lose all patience.

But, it had to be owned, this obvious state of affairs did cause her some relief as well. It had been a curious and very quick courtship and it was to some degree reassuring to see her daughter so free from doubt, not to mention his lordship so single-minded. Nevertheless, Mrs Tournier decided as she watched her daughter accidentally brush over his lordship’s fingers as they both reached for the salt shaker, the situation probably warranted a candid discussion with her daughter on the ways of the world. She may be touching in her defence of Scottish marital customs, but she had a very short memory if she was likewise putting her faith in the social customs of small Scottish villages. Yes, there were plenty of reasons for a small chat and enthusiastic endorsement of a wedding before Christmas.