With This Ring (37 page)

She wanted to put her arms around
him, but she was afraid to touch his back. In a moment he pulled
her arms around him, settling them just above his waist, and she
knew her boundary. He was too thin; she could feel his ribs under
his nightshirt. “You need to eat more,” she fretted, even as she
pulled her chemise over her head and tossed it
somewhere.

“
Not now, please,” he said as he
unbuttoned his nightshirt. “I can pull this arm out if you will
take it over my head and off my other arm. I can eat
later.”

She laughed softly and did as he
asked, hampered because he explored her breasts with his free hand
and then his mouth, which seemed somehow to affect her breathing in
a marvelous way. This is odd indeed, she thought. When both of his
hands were free of the nightshirt, she discovered that his breath
was just as ragged. She also discovered that she was so busy trying
to make sure that she did not hurt him that she forgot to be afraid
or nervous for herself.

Whether he was careful of himself,
or mindful of her, what she felt was the greatest relief she had
ever known. As inexpert as she was, Lydia knew he was trying hard
not to be a dead-weight, even as his shoulder still tyrannized him.
She pulled him close, and he understood, allowing himself to relax
on her. Whatever pain she felt in this first encounter was promptly
swallowed up by the enormity of her love for her husband. She knew
she could bear him gladly; his pleasure became hers in a rush she
had not expected. Lord, I will summon the night watchman, she
thought in some embarrassment, then it didn’t seem to matter
much.

Sam rose up on one elbow so she
could take a good breath. “I really don’t aim to smother you,” he
whispered. “My goodness, that would be a dreary end to my future as
a constant husband.”

“
I’ll die smiling,” she replied, and
pulled him close again, wrapping her legs over his in a way that
quite soon caused her to worry about alerting the night watchman
again, and then dismiss him forever.

“
I had no idea,” she said finally
when he left her but settled close by, his leg draped over her
body. “Mama did talk about this sort of thing once to Kitty and me,
but she called it a duty.”

His hand was warm and heavy on her
stomach, then he rested his head on her breast, to her total
enjoyment. “I think I can safely say that your mother, in this
matter as in others, has all the accuracy of a Congreve rocket,” he
murmured, his voice quite muffled. “Of course, one should not speak
ill of the in-laws. If what we just enjoyed was your interpretation
of duty, then I can hardly wait until I am well enough to survive
your wild abandon.”

She laughed, her hands gentle in his
hair. She kissed him, familiar with his mouth now, and the homey
little sounds he made when he returned her kiss. “I do astonish
myself,” she said softly, “but, then, I have been astonishing
myself for weeks now. Sam, I love you. Sam?”

He was asleep, his mouth still
parted, as though for another kiss. She kissed him, then got up to
tidy herself and find her chemise. She stood for a moment in front
of the mirror. I look the same, she thought, but I am so different.
In this, and in other ways, I have changed. She looked back at her
husband, stretched out on his back, his hands open in that
perfectly relaxed way she had not seen before tonight. How
comfortable I have made you, she thought in awe over so much power.
She smiled to herself as she pulled on her chemise. And how
comfortable you have made me. I think I could purr, if I
tried.

They made love again before the sun
rose, and she was pleased that her first attempt had not been just
a happy chance. Could it be that this will get even better, she
asked herself when they both lay spent and sweating, even in the
cool of morning. “This could become a habit,” Sam said as he
drifted back to sleep again.

She washed and dressed and
intercepted Maria before she could march over to the bed and demand
that Sam pick her up and coddle her. “Let him sleep, dear,” she
whispered as she dressed Maria and took her downstairs to
breakfast. She hesitated at the Innis’s door, wondering if they
would notice a difference in her. Beyond a cheery hello from Suzie,
and a nod from Mr. Innis as he looked up from the columns he was
adding, it was just another morning.

She was wiping the last spoonful of
porridge from around Maria’s mouth when Sam came downstairs to join
them. He sat next to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. While
he chatted with Mrs. Innis, he ran his thumb just under her ear in
a way that was making her restless, even as Maria demanded to be
lifted onto his lap. Dear me, husband, you might as well announce
that we were not heavily engaged in sleeping last night, she
thought, enjoying his hand, but mindful of Mrs. Innis’s
smile.

“
I think we will leave tomorrow
morning, Mrs. Innis,” Sam said as she passed him a bowl of
porridge.

“
You’re feeling fit enough?” Mrs.
Innis asked, a smile in her eyes that made Lydia blush and wonder
if any carpenter could be found who made bed frames that did not
creak.

She marveled that Sam could be so
straight-faced about the whole thing. “I am fit, indeed. It is high
time I took Lydia home to meet my mother,” he said. “We have been
these three years in Spain, and she has never met Lydia. Or Maria,
of course.”

“
Then, she is in for such a treat,”
Mrs. Innis said as she returned to her duties at the dry
sink.

“
I almost forgot about our Banbury
tale,” Lydia whispered to her husband, leaning close just to enjoy
the fragrance of his skin.

“
I haven’t forgotten,” he replied.
“That is the whole reason for all of this, remember?”

He had not removed his hand from her
neck, but suddenly the warmth was gone. I suppose you are right,
she thought. She shifted in her chair, and he removed his hand. For
whatever reason, we each made an impulsive marriage, she told
herself, feeling like an idiot. Perhaps beyond the enthusiasm of
lovemaking, I am to be reminded of this regularly. She got up to
help Mrs. Innis with the dishes, wanting to put distance between
herself and the man she had loved so fiercely last night. When she
turned around after the last dish was dried, he and Maria had left
the room.

The inn was too small for her
feelings, and she was relieved to discover that she had left Sam’s
razor in the barbershop. She mumbled something to Mrs. Innis and
left, hurrying to the barbershop. She stopped in the church on the
way back, for no other reason than to sit in the dark and the cool,
breathing the fragrance of incense and letting her mind go blank.
She wanted to pray, but decided it would be best not to trouble the
Lord about her marriage, which had originated in motives less than
lofty.

She did kneel and rest her forehead
against the pew. I wonder how many parishioners have knelt here and
pleaded for this or that through the years? she asked no one in
particular. I am certain we have all thought that our petition was
the most important. I know that mine is not. I have made my bed,
and now I am lying in it. She rested her cheek against the wood and
closed her eyes. I love him. Quite possibly this is the biggest
folly of all, if I am just an arrangement.

They left in the morning after the
confusion of tears and kisses, and good advice from the Innises. To
her embarrassment, Mr. Wilburn insisted on one last look at his
patient’s back. She hurried downstairs during the surgeon’s perusal
and hid herself in the kitchen, not wanting to think about the nail
tracks on Sam’s back, and any raised eyebrows from Mr. Wilburn.
They were fresh, too, put there early this morning when she
realized she would always be helpless to resist her husband, even
if she was only a convenient arrangement. I have made my bed, she
thought, even as he was lying on her, satiated and peaceful. I want
this man, and I will give him all I have. Perhaps someday he will
love me, too. Stranger things have happened.

She could not avoid Mr. Wilburn. Her
face red, she paid him the last of her barbering money to settle
accounts. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was, but she
could not look him in the eyes. She started to leave the room, but
he took her hand and held it in a firm grip.

“
My dear Lydia Reed,” he began, his
voice soft, “I am so glad to leave your husband in such capable
hands.”

“
I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered,
her humiliation complete.

To her surprise, he hugged her, then
held her away from him, but close enough that she could not avoid
his eyes. “Lydia, I fought in the Americas, and I can tell you that
there is only one remedy for war.” He smiled, then pulled her close
for a last embrace. “It is love. How lucky you two are! Now, write
me from Northumberland, and let me know how you, Lydia Reed, get
on.”

She was so close to tears that it
took a moment before she could speak. “Don’t you mean, how Sam gets
on?”

He shrugged. “Sam will always get
on, as long as you are there. I want to know how
you
are. My
dear, if you bloom, so will he. That is why my whole dependence is
on you.”

“
I do not know that I have that much
power,” she said. She wanted to say more, to tell him that she was
only a convenience, a woman of no influence, but he had released
her, and was hunting for his handkerchief.

“
You have only to believe in
yourself, Lydia,” he said, after a productive moment with his
handkerchief. “No one can do that for you.”

“
But ….”

“
Good day, Mrs. Reed, and
bon
chance,”
he said. With a deep bow that turned his face red, the
surgeon nodded to Mrs. Innis and left the tavern.

After more tears, and a stiff-armed
salute from her protector the constable, they left Merry Glade in a
post chaise paid for with part of the reward money. To her relief,
Maria was content to sit on the major’s lap and watch the
countryside change as they traveled the Great North Road. Lydia
could think of nothing to say out loud, even though her mind was
busy with half a hundred apologies, and doubts, and dredgings from
old wounds of her own, less healed, she was discovering, than the
visible ones on the major’s back. She stared out the other window,
wondering how she had ever thought that anyone as wonderful as
Major Sam Reed could ever love her. She called herself a fool in
all the ways her mother and Kitty had called her, unable to wrench
her mind beyond her own unableness.

Maria occupied her sufficiently when
she began to fuss, and then fell asleep in Lydia’s arms. Lydia
closed her eyes in the quiet as the coach swayed. She opened her
eyes when Sam began to tell her about life in the regiment in the
Peninsula.

“
This is information you will need
to know, if we are to pull off this deception,” he reminded her. He
took Maria from her arms and placed the child on a nest of blankets
Mrs. Innis had arranged on the chaise floor. He laughed softly.
“And I promise most faithfully to call you Della, and not
Delightful.” He shook his head with the memory. “We were so drunk
that night, and there was Percy, weaving this whole imaginary
genealogy while the battery listened and offered suggestions!
Lydia—I mean Della—you have an adventurous past!”

She listened, hearing little of what
he said, in a perfect agony of love. If his mother should ask, I
can be utterly convincing of my love for her son, she thought as
she watched the animation on her husband’s face. But I am an
invention only. She stirred restlessly, and focused her attention
out the window even as he continued to speak. He stopped finally,
when it was obvious that she was not attending. I do not understand
any of this, she thought in misery. Less than a week ago, he was
cheering me on to find out what I, Lydia Reed, could do. And now I
am an invention, a convenience, and an arrangement. If I did not
love him so much, I would hate him.

He was quieter the next day, and the
silence was great between them. She thought of what Mr. Wilburn had
said, how Sam would take his lead from her, but she knew it could
not be so. He must be quiet because he was contemplating a long
life with Lydia Reed, someone he hardly knew. That must be it, she
decided, and the thought only drew her deeper into silence. Luckily
there was Maria to distract them both.

Her confusion only deepened with
each night, when he turned to her and she refused him nothing. It
was beyond her power to deny him anything, or to feel less pleasure
herself, even if she knew he meant nothing by it beyond the comfort
a body could give and receive. She gave her whole self; she would
have turned herself inside out if he had asked.

He was in pain the next morning, and
she was grateful all over again that her earnings had enabled them
to travel by post chaise. “We will just stay here this morning
until you feel well enough to travel,” she told him as she applied
a hot towel to his back. “Could it be the weather, I wonder?” she
asked, after a glance out the window to the rain sliding down the
glass in a steady sheet.

The major lay on his stomach, his
chin propped on his hands. “That’s a dismal reflection, considering
how stormy the weather can be at home,” he said, then rested his
cheek on his hand to look at her. He watched her in silence for
such a long time that her face grew as warm as the towel she
pressed to his back. “I think I would feel better if I thought you
were more enthusiastic about this final stage of the journey,
Lydia.”