Never Marry a Stranger Page 5

  She smiled. “Of course.” But inside, she was already considering ways to use their time alone together to her advantage.

  Matthew caught up with Reggie in the great hall, where his friend was staring up at the display of swords and axes on the walls.

  “Are these all from your family, or did somebody merely decorate the walls with them?” Reggie asked skeptically.

  “There have been Cabots fighting for England for hundreds of years.”

  “Impressive. My father was in the infantry fighting in France. Always claimed he saw Napoleon from afar. No mementoes, though.”

  They stood side by side for a moment, and Matthew considered the fifteenth century suit of armor he’d been forced to learn about when he was young. “So…what are your plans?”

  “You mean now that you’ll be too busy to keep me amused?” Reggie said thoughtfully.

  Matthew sighed. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Don’t be. This is vastly entertaining.” He glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice. “Your wife is quite composed and intelligent.”

  Matthew nodded slowly. “How could she not be? She’s fooled everyone for almost a year.”

  “And lovely,” Reggie continued. “I hadn’t quite realized that, when she looked like death upon seeing you last night. A man could do worse.”

  “For a wife?”

  “For—anything.” Reggie straightened. “I think I’ll take myself off, then. It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden the English countryside. I imagine the park is beautiful here.”

  “And extensive. You’ll return for luncheon?”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Then the dinner party.”

  “Oh very well, if I must converse with pretty girls, then I must.” Reggie grinned, even as he gave Matthew a speculative look. “Will you be fencing Emily with words today?”

  “It might feel that way.”

  “Then enjoy yourself.”

  “Oh, I intend to.”

  Reggie sighed. “I am quite envious.”

  After Reggie left for the stables, Matthew went through the drawing room and outside. Emily was waiting for him at the edge of the terrace. In yellow, she rivaled the hollyhocks lining the gravel path below them. Though it was autumn, the sun shone between puffy clouds, and she only wore a simple black shawl over her gown. Several curls escaped her chignon to flutter in the breeze. She absently pushed one behind her ear, her expression serene, as if with his return, she no longer had any cares in the world. Together, they walked down the marble steps and onto the pathway.

  He took her arm, entwining it with his. She didn’t try to pull away. In fact, she momentarily leaned against him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and hugged his arm to her. Was she thinking of other things a husband and wife did together? He was; his desire for her seemed heightened with the mystery of her.

  “So when I sent you from India,” he said, saving the conversation about their imaginary six months together for another time, “you arrived here ill. Was the sea voyage hard on you?”

  She shook her head. “I have always found the sea quite invigorating.”

  “Ah yes, the family boat,” he said with sudden remembrance. “How terrible of me to force you on another voyage so soon after the death of your family.”

  “I wanted to be with you,” she said almost boldly.

  The jolt of her deep blue eyes hit him hard. She affected him so easily, but she would learn he was not so easily manipulated.

  “And then you heard that I was dead. It must have been…very difficult on my family—and you.”

  “They’d already been notified of your death before I arrived,” she said quietly, tilting up her face as the sun came out from behind a cloud. “It sounds so strange to talk of such things around you. Having cheated death, you seem almost larger than life.”

  Flattery again? It was a good tactic to use on a man.

  “We were all consumed with grief,” she continued. “They are a wonderful family, and they helped me recover in ways I’ll never forget.”

  “And by the way they dote on you, you must have helped them recover, too.”

  She hesitated, then let out a breath. “We all helped each other wait through…the length of a month.”

  She looked determinedly at a distant fountain.

  A month, he mused—and then it dawned on him. The length of a woman’s cycle.

  “They thought you might be with child?” he asked, working hard to hide his amusement.

  “I did not think so, due to the six week length of my voyage, but your mother was so full of hope.”

  He did not want to think of Lady Rosa grieving for him. “When that long wait was over, what then?” he asked. “What did you do here, in mourning?”

  “I became acquainted with your family, of course,” she said. “We women spent much time together sewing and painting.”

  “You’re an artist?”

  “As much as any woman taught the basic skills. I have no great talent,” she admitted, “unlike your sister Susanna. Our evenings were quiet affairs, of course. The immense library here was a great consolation. After a brief leave of absence, your father went back to teaching and his research. Susanna’s quiet sessions sketching at his side seemed to ease him. If only your mother had such a preoccupation.”

  “In mourning, she could not see to Rebecca’s social calendar.”

  A smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “No, but since the spring, she has made up for the lack.” She shot him a speculative look. “Why was your family so surprised that you wanted to go to the dinner tonight?”

  He debated how to answer that, and decided on the truth. “I used to be…rather set in my ways.”

  She laughed aloud, and it was the first time he’d heard her amused. He’d read once about a woman’s laughter being compared to the sweet ringing of bells, and he’d scoffed at it. No more.

  “You, set in your ways,” she said, when she finally collected herself. “Not the man I married.”

  “Well apparently, marrying you was the first spontaneous thing I ever did. And then India allowed me the freedom I’d never granted myself.”

  “You can’t tell me you didn’t attend parties.”

  “Of course not—you know my mother.”

  They exchanged smiles.

  “But I kept myself very controlled. I think my family assumed my amnesia would make me retreat until I felt more myself, and once it probably would have. But now—no. I’m home, where I want to be, doing what I want. And a dinner party with my family will make me happy. Susanna can do as she wishes, even bury herself in her laboratory. Not me.”

  He felt her arm tense against his.

  “Matthew, that is the wrong attitude to have toward your sister. You men can do as you please, roam the world and earn your fortune. But not we women. Don’t dismiss Susanna’s problems.”

  He smiled, but she didn’t smile back. “I’m not dismissing her problems,” he said. “But she’s an adult, long past starry-eyed girlhood.”

  “And so that means she’s right?”

  Her eyes held his with such seriousness, as she stopped on the path to face him.

  “Right now, Susanna’s life is as she wants it,” Emily said. “But someday your parents will be gone, and she’ll find herself either alone or a dependent in a family member’s household. Everyone will have children and be living their lives, and she’ll feel…apart.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes from her, wondering what part of this passionate speech was real and what was just a masquerade.

  “I don’t think she’s truly happy,” Emily continued thoughtfully. “She knows her mother is disappointed, but Susanna doesn’t know what she wants.”

  “I think you’re challenging me to do something about it.”

  She blinked at him, then spoke slowly. “Maybe I am.”

  It seemed to him that the only way Susanna could be happy was to find companionship among the ton, with whom she’d be spen
ding the rest of her life. “Very well, then. Together we’ll launch her again into Society, beginning with the social events here in the country. We’ll make her see that with a little effort on her part, she can make more friends and be a happier person. A happy person attracts men easily.”

  And while he was helping his sister, he would be able to watch Emily.

  “She’s always attracted men to her side,” Emily was saying, “but apparently not the ones she’s interested in, because she rebuffs them. But I like your idea. I can help.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He took her arm again and they resumed their walk. “Now back to learning more about my wife. What have you been doing since coming out of mourning?”

  “Well, the family had two weddings to plan, which gave us all something to do.”

  He came to a halt and stared at her. “Weddings?”

  “Oh, I did not realize…well, your cousins, of course, Mr. Throckmorten and His Grace, the duke.”

  Stunned, he said, “We regularly corresponded before my injury. I did not even hear word that either of them was planning to court a woman, let alone marry. Of course, I could have forgotten that, too…”

  “No, you did not,” she said firmly. “Both courtships only just happened this summer, and once decided upon, the weddings were rather hastily done.”

  She was wearing a quirky little smile, as if she thought the antics of his cousins amusing. He could understand Christopher’s marriage—he needed a duchess, after all. But Daniel? He was a womanizer of the first order. Matthew had thought Daniel would be the last one of all the cousins, male or female, to marry.

  He found himself stopping beneath a tree on high ground. Spread below was a large pond, and beyond it the ruins of the old castle, home of generations of dukes, and earls before that. Emily stepped away from him, gazing into the distance.

  “I love this view,” she said quietly. “The ruins are so romantic.”

  Then she glanced at him from beneath her lashes almost provocatively.

  “Oh, do not think I mean to tease you,” she continued. “For your benefit, I am trying to censor everything I say or think, but I don’t always succeed.”

  Matthew considered her with amazement. Last night she hadn’t tried to run, hadn’t tried to explain what she was doing here. And with this flirting, it was apparent that she meant to stay here and be his wife—in every way? What woman dared such a thing? And why?

  He lightly grasped her upper arms, then slid his hands down to clasp hers. “I understand more than you might realize. I have to censor much of what I say, too, for my family’s sake.” And yours, he thought, wanting to smile.

  “I noticed that at breakfast,” she admitted.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh, just that you seemed to be weighing what you said,” she quickly added. “You think it would be too difficult for your family to hear the truth about how you suffered.”

  He shrugged. “But not difficult for you?”

  She lifted her chin. “I am your wife.”

  So brazen. He studied her, thinking about their conversation. He realized that when he’d asked her what she’d been doing since coming out of mourning, she deliberately sidetracked him into a discussion of his family. What didn’t she want to discuss?

  He rocked back on his heels for a moment. “Keeping quiet any suffering I experienced is not my only reason for speaking carefully. I told you at breakfast—didn’t I?” he added, trying to sound concerned.

  She stared up at him solemnly. “The toast, of course. And all the normal things you fear you’ve forgotten. How can I help you?”

  A warm feeling of satisfaction moved through him. “I feel embarrassed to even ask. I don’t know you—”

  “But I know you,” she said with earnest conviction. “Let me help.”

  “Then teach me.” He gripped her hands even tighter as they stared at each other.

  She blinked up at him in surprise. “What…?”

  “Teach me what I cannot remember, about our life together, and about the simple things I used to do so regularly but that have disappeared from my mind.”

  Her face full of compassion, she said quietly, “I would be proud to.”

  Proud? God, she was good at this masquerade. It was easy to believe every word she spoke. Whatever doubts she had, she’d squelched.

  “What should I do?” she continued.

  He gave a rueful grin. “There are so many holes in my memory that it’s hard to know where to begin. I guess one of the problems, as we walk these paths, is that I cannot remember the layout of the park beyond the gardens. I should be able to see it in my head, for I explored every inch of it growing up. But it’s just…gone.” He shook his head. “It would be embarrassing if I got lost on a ride and had to be led back by a shepherd.”

  She smiled. “It makes an interesting image. Of course I’ll be glad to ride with you until you’re familiar with the park.”

  They stood close together, holding hands, looking out over a view she’d deemed “romantic.” To his surprise, she lifted his hand to her cheek, simply holding it there. He felt unsteady, as the arousal that simmered all morning burst into flame. Her skin was so warm, so soft. An overwhelming ache of need moved through him.

  He leaned down and kissed her, light as a butterfly, simply feeling the sweet softness of her lips against his. He could have deepened the kiss, he knew, but something stopped him. Her cheek was warm against his palm, and he brought his other hand up so he could cup her face. He was surprised that even though this might be the most innocent kiss of his life, he wanted it to go on.

  But he lifted his head and looked down at her, seeing how flushed her face was, how her breathing was quick and uneven. Whatever the reasons for her masquerade, he did not think she was faking her response. Or did he just want to assume himself irresistible? he wondered wryly.

  And then she put her arms around him and held him tight. “Oh, Matthew, this seems too wonderful to be real. Yesterday at this time I was still a widow, learning how to live my life alone, and today…” She gave a long sigh. “…I feel complete again.”

  He rubbed her back, amused that he almost felt awkward. He wanted to be rubbing her in other places. Her smooth hair teased his neck; her breasts, lush and well rounded, were a further torment. But he could be patient. He still had so much to learn about her.

  “I should get back to the house to meet with my father,” he said reluctantly. “What are you doing today?”

  She lingered within the circle of his arms, looking up at him, smiling so broadly that her eyes sparkled. “I was planning to go into the village, but that was before your return.”

  “Perhaps we could go riding after luncheon.”

  “Of course, Matthew.”

  “Allow me to escort you back to the house.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Looking at her smile, he felt almost dizzy, as if she were able to create a new reality for both of them just by sheer will.

  When Matthew left her for Professor Leland’s study, Emily stood on the terrace, watching him go. He walked with smooth control, back straight, broad shoulders squared. He was a soldier, of course, and that had shaped him for the last several years.

  Could she continue to get away with this charade? Already he seemed to feel more at ease with her. And then there was the attraction between them. She wasn’t going to resist it, and apparently neither was he. Would he forget the questions and doubts she glimpsed lingering in his eyes? She didn’t need to love him—that wasn’t important to her. Security was. Yet…Susanna had security, and she wasn’t happy.

  But Susanna had never known what it was like to have no security at all.

  It would be interesting to see what Matthew thought he should do to help his sister—and how he would overcome Susanna’s objections.

  She remembered that moment of intimate connection with him as they’d stood above the ruins, his warm, callused palms on her face, without glove
s to separate them. He’d kissed her with tenderness. For just a moment she’d let herself forget what she was. He did that to her so easily, as he tried to scale the wall she kept between herself and everyone else. And now he’d asked her to help him remember parts of his life. She almost laughed, which would have made her look crazy, standing alone on the terrace, the autumn wind tugging at her hair. She went inside and passed through the drawing room.

  “Emily!” Susanna, dressed in the usual practical navy gown that she wore in the laboratory, hurried down a corridor. As she slid to a stop, she pushed her spectacles up with one finger. “Well?”

  “Well what?” Emily asked.

  Susanna rolled her eyes. “I did not have a chance to speak with you this morning, but I thought, with Matthew’s return, already you seem so much happier.”

  Emily had held Matthew’s sisters as distant from her as she could at first, afraid of hurting them. But gradually they’d burrowed their way into her heart, each for different reasons. Susanna was a self-educated woman, and had encouraged Emily to follow her own thirst for knowledge. Rebecca, though only a few years younger, was on a path to marriage, single-mindedly guided by her mother, yet she always made Emily feel a part of everything she was doing.

  Now, Emily took Susanna’s hand. “I am truly happy, my dear. Your brother is alive and returned to his family. But we are…starting over. I am a stranger to him, and yet to me, he is my husband.”

  “He will fall in love with you again,” Susanna said with conviction. “How could he not?”

  He would love her, Emily thought fiercely. She would make it happen, and then he would be bound to her. “I will have to trust in his love, I guess.”

  “You can help him remember the woman you are. Show him your work in the village. He will be proud of you.”

  Emily shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “As I told Matthew, I cannot leave the house just yet. It would seem…wrong. I’ll send word that I hope to be in Comberton tomorrow.”

  “I still think you should show him the life you’ve built for yourself.”