The Husband Season Page 25

  He moved back at last and smiled at her. ‘Still want to go home?’

  ‘Adam, you make me so confused. I don’t know what I want.’

  ‘Then I shall have to try again.’ And he did, until she was aching.

  ‘Why are you confused?’ he murmured.

  ‘I was looking round the house—’

  ‘I was going to have it made ready for you.’

  ‘I saw all the evidence of Anne and that picture in the drawing room,’ she went on, ignoring his interruption. ‘She was so beautiful. I cannot compete with your memories, Adam.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Do you know what Mark said to me weeks ago, when we were in London? He was urging me to marry again and I was telling him I would not.’ He put his finger on her lips to stop her speaking. ‘He said we are all unique in our own way, loved for different reasons. And he was right. I loved Anne, I cannot pretend otherwise, but I love you very, very much, indeed.’

  ‘Do you? You never said that before.’

  ‘Didn’t I? How remiss of me. I’ll say it again, shall I? I love you, Sophie Cavenhurst. I also remember you telling me that you would not attempt to make me forget Anne, but would try to make me look forward to a new life with you. Did you not mean it?’

  ‘Yes, I meant it, but...’

  ‘Sophie, you can do what you like to the house, change things to suit yourself. I intended to have Anne’s things moved before I brought you here, but circumstances intervened. I am sorry if you were upset by them. I want this to be our home, yours and mine, not a mausoleum to a dead wife.’

  ‘Oh, Adam...’

  ‘Of course, I will still have to send you home,’ he said, grinning. ‘There is still the little matter of a wedding.’

  * * *

  October was a lovely time of year for a wedding. The uncomfortable heat of summer had gone, but it was not yet cold. The trees in the park and bordering the lanes were a glorious explosion of russet and brown and deepest red.

  Greystone Manor was humming with activity as all the arrangements for the wedding came to fruition. Thanks to Jane’s expertise the gown was a triumph. The scent of flowers filled the house, and down in the kitchens the food preparation was nearing completion. Sophie’s fear that Adam would be prevented from coming either because of a crisis at the mill, or worse, that he might have a relapse and been too ill, had been unfounded. He had arrived at Broadacres the day before and had been over to the manor to reassure her. Together they had gone to the church and rehearsed their responses and received a little homily from the Reverend Caulder about the duties required of each of them as a married couple. They had left hand in hand, laughing joyously.

  Sophie wondered how she could ever have thought of Adam as austere, nor how she could have been so naive as to lay down rules about falling in love. Jane had been right: falling in love was not something you can order like a new bonnet or a new pair of shoes, it just happened. And it had happened to her. She could not believe her good fortune.

  Tomorrow the rest of the guests would come to the church: Aunt Emmeline, Lord and Lady Martindale with Lucy and Sir Reginald Swayle, to whom she had recently become betrothed. Likewise the Malthouse family with Cassie and Mr Richard Fanshawe. They were to be married in the New Year. Cassie had declared she was grateful to Sophie for introducing her to him, and they were friends again. They would be joined by friends and relations from far and wide, including most of the village. She would miss Teddy, of course, and Issie and Drew, but that could not be helped.

  Her last evening as a single woman was spent quietly at home with her parents, though perhaps quietly was not the right description as the servants were still busy with last-minute preparations and Sophie was so nervous she could not sit still. ‘I shan’t sleep,’ she told her mother. ‘I am far too excited.’

  ‘Bessie will give you a potion.’ Bessie had agreed to go to Blackfriars as her maid and companion and help her to settle in. ‘We cannot have you yawning through the service.’

  ‘Who is that?’ Sophie wondered aloud as the sound of horses and carriage wheels sounded on the gravel outside. ‘Are we expecting anyone as late as this?’ She rose and went to draw aside the curtains to peep out at the drive. A travel-stained coach was disgorging its passengers in the light from the flambeaux on either side of the front door. Sophie squealed. ‘It’s Issie and Drew! Mama, it’s Issie and Drew and Aunt Emmeline.’ She ran from the room and tumbled into the hall just as her sister came in from outside, followed by her tall handsome husband and their aunt. ‘Issie, you came. I am so glad. Now the day will be perfect.’

  Issie laughed as she hugged her. ‘We could not miss your big day, could we? Let me look at you.’ She held her at arm’s length and studied her face. ‘You have changed, little Sophie.’

  ‘I have grown up.’

  ‘Indeed you have.’ She turned as her parents came out to greet the travellers with hugs and kisses.

  The remainder of the evening was spent catching up with everyone’s news while the travellers were served with a meal. Issie and Drew had already started for home and had reached Calcutta when they’d received the news of Sophie’s engagement. They had known nothing of the postponement of the wedding due to Adam’s injury until they’d arrived at Lady Cartrose’s house in Mount Street. ‘We knew if we set out again straight away we could be here in time.’

  ‘They offered to bring me,’ Emmeline said. ‘So I shan’t miss it after all.’

  ‘There is only one person missing,’ Lady Cavenhurst said a little sadly.

  ‘Teddy,’ Issie said. ‘We have seen him.’

  ‘When? Where? Is he coming home?’

  ‘We were on the docks in Calcutta waiting to go aboard The Lady Isabel after stopping off there on our way back to England,’ Issie went on. ‘There was a convict ship berthed nearby taking on water and supplies. Naturally no one on board was allowed off and the miserable sinners were crowding the decks. I heard someone shouting my name and looked up to see Teddy leaning over the rails, waving to me and shouting. I could not believe it was him.’

  ‘There was so much noise going on, we could not hear what he was trying to say to us,’ Drew said. ‘I managed to go on board and speak to him.’

  ‘How is he? Is he well? Did you fetch him off?’

  ‘I offered to, but he would not come. He said to tell you he is well and learning to be a good seaman. When the captain realised he was an educated man and not the usual sort of pressed man, which happened about halfway round the Cape, he made him a clerk in charge of the ship’s stores.’

  ‘Did he not want to come home?’

  ‘He said he would come home when he had redeemed himself. He is deeply sorry for all the pain he has caused you and for letting Sophie down. I told him we had heard of Sophie’s betrothal and were on our way home and he laughed and said, “Good old Sophie. I told her that was her best bet. And mine, too.” I don’t know what he meant by that.’

  ‘I do,’ Sophie told them, and explained about the wagers. ‘They each owe him a thousand pounds.’

  ‘In that case, it can go towards repaying Adam,’ Sir Edward said.

  ‘I doubt he will take it,’ Sophie said, smiling. ‘He said it was a small price to pay for me.’

  ‘I think it is time we all went to bed,’ Sir Edward added. ‘Tomorrow is going to be a long day.’

  * * *

  The wedding was a happy affair, shared by the whole village. Sophie looked radiant and Adam proud and handsome. Everyone said they had never seen such a well-matched couple. The wedding breakfast and the music and dancing went on late into the night, but Adam and Sophie were oblivious to it. They retired to the bedchamber that had been prepared for them in a distant part of the house, eschewing the help of valet and maid.

  ‘Well matched, I heard them say,’ Sophie said, giggling as Ad
am set about removing the beautiful gown.

  ‘So we are.’ The gown was set aside and he started on the ties of her petticoat. ‘I am dull and staid and you are young and exciting and unpredictable—two halves of a whole.’

  ‘You are a long way from being dull, but perhaps you are the unpredictable one. Do you remember ever saying you would never marry again?’

  ‘No, did I?’ He chuckled. ‘Do you remember ever saying you would not be a second wife?’

  ‘If I did, I was very foolish.’ She was almost naked now and was doing her best to redress the balance by unbuttoning his shirt and slipping her hands inside. She could feel the ridge of his scar, the result of his caring for others. It had healed well. She ran her hands down his torso and down inside his breeches.

  ‘Sophie,’ he said, ‘do you know what you are doing to me?’

  She smiled. ‘I think I am about to find out.’

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A FORTUNE FOR THE OUTLAW’S DAUGHTER by Lauri Robinson.

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  Chapter One

  Life had never been easy for Maddie Stockwell. Being the daughter of the outlaw Bass Mason, a man who’d changed his name more often than he’d changed his socks, had forced her to look out for herself at an early age. She was quick on her feet, too. Quicker than the man with the hands that had just seized her could possibly know.

  The fingers digging into her waist sent curse words—things she’d never say aloud but had heard numerous times—running through her mind. They muffled the piano music and shouts of people filling the saloons on both sides of the alleyway. Furthermore, the hand over her mouth stank of fish, and the pressure of that hand pressed grit into her lips and cheeks, igniting her fury.

  Whoever he was—this man who’d grabbed her as she left the community well—was big. Strong, too, given the way he hoisted her off the ground, dragging her backward.

  Claws of fear dug into her throat, but it was the anger surging inside she focused on. Not again. Did every man think all they had to do was hover in the night darkness and snatch her up as if they were picking peaches or something?

  They might be able to do that to other women, but not her.

  With movements she’d acquired while fighting off those who had ridden with her father, Maddie kicked one heel backward into the man’s knee as she shot an elbow straight back, catching his ribs. She also flung her head back, connecting with what she assumed was his nose by the way he screeched.

  She didn’t stop there, though. The frustration inside her hadn’t played out. As the arms around her went slack, she spun and brought the now half-full water bucket around at full speed. It met the side of his head with a solid thud, and her well-aimed kick targeted right below the belt buckle sent him the rest of the way to the ground.

  He was no longer a threat, rolling on the ground as he was, but the names he was shouting, the things he was calling her—as if any of this was her fault—had her temper flaring.

  Maddie swung the bucket again, cracking him upside the head. The last bits of water flew in all directions while the bucket splintered into pieces. She froze for a moment when the man went quiet. As swiftly as his hands had grabbed her moments ago, something she couldn’t describe gripped her from the inside.

  Her entire being shook as if she stood in the center of a Rocky Mountain snowstorm instead of a warm, dark California night. Mad Dog had found her again. This wasn’t him, but it was one of his men.

  Shouts, muffled by the throbbing in her ears, had her spinning about. Two men, as big as the one on the ground, barreled down the alley.

  Instinct said run, but where?

  She couldn’t go back to Hester’s. That would jeopardize the other girls, so Maddie leaped over the prone body and headed for the street at the end of the alley several buildings ahead. Her heart raced as fast as her feet. The ground rumbled from the weight of those chasing her, and the opening seemed to get farther away instead of closer.

  A whoop or whistle had her chancing a glance over her shoulder.

  Like the devil riding out of hell, a horse raced right between the two men, knocking them aside.

  “Hold out your arm, darling,” the rider shouted. “Lucky will save you!”

  The two men were scrambling to their feet. The horse getting closer. Her choices were clear: get run over and caught or leap on the horse behind the devil himself.

  Instinct, again, had her choosing the latter.

  Turning, she held out an arm, and as the man’s hand clamped her elbow, she jumped, flinging one leg over the back of the saddle. She’d leaped on behind her father more than once, way back when, before he’d left her with Smitty. He’d been the one man she could always count on, Smitty that was, right up until the end. God rest his soul. Unlike most men, he deserved a place behind the pearly gates.

  “Hold on, darling,” the man in front of her shouted.

  The clop of hooves echoed against the bricks as the horse rounded the corner, entering the street. Maddie wrapped both arms around the stranger to keep from sliding off, and caught a glimpse of her pursuers shaking their fists in the air.

  Laughter from the rider in front of her filled the air, and feeling a touch of elation, Maddie shouted, “Are you?”

  “Am I what?” the man asked in return.

  “Lucky?” She could use some of that. Hers seemed to have run out weeks ago.

  “Hold on, and you’ll find out.”

  He took another corner, and then zigged and zagged down streets and up others, turning so many times she was dizzy, and lost, but Maddie kept her knees bent, legs out of his way as the man heeled the horse, keeping it at a full run.

  Sea air—a mixture of dirty water, salt, dead fish and wet wood—stung her nose when he brought the horse to an abrupt halt. They dismounted at the same time, and he grabbed her by the back of one arm, propelling her in one direction while slapping the horse on the backside, sending it in the opposite way.

  “In here,” he directed, hushed and hurried.

  The tall building blocked the moonlight, making it impossible to see much of anything. He’d saved her from the other men, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Few men were. Life had taught her that. “What about your horse?” she asked, trying to buy time to figure out an escape on her own this time.

  “It wasn’t mine,” he answered. “I stole it.”

  She dug her heels into the dirt. “Stole it?”

  His strength was no match as he pulled her forward. “Don’t give up on me now, darling.”

  “Don’t call me darling,” she said. “And let go of me.”

  “Can’t. Alan Ridge isn’t going to be happy when he learns you knocked out his henchman. I may have gotten his other men off our tail for a bit, but eventually they’ll learn where we went. At least the general direction.” He threw open a door. “You can trust Lucky, darling. You’re safe with me.”

  A chill rippled through Maddie. Mad Dog Rodriquez and Alan Ridge were the same man; she’d discovered that in the first town she’d hightailed out of in the dead of the night. Smitty had heard Mad Do
g was in Mexico, and that was why he’d sent her to California: to escape the outlaw for good. That plan had backfired and she’d been doing little more than avoiding capture since stepping off the train. Mad Dog had a penchant for stealing girls and selling them at high bounties, but that wasn’t the only reason he was pursing her.

  “You know Alan Ridge?” she asked.

  “I know of him.”

  She didn’t like it, not one little bit, but Lucky, as he called himself, seemed her only alternative at this moment. Given her choices, Maddie followed him, vowing to escape the first chance she got.

  He closed the door behind them and let go of her arm but took her hand as he spun around. It was even darker inside, completely black. “Hold on to my belt. I’ll never find you in here if we get separated.”

  Maddie was contemplating that when he whispered again. “But Ridge’s men will. Have no doubt about that, darling. When that one comes to, he’s going to be looking harder than ever.”

  “Are you one of Ridge’s men?” she asked point-blank, though not really sure what she’d do if he said yes.

  “Aw, darling,” he drawled. “Would I be trying to save you if I was in cahoots with him?”

  Men were a fickle bunch, and not a one of them was above lying, yet her instincts, which she hoped weren’t trying to fool her, said she could trust this man. However, her ire was still riding high. “Will you stop calling me that,” she hissed, while wrapping her fingers beneath his belt. Men who’d ridden with her father always called her darling. She’d hated it then, and hated it now. Along with everything else about her past.

  Lucky started walking forward slowly, as if feeling his way. “I will if you tell me your name.”

  “Maddie. Madeline Elizabeth Stockwell,” she answered. It was a good name. This one she’d settled on. No one could trace it back to Bass. That wasn’t likely, considering he’d been calling himself Boots Smith when he died, but she wanted to sever all ties to her former life. California was supposed to have been a fresh start, but since arriving, she’d found herself running more than when living with outlaws.