Page 30

T hey rode in silence for some miles, then stopped beside a stream for lunch.

The landlady had loaded them up with food for their journey: wine, bread, ham, thick wedges of pepper and potato omelette, half a chicken, and some oranges.

They attacked the feast with zeal and, afterward, lay in the sun, soaking it up.

Luke had decreed they’d move on in half an hour. Now he regretted saying so.

Isabella lay on her back in the grass, one knee bent, the other leg resting across it in a boyish pose. Her breeches and boots were clearly visible, but since there was nobody else to see, Luke didn’t mind.

In fact, he wouldn’t mind baring a little more of her. He got up, stretched, and sat down beside her.

“If you were any kind of civilized man, we could have a proper siesta,” Isabella murmured sleepily.

“No rest for the wicked,” he murmured, watching her leg rock slowly back and forth. He remembered the way she’d trembled at his touch.

He rolled over onto his front, ending up lying thigh to thigh with her. “I know something better than a siesta,” he murmured and stretched a lazy hand toward the buttons of her jerkin.

She pushed his hand off and moved a little farther away.

Shy, Luke thought. Perhaps it was too soon in the marriage to think about making love in the open air. “Tell me about the breeches.”

“What about them?”

“You said Reverend Mother let you outside the convent dressed as a boy. Why?”

She let out a huff of amusement. “She didn’t precisely let me, not at first.” She wriggled around so they were facing each other and regarded him with a look of rueful mischief he was beginning to recognize. “I used to sneak out.”

His lips twitched. “Why do I find myself strangely unsurprised?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, I hate the feeling of being shut in. And the convent was built to keep people out, not keep them in—the nuns want to be there. And some of the girls who are educated there would make valuable hostages. So it’s not a prison. But it was for me.”

Eight years, he thought.

“At first I used to go out just for an hour or so—”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, just sitting and breathing in the night, looking at the stars, or, if there was moonlight, walking and running. You’re not allowed to run in a convent—‘Glide, young ladies, glide!’??” she mimicked.

“It was easy, because I didn’t sleep in the dormitory with the other girls, so nobody noticed if I wasn’t in my bed. ”

“So how did Reverend Mother find out?”

“It wasn’t for ages, and it was all my own fault. Food got very scarce during the war. The convent was down to bare bones, and I was starving and sick of having nothing to eat except watery soup with three lentils and a weed in it. So I started setting traps.”

“Traps?”

“Snares. Papa taught me to live off the land.” She paused. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

He murmured something polite, but she wasn’t deceived. She jumped up. “I’ll show you.” From her bag she drew a spool of thread. “Twisted silk, which means it’s very strong. Your knife, please?”

Fascinated, he passed it to her.

“You do it like this, except of course you’d choose a better spot than this.

And you cut these.” She cut two forked sticks.

“Dry, or the sap can make them stick.” She selected a thin whippy branch from a nearby bush.

“And then you bend this down and fasten it like this.” She pinned it in place with one of the forked sticks. “And now you position this here…”

He watched her small, competent hands fashioning a noose and setting up the snare. No lady of his acquaintance would do—or know how to do—such a thing. He made the mistake of saying it aloud.

Instantly she looked away and said in a flattened voice, “I warned you I often do the wrong thing.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Truly?”

“Truly. I think you’re a remarkable young woman.”

She flushed and ducked her head, as if unused to even such minor compliments. But her mouth curved enough for him to know she was pleased.

He watched her dismantle the snare, and when she finished, he patted the ground beside him. She frowned a little but sat down again, hugging her knees to her chest. She seemed somewhat nervous of him. Perhaps she’d read his mind.

All through her recital and demonstration he’d been imagining peeling those clothes off her. A girl who hunted alone at night could surely be persuaded to make love in the grass.

“You haven’t finished the story. Reverend Mother?” he prompted and was pleased when he saw her relax.

“The first time I tried, I caught two fat hares,” she said, unable to hide the pride in her voice.

“I left them in the kitchen along with a pocketful of pine nuts. Nobody knew where they came from.” She grinned wickedly.

“The cook thought it was a miracle, that our angel had sent them to save us—the angel over the gate, you know. The one who looks like you.”

“Like me?” He was revolted. “I do not look like an angel.”

She laughed. “You do; everyone says so.” Before he could argue the point she continued, “So after that I went out hunting and foraging every night. But my dresses were a problem—they kept getting caught on things and would tear and get dirty. So I got some breeches and boots from a house in the village. Don’t look at me like that—I didn’t steal them. ”

He spread his hands in mock innocence, claiming dryly, “I didn’t say a thing.”

“They were her son’s—he’d been killed in the war, and I traded them for—” She broke off.

“For?”

She gave him a guilty look. “For a bit of the gold chain you gave me on our wedding day. I traded it all in the end, for various things we needed. But I kept the ring; you know that.” She drew it from the neck of her blouse. It dangled from the twisted silk thread, glinting in the sun.

He nodded, recalling the shock he’d felt when he discovered she’d worn his signet ring for eight years. He’d almost forgotten about it. Now he felt only possessiveness.

She tucked the ring back and continued her tale. “But after several days of the miraculous appearance of hares and rabbits and birds’ eggs and squirrels—”

“Squirrels?”

“We were starving,” she reminded him. “Squirrels are small but good eating. Of course, cook never admitted the squirrels, but once it’s in a stew, you can’t tell what it is.

Anyway, one night Reverend Mother caught me sneaking in again.

She was waiting in my room. Oh, the penances I had to perform…

” She pulled a face. “But she let me out again in the end.”

“It was that or starve?”

She nodded. “My contribution wasn’t much, but it made the difference between us starving or not.”

“No wonder she called you a treasure.”

“I suppose that was it. Food is important.”

“I meant the courage it took,” he said softly.

“Courage? There’s nothing courageous about setting a few traps.”

No, Luke thought, but there was a deal of courage in a young girl roaming the mountains alone during wartime, foraging and hunting for food for her friends.

She was surprise after surprise, this wife of his.

She lay on her back in the grass, squinted up at the sun, and heaved a sigh. “I suppose it’s time to leave.”

Temptation stirred anew. There was nobody around for miles, so privacy shouldn’t be an issue. And she loved the outdoors. What better place? “It’s so pleasant in the sun; let us delay awhile. I’ll show you what married couples do during siesta,” he murmured and reached for her.

She jumped as if he’d bitten her, and scooted away, sitting up straight. “As to that, I don’t think we should engage in… um, marital relations again until we get to England.”

“What?” He sat up.

“Another two weeks cannot make any difference to you.”

Two weeks?It damned well could.He’d thought perhaps her time of the month had come upon her, but two weeks?

“After all, you left me at the convent for eight years—”

“Is that what this is about? Retaliation for those years?”

“Retaliation? No, of course not. I just meant you obviously weren’t in a hurry to get an heir then, so another few weeks won’t matter now.”

“Get an heir?”

“Yes, it’s the main purpose of it, isn’t it—like breeding horses?” Her eyes dropped and she added, “I would rather not do it for a while, if you don’t mind.” Her hands rested in her lap, but they were tightly knotted.

Luke stared at her, perplexed. He couldn’t give a hang about an heir.

When he’d taken her to bed, an heir was the very last thing on his mind.

It was all her, and the need to possess her, taste her, enter— Oh, of course!

That was it. Damned fool that he was, he’d been in such a hurry, he’d frightened her off, if not for life, for at least a couple of weeks.

He must really have hurt her, damn him for a clumsy oaf.

“No,” he said. “We will not wait until we get to England.” The longer they put it off, the more her anxiety would grow.

“But—”

He said in a gentler voice, “I was clumsy last night. If I’d known you were a virgin, I would have been more careful, slower, gentler. It will not hurt the next time.”

She frowned, turning his words over in her mind, then her chin came up and her fingers curled into fists. “So you intend to force me?”

“No, of course not.” He’d never forced a woman in his life.

“Good, because if you tried, I would fight you.”

His brows rose at her tone, but all he said was, “I give you my word I won’t force you.”

“Good, then we shall wait until—”

“I have no intention of waiting.”

“What? But you just said—”

“I won’t force you.” He gave her a slow smile. “I won’t need to.”

She frowned, considering his words, then sudden outrage surfaced. “You’d drug me? I have heard of such wickedness.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn’t drug you! Good God! No, I promise you’ll be wide awake and you’ll give full consent.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why would I do that?”