Page 8

Chapter eight

Alexander

He had known that Beatrice Montgomery was an interesting girl, but Alexander hadn't been prepared for how quickly she had turned things upside down for him.

He hadn’t expected to find his wife on the floor at the bottom of the stairs when he’d heard the noise from inside his study, but from the moment he’d offered a hand to help her up, his heart hadn’t slowed to its normal beat.

Perhaps he should have expected marriage to be more life-changing than he'd thought. But since it was simply a marriage of convenience, he hadn't expected to find himself so concerned about his new wife. The fear that had gripped his heart when he saw her lying on the floor had surprised him.

Although, to be fair, he probably would have felt the same fear had it been Jenkins falling down the stairs.

The image of his butler falling down the stairs was almost enough to make him laugh. If Jenkins was ever undignified enough to fall down the stairs, he might suspect that the butler himself was dying.

“What made you fall?” he asked, turning to glance at the staircase behind him.

“These dresses are just a bit too long,” Beatrice said, smoothing her free hand over the front of the beautiful gown she wore. He recognized it as another one of his mother’s.

“I see,” he said. “My mother must have been just a little taller than you.”

“This was your mother's?” she asked, looking down at the gown with new appreciation. “She had very good taste.”

“Yes, she did,” Alexander said fondly. “It was always said she was one of the best-dressed in a room, though I'm sure her dresses are out of fashion now.”

Beatrice shook her head. “I don't care if they are out of fashion. I'm honored to wear something so beautiful, especially since it was worn by your mother.”

Alexander's heart warmed at her words. “Thank you,” he said gruffly, resting his free hand on hers where it laid on his arm. “I agree. You are beautiful.”

Beatrice looked up at him, her eyes wide, and he realized what he had just said. But he couldn't bring himself to take the words back. Even if he hadn’t meant to say them, it was true. She was beautiful. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, the top braided in an intricate pattern.

“Was the maid Mrs. Jenkins assigned to you helpful?” he asked, gesturing to her hair. “I'm assuming this is her handiwork.”

“It is,” Beatrice said with a smile. “Guinevere is lovely. Thank you. I have no doubts that we will get along wonderfully.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Alexander said. “Shall we go to breakfast?”

“We shall. But first, I have a confession,” Beatrice said, looking up at him with a winning smile. “I am rather glad that you heard me fall and came out.”

“So I could help you up?” he asked.

Beatrice shook her head. “No, that was a lovely side benefit. But…I couldn't remember how to get to the dining room, even though I told Guinevere that I did.”

Alexander’s lips quirked up. “Why didn't you ask her to show you?” he asked.

Beatrice shrugged as they entered the dining room. “I don't know,” she said. “By the time I realized what I had told her, it was too late. She was already gone, so I just found the stairs and hoped that from there, I would somehow remember my way to the dining room.”

Alexander fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he had picked the most independent woman he could find to be his bride. It was a trait that would serve her well in her new position, although it might make for some interesting situations as they came to know each other in the days to come.

“I'm glad I was able to assist you,” he said, as he ushered her to the seat at the foot of the table that she’d used the previous night and pulled it out for her. His hand brushed against her hair as she sat and he pushed in the seat, the chestnut strands sliding over his hand smoothly.

What would it feel like to run his fingers through her hair?

He jerked his hand back and walked across the dining room to the head of the table. He had no intention of falling for his wife, and the less touch there was involved, the better. Even if the sorcerer never came back, he didn’t want to fall for his wife. He didn’t want a love match, or a woman who would die for him, as he would die for her.

He’d grown used to being alone and while he might have needed a wife, he didn’t need to fall in love with her.

Perhaps he’d known that it would be harder to avoid falling in love with Beatrice than it would be if he’d chosen some other young lady. He had always felt drawn to her for some strange reason that he couldn't understand.

Maybe it was the way she was fiercely independent, but she was willing to work with others when it was necessary. Or perhaps it was the way she always treated him as though he were a man, not some sort of god. Or maybe it was simply the way she smelled wonderful at all times.

It didn’t matter. Beatrice Montgomery was dangerous, and he would be wise to stay far, far away.

They spoke little during the meal, their seats far enough across the table that it was necessary to raise one’s voice to be heard, which was not conducive to conversations.

Perhaps it was better that way.

He could spend time with her this way, without getting emotionally tangled.

As they finished breaking their fast together, Jenkins came in to greet them. “My lord, my lady,” he said, nodding respectfully to both of them. “I heard from Guinevere that Lady Dunham is interested in a tour of the estate today.”

Alexander turned to Beatrice, who smiled. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she said. “Guinevere offered to take me around if you are busy.”

Alexander shook his head. “I will take you,” he said. “It would be good for the people of the estate to see me with my wife.”

If something happened to him, they needed to accept her as his bride.

And…it would be nice to spend more time with her. Even if he shouldn’t.

“Are you ready now,” Beatrice asked, “or do you have pressing tasks that must be done first? I can wait, if you have things you must do.”

“There is nothing more pressing than spending time with you,” he said, the words coming out before he could stop them.

They shouldn’t have come out, but somehow, he didn’t regret them. That definitely had nothing to do with the way she lit up when he said them.

He could have waited for Jenkins to help with her cloak, but he didn't. Instead, he opened the closet and pulled it out, helping her fasten it over her shoulders. She smiled up at him as he did, but he didn't return her smile.

He stepped back and reached for his own coat, ignoring her for a moment.

Why did she affect him so much? He wasn't sure…and he didn’t want to find out.

He let Jenkins open the front door and offered his arm to Beatrice as they walked out the door and down the stairs, Guinevere following them for some reason.

It would be ungentlemanly not to offer his arm, and as much as he didn't want to get closer, he couldn't resist the opportunity to feel her touch.

It was concerning just how much he wanted to be near her all the time, because he’d had no intention of letting her get this close. Yet somehow, she had wormed her way in, and they had only been married for half a day.

What would it be like when they had been married a full week—or even longer?

How long would his heart be able to withstand her?

Probably not as long as he needed it to. He was not prepared to fall in love with his wife, and he needed to find a way to stop it. But what was the harm in letting her hold his arm while they walked through his estate? Surely, being chivalrous wouldn’t cause him issues.

He showed her around the buildings closest to the manor, the stables and the outbuildings where they stored food and other things. She wouldn’t have much use for those buildings, but it would be good for her to know where everything was. Besides, those buildings were warmer than outside, so it was nice to linger there for a while.

Beatrice exclaimed in delight when his horse held out her nose for attention and laughed at the antics of the yearling goats, who chased each other around the pen for her benefit.

“My friend has goats,” she told him, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Or at least she had them.”

“Had?” he asked.

“She’s now Lady Sophia Manning,” she said, and it was his turn to be surprised. He'd heard of the “goat girl” who was marrying Caspian Rendon, but hadn't realized Beatrice knew her.

“You'll have to tell me their story sometime,” he said. “I’ve only heard hints of it.” He'd been invited to the wedding, of course, but he hadn’t planned on attending.

Caspian had been much younger than Alexander, but the Rendon brothers were some of Alexander’s only childhood friends. Quite a few of his happiest childhood memories involved Lord and Lady Rendon and their boys.

And now that he was married to Lady Sophia’s friend, he probably wouldn’t escape going to the wedding. The thought of attending such a crowded event made his heart beat faster and he took a deep breath.

It would be good to see the Rendons again, even if being so vulnerable was absolutely terrifying.

“I hope we can invite them for dinner,” Beatrice said shyly, “and you can hear it from them.”

Alexander took another deep breath. She wanted him to invite people to Eldenwilde?

That was maybe going too far.

But images of goofing off with the Rendon brothers around the table flashed through his mind, and the corner of his mouth turned up before he could stop it.

They had all grown, but maybe they would still be interested in being his friend.

If he made it through his birthday without a murderer smiting him where he stood, he would have to invite them out for dinner.

“I think that's a lovely idea,” he said, and Beatrice lit up.

“I shall write her soon and ask when they will be back in the Northlands,” she said. “I believe they are in Riyel at the moment, but they should be coming back for the holidays.”

“I look forward to it,” Alexander said, surprised to find the words coming out of his mouth. “Now, would you like to meet some of the tenants?”

“Yes, please.” Her eyes shone with interest as Alexander turned toward the area where most of the tenants lived. “How many tenants do you have?”

“We have quite a few now. There were more when my father was in charge, but after he passed, several of them moved on. I don’t blame them after what happened.”

Beatrice looked up at him, her eyes speaking in a way that suggested she wasn’t likely to verbalize her thoughts.

Alexander sighed. He hadn’t wanted to get into it right now, but the words had slipped out of his mouth before he had thought through what saying them would mean. He should have known better than to say something around her and expect her not to show interest.

“There was a fire,” he said, his curse stopping him from speaking further, and Beatrice frowned.

“They never found where it started,” Guinevere supplied after a moment, when Beatrice’s frown persisted and the silence grew too long. “There was some question as to whether it was natural or not.”

Alexander took a deep breath. Perhaps it was fortunate that Guinevere had come along; maybe she could fill in the blanks where he couldn’t say anything and make Beatrice wonder what had happened. If someone asked questions, sometimes the words could slip through, and maybe Beatrice was curious enough to figure out that something wasn’t quite right.

Even if Beatrice didn’t connect all the dots on her own, Guinevere was suddenly looking at him with eyes far too keen. Did she know more than she was letting on?

The thought of someone else figuring it out filled him with hope.

He still wasn’t sure how the sorcerer would react to him having a wife, but the thought of him arriving with his daughter made his stomach turn. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything if Beatrice found out, but at least he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He just wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t.

The words wouldn’t come out, no matter how much he wanted them to.