Page 7 of Willow (Out on a Limb #4)

In Which the Husband Regrets His Words, and the Wife Remains Determined

I should never have told her.

Harry castigated himself silently as he watched Willow absorb the implications of his dramatic announcement. She’d left the kitchen and dropped into a chair by the fireplace.

He took the one opposite. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should not have told you that.”

She pursed her lips in thought for a minute, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Then she took a breath. “So, as a courier, you would be responsible for taking messages from one place to another?”

“I shouldn’t have revealed it.”

She managed a little snort of amusement. “No, you probably shouldn’t. But it explains a few things.”

“It does?”

“Of course.” She folded her hands together and met his gaze. “You were delivered here, weren’t you? You had Madame’s address and somehow you conveyed it to whoever ferried you across the Channel.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but she held up a hand.

“Wait…I’m still thinking. You said you were engaged in some sort of horse business with the cavalry. Which, when I think about it, is an ideal occupation for someone taking messages from one place to another. Nobody would ever suspect you were doing anything else.”

He had to appreciate the rapidity with which she put all the pieces together. “Something like that, yes.”

“And now you need to go to…Myrtle Manor? Or London directly?”

“I need to go to London. As soon as possible.”

“Then that is what we shall do.” She glanced at his foot. “It will have to be a carriage though, and that will be a lot slower than if we rode.”

“Er, Willow, I will be going to London. There is no need at all for you to be involved in this business any more than you already are.” He thought for a moment. “The best course of action would be for me to find a carriage somewhere around here and leave at once. You will write to your family, and I know they’d have someone here posthaste.”

“I see.” She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look so much like her mother’s that he wanted to laugh. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean just that. No. I am not letting you hare off to town without me. You are still recovering from a serious indisposition, Harry. And then there’s the matter of you being my temporary husband. If you up and leave me so soon, everyone will start talking. You know how small villages are? Would you condemn me to that sort of embarrassment?”

“A little far-fetched, my dear,” he replied, amused.

“But true, nonetheless.”

He sighed. “Willow, I cannot, in good conscience, take you on a trip that might prove to be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“I have no way of knowing what the current situation is, as far as my mission is concerned. I don’t know if my arrival here was noticed, if anyone has been watching this house, or if word has been passed along to the wrong people that I might have something or know something of value.” He made his gaze as stern as he could. “These are matters I’ve become accustomed to. But it is completely unthinkable for me to allow you to participate, or even travel with me, under these circumstances. I won’t risk you, my dear. In any way.”

Willow stood, straightening her skirts as she did so.

“Well, Harry, that was a delightfully phrased speech. Congratulations. Now I believe I shall start packing, since we’ll be leaving soon. The business of obtaining a carriage has me slightly concerned, because I’m going to assume, from what you’ve told me, that speed will be important.”

She walked to the little bedroom door. “I’ll pack for us both, I think. Madame had some larger valises that should suffice. The journey to London will require one overnight stay, won’t it?”

Suggestions, ideas, solutions—all ran through his mind like lightning, but before he could put any of them into words, she looked at him with a smile that shot a jolt of lust through his body.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “You know you’ll most certainly lose any of the arguments you’re putting together at this moment.”

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

“Oh come now, it’s not that bad. Besides, what sort of wife would I be if I let my husband go off on a wild adventure while I stayed here and polished the teapot?”

“You’d be safe, at least,” muttered Harry.

“I’ll be every bit as safe with you,” she shot back. “So the matter is settled, and the subject closed.”

“Having a wife isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be,” he grumbled.

“I heard that.”

*~~*~~*

I will not let him leave without me.

Willow’s mind revolved around that thought as she began to organise clothing and search for bags. Practical matters needed to be taken care of—things like the house itself, a message to her parents, and above all, where and how to procure a carriage.

That one would be the most difficult, and something she’d be happy to leave to Harry.

The journey itself wouldn’t be too terrible. She’d arrived at Little Witham in a carriage with no problems, and since it was a small port, there would be occasional conveyances coming and going, transporting passengers to and from boats in the harbour. Perhaps they could prevail upon one of the drivers to take them north to London.

But it was a long trip, and as she’d already realised, an overnight stay would be necessary. Did Madame have a map amongst her papers, she wondered?

“Harry…”

“Yes?”

“Could you check in the bureau and see if there’s a map there? It would help us choose our quickest route to London…”

A sort of snarling mumble was the response, and Willow chuckled to herself. If he thought he was going to drop her off anywhere, like a parcel to be delivered, he had better disabuse himself of that notion immediately.

He was hers.

Her hands stilled as the unexpected realisation popped into her head.

He was hers, and had been for so long she had no idea when it might have begun. But there it was. The hero-worship she’d experienced as a child had given way to a much deeper emotion as she’d grown into womanhood.

Harry’s occasional visits to Forest Grange had become times of delight for her, and she vaguely accepted that she had a strong fondness for his company. But it wasn’t until he’d arrived here, in Madame’s little house, that the sense of possession had grown from a tiny seed to a full-blown commitment.

She’d nursed him. Cared for his injuries and eased his fevers. She’d seen his body, a necessary part of nursing a sick man. And she’d seen his heart in his eyes as he’d come to accept her ministrations.

Then he’d kissed her.

And that put the seal on the entire business. They belonged together without question. Whether he knew it or not, didn’t concern her, because there was time yet for him to come to the same conclusion. And a little knowing smile curved her lips as she folded her nightgown. Perhaps there might be chance for more kisses. And maybe she would touch his bare skin again, but this time he’d be awake and perhaps returning the favour…

Her pulse raced at the thought, and she had to pause for a moment to catch her breath.

“Are you all right?” Harry was in the doorway with a paper.

“Uh, yes, of course.” She put the folded nightgown into a valise. “Almost done with my things. I’ll start on yours next. You have very little, so it won’t take long.”

“My boots, Willow. Where are my boots? I’m going to need at least one of them, and hopefully both, if I can squeeze my ankle into it.” He looked down. “It really seems to be much recovered. Hardly any swelling at all.”

“Under the bed,” she replied. “When the room is this small, one has to make practical decisions.”

He smiled, nodded, and bent down, leaning on the bed, and grunting a bit as he extricated his footwear from the darkness beneath the mattress.

“Got ‘em.”

“It should only take me another twenty minutes or so in here.” She thought for a moment. “You know, I think I’ll put our foodstuffs into a basket and give them to Mrs Smithers. I won’t leave food here, since we don’t know what will happen to this house, and with nobody residing here for a while, whatever was here would go off.”

Harry nodded. “Why don’t you do that while I finish up here? I can fold the few things I have, and most everything I’m going to be wearing, anyway.”

“All right. The nightshirt is there, and there are some spare socks in the top drawer of the bureau.”

Harry looked at her, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Mrs Smithers, bless her. Apparently, the dear departed Mr Smithers’ clothing was still in her possession.”

“Obviously, he didn’t wear a nightshirt,” commented Harry, holding up the gown he’d worn during his illness.

Willow had to laugh. “A valid point. We could probably leave that here.”

“I agree.” He folded it neatly and put it in the drawer, then removed the socks and put them in the bag.

She blinked, realising she was staring at his hands.

“I…I’ll go and see to the basket of food.”

“All right.”

Scurrying from the room into the kitchen, she busied herself with her task, putting bread and her little pot of butter carefully into a basket, along with the other meagre supplies she’d accumulated. It didn’t take long, so she slipped her cloak over her shoulders and called to Harry.

“I’m going to take the basket to Mrs Smithers. I shouldn’t be more than a moment or two.”

Harry emerged with their valises. “I think I’m about done here.”

Before they could say any more, there was a firm knock on the front door. Willow opened it and smiled as she saw Mrs Smithers standing there.

“What a wonderful coincidence, Ma’am. I was just about to bring you this basket of food. Since we don’t know how long we’ll be away, we thought you could make use of it?”

“How kind,” beamed the older woman. “And in return, I have a surprise for the both of you…”

“You do?” Willow stared at her in astonishment as Harry came to her side.

“I do indeed.” She took a breath. “I’ve found you a carriage.”