The Lady Who Came in from the Cold(26)
And he was still here.
“Good morning, love,” he murmured.
“Yes, it is,” she whispered.
His lips tipped up, the smile reaching his eyes. “Thanks to you and your exceptional execution of this rendezvous. I still can’t believe you pulled this together in a day.”
It had been a rather large feat. She’d spent the day after the disastrous ball running about, making frantic arrangements. She’d sent word to have the cottage readied and supplies stocked. Then she’d made excuses to the children, telling them she was accompanying Papa on a business trip; she’d also arranged for their care during her absence. After that, she’d dashed a note off to Flora, asking for prayers that all would turn out well. Oh, and she’d had to visit a certain establishment in the rookery to obtain the drugging powder.
“It was worth it,” she told him.
He continued to stroke her hair. “How long do we get to stay here?”
“A week.” God, she loved his touch. “Your mama agreed to look after the children.”
“You asked Mama for a favor?” His smile turned wicked. “By Jove, you were desperate to get me back.”
She had been. Desperate enough to go to the dowager with hat in hand. That didn’t mean, however, that she’d revealed the true reason why she’d needed the other’s assistance. I’m going to kidnap your son in order to fix my marriage just didn’t quite have the right ring. Thus, she’d given her mama-in-law the same explanation she’d given the children.
A business trip, eh? Well, you two enjoy yourselves, Lady Aileen had said grandly. I’ll have the household and children straightened out and in ship shape by the time you return.
At the time, Penny had been so grateful for her mama-in-law’s help that she’d overlooked the snide comment on her housekeeping and parenting skills.
Now she rolled her eyes at Marcus. “Don’t get all bigheaded about it.” She lifted a hand, intending to slap him playfully on the chest—and froze at the rattling of metal, the weight around her wrist. With disbelief, she saw the manacle and chain securing her to the bedpost.
“What in heavens?” she said indignantly. “Release me this instant—”
She broke off with a gasp when Marcus flipped her onto her stomach in a swift move. He drew her hair off her shoulders, and she shivered as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of her nape before moving up to her ear.
“What’s sauce for the gander.” His hot, husky voice held a catch of laughter.
Then he was kissing down the length of her spine, gnawing and licking. Her cheek against the mattress, Penny gave up any pretense of resistance. Fair is fair, after all, she thought philosophically. Then she gave up thinking all together. Her lusty sigh turned into a moan as her husband proceeded to show her his spicy and exceedingly delicious version of sauce.
Chapter Twenty-One
Blackwood Country Seat, 1826
“Go, son. Be with your wife. I’ll see the children back to the house.”
Marcus took his gaze from Penny and looked at his mama. Beneath the brim of her black bonnet, she wore her usual stoic mask, but he saw the worry in her faded eyes. The dowager might have a reputation for being a harridan, but those she loved, she loved deeply. And through the years, he knew that she had come to love Penny, even though the two of them butted heads on a constant basis.
Marcus placed a hand on his mama’s shoulder, feeling the frailty beneath the black velvet. “Thank you, Mama. We’ll be along soon.”
“Take your time. And Blackwood… you’ll have a care, won’t you? These things affect ladies differently than gentlemen. You give life to something, and seeing its flame extinguish,”—her voice wavered a little, and he knew she was thinking of James, the son she’d lost—“it’s not easy, my boy. Not easy at all.”
After seeing his mama and the boys off in the carriage, Marcus headed over to his wife.
Penny stood beneath the graceful, curving branches of a maple. Her black gown and her own dark coloring made her stand out against the burnished brightness of the leaves, but she looked pale and wan. When she lifted her gaze to his, a pang resonated in his chest. Bewilderment and pain. The throbbing ache of a wound only three days old.
Quietly, he said, “Mama’s taking the boys for a while. We can stay here as long as you want.”
She nodded dully, her gaze returning to the small marble headstone. A wreath of pink flowers that she’d made lay against it. He stood by her side, for once uncertain what to say or do. How to give comfort when there was none to give.
Her low voice broke the silence. “Do you know,” she said, “I overheard one of the villagers gossiping when I went to buy the flowers.”
“Gossiping about what?” he said, frowning.
“One of them was saying what a lot of fuss was being made over a stillborn babe. She said that this happens all the time in the village, and here we are acting as if the sky has fallen.”
Fury ignited, roaring through him. “Do you know who it was?”
“She was just speaking her mind.” Penny drew a wobbly breath. “But it did make me think: why do babes have to die? Why did our little girl,”—her voice hitched—“have to die?”
Her question twisted his gut. All he could say was, “I don’t know.”
“Do you think it could be punishment… for past wrongs, sins I’ve committed?”
“God, no,” he said, appalled. “Of course not. How could you think such a thing?”
“Sometimes I wonder about it. If I had been a better person, led a more sinless existence—”
“Penny, look at me.” He lifted her chin, the sheen in her violet eyes tearing the scab off, making the wound bleed anew. He said firmly, “One has nothing to do with the other. Life is mysterious. Bad things happen for no reason at all.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered. “Flora—my mama, I mean—she had a saying. As you sow, so shall you reap.”
Shadows angled through her gaze, her lashes wet and spiky. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he forged on heedlessly, driven by the need to slay any pointless, needless guilt that she might be feeling.
“Even if that were true, you’d have nothing to worry about. You’re a lady, sweet and pure. What wrongdoing could you have possibly committed?” He tucked a fallen curl behind her ear and felt her tremble. “If we were to be judged by our sins, between the two of us, surely I’d be the one most deserving of punishment.”
“That’s not true. You’re a hero,” she said in a scratchy voice.
“During the war, I committed atrocities. So many of them. You know—you’ve witnessed my nightmares.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “I wish to hell that I hadn’t done those things, but there’s no changing the past. I did what I did in the name of duty, and I have to live with it. But it has nothing to do with our little girl dying.”
“Your actions were honorable. You protected your country.” She touched his arm. “Marcus, you’re the finest man I’ve ever known.”
“And you, my love, are the finest woman I’ve ever known. You’re a doting mama to three healthy boys and a loving wife to me. You’ve given us the gift of happiness and love. Surely that must erase whatever sins you think you may have committed,” he said tenderly.
Her lips quivered. A tear slipped from the corner of her right eye.
He gathered her in his arms and held her against him while sobs shuddered through her. His own eyes heated, prickling with wetness.
Even after the storm passed, they stood together for a long while. With leaves shedding around them, he tightened his hold on his wife as they kept vigil with the angel who had passed all too fleetingly through their lives.
Finally, he said, “It’s getting cold. We should go inside.”
Penny nodded, and he took her hand, intending to lead her away.
“Marcus.”
He turned his head to her, giving her an inquisitive look. “Yes, love?”
“I just wanted to say… I still don’t know why this had to happen. And I haven’t made my peace with it.” Her eyes were very bright. “But I’m glad that you are here with me.”
His chest clenched, his grip on her hand even stronger. “I’ll always be here, Penny. That’s what marriage is. Being together through every season, no matter what it brings.”
Her smile was small and tremulous. Her fingers squeezed his.
Together, they made their way back home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
December 1829
For Penny, the time at the cottage proved to be a second wedding trip. The husband she adored was back and, truth be told, things between them were better than ever. And she wasn’t thinking just of the lovemaking (of which there were several daily episodes, each time different and creative, and all of it sublime).
She hadn’t realized just how much her secrets had burdened her through the years, weighing her down like a water-logged coat. Shedding the past made her feel freer than she ever had in her marriage. That Marcus could accept the things she’d done as a spy… she hadn’t known how important that was. ’Twas as if her soul had been corseted all this time, and now the strings were loosening, allowing her to breathe more fully.