Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] Read online

  Judith wrinkled her brow when she thought of those slim volumes in plain cloth bindings. It had never occurred to her before, but he must have had them specially bound that way rather than give the staff ones in cordovan. At over five guineas a copy, the good ones were expensive, but it seemed to her positively nip-farthing to have had servants' editions produced.

  She pushed the thoughts away. She did not want harsh thoughts of Sebastian on this, her wedding day.

  "Is it time to dress yet, Mama?"

  Judith sighed. It must be the tenth time Rosie had asked that. She was twitchy with excitement, and it would only get worse. She decided they should all go for a walk, to pass the time and get rid of some of the energy.

  They ended up by the river near the graveyard for, as she had said last night to Leander, it was the only peaceful spot in Mayfield. The street was busy, and the nearby fields were plowed. One had to go some distance to find another open space suitable for children to run around.

  The clock struck ten and she knew it was time to return home for the last time, and prepare for the wedding. As they retraced their steps they passed by Sebastian's grave and stopped. Judith didn't suppose she would visit it again, and there'd be no one to put flowers there anymore.

  Unless devoted admirers came by to do homage.

  The children stood still with their solemn, mourning faces on, but she knew they didn't particularly mourn their father, and neither did she.

  Again she felt a pang of guilt. Sebastian had done his best.

  * * *

  Leander had been sent by Beth to the church with another basket of hothouse flowers. Now he sat on his horse and frowned at the sight of Judith in her black standing by that damned grave.

  "Well, even if she still weeps for you, Sebastian Rossiter," he said softly, "you shan't greet her at the gate soon if I have any say in it. And perhaps when that day comes you'll get a surprise. It's clear you didn't reach the depths of her senses. Tonight I'll wipe all memory of you from her mind."

  * * *

  The small church was tolerably full when Judith walked into it on her father's arm, Rosie and Bastian preceding her. Bastian was carrying the ring on a satin cushion. Rosie was strewing petals down the aisle.

  Most of the village was present, of course, and Leander had made arrangements for them all to make jolly afterward at the Dog and Pheasant. Judith's family occupied the front pews, for with spouses and children it now counted over twenty souls.

  There was no one for Leander other than the Ardens. At least after today he would have a family.

  It felt so strange to be in colors. In the peach dress, with a high-crowned bonnet lined to match and boasting three plumes, Judith felt a different person. She saw the congregation stare at her and come to the same conclusion.

  At the end of the short aisle waited her husband-to-be. He was handsome in biscuit and buff, with a cheerful bronze cravat. It all toned pleasantly with her outfit; she supposed Beth had told him.

  If she was a bundle of nerves, he looked calm. But that in itself, she decided, was a sign of nerves. When himself he was boyish or formidable according to his mood. This blandness was his diplomatic face, and if a wild man of the jungle were to run down the aisle, he would handle it calmly, and with impeccably good breeding.

  At the thought, she felt a giggle bubble up. The struggle to keep her lips straight was positively painful. She reminded herself that she was not a sixteen-year-old virgin, but a mature woman of nearly thirty making a practical marriage. She had no intention of giggling and simpering. She raised her chin and marched forward.

  Leander fought a smile when he noted what he had come to think of as her ship-of-the-line walk, all guns rolled out for action. He supposed she was still uneasy about this course, which annoyed him, but if she'd come this far he had her.

  Which made him inordinately pleased.

  Her gown was a delight. The warm peach color picked up the tone of her skin and deepened the blue of her lovely eyes. In the frame of frill and bonnet she looked like a pansy, but he doubted she'd like to be told that.

  The stylish gown also showed off her figure properly for the first time. Though it was high-necked, there was no denying that there was a magnificent bosom beneath it. He'd known that day in her cottage, when she'd accepted his proposal and he'd tested her, that making love to Judith would not be hard. Now he knew it again.

  And tonight he would do it.

  This anticipation was an altogether unexpected bonus of his plan.

  Bastian did his part and went to stand by Leander's side with the ring, but Rosie stopped and looked up at him with quivery excitement, wanting to say something, but shy. He bent down and kissed her brow, then pushed her gently to where her grandmother was sitting.

  Then he could take Judith's hand and lead her to the altar.

  Judith did not shame herself. She said her vows with clear, mature precision. Leander did the same, then slid the ring onto her finger to make her his.

  Judith had found it strange not to have a wedding ring there for a few weeks, but it was even stranger to have this different ring in place. Because of the daily care, her hand was paler and smoother; the rings were completely different. This wasn't the old her at all.

  She realized she was staring at the rings, and looked quickly up at him. He leant forward and lightly kissed her lips. In some way he made the brief movements of his lips over hers a promise of other things to come, and she felt hot blood rush into her cheeks. As if she were a nervous sixteen-year-old again.

  Back at Hartwell there was a meal spread and ample drink. Judith chatted with her family but she felt strange and nervy. Three-quarters of her attention was on the children, who were overexcited and eating too much.

  She was glad when the time came to leave to begin the first day of their journey to the Temple. Then she couldn't find Bastian.

  "He's in the garden with Georgie," declared Rosie.

  Judith hurried out and called him. After a moment he came running. "I was just saying good-bye, Mama."

  "I know, dear, but we must be off now."

  A giddy round of farewells, a shower of rice that the children thought hilarious, and they were off to a new life.

  Judith's head was still whirling. The children were positively fizzing, and chattering about everything. Rosie had Magpie in a special basket, but the kitten mewled to be allowed out, then scrambled across everyone's laps. It seemed to particularly want to be in Bastian's lap, which upset Rosie.

  Judith took the kitten onto her own lap to stop the argument.

  Now Bastian and Rosie craned to see what was left behind, then craned to see what was coming ahead. They waved to villagers as they passed. Judith lifted the kitten to rescue her silk from Magpie's claws. Leander took Magpie in a firm grip and lectured him on manners.

  Judith looked at her husband apprehensively. He appeared relaxed and amused, but she prayed everything would simmer down.

  Soon they were out of Mayfield, heading for the turnpike, and the children settled to watching this new world unfold around them. At last, Magpie curled up on Rosie's lap and peace arrived. Judith still couldn't help but be concerned as to how things would go when the novelty wore off. She wondered if Leander had seriously thought what three or four days in a coach with two children and a cat would be like.

  "I suggest you ladies remove your bonnets," he said, and they were only too happy to comply. "I think it all went very well," he said to Judith. "I hope you were pleased."

  "It was lovely."

  "What was your first wedding like?" he asked abruptly.

  Judith was surprised he would raise the subject.

  "Not very different. I was a lot more nervous, of course. We left early then, too."

  He looked at her. "Did you not want to leave? I thought it better for us to be on our way."

  "I didn't mind."

  It was clear that scintillating conversation was beyond them, and so by tacit agreement they fell silent exce
pt for answers to the children's occasional questions.

  But he took her hand once and smiled at her in a way that told her he was still happy with the state of affairs.

  They planned to go only as far as Winchester this first day, and so they stopped at Farnham to eat. Not long after leaving Farnham, Rosie complained of a tummy ache.

  Judith's heart sank. That was all they needed, a sick child.

  At her suggestion, Leander moved over to the other seat so Rosie could lie with her head in Judith's lap. The girl was soon feeling more comfortable, but they didn't bother changing places.

  When they arrived at Winchester there was daylight still, and Leander suggested they walk around the splendid old city, and visit the famous cathedral. Judith welcomed the opportunity to stretch and enjoy the fresh air, but she wondered how much longer the children would last. It wasn't late, but they'd had an extremely exciting day.

  All seemed well, however. Leander had a ready store of stories about the ancient times when this had been the capital of Wessex, and therefore of England. Judith was as fascinated as the children, and her anxiety was eased by the tolerant way he answered the children's questions.

  Eventually, as she had feared, they started one of their rare fights, but he soothed that, too, with firmness and a touch of humor. She should have known a diplomat and soldier could cope.

  He looked over at Judith. "A long day for them."

  She nodded. "And an overexciting one. They will be better in bed."

  He did and said nothing, but as they retraced their steps to the inn, Judith was aware of the word bed reverberating like the cathedral bells chiming five.

  Judith and Leander had a large bedchamber and a private parlor which was every bit as grand as her drawing room at Mayfield House, and almost as grand as Hartwell. There were damask curtains at the window, and upholstered chairs set before a blazing fire. A table was laid ready for their supper.

  The children were in an adjoining room with two smaller beds. It, too, was grand, and Bastian and Rosie were very impressed.

  Leander ordered a simple supper, but even so the children ate little and drooped in their chairs. Judith shooed them off to wash and change, first Rosie, then Bastian.

  Rosie came back in her new nightgown to kiss Leander. "Good night, Papa."

  He hugged her. "Good night, moppet. More adventures tomorrow."

  Judith tucked Rosie in her bed, and Bastian emerged from behind the screen somewhat quickly. Her mother's instinct warned he was up to mischief, but she couldn't imagine what. Though he'd been quick about it, he looked as if he'd washed properly. He, too, went to wish Leander good night. He came back speedily to scramble into bed.

  Judith looked closely at him and checked Magpie's basket. The children had been told they could not have the kitten in bed with them. The little bundle of fur was there, fast asleep.

  She decided it was her nerves that were making her suspicious, and tucked them in. Then she read to them for quite a while. She was making sure that they were ready for sleep and unafraid in a strange place, but she was aware that she was also delaying her return to her bridal chamber and the moment of truth.

  Rosie was asleep and Bastian almost there when she finally closed the book and rose. As she extinguished the candles something ran across her feet.

  She let out a yelp. A mouse! She grabbed the poker and pursued it.

  "Mama don't! It's Blucher!"

  Now Rosie was awake again, too.

  Judith stared at Bastian. "I said no rat!"

  "He's Georgie's goodbye present!"

  Leander came in. "What's the matter?"

  "Bastian has a rat!"

  "I don't! Mama's chased him away, and he'll get lost and eaten by a cat. He's only a baby!"

  "It went behind the washstand," said Judith tightly.

  Leander went over, knelt down, then eased the washstand away. Lightning fast he snared the little creature before it could squirm away.

  "Don't kill him, please," begged Bastian tearfully.

  Leander held the baby rat up, quite gently she noticed, and said, "Morituri te saluti. Thumbs up or down?"

  A moment ago Judith would have walloped it with the poker without hesitation, but now it looked so defenseless and Bastian was so desperate. Magpie had turned out to be largely Rosie's pet....

  "We can't have a cat and a rat," she protested. "One of them will eat the other!"

  "I don't think either of them is a predator yet," said Leander, and she noticed he now had the rat in a hold that allowed stroking.

  "You're as bad as Bastian!"

  He twinkled at her like a mischievous schoolboy. "Bread and water for both of us?"

  Judith gave in. "But it is not running free."

  Leander pushed back the screen that concealed the washstand, and put a dry cloth in the bottom of the empty bowl. He placed the rat there and covered the bowl with a towel. "That should keep him for the night. Tomorrow we'll find another basket of some kind."

  Bastian scrubbed at his eyes. "Thank you, Papa."

  "Don't thank me. If your mother had wished, I'd have broken his neck. Now, go to sleep. Your mother and I want some time to ourselves."

  He left, but his words stayed behind, drying Judith's mouth. Despite the fact she'd known this night would come, despite the wedding and the vows, she still found it difficult to imagine the intimacies of marriage with this man who was still in many ways a stranger.

  She stayed for a little while until she was sure the children were settled. She checked on the rat, which was not asleep but didn't appear to be able to climb the smooth china walls of its prison.

  She wondered if Bastian had managed to sneak it some food during the day, and supposed he must have. Probably the creature needed water, too. She found a small china pin bowl on the dressing table, filled it with water and placed it on the cloth. The silly beast nuzzled at her fingers.

  "I don't like rats," she hissed, and covered it again.

  Then there was no further excuse for delay, so she joined her husband in their bedchamber.

  She found Leander in his shirtsleeves, drinking wine as he stared out of a dark window. He looked over at her, giving no evidence of impatience. "Settled?"

  "Yes. Fast asleep. Except the rat. I'm sorry about that."

  "It's not your crime to apologize for. The children are ours now, Judith, not just yours. Do you want me to dispose of it?"

  "How could we?"

  "Quite easily."

  "I mean, how could we be so heartless?" She looked at him. "I thought you seemed quite taken. I'll never understand men. Rats are vermin!"

  He laughed. "In the plural, yes. One rat won't ruin the world. We'll just have to hope it really is male."

  Judith closed her eyes. "I don't even want to think about it."

  A silence built up and so she said, "They are not used to being out of their accustomed beds. They may wake in the night...."

  "Then one of us will go to them and reassure them," he said calmly. "Would they be frightened to find me looming over them in the night?"

  "I don't know." She stood there, clasping her hands in front of her, unsure of what to do.

  He dropped the curtain and went to a table to pour her some wine. He held it out. "Come. Drink to our happiness."

  She took it, and they clinked glasses and drank. Judith blinked. "My, but that's good!"

  He laughed. "You have excellent taste. It's an excellent Burgundy. I thought you no oenophile."

  "An expert on wines? Nor am I. In fact," she said, taking another sip, "I don't believe I've ever before tasted a wine made from grapes."

  "Never..." He looked lost for words.

  She shrugged. "My family could never afford it, and Sebastian disapproved of strong liquids. He said they overheated the blood."

  "Did he, indeed?" he asked lazily. "And why was that such a bad thing?"

  It was as if the air in the warm room were growing heavier. Judith turned away from him. "I hardly fee
l it right to discuss my husband at such a time, especially in such a tone of voice."

  He turned her to face him. "Your first husband," he corrected. "I am your husband."

  Judith could have bitten her tongue. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

  He sighed, and laid a hand over her lips. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry, too. This day doesn't leave my nerves untouched, you know."

  "No, I didn't."

  He took her hand. "This has been a long day for all of us. Let's to bed."

  He said "let's to bed" but his eyes said something different, and he was drawing her toward him. Judith panicked.

  "Yes," she said, and pulled out of his grip. She disappeared behind the dressing screen, snatching her nightgown as she went. Probably his intention had been to disrobe her, but she simply wasn't up to that tonight. She'd get into her nightgown by herself, and into bed. Hopefully then it would all be like it had been with Sebastian.

  She soon realized her mistake. After trying and failing to find an alternative, she peeped around the edge of the screen. He was standing, waiting, his face bland, but laughter in his eyes. "Do you perhaps need some help, my dear?"

  Only in certain respects, she wanted to say. She swallowed. "The buttons..."

  He came over. She turned. His nimble fingers undid the long line of tiny buttons; each brushing touch against her spine set nerves quivering. Judith knew her wifely duty was to let him strip her if that was his pleasure, but she couldn't. Two lamps were burning, and there was a fire in the hearth. The room was as bright as day!

  He finished. She would have moved away, but his hands grasped her shoulders. She froze. His lips brushed the top of her spine and she caught her breath at the sweetness of it.

  He released her. "Don't be long," he said softly.

  Judith took off her lovely clothes. She quickly used half the water in the jug to wash with, and put on her nightgown, one of the new silk ones. She'd never worn silk next to her skin before, and the chill slither of it made her shiver. But it stirred her senses in unexpected ways. Every movement she made seemed to set the cream silk whispering and stroking.