Chapter 8

CHAPTER8

“Let’s see something else.”

Daniel had to change the subject at once. Something in Rachel’s words had taken him back to the battlefield. She had barely spoken of it at all, yet he had seen himself in that battlefield with a blood-splattered uniform and a musket in his hands. He had heard men’s screams, seen them dying, and his heart had squeezed painfully in his chest.

Clearing his throat, he strode out of the room, aware that Rachel hurried so fast behind him that she practically ran to keep up with him. He took her from the new part of the house to the old, into the vast great hall, which was now rarely used.

On one side of the room was a fireplace that was hardly ever lit, the great stone engraved with the year 1660, when the house had been given to the Dukes of Elbridge. On the redbrick and white plastered walls, there was a myriad of weapons fixed in place. Some were medieval, with shining armor and great helms gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. There were more modern weapons too, with a wall full of muskets, pistols and rapiers.

“Good Lord,” Rachel gasped as she followed him into the room. “This is quite a collection.”

“The work of many dukes, not just my own collection.” He glanced at the guns he had mostly amassed, his gaze lingering on one pistol that had kept him company for years during the war, then he looked away, unable to bear the sight of it. “I don’t come in here very often.”

“Because of the war—”

“Because it’s an old and cold part of the house,” he said hurriedly, well aware that he had cut her off. He smiled apologetically, though she still raised an eyebrow at him.

“You are tart today. Do you treat all your guests with the same curtness as you show them around your home?” she asked, stepping past him and moving to the weapons.

She came so near that he was captivated by her scent. It lingered around him, the fragrance of honeysuckle and oranges. He turned to follow her, finding he chased after her as she reached the wall.

“I never show anyone around the estate these days. You are the only one.”

His words had her eyes flicking back to him. That unusual beauty struck him again. She was not like a fine classical painting, but infinitely more real and more tantalizing to look at. His hand nearly lifted and pushed back a lock of her honey-brown hair, but he managed to restrain himself.

“Lucky me,” she teased. “So, your tart manner is my privilege?” She smiled, showing she was up to mischief.

“Perhaps.” He stepped closer toward her. “I will admit, you have a habit of drawing it out of me.”

“Ha! Then I am even luckier than I thought,” she returned, lowering her voice to a whisper, and he leaned even nearer toward her to hear every word. “It is a grand room. If you find it too cold, you should light the fire more.”

“I… cannot.”

“You may not have the skill, but that’s what you have skilled maids for.”

He laughed suddenly at her wit, for he had not expected it.

“There.” She flicked her fingers at him.

“There, what?” he asked, controlling his laughter as he walked around her, feigning interest in some of the weaponry on the walls.

“That laugh.” She followed him, stopping at his side as they stared at an old suit of armor. “That is the kind of laugh I have heard, but rarely from you.”

“I am capable of good humor; it just doesn’t always come to the surface. Your jokes certainly help,” he said in a low voice, then angled his head as he looked at the armor, wondering what it would have been like to go into battle wearing such a thing.

It struck him that these days, men wore uniforms. They did not wear armor.

Perhaps generals are happy to use us as cannon fodder. They do not even bother to give us such protection…

“Then I shall have to keep making jokes in order to see you laugh,” she said, walking around him.

She moved so close that his attention was snapped away from the armor. That scent lingered again, enveloping him enticingly.

She stopped on his other side and leaned forward, looking at the suit of armor. “Now, if I’d had access to all of this, protecting my sisters might have been an easier job, indeed.”

“Do you see yourself as their knight in shining armor?” he teased her and reached forward, taking hold of an ancient broadsword and lifting it from its place on the wall.

“What other position does an elder sister have? If I had such weapons, I would have guarded the door with them. Here, let me.”

She reached out her hands to take the broadsword. He raised an eyebrow, knowing the difficulty she would have even before she took it.

“It’s quite heavy.”

“I’ll manage it,” she assured him.

“I’m not so sure.”

“Ye of little faith.” She rolled her eyes at him. “May I try, please?”

He lifted the sword from the wall, swung it through the air once, secretly hoping to impress her. When her lips flickered into another smile, he stood a little taller, then put the sword into her hands.

She tried to hold it with one hand, but it nearly toppled her over. The heavy blade fell down to the flagstone floor with a heavy clang.

“God have mercy!” she cried and tried to lift it with two hands. “How is anyone supposed to fight with this? You might as well take a fallen tree into battle as a lance.”

Daniel laughed. Every time he came into this room, there were unpleasant memories, recollections of the war that bubbled to the surface. Somehow, Rachel had put a new spin on this place.

“I did try to warn you.”

“Oomph.” She lifted the sword with two hands, the vast weapon seeming to dwarf her tall figure. “Did you ever fight with something like this?”

“Never. It’s an old broadsword from the fourteenth century.” At his words, her eyes widened. “Yes, so don’t drop it again,” he added playfully.

“You better take it back.”

She tottered forward on her feet and passed it into his hands. He took it from her easily, yet he was distracted. His eyes had been drawn to her tall figure as she had struggled with the weight of the sword. Her slim curves were so enticing, his mouth grew dry just by staring at them.

“Daniel?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “You seemed rather distracted.”

“Perhaps I was.”

“Why?”

“You should not ask me why.” His voice deepened as he returned the broadsword to the wall. “If we are to keep this to a marriage of convenience, it is best I do not answer that question.” He glanced at her briefly, noting the way her eyebrows shot up, and she looked down at her own figure as if trying to see what he had seen. “Now, if you wish for a weapon that is easier to wield, might I suggest this one?”

He moved to the wall full of fencing swords and lifted a thin rapier. He swung it through the air so that it whipped audibly, then passed it to her. She took it easily in one hand and lifted the blade.

“Heavens,” she murmured breathily. “It is lightweight yet… lethal.”

“That it is.” Daniel braced himself against the memories of being on the battlefield, but they didn’t come. Instead, he saw only Rachel as she stood there with the sword admiring it.

“Very well, what do I do then?” she asked and stepped back, holding out the sword.

“I beg your pardon?”

“How do I use it?” she said simply. “I imagine there is no greater instructor than a soldier.” She held the sword out to him. “What do I do, Daniel?”

“You wish me to teach you? Now, that is an equally bad idea.” He stepped forward so that the sword was near the middle of his chest.

“Why is that?” She raised a single eyebrow. It accentuated her statuesque features.

He imagined disarming her, knocking the sword to the floor with ease and wrapping an arm around her waist, drawing her in for a kiss. That would certainly startle her and end their talk about weapons.

Ah, do it!

Yet, he didn’t listen to that voice.

“Because if I am to teach you, we might end up entangled,” he replied instead, watching as her cheeks turned crimson. “I might like that idea, Rachel, but you married me only because you were forced to do so. I won’t be pushing us any closer than you wish me to.”

Yet, she didn’t object. She said nothing and only blushed further.

“No objection?” he asked, noticing her silence. When she chewed on her bottom lip, he lost all control.

As he stepped forward, she stepped back with the sword but was far too slow. He disarmed her easily, knocking the blade away with his hand, then reaching for her hand and taking the sword away from her entirely. It clattered to the floor between them, and he stepped over it, moving toward her. She backed up all the way, then collided with the wall. The different metal weapons clattered against the wall at the collision.

He stopped in front of her, his hands reaching to the wall on either side of her body. They were so close, their bodies within an inch of each other that he could have kissed her. He could have done much more than that. He could have pressed kisses to her neck and chest, maybe even reached for her gown and teased her by lifting the silk past her thighs.

Would she gasp and moan his name breathily? Already, the way she said his Christian name was intoxicating to him. This waking dream of her hardly helped matters!

“Daniel,” she breathed.

His face was so near hers that their lips were a mere hair’s breadth apart. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, reflecting the same thing he was feeling.

Temptation…

He could tell at once she was not immune to him. It was the same as that night in the garden. The nearness, the excitement, the discussion that had somehow ended up with a tension that lingered in the air.

Yet, he didn’t kiss her. He sighed instead and pushed himself an inch away from her, so his arms were outstretched on either side of her. She raised her eyebrows, then smiled.

“I do not imagine you disarmed all of your opponents in the war in this way.”

He chuckled again.

How does she have this effect on me?

Where he was usually stoic and lost to other thoughts, she could reach through the darkness and pull a laugh out of him, could make him find humor in moments that hadn’t seemed amusing to him before.

She knows so little of me, yet she can already do this.

“No, this is the first time I’ve ever disarmed someone in this way.” He backed up from her, releasing the wall.

The further he moved away from her, the more tempted he was to close the distance between them again and take her in his arms. She may have retreated to the wall, but she’d made no effort to stop him.

Perhaps she wants it too.

Distracted, he picked up the rapier from the floor and returned it to its place on the wall, trying not to glance back at her in case his resolve wavered. He couldn’t bed his wife, he knew that. It would mean breaking the one true vow he had made in life.

There can never be any children. I cannot even risk it.

“Well, that was quite the first lesson.”

Her words captivated him. He tried to fight a smile but lost the battle, and he turned to face her again. She still hadn’t moved from her position against the wall. The tempting picture of her made his imagination run wild. He thought of taking her against that wall, watching as her hands curled against the lower mahogany panels, as she writhed in pleasure.

Stop it!

He turned away.

“Perhaps you could give me another lesson sometime?” she called to him as he walked across the room.

“Maybe some time.” He would have to be careful not to get so close to her again. “I think I have now shown you most of the house. It is strange.” He paused, thinking of the one thing that had been missing in the house.

“What is?” she asked, crossing the room and catching up with him.

He opened the door and ushered her out. They stepped out of the great hall and into the main corridor of the house.

“I did not see Anne this morning.” He looked back and forth, expecting his sister to appear from one of the doorways and step into the corridor. “I would have liked the opportunity to introduce you both properly.”

“Ah.” Rachel stopped walking.

He turned to face her, intrigued by the sudden change in her manner. There was no longer the pleasant blush he liked, nor did she chew on her lip nervously. She fidgeted instead, wringing her hands in front of her.

“I fear she is avoiding me,” she whispered in a low voice.

“I know you said last night there had been a discussion between you, but I’m sure all can be easily mended.”

His eyes fell on the door to his study, and he moved to open it, striding inside. He thought Rachel would not follow him in. After all, neither Anne nor his aunt had ever come here, for they preferred to stay away from his business matters. Only Mrs. Brooks ever came in, and she never looked at his papers.

Rachel followed him in as if it wasn’t even an obstacle to her. His eyes widened, but she didn’t appear to notice. Instead, she took a double glance, shifting back to look at the painting of a battlefield on the wall.

“What is that?” she asked, gesturing toward the painting.

“An artist’s impression of the British Civil War,” he answered her distractedly and walked away from her, moving to his desk and sitting behind it. He saw the desk as his shield, something to keep him safe from temptation, as a physical barrier.

“A strange thing to keep.” She wrinkled her nose at the painting. “So much blood…”

Daniel’s eyes flicked back toward the painting. Reluctantly, he nodded. He often wondered if the artist had actually fought in that war, for the painting seemed to be an accurate depiction of what battle was like. It was just that grubby and underhanded, with some men stabbing each other in the back and others pleading for their lives with little hope.

“It’s a miserable painting,” she said curtly.

Daniel couldn’t deny it. He shook his head and reached for his papers instead, dismayed that she had seen one of his secrets.

This room is my own. What is in here is my secret. I didn’t think she’d follow me in.

“I shall introduce you to Anne again later. Perhaps she has not risen yet.”

“She will not like me, Daniel.” Rachel turned from the painting and crossed the small study. When she saw the papers on the desk, her eyes lingered on them. He covered the papers with his arm, feeling somewhat protective of all the things on his desk. “She made it abundantly clear last night what she thought of me.”

“You said that she thought you had tricked me into marriage.”

“It was a strong reaction.” She nodded slowly, clearly deep in thought. “I do not think you attempting to broker peace between us will work.”

“God’s wounds, her reaction must have been extreme for you to be so certain.” He adjusted his papers, making it clear now he had to work, but Rachel still didn’t move. She stood on the other side of his desk, fidgeting constantly. “Rachel, this is your home now, you can do with it whatever you like. Make the most of it and enjoy your day.”

She nodded yet said nothing, then looked down at his papers again.

There is something more here, something she is not saying.

“What’s wrong?”

“It is nothing.” She looked up and shrugged. “Thank you for the offer to help with your sister, Daniel, but do not have hope where there is none. I have a sister of my own who resents me at present.” She chewed on her lower lip in frustration. “I know such feelings are not easy to change.”

“You worry about your sister, Rachel, and I’ll worry about mine.” Daniel could see he’d made little difference. For some reason, seeing his wife sad made his heart ache. He stood from his seat and leaned across the desk, capturing her gaze with his own. “You have lost that happiness you had minutes ago. Do I need to take you back to the great hall and try out more weapons with you just to see you smile?”

“It’s not a bad idea.” The way she blushed told him all he needed to know.

She is thinking of that near kiss too.

“Another time, perhaps.” At his words, her smile faded. “Fear not about Anne, I shall talk to her.”

“What will you say?”

“I do not know yet, but there is no need to worry. I will settle her anger.”

At that moment though, Daniel wasn’t sure how he was going to achieve such a thing.