Desiring Lady Caro (7 page)

Huntley gave one to Everard. “I assume you will go to the embassy in Venice. Please have this sent by courier to my father. I’ve included a note about my wedding.”

Everard patted Huntley on the back. “You can be sure I will. I know how difficult Huntingdon can be, and I’ll write him a stern missive as well, telling him he must abide by your decision. Indeed, I can see no reason why he should not. It is not as if the match is a
misalliance
.”

The wedding ceremony was short. Huntley held Caro’s trembling hands in his.

“Church law requires a ring,” Everard said. “This”—he held up a wide gold band with a large opal in the center—“shall be my bride present to you, but if you don’t like it, my dear, Huntley can get you another later.”

Caro recited her vows but could not bring herself to glance at Huntley. Everard handed Huntley the ring, and he slid it onto her finger. It fit her perfectly. Caro stared at her hand. The ring was indeed beautiful. Just the kind of thing she’d wanted before . . . well . . . before she decided not to marry.

Forcing herself to respond politely, Caro took Everard’s hand. “Thank you, it is lovely.”

“I am sorry, my dear child,” he said in a voice full of sympathy. “Make it work. It would be a great tragedy if you did not.”

Tears burned her eyes again, and she blinked them back. She wouldn’t weep again. It was unworthy of her and Huntley. Suddenly, her chest contracted as if she’d been hit.
Married
. Huntley, her husband, was talking to the bishop about the letters for their families. Nugent and Maufe were making everything ready to leave. They were all acting so normal, as if nothing unusual had occurred. Her head swam and she grabbed onto a chair to keep from falling.

How could this have happened? Worst of all, she’d had to tell Huntley she was not an innocent. He’d said he didn’t care, but he would, and he’d come to hate her for this marriage. She had to think, but her mind was jumbled. Someone helped her into the chair and pressed a glass into her hand.

“Drink this.” Huntley kept a grip on the glass and helped her take a sip. “You’ve had a shockingly bad day.”

She wanted to laugh like a lunatic or a drunken person. What an understatement. She wasn’t the only one who’d had a
shockingly bad day
. Opening her eyes, Caro stared at him. Lines of concern etched his strong, aristocratic face. He was doing everything, taking care of everyone, while she fell apart.

It was Huntley, not her, who’d remembered the marriage settlements, insuring she’d have some degree of freedom. Caro wanted to do something to show him she was not a weak woman, but a wave of despair washed over her again, and she struggled to hold back her tears. A watering pot of a wife—not a great compliment to him, considering what he had given up for her. Someday she’d find a way to repay him.

A maid brought refreshments, and Nugent, once more, pressed a cold, damp cloth on her eyes. It was important none of the other guests see Caro had been crying. Their hour’s respite had turned into three.

“Caro, we won’t get as far as we’d wished,” Huntley said. “Do you have any objection to allowing Maufe to leave and choose the next inn?”

She shook her head. “None at all.”

“Thank you, my lady.” The valet bowed and left the room.

Dalle knocked on the door. “My lady, we’re ready when you are.”

Taking a breath, she answered, “I am ready now.”

Huntley helped her rise, and she plastered a smile on her face as they walked to the coach. He had apparently abandoned his plans to ride and joined her and Nugent in the coach. As before, he took the seat facing the rear of the coach. Caro pretended to doze for a while but decided that was the coward’s way out, and she’d taken that road enough lately. Still, she could do nothing but gaze out at the old stone homes and terraced gardens. Mountains rose on either side of them as they sped on their way north into the Alps. She supposed she and Huntley, her husband, needed to discuss how they would go on, but with Nugent present, any conversation would have to wait.

Caro glanced at him, but he appeared to be sleeping. Would he ever truly understand why she could never allow him to touch her? No good could come of this marriage. Desolation overcame her again, and she closed her eyes.

Later, Caro woke sharply as Huntley tried to stretch and his foot hit hers, but really there was no place for his legs to go. Why had she not noticed before how much room he took up?

He pulled his leg back. “Sorry, I should have had the coach made a bit larger.”

Of course, when he’d ordered it, he would not have imagined he’d have two women with him. Caro was a little surprised his presence in the close space didn’t bother her more. “It’s no trouble.”

They pulled into the yard of a posting house. Their coachman yelled an order for a new team, and Huntley jumped out during the few minutes it would take the inn’s ostlers to hitch them up. This was the third change they’d made since leaving Verona.

Fortunately, unlike yesterday, they’d not had to wait for fresh horses. She closed her eyes again before he got back into the coach.

Next to her, Nugent shifted in her seat and sat up straight, as if she was ready to take some sort of action. If Caro chanced a look, she knew she would see her dresser’s eyes staring, fixed on something as she made a decision.

Huntley must have noticed it as well. His tone indicated his curiosity. “Yes?”

“She wasn’t always like this,” her maid said.

Caro forced herself to relax and listen.

Boots scraped the floor. He must be leaning forward, probably determined to learn more about her. Now that she and Huntley were wed, Caro supposed she should have expected that. Luckily, Nugent was circumspect.

“So I’d gathered,” Huntley replied. “Will you tell me what exactly happened?”

Oh God
. Nugent couldn’t tell him. She’d promised.

Caro’s dresser replied in a vague manner, “I think you’ve figured that out.”

“I’ve got a good notion, but I don’t know how it came about.”

For a few moments they stopped talking, and Caro’s skin prickled as if she was under scrutiny, then the feeling left her.

“That large building over there,” her maid asked, “what is it?”

Finally, Caro couldn’t stand it. Cracking open her eyes, she saw

Huntley glance out at a huge gray stone building with a wall that seemed to be built into the side of the mountain. “It appears to be a monastery.”

Nugent nodded. “All men.”

Caro wondered where their conversation was going.

“Yes, no women allowed,” Huntley said. “Not much of an existence, unless you’re pious.”

Nugent turned to him. “I heard tell that they castrate the monks.”

Huntley choked. “I really don’t know. Why would they?”

Caro didn’t know a lot about monks, but she knew they didn’t do that.

Nugent shrugged. “To keep them from getting on each other.”

“You have a point,” he replied slowly. “Men have done stranger things. Does this have anything to do with Caro?”

Her maid sniffed. “Fitting punishment for those who hurt innocent girls.”

Caro wished she could kick Nugent. What did she think she was doing?

Huntley was quiet for a few minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard and angry. “I have thought for a long time that the punishment for rape is too lenient. When I was seventeen, home for half-term break, I found our tweenie, Ruth, crying in the garden. Her gown was torn and her hair half down. She was from the village, and I’d known her for years. Yet she recoiled from me and started to scream when I reached down to help her.”

Nugent went very still.

“I called the housekeeper to assist. But she wasn’t any help at all. She took Ruth back to the house, had her cleaned up, and then blamed Ruth for what had happened. My mother intervened, but in the end Ruth killed herself.”

Nugent cleared her throat. “Did you ever find out who did it?”

Huntley ground his teeth. “Yes, but not until a year later. I was attending a party at a neighboring estate, and one of the guests told another gentleman what a good time he’d had a year ago with a girl named Ruth.”

“I guess, under the circumstance, there wasn’t much you could do.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I picked a fight with him and punched the blackguard in the nose. He struck back but couldn’t get beneath my guard. The man was older, but I was heavier and stronger.” His hand clenched. “By the time they pulled me off him, I’d blackened both his eyes and broken his nose. I tried to get him to call me out, but the coward wouldn’t meet me.”

Nugent nodded in that brisk way she had when she approved of one.

Caro closed her eyes again before anyone noticed she was awake. Huntley really wouldn’t harm her. Not when he still had so much anger for a tweenie who had died over fifteen years ago. She’d never had a gentleman protector. Caro allowed herself to relax.

They changed teams twice more. The sun was sinking lower into the mountains when they slowed to a stop. Dalle jerked open the door.

Huntley climbed down and turned to hand Caro out of the coach. “My lady.”

Caro allowed him to take her hand and place it on his arm. He turned to his valet. “Maufe, what are the arrangements?”

Maufe bowed to Caro. “Her ladyship and Miss Nugent have rooms down the corridor, overlooking the meadow at the back. Our chambers are near the stairs.”

“Perfect. Caro?”

She smiled wanly at Maufe. “Yes, I quite agree.”

Huntley led her into the inn and stopped at the stairs. “I’ll meet you for dinner. Send word when you’ll be down.”

Caro put one foot on the bottom tread. “I shan’t be long.”

Once she’d splashed water on her face and washed her hands, Caro descended to the tap. Only Huntley, Dalle, and Collins were there, all three drinking ale from the looks of the tall tankards. She hovered by the door, trying to decide whether to enter.

“My lady, please join us.” Huntley rose and held a chair for her, his countenance grim. “We are reviewing the routes from here to Nancy.”

She accepted the glass of red wine that a servant set before her. “Is there a problem?”

Huntley sat. “We are past mid-October. The Brenner Pass and other roads should be clear for another few weeks. My main concern is that we reach the other side of the pass before it snows.”

Dalle set his stein down. “My lord, do ye think that marchese will come after us again?”

“I don’t know.” Huntley took a long draught. “If he’s thinking straight, he won’t, but he doesn’t appear to be the most rational being.”

Collins leaned over and looked from Caro to Huntley. “We hid the coaches. I reckon we’d better stay closer together now.”

Huntley finished his beer, looking tired. The thought occurred to Caro that this was their wedding night, and he was voluntarily sleeping alone. When she’d mentioned it earlier, he shrugged it off. But what man could wait forever? How long would it be before he stopped being a monk and took her or another woman? Yet what right would she have to complain when she couldn’t bring herself to let him touch her?

H
untley finished his ale and held out his hand to Caro. “Let’s go for a short walk until we have to change for dinner. There is a garden to the side of the building.”

Perhaps now they’d talk of their marriage. Caro placed her hand on his arm. “A stroll is just what I need.”

He led her out the front door and around to the hotel’s walled kitchen garden. Vegetables grew with herbs whose scents wrapped around her. It reminded her of home in England. Paths separated the beds and a bench stood next to the back wall. “Should we speak now?”

“About us?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “How we will go on.”

He glanced at her. “It has been a . . . difficult day. I would prefer we each take time to consider. Once you are out of danger, we will make plans.”

Caro searched his face and could see nothing but sincerity. If di Venier was to be believed, Huntley was also in peril, and he would need to concentrate on their journey. Maybe it was best for both of them to wait. “If you wish.”

Huntley smiled. “I do. Right now, I’d like to enjoy a peaceful evening.”

They strolled and looked at the plants and herbs still thriving in the walled garden before making their way back to the inn. He covered her fingers, briefly, with his. She hoped he would not expect more of her than she could give.

He escorted her to her chamber. “Dinner in an hour?”

Caro had trouble meeting his gaze, afraid he would want her or be angry that he would spend their wedding night alone. But when she raised her eyes, only a smile lurked in his. “I’ll meet you then.”

“I shall do myself the honor of escorting you.”

She nodded. “Very well.”

He reached around her and knocked on the door. Her dresser opened it. He bowed. “Until then, my lady.”

Caro sat on a hard wooden chair that she’d moved next to the window. They were still in the foothills of the Alps, and yet the mountains rose almost straight up from the valley floor. Rows of houses abutted the base, as if they had nowhere else to go, just like her.

Countless women, she was sure, would give their teeth to be the Countess of Huntley, the future Marchioness of Huntingdon, yet it had been forced upon her. Caro couldn’t think ahead even to the dinner she would share with Huntley this evening, much less to the rest of their journey, or their lives.

The snapping of Nugent shaking out a lustring silk gown drew Caro’s attention away from the houses. “Yes, Nugent?”

Her dresser hung the gown on a peg, then took out a pretty paisley shawl and placed it on the bed. “I didn’t say anything,
but
if I was to do so, I’d say you could’ve done worse than to marry his lordship.”

Caro turned back to the view and gazed up to the top of the hills.

The door to the wardrobe closed. When she didn’t turn, Nugent came to stand next to Caro. “Did you hear what he said to me today?”

She sighed. “Yes. I only dozed some of the way.”

She and her dresser had been together so long, she didn’t even have to turn to know Nugent’s face had a disapproving look on it.

Her dresser put a hand on Caro’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Let’s have less of this moping and sighing and a little more starch from you, my lady. You’re made of sterner stuff.”

Caro took a breath and stood. “It’s time I dress for dinner.”

Yet when she saw the apricot silk gown Nugent held out, Caro raised a brow. “Don’t you think that is a little daring for dinner at an inn?”

“It’s your wedding dinner.” Nugent sniffed. “You should wear something nice.”

Caro didn’t want to argue. She’d just have to pin her shawl together to hide the low bodice. Even though Huntley was her husband, it wouldn’t do to give him ideas that were unlikely to be fulfilled.

By the time she was ready, her hair had been dressed in a loose knot from which Nugent had teased out long tendrils. A necklace of perfectly matched pearls was looped around Caro’s neck, and matching earrings dangled on gold wires. She frowned at her reflection, unsure what Huntley would see, then turned away. Perhaps if she were not pretty,
the rape
wouldn’t have happened. She shoved the thought back into the recesses of her memory. She had no intention of ever discussing the attack with anyone, her husband included.

A knock came at the door, and she rose. Huntley stood in the corridor, waiting. She curtseyed. “Good evening, my lord.”

His eyes widened, he smiled and bowed. “You look charmingly, my lady. May I escort you to the parlor?”

Caro forced herself to smile. “I’d be delighted.”

So far, they were both playing their parts—polite indifference. Except that she did think she looked well, and it was nice to be with a gentleman and not have to worry about him trying to do anything she did not want.

When they entered the parlor—a pretty room on the same floor as their chambers, with a balcony overlooking the river—Huntley led her to the table. Dishes with various foods were under covers on a sideboard. That was strange. “Why do they have all the dishes out?”

He pushed in her chair after she sat, and took his place across the small table. “With the exception of the pasta, which I was assured must be served fresh, I thought a selection of the region’s foods might be nice. After the soup and the pasta, do you mind if we serve ourselves, or would you rather Maufe serve us?”

“I’ve no objection to serving myself. It will be a little like breakfast.”

Huntley signaled the servant, and the potage of vegetables with rice was served. The pasta consisted of small dumplings stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese. Once the dishes were removed and fresh plates brought, Caro and Huntley looked over the other dishes, which included vegetables, fish, and meats.

Caro discovered that what Huntley meant when he said they would serve themselves, was that she would make her selections and he would place them on her plate. He hovered closely, offering suggestions, helping her identify some dish or another and bravely testing a suspicious-looking item before offering it to her.

The rest of the tension in Caro’s shoulders eased. She, Huntley, and their servants were safe, at least for the time being, and he was doing his best to entertain her. For the first time in days, she laughed. “How did you come up with this idea, or was it Maufe?”

He looked down his aquiline nose at her, as if affronted. “It was my suggestion, of course. I enjoy trying new foods, and the cook had so many to offer, I decided we’d sample as many as possible.”

As if neither of them was ready to discuss what had occurred earlier to-day, their conversation centered mainly around what they were eating. This dinner had been a good idea, and Huntley was proving to be easy to get along with, so far. When Caro had finished eating, she placed her serviette on the table and started to rise. “I have enjoyed myself very much, my lord. Thank you.”

He glanced at her. “You do not want to leave so soon. There is a special dessert.”

She stared at him. What could he have in mind? Surely he couldn’t be expecting them to... “Indeed, and what might that be?”

His eyes danced, not in a seductive manner, but playfully. “Chocolate tiramisu.”

She plopped back in her chair. “I
love
chocolate.”

Huntley grinned. So he’d been told. Earlier, he’d done his research and discovered from Nugent that Caro was much addicted to chocolate. When the inn’s cook recommended chocolate tiramisu for dessert, he’d not hesitated ordering it. Perhaps, once they were settled, he’d write a gentleman’s guide to keeping one’s wife happy with chocolate.

After the dessert was served, he sat back, extremely pleased with himself, and watched Caro’s small pink tongue lick the last of the chocolate and cream off her spoon. When she glanced up and smiled at him, every muscle in his body tightened, and his increasing desire for her coursed through his veins.
The devil
, this was not a good thing to happen now. First, he needed to ensure she was safe and spend time courting her.

She gave a sigh. “Thank you again. That was lovely.” A few minutes later, she rose again. “I think I shall retire. We do have an early day to-morrow.”

He stood. “I’ll escort you to your room.”

Caro waved him back down. “Really, there’s no need. You stay and have your port.”

Huntley came around the table. “It is my pleasure.” He did his best to look innocent as he searched her face for any sign she was softening toward him. “Please?”

She glanced up, peeping uncertainly through her long, curling lashes, apparently still shy of him and their situation. He knew it would take her time, and he was willing to give it to her. After all, they only had the rest of their lives.

“Very well.”

He opened the door and stood back to allow her to pass before joining her and placing her hand on his arm. “Do you mind if we break our fast at six o’clock?”

“Not at all. When do you wish to leave?”

They strolled down the corridor. “As soon thereafter as possible. If you agree, I’d like to continue to stop in smaller towns, where we are less likely to meet other travelers.”

Caro turned to him, and the fear he was determined to vanquish crept into her eyes. “Do you think he’ll follow?”

He stopped at her door and knocked. “I don’t know. We’d be wise to assume he will. Better safe than sorry, but try not to worry.”

She nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you again for dinner. I had a lovely time.”

When Nugent opened the door, Caro turned and entered her chamber.

He stood for a few moments staring at the door, wondering when he’d finally be allowed in her bed. He sighed and ambled slowly back to the parlor, where he poured a glass of local red wine—port would only give him a bad head in the morning. The lack of sleep and events of the day were finally catching up with him. The thought occurred that this was his wedding night, and he wouldn’t be spending it with his wife.

He shrugged it off. Perhaps he was too optimistic, but there was always hope that somehow they’d work it out. The only thing he knew right now was that he’d not dishonor her by taking another woman.

He could take small steps to convince Caro to be a real wife to him and protect her at the same time. To-night was the warmest she’d ever been toward him, and he wanted it to continue. Yet if he went even a little too quickly, she would draw back like a scared animal in fear for its life. He wondered if they could ever grow to love one another. Strange how he looked forward to having a real marriage when he’d been so set against it only a few months earlier. This must be what Beaumont and Rutherford had gone through for their wives.

Huntley sipped his wine. It would be largely up to him whether they did or not make it work. He must craft a plan to woo her: feeding her, which included finding chocolate, keeping her busy and engaged, and showing her how safe he could make her feel. He’d not take any steps toward physical intimacy until she was ready, but little by little, he would convince her to be a wife and make her his, body and mind. By the time they got to Nancy, she would be his countess and his lover.

Movement on the street below caused him to look down. A man on horseback stopped and spoke with their coachman, Raphael. Once Raphael stepped back from the horse, the man turned around and cantered back in the direction he’d come. The marchese must be closer behind them than Huntley had thought.

He started for the door when it opened, admitting Collins and Dalle, with identical looks of worry mixed with humor.

Huntley motioned them in and shut the door. “Was he looking for her ladyship?”

Dalle bowed. “Yes, my lord. Raphael told him he saw a fair-haired woman and a man in one of the towns we passed early this afternoon. It’ll take him a good long time to chase that hare.”

The rider would need to find a place to stay this evening and have a look around before returning here to-morrow. By then, his little party would be well on their way north. “Dalle, ask her ladyship to join me. Collins, I need the map.”

A few minutes later, Caro entered the room dressed in a morning gown. A frown marred her lovely countenance. “Dalle told me about the marchese’s man.”

Huntley spread the map out and put his finger down on the town of Ala. “This is where we are. If we change every time the horses tire, we could make forty or fifty miles a day on a good road. But we’re going uphill, and it’s going to get steeper the farther north we go. I suggest that to-morrow we try for Bolzano, and if we make it that far, spend the night in Frangarto. It’s off the main road by a few miles.”

Caro leaned over the chart. She was close enough he could smell her light, lemony scent, mixed with chocolate. He breathed in and was distracted by the thought of running his tongue over her ear and down her neck to her . . . Good God, the woman was temptation incarnate.

“We’ll have to leave even earlier than we’d anticipated,” she said.

He bent over her, lightly caging Caro in his arms. “To ensure we make it, yes.”

Rather than moving away as he thought she would, she measured off the miles with her fingers. “See here, if we stay in Frangarto to-morrow night, we might be able to reach Vipiteno or Brennero the next night. Though I don’t think we want to cross the pass in the evening.”

Exactly what he’d been thinking, when he wasn’t engrossed in her. Nothing could convince him to start across the pass after noon. “I agree.”

He straightened when Caro started to stand. Little by little he was making progress. Her hair was pulled back into one long, thick braid; tiny curls escaped around her face, and he longed to caress the wispy ones on her neck.

She glanced at him with a strange look on her face, as if she didn’t quite know what he was thinking. All things considered, that was a damn good thing.

“Well then, my lord”—Caro’s brows came together just the slightest bit—“I shall see you in the morning. If you will let Dalle and Raphael know our plans?”