Chapter Nine
As it turned out, it was another day and a half before Gemma got the tour she had been hoping for. Not that she minded, for she had been quite pleasantly occupied during that time, and she was convinced without any trouble that married life quite suited her.
Or perhaps it was simply her husband.
Lucas had been transformed by their time here already, becoming playful and attentive, smiling and easy and warm. Yet he was still the same man who had courted her, the same one she had married. Now, it seemed, he was… more.
And she was reeling with delight at every revelation and insight into his soul.
He took her around Thornacre eventually, with her incessant prodding, and proved to be a very thorough and well-informed guide. He knew nearly every detail of the house, the restorations, the history, amusing stories… and what he didn’t know, Hardy did. Gemma felt almost like an outsider as she wandered along the grand rooms and halls, afraid to touch anything or behave improperly for fear of being dismissed.
Lucas seemed to know, and did everything in his power to put her at ease.
“I’ll be all right,” she had assured him with a loving pat to his chest. “It will only take some time to adjust. I’ve been living in a far different manner my entire life, and this is all… overwhelming.”
He hadn’t liked that, and invited her to rearrange the sitting room in which they had been in.
She’d tried to demur, saying it was perfectly arranged as it was, but he refused adamantly.
“I don’t want it to be perfect,” he’d informed her. “I want it to be yours. Then it will be perfect.”
That had earned him a sound kiss and a bit of distraction before she’d gone ahead with moving things around.
Since then, she’d been invited to rearrange anything she liked and even refurbish some of the more outdated rooms.
Mrs. Riggle had been pleased with that idea, as she had apparently wished for some updating, and they were to discuss ideas and suggestions whenever her husband decided to let her out of his sight.
It hadn’t happened yet.
But she was not about to complain about that either.
The only thing Gemma was not permitted to change were the gardens, and that was completely out of Lucas’s hands. The head gardener, a Mr. Chase, was fiercely protective of the gardens and grounds, and apparently lorded over them all. Not even his lord and master could exert authority over him where they were concerned. Suggestions were welcome, but could also easily be ignored.
Apparently one got used to this, but it seemed the oddest sort of arrangement.
But as the gardens and grounds were incomparable, no one was willing to argue the point.
Thornacre was perhaps even more magical than she had initially thought, Gemma considered as she wandered some of the house she had not seen yet. There were secrets here, and she was wild to uncover them. While the outside of the house seemed a mystical castle, the interiors were surprisingly modern in their tastes. Some of the details were older and there were some wonderful relics and tributes to years and family members past, but for the most part, it was not unlike other fine country estates she had seen.
Though none were of this caliber and high quality.
That caused a stirring of pride within her, and she glanced over at Lucas to tell him, only to find him staring at the one of the portraits in the gallery in which they were standing.
She followed his gaze to the portrait in question, and it was of a beautiful woman, her eyes and hair as dark as the night, her complexion nearly exotic in coloring. Gemma had never seen anyone as exquisitely arrayed with natural beauty in her entire life. And she bore a curious smile, as if she knew a joke that no one else did.
Lucas was fixated on her, his expression vacant but for the deep furrows between his brows.
Gemma looked between the two, and though she suspected she knew the identity of the woman, she was not at all tempted to ask about it. The look on his face was enough.
She wandered further down the gallery, and found a portrait of a very young Lucas. She knew it was him, as she had seen representations of his brother and the two hardly resembled each other. She smiled at the serious nature of her husband in the painting, even as a child.
She glanced down the gallery at Lucas, and he was still staring at the portrait. Gemma frowned, then laughed, clearing her throat. “Good heavens, Blackmoor, is this you?” she called.
That shook him from his reverie and his expression cleared as he came to her, looking at the painting. He winced, but took her hand and held it close to him. “Yes, unfortunately. Surly child, am I not?”
She laughed, half with relief that he was returned to her and half amusement at his words. “You are darling.”
He snorted, his thumb absently stroking her hand. “Hardly. I look like an old man.”
Gemma turned to face him and took his other hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. “Well, I hope that our sons look just like you,” she murmured, going up on her toes to capture his lips in a gentle, teasing kiss.
He hummed a little and followed her as she lowered herself, kissing her twice more, and taking his time to do so. “I hope all of the children look like you, love,” he replied, with the faintest of third kisses.
She shivered and pulled away just slightly, exhaling dramatically. “I don’t know that I will ever get used to that,” she mused, smiling up at him.
He chuckled and tugged her back until she was flush against him. “I hope not. And yet I hope so. I hope you get used to not being used to it. To me.”
Gemma bit her lip, shaking her head. “You, dear husband, are the best sort of puzzle.”
He quirked his brows and sighed, looking around the room. “Let’s find somewhere else to be. The gallery makes me uneasy.”
She frowned in confusion, but let him pull her away.
Her puzzling husband was certainly allowed his mysteries.
Someday, perhaps, he would trust her with his shadows.
But for now, this was enough.
“Where to?” she asked brightly, holding his arm and playing with their twined fingers. “We’ve seen the entire house, haven’t we?”
He squeezed her hand, unconsciously pleased with her change in subject. “How would the stables do for you? We have some of the finest, and our horses are the best quality. You could ride any of your choice.”
She wrinkled up her nose and clicked her tongue. “I don’t know how to ride.”
He paused and looked down at her in surprise. “You don’t?”
She shook her head, shrugging. “We don’t have a country house, remember? We’ve been in London as long as I can remember, and though I visit Beverton House occasionally and other estates when invited, I’ve never ridden. I always found a reason to avoid it to prevent having to explain myself.”
He looked at her closely, his eyes warm and surprisingly tender. “Would you like to learn?”
She nodded, suddenly shy. “Would you teach me?”
“Of course.” He kissed her nose. “It would be my pleasure. Any excuse to put my hands on your ankles. Or any part of you.”
She barked a laugh and stepped out of his tempting hold. “You are incorrigible. What has come over you?”
He shrugged, smiling easily as they left the gallery. “Perhaps I enjoy being married to you.”
She grinned and allowed him to take her hand again. “I enjoy being married to you as well. Though it’s been less than a week, that’s hardly enough time for anything.”
“I mean to improve with time.” He sobered as they descended the back stairs. “I cannot promise that being married to me will always be like this, Gemma. But I intend to live in this interlude for as long as possible.”
She looked up at him, touched at his soft admission. Despite the brief nature of their courtship and nearly as brief tenure of their acquaintance, she had come to know him better than she’d known another living soul on the earth except for her family. Even then, she felt she knew him better.
He would never have admitted something so emotional before.
And that said a great deal about their relationship.
“So do I,” she murmured. Then she tilted her head at him. “Are you trying to disillusion me already, my lord? Are you not the majestic man I’ve imagined you to be?”
His smile was swift and vanished with the same speed. “No, you must have misunderstood. I intend for you to always see me with a bit of a halo, slightly aglow whenever I enter a room, and in possession of no faults at all.”
She nodded obediently, pretending to think on it. “I shall endeavor to perceive such things all my days, provided I am not blinded by your brilliance. And how shall you see me, my lord?”
He stopped and looked her over with the same intensity and thoroughness that robbed her of sense whenever he employed it. He shook his head.
“What?” she asked softly.
“You are sunlight,” he replied in soft tones. “Loveliness and goodness, as bright as a morning in spring. And my better half by far and away. There is nothing to be disillusioned about there. Only truth.”
She blushed and turned away, pulling on his hand to continue walking. It was not uncommon for him to say extraordinary things like that, but the hearing never got easier. And when they were not in their bedchamber, wrapped in each other’s arms, it was more difficult to hear. There, at least, he might be excused his effusive views of her. Out here in the open, proper and composed, it was too much.
She believed him, absolutely; Lucas was no flatterer and was incapable of exaggeration. He truly meant every lovely and touching thing he said to her. But compliments and such lofty sentiments were a weight on her, and an odd choking sensation accompanied them. Flustered and blushing, she would search for anything to shift topics to something less dangerous and disconcerting.
And Lucas knew it.
“You also are the best bedmate I’ve ever enjoyed,” he added lightly, drawing her hand up to kiss it. “I should have married you ages ago. I am almost faint with anticipation for tonight.”
“Lucas!”
“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” he asked in response. “Very entertaining. You recited poetry last night. It was lovely, particularly when you snored in the middle.”
Inordinately pleased by his lightness, and growing ever more delighted by his teasing, she giggled and leaned against him, letting him lead her wherever he wanted to.
Yes, married life suited her quite well.
It did not take long at all for Gemma to pick up the fundamentals of riding, and even less than that for her to be comfortable upon the horse itself. He had walked beside her as the stable master led the horse around the paddock, and he’d kept his hand on her leg the entire time.
For balance, of course.
He mentally grinned at the blatant lie. He would use any excuse he needed to touch her. He couldn’t help it, any more than he could suddenly smile with ease.
Gemma was turning him into a much younger version of himself, but even that was a stretch, for he had never been like this.
He loved being married to her, though she was right that it was barely enough time for anything, and he knew everything would change with time. But he intended to enjoy this bliss while he could.
He would let the sunlight warm him.
The clouds would return soon enough.
Gemma had finally begged him to ride with her and to venture beyond the paddock, to see more of the estate. He’d had to remind her that she was not in a riding habit, only to be told quite pertly that as she had never ridden before, she did not have a riding habit.
Properly put in his place, he’d had his horse saddled and brought out, and now they rode together, slowly for her pace, but he was content with it.
He could have done without the stable master asking if his injuries were healed enough to ride, considering Gemma had been nearby and heard it, but the man had not pressed when Lucas had nodded in response.
Now they ambled along the property, not far enough to visit tenants, but enough that they could no longer see the house, thanks to the rolling hills and lush countryside.
“Why did Mr. Fletcher ask about injuries?” Gemma finally asked him, having dispensed with her cheery chattering minutes before.
Lucas closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. How was this conversation going to proceed? Did he tell her everything that had transpired from the injuries? Did he tell her nothing?
He could not lie. He would not.
Lies had played enough part in his life without his adding to them.
“Lucas?”
He looked over at his young wife, knowing the moment he saw her face that he would tell her the truth. All of it.
“Seven months ago,” he began, keeping his voice controlled and as easy as he could manage, “I was riding the estate, and riding hard. No reason, just mad and desperate to do something wild. I led my horse through trees and over jumps, growing more and more reckless. Then a neighbor shot a rifle without warning, and the horse threw me at the largest jump. I could have broken my neck, but somehow managed to only injure my back and my leg.”
“Lucas!” Gemma gasped, wide eyed and suddenly raking her gaze over him as if the injuries were fresh.
He smiled tightly, her late concern oddly touching for its uselessness. “I couldn’t move, but I had feeling in all my extremities, so I felt some consolation there. It was only when the horse returned itself to the stables and people came looking that I truly felt the pain, as they had to move me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I had several lacerations that could have been dangerous, had they become infected.”
“Where?” Gemma whimpered, holding her reigns limply.
He gestured to his left side. “Across the back and hip here, and the leg.” He winced in recollection. “I fractured the leg and possibly the hip, and was bedridden for weeks. It was agony. I refused laudanum.”
“Why?” she cried, the thought apparently distressful. “Why would you do that?”
He shook his head, not ready to reveal that much of his dark past. “It makes no difference, but I would not take it. So I was left to endure it without that, and most of the lacerations needed stitching, so there were tugs and pulls and bandages, and…” He shook his head in disgust. “All because I decided to act out against nature and myself. But it led me to some good.”
Gemma gasped and sputtered. “What good? Darling, you must have been in anguish!”
His head swam at hearing her call him ‘darling’, and he sidled up next to her and took her hand carefully. “I am well now, love,” he soothed. “The scars are barely noticeable. I hardly feel anything.”
Her brows snapped together. “Hardly?”
“It does twinge on occasion,” he admitted reluctantly.
She tossed her head and her jaw tightened. “I am seeing to them tonight, no excuses.”
He almost grinned at the thought. “If you insist.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but her lips quirked. “Insolent man. Well, are you able to ride without pain?”
“Not a single twinge,” he assured her. “I can do everything. And anything.”
Her mouth quirked again, and he suddenly had a glimpse of what frustration she must have felt trying to get him to smile. She refused to do so now, and it was maddening.
“Now, tell me what good,” she said primly, her eyes severe. “I don’t believe it.”
He sighed and looked away again. “That experience was what prompted me to think seriously about marriage. I had nearly thrown my life away, and no one would care. The estate would pass to my idiot cousin Lewis, and all would be ruined. I had worked too hard for that, and… I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I needed to marry and have an heir, and soon.”
He didn’t have to look at her to know that she had stiffened in her saddle.
“So that is why you suddenly pursued me right at the start of the Season,” she finally said, her voice as stiff as her posture.
There was really no way around that but to answer. “Yes.”
“I asked you why you wanted to marry me, and you said it was because I am me. Was that true?”
He turned almost fully in the saddle to look at her. “Yes. It was always going to be you, Gemma. I couldn’t… I could not imagine anyone else.”
She watched him with steady eyes, and it frightened him. He’d just borne his soul a little and she had no response?
“But the prompting for it was the desperation for a wife and an heir.” Her tone was clipped, and he swallowed hastily, nodding in response.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well, why didn’t you just tell me that? I am perfectly capable of bearing an heir, why not tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was courting you for your breeding abilities,” he muttered with no small amount of chagrin. His motives were honest, but now they seemed rather… weak.
Gemma snorted softly. “Oh, you fair flatterer. But now I know what is expected, I shall keep you apprised of the situation.”
“Don’t do that,” he insisted, losing some of his patience, but still quite calm. “Don’t pretend this changes things. I am in no rush for an heir. So long as I don’t meet an untimely death, it’s of no real concern as yet.”
Gemma gave him a derisive look. “Every woman knows she must bear her husband a son, Lucas. I’m no mess of distraught tears here. But if you say anything about your untimely death ever again, you may find you meet one at my hands.”
Had his perfect little wife just threatened to kill him? For mentioning his own death? He couldn’t help it, he smiled. “You can’t kill me before there’s an heir.”
Gemma screeched and looked away. “If I could gallop away from you to gather myself, I would do it, Lucas Sinclair! But doing so would make me lose control of the horse, and you would have to save me, and that would be unbearable when I am mad at you.”
He didn’t care, he still smiled. “But I’m smiling, Gemma. Is that not something?”
She sniffed. “It just means that you owe me money. Stop being happy, I’m not speaking to you until we get home.”
His heart tightened at the word ‘home’ and he had the mad desire to sweep his wife onto his horse and show her just how much it meant, but she was mad at him, for now, and it would not help his cause.
But the rest of the silent ride back to the house, he smiled to himself.
And when they returned to the stables, and once again entered the house, he ignored protocol and propriety and tossed his wife over his shoulder, ignoring her protesting and squawking.
By the time they reached the bedchamber and he had closed the door behind him, she was laughing breathlessly and had stopped pummeling him. He tossed her easily onto the bed, then crawled up after her, sliding his fingers between hers as he loomed over her.
“What is my balance so far today, Lady Blackmoor?” he asked, nudging his nose against hers.
“Oh, it’s exorbitant,” she informed him, her tone cool, but teasing. “You smiled the entire ride home, you offended your wife, you laughed on the stairs… You’re being careless, and it would take me hours to calculate it properly.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips along hers, smiling at the faint gasp.
“Well,” he murmured, “let’s see if I can bring the balance to a more reasonable level, shall we?”
Gemma grinned unabashedly and raised her chin. “Well, you may try.”
He grinned in return, and proceeded to kiss his wife most thoroughly.
And try he did.