Chapter Seventeen
She woke to delicious warmth, to Gervaise’s naked limbs wrapped around her. Daylight filtered through the tiny cracks in the roof and people moved around the barn, feeding the children and the dogs, and no doubt nursing their own sore heads, for the party had gone on long after she and Gervaise had left them.
Dawn gave herself a moment to bask in his embrace, in the novel sensation of his chest and hips at her back, one arm pinning her in place, his legs curled around hers. She smiled tenderly at the memory of his sweet yet fervent loving. Finally, she had seduced him. Only it felt more as if he had done the seducing, and that was even better, for she could not doubt the depth of his desire for her. Last night, from his astonishing appearance in the camp to the consummation of their wedding, had shown her a whole new side of him that both intrigued and devastated her. He was everything she had ever wanted or could want, and so much more. And she knew in her heart she would never recover from this.
But she would not think of the future, not now. She twisted her head around to see him. His eyes were open and smiling, and he loomed over to kiss her, openmouthed and sensual. Desire seeped into her bones. She pushed lazily against him and gave herself up to a more leisurely loving. And somehow, the conclusion was all the more intense for their efforts at discretion.
According to Aurora and several of the other women, men fell asleep after their marital exertions. Gervaise did not. He held her and kissed her until their heartbeats slowed to something approaching normal. And then he said softly, “What now? How long do you think we can stay here making love?”
“Now, I will fetch you breakfast. And then we may do exactly as we please.”
Under his avid observation, she slid into an old but pretty lilac gown and shawl that Aurora had left for her and descended the ladder into the main part of the barn. A couple of her cousins, weaving baskets near the foot of the ladder, grinned at her and nudged her as she passed, making ribald comments. Smiling tranquilly, Dawn merely walked on. There was no sign of her immediate family.
She found some fresh bread, cooked fish, and small ale and took it all back up to the loft.
“There,” she said as he tucked in with enthusiasm. “I knew you would eat breakfast in the right circumstances.”
“Well, this is certainly more pleasingly intimate than breakfast among my sisters and my mother.”
It had to be asked. “Are they angry with me? With you?”
He shrugged. “Worried about you. And Serena is angry with me. She thinks I drove you away. I’ve been blaming my mother, because that’s much more satisfying, but actually, the fault is mine.”
“There is no fault,” she said hastily, “except in my own misunderstanding. And pride. It is no matter. I’m glad you found me.”
He smiled into her eyes and her stomach dived as it had always done. “So am I.”
She dropped her gaze to her ale. “Will you stay today?”
“If you wish,” he said at once. “But I would rather return for my mother’s wretched dinner party. It will mollify her.”
She was prepared for it, but it still hurt. She would have liked the whole day and another night. But she managed to nod. “Of course.”
He seemed to catch her disappointment, for he took her hand with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. Will you mind leaving your family so soon? If you say the word, I’ll consign the party to the devil, or come back in a couple of days to fetch you.”
She frowned, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t let me be selfish. Tell me what you would rather do. Do you wish to leave today or tomorrow or later?”
She blinked. “Me? You want me to leave?”
“Well, yes,” he said amused. “With me.” He searched her no doubt ludicrously stunned face and kissed her hand. “Dawn,” he said softly. “Did you think I would go alone? We are married.”
Emotion surged, choking her. “Not by your laws. Ezra has saved my honor and left you as free as before.”
“I haven’t been free since the moment I met you.” He cupped her cheek. “Did you really think I rode after you just to seduce you for one night? I had so many things to say to you, things I should have said long since. Things I still haven’t said because I couldn’t get near you yesterday until we were married, and then I couldn’t speak for sheer lust.”
She tried to laugh, but it sounded too much like a sob, so she cut it off and swallowed. She leaned helplessly into his hand and closed her eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered. “And I have every intention of marrying you before whatever law or God I need to. If only you’ll have me.”
“I have had you,” she managed.
He smiled and kissed her lips. “I remember. I have hopes it means you will consent to live with me, too.”
“In Kensington?” she asked doubtfully. Would it be so very bad? After this one night with him, anything would surely be better than never knowing another.
His breath caught. She didn’t know if he was angry or laughing. Perhaps he didn’t know either. “Of course not Kensington. In the castle. In Braithwaite House in London. We’ll get Grant to marry us. Or the Archbishop of Canterbury, I don’t much care, as long as it is done. I want you to be my wife, Dawn. My countess.”
She gripped his wrist so tightly it must have hurt, but he made no effort to withdraw it. “Even if I’m Eleanor, I’m not good enough,” she whispered.
“Is that what my mother said?”
Dawn nodded. “And she’s right, isn’t she?”
“Only according to her lights. None of us except Frances have ever conformed to her will about marriage. Eleanor Gardyn might not be a great match for the Earl of Braithwaite in the eyes of the world, but it is hardly a mésalliance. To be frank, I wouldn’t care if it were. It is you I want. Dawn and Eleanor and any other parts of you I haven’t yet met. You.”
Something like a sob escaped her as he crushed her mouth beneath his, and she clung to him for a long, sweet moment.
“Dawn,” came Aurora’s voice from beyond the screening blanket.
Dawn sat up. “Yes?”
The blanket moved and Aurora’s head poked through. It struck Dawn that she had been listening and didn’t know whether to be annoyed or embarrassed, or simply proud. Aurora glanced from Dawn to Gervaise and then back.
“Come with me,” she said abruptly.
“Why?” Dawn asked, although curiosity got the better of her and she rose to her feet.
“I’ve got something to show you.” Aurora glanced back at Gervaise. “You, too.”
They followed Aurora across the loft to her own tent, where the swaddled baby slept peacefully. He was a good child. They entered carefully, so as not to disturb him, though Aurora seemed unconcerned. She opened the trunk from which she had taken the wedding dress. The trunk which had once been their mother’s, too. She delved deep inside and came up with something wrapped in brown paper and string. She closed the trunk and laid the parcel on the top. Dawn felt unable to look away as her sister untied the string and spread the paper open. Inside lay a tiny child’s gown, heavily embroidered with bright blue, red, and yellow flowers.
Slowly, Dawn reached out and touched it. And she knew. She remembered.
“It was mine,” she whispered. “I wore it in the garden when I met the man. Abe. And he took me away.”
“You were still wearing it when he gave you to us,” Aurora said roughly. “I was seven years old and I remember it clearly.”
“You kept the dress.”
She shrugged. “Ma kept it. When she died, I didn’t have the heart to throw it out. She loved you like you were her own. I hated you for that—sometimes at least—because I knew you weren’t her own. I didn’t always make your life easy, did I, little sister? But somewhere, I always loved you, too.”
Dawn swung on her and hugged her fiercely.
Aurora hugged her back. “I’m giving it to you because it should prove who you are. And I can finally do something that will make your life easier. With him. He might even be worth it.”
“I shall try to be,” Gervaise said quietly.
*
This time, the parting was a happy one. Gervaise did not reveal what bride price he had agreed with Ezra, but it was clearly generous enough to put her adopted father in an excellent mood. He gave her a horse to ride and the whole family came outside to wave them off. The older children ran after them for several yards, calling farewells and good luck messages.
Although it brought a lump to Dawn’s throat, her overwhelming emotion was joy. Never had she expected this outcome when she’d arrived.
They travelled quickly so as to make the castle before dark. But in the slower moments, and when they rested the horses, they talked constantly.
Once, as they let the horses drink from a stream, she found him watching her intently.
She smiled faintly. “What?”
“Did you really think I would leave you after a night or two?”
“It would have given us our liaison with honor.”
He took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. “No, it wouldn’t. And yet still you did it.”
“I would do anything for you,” she said, “I love you.”
Cupping her cheek, he kissed her until the horses grew restive.
“It was not totally selfless,” she admitted as they walked the horses back to the road. “I left you because pride would not let me play second fiddle to your wife. I could not bear to be one of your extra women living in a discreet house in Kensington.”
He blinked. “You make it sound like a harem. I only ever had one mistress set up in such circumstances and our relationship has ended.”
“Why?” she asked curiously. “Did you not love her anymore?”
His smile was twisted. “I didn’t love her enough. Even before I met you, I had come to realize that. My previous passages with lovers of any class have been for fun and they were passionate and affectionate. But never…deep. With you, it is different.”
She hugged his arm to her cheek. “I can’t understand why.”
“If there is a reason, it doesn’t matter.”
“But you might fall out of love with me just as quickly.”
“I might,” he agreed. “But I won’t. And if you fall out of love with me—”
She laughed at the very idea, and he grinned appreciatively before returning to his previous point.
“If you ran away to avoid Kensington, why did you agree to marry me when you were sure I would leave you?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Being without you, I suppose. When I left Blackhaven, it seemed the only solution—oh and I have something to tell you about that—”
“Later,” Gervaise interrupted. “Returning to your family seemed the only solution. What changed?”
She grimaced. “Me. When Jerry came to fetch me from the hut, I heard him outside, and the first thing I thought was that it was you. The disappointment was awful, and the despair…and then when you appeared in the camp…” She swallowed. “I realized I would take anything, whatever crumb you could spare me, because I would need the memory to face the lonely years without you. And because I wanted to make you happy, even if only for a very little.”
Afraid his silence meant he feared for her sanity, she risked a glance at him. He was gazing at her in wonder.
“What did I ever do to inspire such love?” he said huskily.
“Nothing.” She reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You are just you.”
Later, as they galloped across the rugged country, he called, “What was it you were going to tell me about leaving Blackhaven?”
“Oh! Yes, I walked into the town, meaning to talk to Julius Gardyn, only when I got to the hotel, I was no longer convinced it was a good idea.”
“It wasn’t!”
“You’re right. He threw a heavy bowl out of the window at me. If it had hit my head—”
“Dear God.” He pulled on the reins, slowing.
“It didn’t,” she assured him over her shoulder, refusing to slow with him. “It missed me and shattered on the ground.”
He caught up with her again moments later. “Abe is in Blackhaven. We have the dress. It’s time to deal with Gardyn once and for all.”