Chapter Eighteen
Alone in the inn’s coffee room, Javan wished he had never agreed to escort Caroline’s family. By four o’clock, they still had not arrived at the Rose and Thistle. It would be too late to start out now, especially with the child. He almost went alone, for his need to see Caroline all but overwhelmed him. However, being a man of his word, he resolved to leave it until evening and then send over a note to the effect that he would leave at first light, with or without them.
The matter was no sooner decided than he heard the rumble of a vehicle entering the inn yard. Rising to his feet, he walked to the window.
Not one carriage, but two were crossing the yard. Moreover, the first was only too familiar and driven by Williams, who jumped down as soon as the horses came to a standstill. Leaving them to the ostlers hurrying toward them, he opened the carriage door and let down the steps.
Swearing beneath his breath, Javan all but ran across the room and out into the yard, where it was beginning to rain. Caroline had emerged from the carriage, leaning on Williams’ arm while Marjorie and Rosa jumped down beside her.
Rosa ran to him, and he caught her in one arm while striding toward Caroline with furious anxiety. His gaze lashed Richard who emerged from the other carriage with their captured assassin.
Refusing to be distracted for long, he searched Caroline’s pale face as he took the final few paces to her.
She smiled at him, melting his heart all over again. “Don’t be angry. I felt perfectly well and I’m afraid I insisted.”
“She slept well all night,” Marjorie added, as proud as if it had been her own achievement. “And had breakfast in bed, though she insisted on rising for luncheon and then felt so well that we gave in and brought her.”
“We thought the journey would do her less harm than continued anxiety,” Richard put in.
Caroline cast him a glance of respect, and suddenly Javan wanted to laugh because they were all trying to manage him and the truth was, despite his fear for her, his heart sang just because she was here in front of him.
He took her good hand from Williams, elbowing his old sergeant aside. “Then you’d better come inside and sit. Let me say at once that Peter is perfectly well. So are your mother and sister. In fact, they are expected here imminently.”
The relief seemed to make her sag slightly. He flung one arm about her waist to support her and swept her inside, barking orders at the innkeeper and his wife as he went.
In no time, Caroline was ensconced in the best armchair before the coffee room fire, a soft cushion under her injured arm, and a cup of tea on the small table at her other side. Javan had pulled one of the large tables nearer her, and the rest of them—including Miller, who was tied to his chair—sat around it, drinking tea and ale and consuming a pleasant repast, tasty morsels of which were passed to Caroline.
Her wound did not appear to have reopened when Javan examined her dressing. In fact, she seemed none the worse for her journey, according to his close and continuous scrutiny. Which allowed him, finally, to concentrate on other things.
“What is he doing here?” he asked, jerking his head across the table to Miller, who was attempting to eat and drink with his hands bound together.
Richard swallowed his cold meat and reached for his ale. “Didn’t know what else to do with him. He seems amiable enough when disarmed. And happy to daub Swayle in it. Expect he wants us to let him go if he does.”
Miller gave what he probably imagined was an engaging smile. “Happy to help. Don’t hold with killing women, certainly not gentlewomen, which anyone can see she is, governess or no.”
“Didn’t stop you, though, did it?” Javan retorted.
“Well, she ain’t dead,” Miller said incontrovertibly. “Is she?”
Whatever Javan might have replied became lost in a furor by the door.
“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed a strident female voice, “but this is a public coffee room and I insist on being allowed inside!”
“But I have quality in there, and a sick guest who needs quiet,” insisted Archie the innkeeper. “Allow me to have your dinner brought to your room. It will be much more pleasant and private.”
“My wife said the coffee room!” roared a male voice. There was a scuffle, as if poor Archie had been thrust aside, and then a man barreled into the coffee room, closely followed by his wife, two daughters, and a slightly stringy young man who might have been their son. The family halted and stared with dislike at Javan’s party.
Miller got to his feet with the chair still tied to him and bared his teeth.
Led by the father, the family fled in silence. Grinning, Miller sat back down again and nodded at Javan. “You’re welcome.”
“Finally,” Javan observed flippantly. “A man more frightening than me.”
*
It was odd, but Caroline found the time at the inn curiously comforting and exciting at the same time. Apart from the pain in her arm, she truly felt well, and quite blissful in Javan’s company. He sat close to her, leaning one elbow on the big table, the other occasionally brushing against her good shoulder. His nearness, of course, was the source of her excitement, adding to the pleasure of the other Benedicts’ company. She was unspeakably touched by the way they all looked after her. That even Marjorie had followed and stayed with her…That Javan had gone to her mother just to relieve her mind of worry…That Rosa was happy to have them all reunited.
When her mother and sister finally arrived, Caroline and her companions were in the midst of an amusing and spirited discussion. She and Marjorie each had a ladylike glass of sherry wine, while the Benedict gentlemen had a bottle of brandy which was almost as good, apparently, as that found in Blackhaven. Rosa was playing cards with Miller.
Warned in advance, the innkeeper merely ushered his newest patrons into the coffee room. Caroline was smiling at Javan’s laughter, because he laughed so much more easily now, when, over Richard’s shoulder, she saw her mother enter.
“Forgive our tardiness, Mr. Benedict,” her mother began. “The only available conveyance was a cart pulled by a very old donkey and it took forever just to—Caroline!”
“Mama!” She tried to rise, but Javan and Marjorie both pressed her back into her seat. As the gentlemen rose to greet the newcomers, Peter flew past everyone and threw himself onto Caroline’s lap.
“Aunt Caro! Aunt Caro! You’ll never guess! I saw the biggest, finest horse in the world and I gave it sugar! It was his,” he added, grinning at Javan while Caroline hugged him in her good arm.
By then, Eliza too was kneeling at her feet. “You’re here, Caro! Oh, thank God, I was afraid we’d find you wilting in bed, quite at death’s door!”
Inevitably, there was a hint of accusation in among Eliza’s genuine relief.
“Like Peter?” Caroline said before she could help herself.
Eliza had the grace to blush. “Well, I am sorry about that letter. It was a great mistake and I am thoroughly ashamed, but how was I to know you would gallop up here and get shot? Which Mr. Benedict said was not my fault.”
“No, it was his,” Richard drawled, waving one hand at Miller, who hung his head.
“Is that why he’s tied up?” Peter asked, sliding off Caroline’s knee to allow his grandmother to embrace her.
“Exactly,” said Javan. “Ladies, allow me to present my sister, Miss Benedict, my cousin Mr. Richard Benedict, and my daughter Rosa. And Mr. Miller, of course,” he added, apparently for pure devilment. “Known to his friends as Killer.”
“Good Lord,” Caroline’s mother murmured. “Do you trust him?”
“God, no. Not unless he’s tied up and has something to gain by cooperating. Please, sit down. A glass of sherry, perhaps? We’re expecting dinner at any moment.”
This was the time Caroline had been secretly dreading. She liked her sister to shine, but she didn’t want to see the light of admiration in Javan’s eyes when he looked at her. Her smile could dazzle the coldest hearted princes… Or at least it had dazzled Theo Dauntry. But she wouldn’t think about him. She would only think of her pleasure in seeing her family. There was nothing she could do about anything else.
She knew she was quieter, more subdued at dinner, as she always was in her sister’s company. And Eliza was in form, spreading her smile indiscriminately. “How handsome Mr. Richard is, Caro,” she whispered. “And heir to a baronet, you say? Of course, the other is more romantic, but just a little frightening. Perhaps it is the scar.”
She seemed to imagine she had her choice of them. Certainly, it never entered her head that either could be interested in Caroline. And of course, they indulged her. It took Caroline some time to realize that indulgence was all it was, like humoring a child by listening to her prattle. They both addressed frequent remarks to Caroline by name and gradually, Caroline began to reply more naturally until she realized it was Eliza who had grown subdued, stunned by the attention paid to her older, plainer sister the governess.
She chided herself for ill nature, but after Theo, it was sweet to see Javan’s attention rarely straying from herself. She wanted to preen.
Since the inn only had three bedchambers, it was decided that Caroline would share one with Marjorie and Rosa. Her mother, sister, and Peter would have the second bedchamber, and the Benedicts the third. Williams undertook to watch Miller in the stables.
Javan conducted Caroline upstairs behind Marjorie and Rosa. Because it was sweet, she leaned on him just a little more than she needed to. And when Marjorie and Rosa went inside with their candle, Javan quietly closed the door on them, set his candle in the window embrasure, and there in the passage, took Caroline into his arms. She melted.
“Tell me now, Caroline Grey,” he whispered into her hair. “Will you marry me?”
She inhaled the scent of his skin, let her lips open against his warm, rough cheek. “Do you love me?”
His mouth found hers. His kiss was long and tender and left her devastated.
“More than life,” he murmured against her lips. “Never doubt it, for I shan’t. It seems as if I’ve always loved you. I always will.”
Never had she expected such a comprehensive declaration from Javan Benedict. She smiled without letting her lips leave his. “Then yes, I will gladly marry you. So very gladly.”
He kissed her again. “Tomorrow?”
She laughed breathlessly at his eagerness. “I hardly see how! But as soon as it can be arranged, yes. Perhaps Mr. Grant could marry us.”
“Perhaps,” Javan said, kissing her lips and then her forehead. “Perhaps. Good night, my love.”
“Good night,” she said, so enchanted that she had to reach up and kiss him again.
Her mother’s door further along the passage opened and Eliza looked out and saw them. Her mouth opened in shock.
“Good night,” Caroline gasped and whisked herself inside her own room. As she leaned her back against the closed door, Marjorie and Rosa blinked at her in surprise. She could hear Javan’s soft laughter and his footsteps as he ran back downstairs, no doubt to join Richard in finishing off the brandy.
*
When she woke in the morning, her arm didn’t feel quite so sore, perhaps because she was so happy that she couldn’t stop smiling. She could still feel Javan’s kisses on her lips. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. Never, since the day she’d discovered Theo’s betrayal, had she expected to find this kind of happiness. And what she felt for Javan felt so much more than that ignorant, girlish love. More intense and overwhelming, as if she’d never stop falling and never wanted to. It was almost…frightening, because she couldn’t control it and yet, she was delighted to follow where it led.
Marjorie insisted on her staying in bed to eat breakfast, which was no hardship since Peter and Rosa accompanied the maid with her breakfast tray. They sat on her bed while she ate, happily munching the pieces she allowed them. Rosa seemed to have found a new purpose in looking after the younger Peter, who gazed at her with awe a lot of the time.
Smiling, Marjorie left Caroline at the children’s mercy and went downstairs to breakfast. Eliza wandered in a little later and also sat on the bed to tell her about her life in recent months, Peter’s illness, and her stay in Edinburgh.
After a little, the restless children moved away, pointing and giggling at things they could see out of the window. Eventually, they ran off to play.
“So,” Eliza said, fixing Caroline with a clear stare. “You and Mr. Javan Benedict. Your employer, Caroline. You are playing with fire.”
“I know.”
“You are the governess.” Eliza rammed the point home with genuine concern. “Caro, he will not care for you. He is a hard man and will simply break your heart and cast you aside. I could not bear that for you again.”
She had never before admitted that her marriage had hurt Caroline. Once, this would have mattered a lot more. As it was, Caroline felt touched by her sister’s concern.
“Don’t worry,” she soothed. “It isn’t as bad as it appears.”
“Caro, you were kissing him!”
“I know. But I’m going to marry him.”
“Does he know?” Eliza asked cynically. “Because I don’t think much of anyone’s chances getting him to do anything he has not chosen!”
“I believe he has.”
Eliza’s eyes widened. “Truly?” she said doubtfully. “Have you told Mama this?”
“No, there has been no time. But you are not hurrying home today, are you?”
“I don’t know. Originally, we were coming to you on the other side of the border. It would be lovely to stay here for another day and night, but you know how money is.”
“I’m sure Mr. Benedict intends to take care of all of that.”
A frown puckered her brow. “Is he very wealthy?”
“I don’t actually know,” Caroline said in surprise.
Eliza laughed and gave her a quick hug. “Oh, Caro, you are ridiculous!”
Eliza left when Marjorie returned to help her dress and pin her hair.
“Not so severe today,” Marjorie suggested as Caroline brushed her hair back tightly as usual. “You’re not working, you know! More like you styled it for Lady Tamar’s rout.” She took the brush from Caroline, rolling and pinning her hair to her own satisfaction. “Much prettier. Although, to be sure, you always look lovely.”
“I do?” Caroline said, startled.
“If one cares to look,” Marjorie said vaguely. “Now, are you feeling strong enough? Shall we go down to the coffee room?”
Caroline agreed to this plan. Her heart beat faster, only because of the possibility that Javan was already there. Just being with him made her happy.
At the foot of the stairs, she encountered her mother, and Marjorie relinquished her, hurrying into the coffee room as if she had something important to do. It was sweet the way everyone seemed to assume she could not walk unaided. After all, it was her arm, not her leg, which had been injured.
However, she was content to take her mother’s arm.
“You’re looking very well,” her mother murmured as they walked together. “Despite all the excitement, to call it no worse. You are happy at Haven Hall?”
Surprised by the anxiety in her mother’s voice, she smiled reassuringly. “Yes, I am. I own I was devastated to leave Braithwaite Castle, but somehow, Haven Hall, though much less…convenient, has become my home.” She squeezed her mother’s arm. “We have much to discuss.”
“Yes, we do,” her mother agreed, walking with her into the coffee room and closing the door.
Caroline blinked because not only Javan but everyone else was there already—Marjorie, Rosa, Peter, Eliza, Richard, Williams, and even Killer Miller—most of them sitting not at tables but in chairs set out in a clear space before the fire. Archie the innkeeper was there too, facing them, while his wife and one of the inn servants skulked more in the background.
Javan advanced to meet Caroline. She met his gaze with bewilderment. He offered his arm but her mother hung on to Caroline’s hand.
“He says you’ve agreed to marry him,” her mother blurted. “Before I give my blessing, I need to know it’s what you want. I won’t have you pushed into anything for any reason.”
Caroline swallowed, distracted by the intensity of Javan’s eyes. “Yes, it’s what I want…” Suspicion, realization, began to dawn and her eyes widened. “Now?” she squeaked.
“Why not?” Javan countered. “Archie there has the same rights as the Gretna blacksmith to marry us under Scots law.”
She stared at him, the enormity of this step crushing her. Although she wanted it with all her heart, she hadn’t imagined it would be quite so soon.
“I thought it might be more comfortable returning to Blackhaven already married, than putting you through another engagement which is bound to set tongues wagging.”
“Another engagement?” her mother repeated, startled. “Who were you engaged to before?”
“Richard,” Javan said impatiently.
Caroline regarded him with fascination. “And you imagine my leaving Blackhaven engaged to one cousin and returning there married to the other will not cause comment?”
A quick grin passed over Javan’s face and vanished. “Richard believes he can just tell everyone they were mistaken and that you were always engaged to me. Personally, I don’t see that it’s anyone’s business but ours. We can be married here, now, or we can go home and ask Grant to marry us whenever you like.”
She glanced from him to her mother and the rest of the company and realized that of course this was right. Her mother and Eliza and Peter were here. She was happy. Everyone was happy.
Slowly, she took her hand from her mother’s arm and laid it on Javan’s. She smiled up at him. “Here and now is perfect,” she said huskily, and the wave of joy in his face seemed to be all she could ever need.
*
Even in her wildest, most romantic, youthful dreams, Caroline had never imagined being married by an innkeeper in his coffee room. The morning passed in a blissful daze. Her hand was placed in Javan’s, they made promises, and before the law and God, she was his. Mrs. Javan Benedict.
Rosa was silently delirious and kept hugging both of them. Mrs. Archie provided a wonderful spread, more luncheon than wedding breakfast, and Archie rooted out a few bottles of champagne that he’d never had cause to use before. Caroline felt she would burst with happiness.
And yet, it was a relief to escape for a little and just walk with Javan in the woods beyond the inn. His company both soothed and energized her, and it was unbearably sweet to pause in the shade of a tree and exchange kisses in the sharp, autumn-scented air, while the birds sang above them and the human voices were all distant.
“I do love you,” she whispered.
“I hope you always will.” It was light and gentle, and yet behind it, she recognized a genuine fear. If his first wife had ever loved him, it hadn’t been for long.
But she would not bring that specter to her marriage. She merely kissed him and resolved to banish this shadow along with all the others.
His body grew harder, more urgent, pinning her to the tree as he ravished her mouth and throat with kisses, his hands on her hips to hold her where he wanted her.
“Do you know, my wife,” he said unsteadily, “that Richard told me he would stay away from our chamber until well after midnight?”
The heat of her arousal seemed to flame. Words stuck in her throat. Having lived so long in the country, she was aware of the mechanics of procreation and linked it with some astonishment to the thrilling if unspecific desires she felt in Javan’s arms. The thought of spending time in his bed, of pleasing him in this way both excited and scared her. But there was no way she would ever refuse him, and it had little to do with “duty”.
“Do you want to go there, now?” she whispered.
“Oh yes,” he said fervently, bringing his open mouth down on hers, caressing her tongue with his.
He seemed to wrench his mouth free and rested his forehead on hers, easing his body apart from hers until there was a sliver of air between them. “But I won’t take you until you’re well enough, until we have time and space to enjoy each other. For you, there should be more than a hurried fumble, at least the first time.”
She swallowed, wondering if there was relief among the flood of disappointment. “It is a long time until midnight,” she pointed out. “And I feel very well. My arm barely hurts at all.”
He smiled and kissed her at the same time. “You are a liar, and I love you for it. But I will be good for just a little longer.”
Perhaps, if it hadn’t been for the obvious betrayal of his body, and his devastating kisses, she might have been hurt. As it was, she couldn’t quite understand how it was possible to be so enchanted and so frustrated at the same time.
And so, she spent her wedding night with her new stepdaughter and sister-in-law. And in the morning, she bade farewell to her mother and sister and little Peter, who were invited to Haven Hall for Christmas, and began the journey home to Blackhaven.