Chapter Twenty-Three − An Invitation Offered and Accepted
By the time, Madeline’s mind decided to return to the land of the living, morning had already come and gone.
Pushing herself up, her gaze drifted from the now burnt-out fire in the hearth to the small rays of sunshine drifting in through the gaps in the curtains. From downstairs, faint sounds could be heard, and Madeline knew that everyone was already up, tending to their work.
Everyone but her.
Determined to do her share, Madeline jumped out of bed and rushed to the wardrobe in the corner. As she reached out to pull open the door, pain shot through her arm, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
Slowly, she pulled up her sleeve and gasped at the bluish-purple bruises running up and down her right arm.
Taking a deep breath, Madeline decided that there was nothing she could do about that. Her husband had told her that it would last for a week or so and that there was nothing she could do to hasten the healing. However, her muscles were merely sore. Apart from that, there was nothing much wrong with her.
Swallowing, Madeline used her left arm to reach inside her wardrobe and pull out another one of her fancy gowns. Then she turned to the bed and stopped.
“I’m not that woman anymore,” Madeline whispered as a small smile came to her lips. She would have expected sadness at the loss of her old self. However, at the thought of embracing her new role here at Huntington House, Madeline felt nothing short of excitement.
Returning the gown to the wardrobe, Madeline finally decided on her simplest riding habit. It would allow her to move and keep her warm in the late October air. Later then, she would ask Kara for help. Maybe her new sister-in-law could help her fashion more adequate clothing.
With a new sense of purpose, Madeline hastened downstairs into the kitchen, wondering where her husband was. Vividly, she recalled the way his hands had touched her bruised arm, gently rubbing the salve into the skin. At the mere thought of him so close, her breath caught in her throat, and excitement coursed through her veins.
Could they ever truly be man and wife? She wondered as she recalled the dark intensity in his eyes as he had looked at her last night. Where were they to begin?
Although they were married−had been married for a few months now−they had fallen into a routine far from that of a married couple. They argued and fought. Still, they spoke openly to each other, and to Madeline’s utter surprise, she had revealed to her husband sides of herself that she had never shared with anyone. But what did that make him? A trusted friend?
Possibly.
But not a husband.
Whenever they were around one another without a distraction−some purpose that set the course−they often seemed skittish, nervous about how to act, and Madeline remembered only too well the lightheadedness that seized her whenever he stood too close. Did he feel the same way about her?
“Ye look happy, dear,” Bessy observed as Madeline strode into the kitchen. “Are ye planning on riding out?” With a quirked eyebrow, the old woman looked her up and down all the while continuing to knead the dough placed on the workbench in front of her.
Madeline chuckled. Was it not strange how odd that thought appeared now when it had felt so normal before? In her old life? “No,” she said, brushing her hands over the skirt before pulling on an apron. “I merely chose this because it seems to be the most durable and practical dress I own.”
Bessy chuckled.
“Maddie!”
Turning around at the sound of Collin’s little voice, Madeline smiled. “I’ve asked you to call me Madeline, have I not?” she chided before her gaze narrowed as she took in the paleness of Collin’s skin as well as the glow that seemed to be absent from his blue eyes. Turning her attention to Kara, who held the little rascal a bit oddly clutched in her arms as her belly seemed to be growing by the day, Madeline asked, “How is he?”
Kara sighed, gently setting the boy down on the bench, then passed him the bowl of porridge Bessy handed to her. “I’m not sure. He seemed to be getting better, but now I don’t know. He still coughs and seems weak, easily fatigued.”
Madeline stepped closer, feeling a touch of concern for the little boy. “And you?”
“I’m fine,” Kara replied, her gaze shifting to her son as he absentmindedly poked around his porridge. “I only wish he were, too.”
“How is Milly?” Collin demanded, craning his little neck to look at Madeline. “Mama said her foal was born last night, and that it’s a little filly.”
“That’s right,” Madeline replied, a touch of pride in her voice as she spoke. “As far as I know they’re both fine. But they do need a little rest.”
A delighted smile came to Collin’s face. “Can I see them?”
“Not now,” Kara objected, sitting down beside him and wrapping her arm around his thin shoulders. “First, you need to get better. So, eat up.”
Mumbling under his breath, Collin reluctantly plopped a spoonful of porridge in his mouth. “The filly needs a name,” he spoke around the food in his mouth. “I think we should name her Maddie. I like Maddie.” He grinned at them, and half his food fell out of his mouth and onto the floor.
Madeline smiled, wondering why she was even surprised at such a suggestion. “I’ll think about it.” Maybe if she agreed, he would stop calling her that.
After Kara ushered Collin back to bed, Madeline turned to Bessy, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“What’s on your mind, dear?” Bessy asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Ye look as though you’re about to swallow your tongue.”
Madeline laughed, “I…Well, I was wondering if you could show me…”
“Yes?”
“If you could show me how to…cook and bake…and such.” Feeling like the dumbest person in the world, Madeline’s cheeks blushed scarlet red. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this feels so strange.”
“Don’t worry,” Bessy laughed, clearly delighted with her daughter-in-law’s request. “I’ve been waitin’ for ye to ask that.” Grabbing Madeline’s chin, she looked at her imploringly. However, her voice sounded rather like that of a commanding officer. “And don’t ye fret about askin’ for help. There’s nothin’ wrong with learnin’ somethin’ new and expandin’ your horizon.”
Despite being mildly startled, Madeline could not help but smile. “Thank you. I truly appreciate your help.”
Bessy humphed, then released Madeline’s chin. “As long as we’re askin’ for help,” the old woman continued, a touch of excitement in her eyes, “may I ask somethin’, too?”
Madeline’s eyes flew open. “Certainly,” she assured her mother-in-law eagerly, dying to know what Bessy felt she needed to learn when the woman herself seemed like competence personified.
“Would ye mind teachin’ us the waltz?”
Now, Madeline’s mouth did drop open as she stared at her mother-in-law in utter surprise. “The waltz?” she croaked, wondering if there was something amiss with her hearing.
A grin on her face, Bessy shrugged. “I’ve only heard it talked of, but Kara tells me it looks as though people are floatin’ on air.”
Madeline frowned. “Kara?” Where would her sister-in-law have seen someone dance the waltz? After all, Madeline was certain that Huntington House had not seen a ball since the new baron and his family had taken up residence here.
“Did Derek not tell ye?” Bessy frowned, forming the dough into a loaf before putting it in the oven. “Kara used to work for a titled family in town as a maid. When she was young, she got it into her head to marry a rich, young man and become a duchess or such.” Bessy chuckled, and yet, there was a touch of regret in the way she looked at Madeline. “I guess she thought of herself as the little cinder girl, waiting for her prince charming, and when he didn’t show, she was determined to seek him out.” Bessy shrugged, a meaningful sigh leaving her lips. “Would ye teach us? I’m certain Kara would love it.”
Not knowing what to make of her sister-in-law’s story, Madeline nodded. “I would like that very much.” Although she was delighted with the opportunity to repay the family for all their help, Madeline could not shake the feeling that there was more to Kara’s story than her mother-in-law had said. Obviously, Kara’s prince charming had not turned out to be a duke, but a valet instead. How had Kara and Sean met? Madeline wondered, realising that she knew very little about her new sister-in-law.
And yet, as she glanced at Bessy, her eyes distant as she gazed out the window, Madeline was certain that her mother-in-law would not say another word. If she wanted to know, she would have to ask Kara. But would her new sister-in-law confide in her? Would she share something so deeply personal?
After spending the next few hours working in the kitchen under Bessy’s wise tutelage, Madeline finally filled yet another basket with bread, fruit and a few jam tarts that she had barely finished before heading out. Still warm, she had wrapped them in a towel, her fingers trembling with nervous excitement. Were they any good? Or had she done something wrong?
“Don’t worry, dear,” Bessy called after her as she strode out into the cold. “Ye did well.”
With another woollen skirt borrowed from Kara, Madeline strode through the tall grass toward the cottage still under repairs. From afar, she once again heard hammering and workers calling to each other.
A part of Madeline dreaded every step she took as she remembered only too clearly how she had been received the last time. However, pride and no small amount of determination would not allow her to give up. Reminding herself to keep an open mind and allow her husband’s tenants to see that she wanted to get to know them, Madeline put on a brave smile as she approached the work site.
At first, no one noticed her. However, when one man bent down to reach for a tool another was handing up to him, he caught sight of her…and his gaze instantly narrowed. Immediately, the other man turned his head to her as well. Before long, everyone was staring at her.
Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, Madeline wanted nothing more but to bolt. Her legs quivered, and the basket on her arm felt heavier than before. In answer, her muscles began to ache with more intensity until she felt as though she could not hold up the basket a moment longer.
“I did not expect to see you here today.”
A wave of relief and utter joy washed over Madeline at the sound of her husband’s voice. Turning toward him as he came striding through the grass, she smiled, meeting him halfway, her muscles strained to the point of breaking.
A large smile rested on his face. However, as he took in the way she favoured her arm, it vanished, and he immediately took the basket from her. “How is your arm?”
“Still sore.” Wiggling her fingers carefully, Madeline sighed when she felt her muscles relax after the strain she had forced on them once more. “I’m sorry I slept in this morning. I didn’t plan to,” she said carefully, surprised how much her husband’s opinion meant to her, and she did not want him to think her lazy or shying back from her duties.
Instead of a disappointed scowl, her husband’s face showed a teasing smile though. “You may not have,” he replied, gesturing for her to follow him, “but I did.”
Madeline’s eyes widened. “You did. Why? I remember vividly how you snapped at me the first morning I slept in. You seemed fairly disappointed.”
The expression on his face sobered. “I apologise for my rude behaviour. I never should have spoken to you thus.” He stopped and took her left hand with his free one. “Today you deserved to sleep in after what you did last night.”
Madeline returned his smile, only dimly aware of the many sets of eyes still fixed on them. “You were up all night as well,” she countered. “Did you sleep in?”
Derek drew in a long breath. “That is different.”
“Why?”
Gritting his teeth, he grinned. “Did you come here to argue with me?” he teased before his gaze shifted to the basket in his hand. “Or did you come to bring me something to eat? This is heavy. How much do you think I can eat?”
Madeline laughed, “No, I did not come here to argue, and, no, I did not come to bring you something to eat.” As a frown came to his face, Madeline chuckled. “I came to bring all of you something to eat.”
For a long moment, her husband looked at her, a touch of reverence in his gaze that send feelings of warmth and contentment through Madeline. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he finally said, his gaze never leaving hers. Then he took a step closer and lifted his hand to her face.
Madeline inhaled a deep breath, taken aback by the sudden contact.
Skimming his thumb over her cheek, he smiled. “I assume you did some baking this morning.”
“I did,” Madeline confirmed, amazed at the intensity of his gaze. “How do you know?”
Her husband grinned. “You have flour on your cheek.”
Madeline’s eyes flew open, and she immediately stepped back, rubbing her hands over her face as she felt her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “Oh, no, I must look hideous. I should leave. I−”
Derek caught her arm and pulled her back when she tried to turn away. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, amusement in his eyes as he watched her. “Especially now.”
“What?” Madeline stared at him, remembering the many faces turned toward them. “I look like a scarecrow.”
“You do not,” her husband replied, enunciating every word, his tone holding a touch of outrage that she would think so. “You look more…approachable when you show your emotions like that. Do not hide them. Believe me,” he glanced at the tenants pretending to work on the cabin, “they will assist you in gaining their respect.”
Madeline swallowed, hoping that her husband was right. “What shall I do now?” she whispered, forcing a deep breath down her lungs.
Offering her his arm, her husband smiled. “Invite them to eat.”
***
Enjoying the feel of her arm on his, Derek escorted his wife back to the small bench where they had had lunch the day before. Today, the day had already progressed further, and dark clouds were rising in the east that promised yet another downpour. Still, he could not bring himself to disappoint Madeline’s hopes, her efforts in preparing this meal and her courage in coming out here after the way their tenants had received her the day before.
As they neared the group of people working on the cabin, Derek could feel her tense as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. A somewhat strained smile appeared on her face as she turned to the people secretly watching her. “Excuse me?” she began in a somewhat timid voice. Then she swallowed and cleared her throat, trying anew. “Excuse me? Would you all like to join us for a bite to eat?”
As though his wife had spoken in a foreign tongue, his tenants lifted their heads, confusion resting in their eyes, as they stared at her, unsure how to reply.
A tremor ran through Madeline as she clutched his arm, and Derek set the basket down on the bench, placing his freed hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he turned to his tenants. “Please, come and join us,” he intoned before lifting his hand and beckoning them forward. “Judging from the weight of this basket, there is enough in here for all of us.”
A few chuckles drifted to their ears as one by one their tenants shook off their stunned paralysis and came forward.
Pointing to the basket, Derek stepped back and watched with satisfaction as his wife pulled back the towel covering the food and began handing out small, jam-filled pastries to his tenants. “Here, try these,” she said, a bit of an apologetic smile on her face. “I’ve made them myself, but I’m not sure how they are as this was my first attempt at baking.”
Mr. Thompson’s youngest son pushed himself up on his tiptoes and snatched the pastry from his father’s hand before he could object. Then the little rascal plopped it in his mouth, chewing noisily. As everyone stared at him, his eyes lit up as he stumbled toward Madeline. “Can I have ‘nother one?” he asked, his mouth still full of food, crumbs tumbling from his lips as he spoke. “’Tis awfully good.”
The strained silence that had hung over the small group before vanished in an instant as everyone broke out laughing. Mr. Thompson stepped forward and tousled his son’s hair. “Mind your manners, boy. Ye do not speak with a full mouth.”
Madeline smiled, beaming at the child and then at the father as she reached inside the basket and retrieved another tart. Leaning down to the boy, who eyed the pastry with longing eyes, she held it out to him. “But promise me you will eat this slowly. I do not want your belly to ache because you gulped it down like a hungry wolf.”
“I promise,” the boy said, his eyes glowing with pride as he carried his tasty possession away.
After snatching an apple from his wife’s basket, Derek stood back and gave her room to interact with their tenants. Although he saw a certain apprehension on both sides, he could tell that the ice had been broken. By showing herself as insecure and vulnerable, Madeline had allowed these people a glance at her true self, helping them to break through the prejudice that had formed long before they had even met her.
Now, there was a chance that they would come to see her as the wonderful woman he knew her to be.
By the time everyone had received a tart and a piece of fruit, Madeline’s eyes were aglow with pleasure. Although her cheeks shone in a deep red whenever one of the tenants complimented her tarts, Derek could see the satisfaction that came from accomplishing something on one’s own instead of having it done by another. She continued to make her rounds, offering what was left in her basket, exchanging a few short words here and there. After a while, Mr. Thompson’s wife found her way to Madeline’s side, and before long, the two women were sitting on the bench, chatting excitedly.
Then the wind picked up, and a low rumbling could be heard in the distance.
Faces turned upward, and before long raindrops began to fall.
“We should head home,” Mr. Thompson stated, instructing the men to put away the tools and secure the last beam which would hold the new roof. “Looks like ye will stay with us again tonight,” he added, looking at the tenant’s family who had hoped to return to their cabin that day.
As the men packed up, Derek walked up to his wife. “We should leave,” he said, offering her his arm. “Good day, Mrs. Thompson.” Watching the little group break up and take off in different directions toward their homes, Derek guided Madeline down the small slope and toward Huntington House. “I reckon this was a success,” Derek stated as he glanced at his wife.
Turning to look at him, she smiled as raindrops began rolling down her face. “It was wonderful,” she beamed, squinting her eyes against the strengthening rain. “I had no idea they were such wonderful people.”
Derek laughed, enjoying himself despite the rain that began to soak through his clothes. Clutching her arm with his, he pulled her onward until the warm glow of Huntington House was visible on the horizon.
“There,” his wife said, pointing ahead. “It’s not far now. If we hurry…,” her voice trailed off as she wiped a hand over her face. Looking down the length of her dress, she began to laugh when she found herself drenched from head to toe. Smiling, she turned to look at him. “There’s no point in hurrying, is there?” Then she released his arm and stood back, spreading her arms and raising her face to the sky. Twirling, she laughed as the rain ran down her face.
Never had Derek seen her so at peace.
So untroubled.
So blissful.
Taken with the sight of her−so beautiful, so liberated, so tempting−Derek found himself striding toward her, his arms aching to hold her, his lips tingling with the deep desire to taste hers.
Barely two steps away from her, he froze as lightning split the sky in half, followed by a deafening roll of thunder.
Madeline’s eyes snapped open, and she stopped in her tracks. “I guess we should hurry after all,” she called over the downpour, reaching for his arm.
Holding her tight against him, Derek pulled her onward as they ran toward the house. Mud clung to their feet, weighing them down and hindering their progress as the darkening sky continued to pour buckets of water on their heads.
When they finally reached the house, they burst through the kitchen door in a mess of water and mud, quickly shutting the door against the icy wind.
“Now, don’t ye look like drowned cats?” his mother observed from her usual spot by the workbench. Then she turned her narrowed gaze to the muddy floor. “If ye don’t want to end up in tonight’s supper, ye better not take another step.”
Looking down, then at each other, Derek and Madeline broke out laughing before taking off their boots and leaving them by the door.
“My, my, ye seem to be in an awfully good mood for such bleary weather,” his mother chuckled, an amused twinkle in her eyes that Derek had not seen in a long time. She seemed happy. If only he knew what had put that look in her eyes. After all, they had just tracked mud onto her sacred kitchen floor. A grave transgression if his childhood was any indication!
“Get yourself upstairs and out of those wet clothes,” his mother instructed as Madeline attempted to wring out her skirts into a bucket, which was only mildly successful. “Sean put more firewood into your rooms for tonight. It’s getting to be too cold with winter well on its way.”
Once more offering his wife his arm, Derek escorted her upstairs, trying to ignore his mother’s meaningful chuckle, as his heart was already thudding in his chest. Despite the cold, wet clothes hanging on his body, Derek had never felt so warm, and with every step he took, the heat seemed to intensify.
If only he had kissed her.