No rain had fallen overnight, but morning dawned heavy with the threat of a storm. Dark clouds were broken by periods of intense sunshine. Ellen ordered the windows of the house to be opened, but there was only a thick, sullen breeze that moved the air yet did little to freshen the rooms.
Ellen felt the oppression on her spirits as she made her way down to the great hall. The clock was just chiming ten and Max had sent a message to say he would meet her there to present Jamie with his pony. She was wearing her riding habit, although she had no idea if it was still his intention to ride out with her. Not that she blamed him. Last night she had asked him for friendship, but when he had caressed her cheek so tenderly she had been unable to prevent herself from responding like a wanton. A mistake, she knew that, to show how much she still desired him. He had rejected her and she had been rooted to the spot in shame and humiliation while he walked away from her. Well, she had her pride. She would never let him see how much he had hurt her.
As she came down the final flight of steps she heard voices and found Max already in the hall, talking to Jamie while Matty stood to one side, looking on. A band tightened around Ellen’s heart when she saw father and son together. James was holding the toy yacht in his arms and saying if he couldn’t play with the drum perhaps they might go to the lake.
‘Later, if there is time,’ said Max, gently removing the yacht from Jamie and putting it on a side table. ‘Now your mother is here we have something else for you.’ He took the little boy’s hand in his own and straightened, glancing across at Ellen as she approached. ‘If you are ready, ma’am?’
Polite, considerate. Ellen saw the old butler hovering by the door, the smile on his face telling her that he knew what was waiting on the drive and was eager to see the little boy’s reaction. She stretched her mouth into a smile, playing along with the charade that they were a happy family. Perkins threw open the door and they stepped outside on to the balcony. Stevens was waiting at the bottom of the steps, the little pony standing patiently beside him. Jamie’s mouth dropped open. He looked up at Max, who nodded.
‘Yes, he is for you.’
‘If it takes his mind off that toy drum it will be a mercy,’ muttered Matlock.
Max lifted Jamie on to the saddle and Ellen watched, smiling as Stevens adjusted the stirrups to suit.
‘Can I ride him now, Mama, can I ride him, please?’
‘I will take him for his first lesson now, ma’am, and gladly,’ said Stevens, ‘unless, Your Grace, you want me to accompany you?’ He cast an enquiring look at the Duke. ‘Mr Grisham left instructions for Jupiter and Belle to be saddled up for you and the Duchess to ride out this morning.’
‘What? Oh—’ Max frowned and glanced at her, as if realising for the first time that she was dressed for riding. ‘Perhaps Her Grace should remain with the boy for his first lesson.’
Ellen’s heart sank. Max was reluctant to take her with him. She hid her disappointment and was about to concur, but she was outflanked by the servants.
Stevens said quickly, ‘There’s no need for you to stay, ma’am, I’ll take good care of the boy, you may be sure of that.’
And Matlock, in her blunt way, declared that Master James would get on much better without his mama fussing over him. Ellen bit her lip and looked towards Max, who gave the tiniest of shrugs.
‘Shall we go, then, madam?’
They set off for the stables. Thick white clouds were bubbling up in the west, encroaching upon the deep blue of the sky.
‘It could well rain,’ said Max, following her glance. ‘If it does, we will turn back.’
‘We do not need to go at all,’ she countered, chin up to belie her heavy heart.
‘And how would that look? No, we must ride out now, madam.’
Even though it is the last thing you want to do.
Ellen kept her head up and her smile in place. They must at least look as if they were enjoying themselves.
The stable hands were watching out for them and when they walked through the arched entrance, Max’s black hunter and the new grey mare were waiting in the yard. Ellen immediately instructed the groom to take Belle to the mounting block. Max would not wish to throw her into the saddle.
* * *
The mare was fresh and as they trotted away from the stables Ellen was glad to concentrate on controlling her, rather than worrying about the silent and brooding rider at her side. A gallop across the park gave her the opportunity to try the mare’s paces. It also dispelled some of the tension between her and Max: she thanked him for buying her such a spirited creature, he responded with a compliment on her ability to handle the mare. From there they progressed to discussing the other horses in the stables and then the tenants they were to visit that day. Ellen knew harmony was restored, in part.
We are discussing rents and crop rotation and ways of improving the land. As long as we keep to impersonal topics such as this we can rub along very well.
It should be enough, she told herself, but she knew it was not.
* * *
They were out for most of the day and by the time they turned for home Max was beginning to understand why Tony Grisham was so full of praise for the new Duchess. Tenants who had been stiff with awe and respect towards him opened up to Ellen, whose relaxed and friendly style soon put them at their ease. She knew just the right thing to say to draw them out about their worries and concerns.
‘I congratulate you,’ he said with grudging respect as he threw her up into the saddle at the last of their visits, a particularly rundown farm at the very edge of his estate. ‘Tony has been trying for months to persuade old Martin to let us repair his roof.’
‘The poor man was clearly afraid that this sudden interest in his home meant you intended to turn him out,’ she explained. ‘Once he was assured you do not mean to replace him, he was much happier.’
‘You also persuaded him to accept Tom Croft’s youngest boy as a farmhand.’
‘You cannot deny that Mr Martin has a wealth of knowledge and experience, and Tom has already told Mr Grisham that his youngest is not interested in following his brother into the family trade as a blacksmith. It seemed a sensible solution.’
‘Very sensible.’ He scrambled up on to his own horse and gathered up the reins. ‘I think you are making yourself indispensable here.’
Ellen threw him an enigmatic look.
‘That is my intention, Your Grace.’
And with that she urged the mare on and galloped away.
* * *
The threatened storm held off, although by the time they returned to the stables the sky was growing ominously dark and the sun was completely obscured by a heavy blanket of cloud. Stevens was waiting for them in the yard, eager to report on Jamie’s first riding lesson.
‘Not a bit afraid,’ he told Ellen, when she had dismounted. ‘Bless him, he didn’t want to go back indoors. But little and often is what I told him, so we’ll put him in the saddle again tomorrow, if that’s all right with you, ma’am?’
Ellen gave her assent and walked back to the house with Max. He made no move to take her arm, but she dared to hope there was a little less restraint between them and she was glad of it.
* * *
Despite the lack of sun, the air was very warm and it was a relief to step into the cool marble hall.
‘I must have a word with Tony,’ said Max, stripping off his gloves. ‘Then it will be good to wash away the dust and dirt. We covered many miles today and made important progress, I think. Thank you for coming with me.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ she told him, noting the soft but definite glow in his eyes. It could only be gratitude, or appreciation, but it warmed her, nevertheless. ‘I shall change as soon as I have seen Jamie.’
Perkins, who was crossing the hall at that moment, stopped and gave a little cough.
‘If you will permit me, ma’am, I saw Eliza taking the young Marquess to the gardens. With his drum,’ he added.
Ellen laughed. ‘Then I shall go and find them. How the day has flown, it is nearly time for dinner. I shall take him upstairs and he can tell me about riding a real pony.’
Eliza was on the terrace, collecting up a number of toys, including the colourful little drum that Max had bought for Jamie.
‘He went upstairs to collect his hobby horse,’ she said, in answer to Ellen’s question. She looked past the Duchess, as if expecting to see the little boy at the open windows.
‘I have just come through the drawing room and did not see him there,’ said Ellen. ‘I expect he has been distracted and is playing in the nursery. I shall go up.’
But when she reached the nursery Matlock shook her head.
‘He hasn’t been here, ma’am. I haven’t seen him since Eliza took him out to play. I will check the other rooms, though, just in case he has gone exploring. But he so loves being out of doors I cannot think he will be up here.’
‘No, I believe you are right.’ Ellen thought of the house with all its doors and windows thrown wide and she felt a tiny prickle of anxiety. ‘I will go downstairs and look for him.’
The deepening gloom within the house reflected her worries, and a low rumble of thunder added to her sense of unease. Max was on the half-landing, talking to his valet, and she did not hesitate to interrupt them.
‘Your Grace, have you seen Jamie?’
‘No,’ said Max. ‘Have you seen him, Flynn?’
‘No, Your Grace, but I heard him earlier. Playing his drum on the west lawn.’
Ellen nodded and continued down the stairs. Jamie loved to be out of doors and that is where she would find him. She knew it.
‘Shall I prepare your bath, Your Grace?’ she heard Flynn’s question, echoing off the stone walls.
‘Yes, yes, I shall be up directly.’ Before she reached the hall Max was beside her. ‘What is it, what has happened?’
Having someone to share her concerns was new for Ellen. For a moment she lost some of her self-assurance.
‘Jamie is missing. No, no, it cannot be anything serious.’ She turned as the nursemaid appeared, on her way to the nursery with her arms full of toys. ‘He did not come back out to you, Eliza?’
‘No, ma’am. Is he not with Mrs Matlock?’
Ellen shook her head, flinching as a clap of thunder rumbled around the house like a portent of doom.
‘When did you last see him?’ Max asked the nursemaid.
‘Well, it’s hard to say, Your Grace. It couldn’t have been that long since he went indoors, no more than an hour.’
‘An hour!’ Ellen gripped her hands together to stop them shaking. ‘He could be anywhere by now.’
‘Go upstairs and look for him, Eliza,’ said Max. ‘Not just the nursery wing, but the whole of the top floor, do you understand?’ As the maid hurried away he uttered a few brief instructions to the hovering footman, then touched Ellen’s arm. ‘Come, they will check the grounds and the stables while we look around here.’
Ellen followed Max from room to room. The thunder was growing louder and more frequent. Jamie did not like thunder. He would not stay out in a storm. He wouldn’t. She hugged the thought to her as they checked the study, the library and the anteroom where they found Tony sorting through numerous boxes of paper. He abandoned his task immediately to go and search the offices and basement rooms.
In the morning room they found the Dowager dozing on a daybed, an open book on her lap and a dish of marzipan at her side. Max spoke quickly.
‘Dorcas, have you seen Jamie?’
The Dowager sat up, straightening her cap and tutting.
‘I have seen no one, I have been resting,’ she told them peevishly. ‘My room was so hot last night I hardly had a wink of sleep. I do not know how you have the energy to go riding all over the place when the weather is so close—’
‘Never mind that,’ Max interrupted her. ‘We are looking for Jamie.’
She hunched one shoulder. ‘How should I know where he is? He was outside my window, earlier, with that infernal drum.’
‘When was that?’ asked Ellen, resisting the temptation to shake her sister-in-law.
‘Oh, I do not know, I was not watching the time. I had come in here to lie down after my nuncheon and he began marching back and forth, banging on his drum so loudly it brought on my headache. I told him to go away and play quietly.’
‘That will have been when he first came downstairs,’ said Max, as they returned to the hall. ‘Do not worry, I have every hope of finding him soon. Perhaps he went back to the stables.’ He gave a hiss of exasperation. ‘Ellen, I am very sorry if my giving him the pony has brought this about.’
‘No, no you cannot be blamed for—’ She stopped, her eyes fixed on the side table. ‘The yacht. We left it there when we went out this morning.’
Max barked a question to the butler, who shook his head.
‘No, Your Grace. I gave no instructions for it to be moved.’
Ellen was already running. She raced through the drawing room and out on to the terrace, the straightest line to the lake. Max was beside her. As they descended the steps the first fat drops of rain fell and by the time they had reached the lawns leading to the lake the rain was pouring down and they were both drenched to the skin.
‘He would not be out in this,’ muttered Max as they reached the water’s edge and stopped, looking left and right.
Ellen did not give voice to her fears, but began to walk along the bank. She stopped, pointing.
‘What’s that?’
The white sails of the little boat were visible amongst the reeds. It was a good six feet from the bank, the leading string floating like a thin snake on the water, just out of reach.
‘What if he t-tried...?’
Panic took over. She began to run frantically back and forth along the bank, calling out, peering at the reeds and only stopping when Max gripped her shoulders.
‘Ellen, he is not in the water. There is no sign of him here and no current to carry him away. He is not here. Trust me.’
The self-control she had exercised so effectively for weeks gave way to unreasoning dread. He was gone, her child. Her baby. Her only reason for living, since Max no longer loved her.
‘I must keep looking, I must!’ She began to shake uncontrollably. Max’s grip tightened and she threw up her head, her eyes beseeching him. ‘He is all I have, Max!’
‘We will find him, I promise you.’
His calm certainty steadied her. She drew in another shuddering breath, drawing strength from his presence. She swiped a hand across her cheek and dashed away a mixture of rain and tears. She must think where next to look.
A shout. Tony Grisham was running towards them, waving frantically.
‘Safe.’ That was the first word she heard. ‘He’s safe, Your Grace.’ Tony came to a stand before them, chest heaving, but grinning even as the rain plastered his hair to his head. ‘He came in by way of the kitchens and the scullery maid took him straight up to the nursery.’ He saw Ellen look back towards the lake. ‘He was here, ma’am, but he says he let go of the string at the first thunderclap. He was coming in to get help to recover the yacht when apparently he saw a hen was loose, so he chased it back to the kitchen gardens. Then the next clap of thunder sent him scurrying into the kitchens. That’s why we couldn’t see him. He’s so small he was screened from us by the hedges.’
‘Oh, thank heaven.’ Ellen’s legs felt so weak she thought she might have collapsed if Max had not been holding her. She reached out and clasped Tony’s hand in both her own. ‘Thank you,’ she said fervently.
Max kept his arm around Ellen and hurried her indoors. He knew she would not rest until she had seen for herself that the boy was safe so he took her directly upstairs, leaving a watery trail behind them. Jamie was in bed and already half-asleep when they reached the nursery. Max felt his chest tighten at the sight of the little boy tucked up snugly under the covers, the blond curls still slightly damp. His son.
Ellen fell to her knees beside the bed, stifling a sob.
‘That will do now, Miss Ellen,’ Matlock told her gruffly, worry causing her to revert to addressing her mistress in the old way. ‘You are dripping water all over the boy, which will not do him any good.’
‘No. No, of course. I wanted to be sure he was all right.’ Ellen leaned closer to plant a gentle kiss on his head before she pushed herself to her feet. Outside the thunder was still rolling, but softly now, moving away.
Ellen tried to smile, but Max saw it fade. She swayed and would have fallen if he had not been ready to catch her.
‘Shock,’ said Matlock as he swept Ellen up into his arms. ‘She needs to get dry and warm. And as quickly as possible.’
‘I will see to it.’
He carried her from the nursery, holding her against his heart. Even in her sodden clothes she weighed almost nothing. Down the stairs and past the door to her bedchamber, he took her to his own dressing room. Flynn would already have a bath prepared for him and he knew that would be the quickest way to drive the chill from Ellen’s body. She was stirring, but he made no effort to put her down. It was a struggle to open the door, but he managed it, stepping through and kicking it closed behind him. The warmth of the room enveloped them both. Flynn had pulled the curtains across the windows, shutting out the storm, and as Max had hoped, a fire blazed in the hearth and the candles burned in their sockets, casting a cosy glow over the room.
In front of the fire was the hip bath, perfumed steam rising lazily from the water and scenting the air. Flynn came in from the bedchamber and could not hide his surprise to see his master arrive with the Duchess in his arms, but Max was in no mood for explanations.
He said shortly, ‘Leave us.’
‘Shall I send in Her Grace’s maid?’
‘No. I will deal with this.’
Flynn went out, closing the door quietly behind him. Ellen stirred again and Max looked down at her.
‘We must get you out of that wet gown.’
Gently he set her on her feet, but she was shivering too much to do much more than stand still while he swiftly helped her out of her clothes and into the bath. The wry thought flashed across his mind that the practice he had had over the years of undressing women was at last proving useful. His own skin was beginning to feel the chill of his sodden jacket and shirt so he stripped down to his breeches and threw more logs on to the already roaring fire before turning his attention back to Ellen. She had stopped shivering and was lying back in the warm water, eyes closed. A touch of colour had returned to her cheeks and as he knelt beside the bath she opened her eyes.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
He wanted to lean across and kiss the corner of her mouth, where the first tremulous signs of a smile had appeared, but he resisted. She would think he wanted her gratitude and that was not it at all. Instead he reached out and gently moved a stray curl from her cheek.
‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘I am getting warmer.’
‘Good. Then if you will permit me I shall finish drying myself.’
* * *
Ellen rested her head against the high side of the bath. The warmth of the water was soaking into her limbs, relaxing her. She felt no urgency to do anything save look at Max. He had his back to her, so she felt free to watch as he dragged the towel across his shoulders, enjoying the way the light played with the muscles as he moved, throwing up shadows, accentuating the strong lines. She felt less relaxed when he discarded his breeches. There was a definite pleasure in looking at the narrow hips and strong thighs. He moved with a lithe grace, exuding power, and a tiny frisson of anxiety went through her when he disappeared into the bedroom, but he was back almost immediately, wrapped in an exotic dressing gown. The disappointment she felt because she could no longer see his body made her smile.
It was at that moment Max chose to look at her and heat flooded through her, rising up to colour her cheeks. If he noticed her blush he gave no sign, but picked a large towel from the rack on the far side of the fire and approached the bath.
‘The water will be growing cold. Come along.’
Obediently she rose. As she stepped out of the bath he wrapped her in the towel and in his arms, pulling her against him. Ellen closed her eyes and let the memories flood back as the thick material enveloped her, gentle and comforting against her skin.
‘I have not felt towelling as soft as this since my wedding day,’ she murmured, leaning against him. ‘The local women bathed me and dressed me for the ceremony, do you remember?’
Good memories of hot days, warm nights and long, languorous lovemaking.
‘How could I forget?’ He lowered his head to kiss her neck and she felt the pleasure welling up inside. He released her with a sigh. ‘I have tried so hard to resist you.’
She did not move away.
‘Why should you?’ she whispered, letting the towel fall to the floor. ‘I am your wife.’
Green fire blazed in his eyes. As he lifted her into his arms she wanted to say how much she loved him, but he had made it plain he did not want that. She was afraid such a declaration might drive him away again and she could not bear for him to leave now, when her body was crying out for him. Instead she put her hands around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder while he carried her through to the bed and laid her gently on the covers. In one fluid movement he shed his banyan and stretched himself beside her. He propped himself on one elbow and looked at her, devouring her with his eyes, and it was all she could do not to reach out for him. When he lowered his head to plant a gentle kiss on one shoulder she breathed out on a sigh. Her head went back as he trailed kisses across her collar bone, pausing at the little dip at the base of her throat.
Ellen closed her eyes and reached for him. She pushed her hands through his hair, feeling the silky softness of it, breathing in the scent of him, damp skin and warm, woody spices that excited her senses. She burrowed against him, urgently seeking his mouth, and when at last their lips met the whole world exploded. She clung to him, touching, caressing, revelling in the feel of flesh on flesh as they came together in a tangle of limbs and a frenzied consummation that was over all too soon.
In a silence broken only by their gasping, panting breaths, Ellen rolled away from Max, on to her side. Gently but firmly he reached out and pulled her against him, curving himself around her back and cradling one breast in his hand as he kissed her neck. Smiling, Ellen closed her eyes and enjoyed the delicious sensation of his body wrapped about her. It felt as if she had come home.
* * *
She had slept then, but at some point Max must have given orders for dinner to be sent up on a tray, for when she awoke he coaxed her to sit up and they fed each other with delicious slivers of meat and fruit washed down with sweet wines. It was a magical, other-worldly experience, curled on the bed within the glow from a single branched candlestick. They barely spoke and Ellen knew it was a truce, of sorts, and she was content to shut out the problems of the past, for a while at least.
Afterwards Max pulled her back down into his bed and they fell into a deep sleep, but before the last of the candles had burned itself out Ellen stirred. Max was still curled about her, but now he was pressed against her, hard and aroused. The hand on her breast was caressing her, his thumb gently circling the nub. She moved restlessly and his other hand slid over her hip. She gasped as his fingers slipped into the hinge of her thighs and he began to stroke her, slowly at first, but going deeper, faster until she was bucking against him, crying out as he carried her to the very edge of consciousness. Her body was trembling with anticipation as he rolled her on to her stomach and pulled up her hips. Then, kneeling behind her on the bed, he entered her, driving deep into her core. He smoothed his hands over her aching breasts, ran his fingers over her belly and down again between her thighs to caress the tender spot there until she was moaning with pleasure. Every thrust brought a gasp as he took her higher and she knew he was keeping his own desires in check until he had tipped her over the edge into ecstasy. Only then did he let go and with a shout of triumph he buried himself deep inside her. They fell on to the bed, sated, exhausted, and as Max gathered her against him she heard his murmur, soft against her skin.
‘My wife. My Duchess.’
But in the morning she was alone.
* * *
Jupiter flew across the park, Max crouched low over his neck, urging him on, pushing the horse to its limit. Deer grazing peacefully on the rise scattered in panic as the black hunter and its rider continued their headlong flight. They skirted the Home Wood and galloped towards the ridge, where the pace slowed as they ascended the hill. Max had hoped an early morning gallop would purge the lust from his blood and he would be able to think rationally, but it had not worked. He could not forget the sight of Ellen as she rose, naked from the bath, the feel of her, fragile and defenceless in his arms. Then watching that rosy mouth brush his fingertips as he fed her delicate morsels, fulfilling his need to protect and cherish her. He had vowed he would not fall under her spell again, but desire had overwhelmed him, fierce as ever.
For a few hours last night he had forgotten the pain and anger and guilt that had dogged him for so long. Perhaps he was wrong to blame her for everything. Perhaps it was not too late to start again, if he could trust her. If she loved him. Max brought Jupiter to a stand on the edge of the ridge. Yesterday’s storm had cleared the air and his lands lay spread out below him, Rossenhall looking serene in the morning sun.
Was she awake yet, his Duchess? Was she lying in those tangled twisted sheets and thinking how glorious the night had been? Of course not. He was not fool enough to think her first waking thoughts would be of him. She would go directly to the nursery, to assure herself that Jamie was safe. His hands tightened on the reins and Jupiter snorted and sidled nervously. Max leaned forward and stroked the glossy neck.
‘I cannot blame her, I suppose, since it was the first place I went this morning.’
He thought again of peeping in at the little scamp as he slept, the way his heart turned over at the sight of that tousled head, of being assured by Matlock that the young lord was none the worse for yesterday’s adventure.
He is all I have, Max.
He could not forget Ellen’s words. They had echoed in his head when he woke at first light to find her still sleeping in his arms. He had slipped out of bed, knowing if he stayed he would give in again to the desire that was still raging through him. Last night she had wanted comfort, reassurance, but that did not mean she loved him, any more than he loved her.
It was simply desire.
Max turned Jupiter and headed back the way they had come, but there was a nagging suspicion in his brain that there was nothing simple about his desire for his wife.