Chapter Two

A Bride’s Heaven

“I have you, Ruth. I have you.”

Strong, bony arms caught me and pinned me to equally gaunt ribs.

“Breathe, Ruthy, breathe.”

Adam’s voice.

He’d found me, brought me from that gray place, not quite awake, not quite able to say anything. A place I’d visited more and more since finding Uncle’s coat. When would my nerves surrender to my boldness? I wasn’t this fragile, was I?

“It’s fine, my Ruthy. I know the innkeeper scared you.”

His voice touched my heart, cutting through my confusion.

I squinted and saw it was him. Tall, thin him.

He was a beanpole with arms—my beanpole.

Strong, pulse-racing tight, he held me. Who knew his embrace could offer the comfort of a warrior king like that hero in the Iliad…or was it the Odyssey—one of those poems he loved to read?

Peace settled upon me, and I let brave me return his embrace, no shyness, not even in front of his driver.

Adam, my Adam, was here.

“Ruthy, I told you to wait. My queen doesn’t lift her own trunk.”

His voice sounded like a song saying my name. His pitch, a smidge lower than alto, sweet-talked the remaining shadows from my mind. He was good at convincing my fears and good sense to flee.

With my arm locked in his, Adam scooped up my trunk like it was paper and headed me around the corner.

One low star centered above my husband’s carriage.

Husband.

I could breathe.

I could dance.

I could sing with gratitude for my husband. The innkeeper was horrid, the room terrible, but my Adam was wonderful. “Can’t wait to introduce you to my parents.”

Adam offered a small smile, his I’m-not-so-convinced smile, his let-me-change-your-mind smile, then moved to the yawning driver.

It was horrible this man didn’t get sleep, either.

Adam came toward me. We’d literally been kicked out of this inn, and this man here, moved with the swagger of a prince.

His boots shined. A perfectly tailored coat hung beneath that cape. My prince.

I put a hand to his lapel and fingered the daisy he’d found and put in a buttonhole. “You took so long. Picking flowers?”

My nose wrinkled, though I loved the fresh scent of daisies almost as much as his tangy cologne.

“Well, they are your favorite.”

Like the gentleman he was, he bowed and kissed my hand. “Why is my wife so nervous?”

How could I explain my fears for him, for us? I bit my lip and closed my eyes for a moment. “You shared so much, last night.”

“Yes, we did, my love.” He brushed my mouth, handling me like a fine crystal goblet. The taste of him almost succeeded in distracting me, but this argument was too important.

“I wasn’t talking about that. The conspiracy with your uncle. I’m scared. I couldn’t wait. I had to see you. We’ve only been married five days.”

“And four glorious nights. This fortnight of eloping from London was the best time in my life. I have you, my queen, at last.”

He was back to kissing me again, smooth and gentle, each moment like a first, like a good last time.

His lips won. My fears disappeared. I stretched and wrapped my arms about his neck.

I’d never felt so much or so deeply. Every time he touched me, the more in love, the more in want, the more lost, I became.

“We haven’t started living our happily-ever-after. Only death shall part us, nothing else. I’ll always be yours, Ruth. Always.”

He pulled a sliced document from his pocket and stuffed it in the lining of my trunk. “But you are right. We’re not safe. The innkeeper’s upset is the beginning. He may alert someone. My cousin Nickie warned me that Uncle won’t be stopped this time.”

Adam put my hands in his. His skin was warm but his palms damp. “If anything happens to me, you need this piece of the registry. Take it to my father, Wycliff. He’ll take care of you.”

“Who?”

“It’s on the paper.”

“Adam, what’s this all about? Is that half our marriage registry?”

He stuffed my trunk into the carriage. “Yes. My half is already on the way to my father’s.”

“Something is wrong. Why would your cousin go against his own papa? That’s nonsensical.”

“I saved Nickie, Nicholas’s life. He almost drowned. We have an amiable relationship. Hopefully that will be enough.”

Adam examined me anew.

My wrinkled, misbuttoned dress made me tug at my shawl. I hid behind my folded arms.

“Ruth, my dearest, you didn’t wear a coat. It’s October. The slight wind has caused your shivers.”

That wasn’t it, but I’d already learned to lie. “Too much in a rush.” I said. “I didn’t bring one from home.”

He unlaced his cape and placed it about me.

The velvet shrouded me, splashing down like ebony ink. “Papa would approve of your fabric.”

He pulled the cape tighter about my shoulders. “The fabric king. Mr. Croome is one of the best in the trades.”

Adam’s sigh was hot on my cheek, the inch of my neck I offered.

“The night’s chill will make you ill. And I’ve upset you with my crazed talk.”

My fear of being found weak made me grasp tighter to his lapels. “You have to tell me everything. I’m not a wilting daisy.”

“But you like daisies.”

Adam pried my hands free and held them to his bony chest.

In my head, I stroked the birthmark, the strawberry shape below his throat. Such an intimate thought. It made me giggly to know so much of him.

“Up you go, my lady.” He lifted me into the well-lit carriage.

He knew I liked the light, liked how it made things feel safe and confined and cozy.

“Ruth, we are dusting our feet of this place.”

Despite being so thin, thin like he had a worm, as Mama would say, Adam was strong and wonderful in every other way, so kind and handsome with his short-cropped wavy hair.

He climbed inside but kept his hands to his knees. He didn’t tap the roof. “I wish there had been another way to marry. Something that would’ve garnered your parents’ blessings. You may need them if things don’t go well. But I must do what is right for my father. My uncle has embezzled from him and others. I made copies of the ledgers. Uncle Soulden and his business partner forged initials to the transactions to look as if my father is the thief. It’s not right. Righteousness must win against the darkness.”

I tried to ignore the scary words in his speech like embezzled and forged and don’t-go-well. I needed to make a joke like Adam always did. “That vicar training in you is too strong, but maybe it blesses us.”

“My father’s fault. When he took me to St. George’s, all those bright stained-glass panes never left me. But I am to be a gentleman running his estates, financing his business interests. You think you will enjoy being a gentlewoman, having parties?”

“My mama will appreciate that.”

His face became more serious. The little lines around his dimples eroded to a frown. “What if you have to sit at the back of St. George’s with the servants, because someone like the innkeeper can’t imagine you are my wife?”

We were the same, but Adam’s light skin gave him access to that different world, one where even Croome money couldn’t buy entry.

I clasped his hand, my darker palm over his. “We’ll figure everything out. I’m happy to be Mrs. Adam Wilky.”

After patting my fingers like the patronizing fellow he could be, he leaned back and folded his arms with the panache of a peer, far above a mere rich man’s son. “Last chance, my Ruthy, my dearest darling. I know we are only a few hours from London, but we could turn around and head to Scotland. I’ll spoil you rotten there. It’ll be better until Nickie tells me the danger has passed. I can decipher the ledgers in peace.”

“We must go to my parents, so they know I’m safe. I have to let them know what we’ve done.”

“Not everything we’ve done, my dear. Some secrets should remain between husband and wife.”

Oh, Adam. His wicked smile, his sing-song voice. “How can you get me so worked up fearing for our lives and then try to make me laugh?”

His soulful eyes, luscious and dark, beamed. “You need to be happy. You deserve it. I’m most fortunate to have your love. Any chance I could seduce you on a grassy knoll by some babbling Scottish brook? It would be safer, Ruth. So much safer.”

“To London, sir.”

He closed his eyes and became stiff. “What Ruthy wants, Ruthy gets. Then to London we go, and we shall hope for the best.”

He bounced out, gave instructions to his driver, then slipped back inside. This time he sat next to me and looped his hands with mine.

I rested against him, leaning into his shoulder. His sweet scent, the Bay Rum, made breathing easier. Oh, how I loved it, loved him.

As the Croomes’ wild child, I had my wildest dream in Adam Wilky.

A glance at Adam’s perspiring brow sent a chill down my spine, one that didn’t stop until it froze my toes.

Adam wasn’t convinced that London was the right decision, but he’d given in to me.

Maybe once we were settled and living a quiet married life, he could finally be comfortable.

“We may struggle a bit.” His voice was low, each word perfectly formed as if he’d thought and thought again about what to say.

“You don’t have to be so careful with me. I married you for you.”

“Ruth, there are so many things I’ve yet to say.” He stretched and again threaded his fingers with mine. “My father wasn’t happy at me demanding to marry you. He’d picked out an heiress, a Mayfair neighbor’s daughter.”

I reared back, smiling big and proud. “I’m an heiress. When my papa calms down, you could discuss a dowry.”

“No, Ruth. I don’t want his money. My father begrudges me nothing, but he wants me to have a safe life. He wants me to assimilate into the Ton, to pass for something I’m not. He’d hate me having to sneak you into inns or seeing you sit in the rear of St. George’s.”

The passion, the angst in his voice barely masked his pain, feelings he’d never expressed. He’d always had jokes and punny phrases.

“Adam, you’re working yourself up. What is it that you are trying to say? You’re unhappy with me? You already have regrets?”

“Never think that. I could die a thousand times and will awaken in glory always loving you. I think I’ve outwitted Uncle Soulden. We just need to be undetected a little longer so my father can dismantle the dangerous man’s business.”

My husband was trying again to dissuade me, but this tactic wouldn’t work. I’d offer him a compromise. “Once we see my parents, we can leave. You can take me anywhere. I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“No one can see us but your parents. My sister Cicely has been sent away to school to keep her safe while my father seeks legal redress against Uncle Soulden.”

There he was using those big words, biting that wonderfully soft lip which he should save for kissing. My husband, thoughtful, educated, and in love with me. That was all that mattered. “Our love is enough. We can do anything.”

I smoothed my hands against his waistcoat. “Always so serious, always checking corners, watching for evil that never comes. You’ll fret yourself into a head of gray hair, or worse, it will all fall out.”

His tell-tale full lips drooped into a deeper frown. “You wouldn’t adore me if I were bald?”

“Of course I would.”

He smiled for a moment, then peeked out the window.

Were we being followed?

“Adam, when will joy hit you? I’ve spent five days as Mrs. Adam Wilky. I’m happy.”

He retook my palm and played with my thumb.

My heart beat like a drummer boy.

“Sorry. I’m going to be like this until we get to London, see your parents, then disappear. Then you’ll promise to listen to my cautions.”

“Yes.”

“No more making me rethink my plans?”

“Why would I agree to that? You need someone to keep you from brooding.”

A hiss siphoned through his lips and fluttered one of my drooping curls.

“Brooding but lovable.” Adam embraced me, wrapping his rail-thin arms about my waist. “I love you. I’ll love you forever.”

“When we settle, sir, point me to a kitchen. I’m going to fatten you up, make you overflow with happiness and tender beefsteak. You’ll never regret choosing me, to live like me. And I’m going to do my best to keep you distracted from nonsense.”

“You will, aye?” He kissed my nose. “Ruth Elizabeth, my loosey-goosey Ruthy, my queen. You’re my heaven. How can I fear anything when you finally promised to be mine?”

His head dipped. I sniffed more of his savory cologne and the daisies I so loved.

Then he took my lips.

His kiss made everything right.

Our happy forever had begun.