For Sheldon, the part of him that had been destroyed with Madelynne’s death was restored when he had total custody of Chelynne. He contented himself with that much of a lost love. Looking at her now brought a heavy sadness to his heart, for she was so very much like the woman he had loved.
“I had hoped it was not so, Madelynne,” he said to the emptiness in his study. “But for me it is true. Love comes but once.”
The Mondeloy party set out for Hawthorne House as planned. Three coaches, carts carrying belongings and several horsemen made up the long retinue. With every inch put behind them Chelynne dreaded her fate the more. But she was true to her gentle rearing and all doubts and anxieties were covered with poise. She was stunned out of her melancholy at the first sight of Hawthorne House.
The rich ancestral home stood back from the courtyard in majesty. It was fronted by an elaborate water spout and the trees and shrubs lining the drive were carved into intriguing little shapes. Ivy covered the walls and beautiful flowers bloomed before the carefully laid stones. A cherub riding high above a large pond seemed to watch over the ducks and swans that played there. Being married to the devil himself could not have made this an ugly place. It was the most magnificent home she had ever seen.
As their party approached, neatly garbed servants stepped out onto the landing to ease the ladies down and carry in the many trunks and parcels. The earl was there to greet them, bowing to Chelynne in particular and taking custody of her hand for the grand tour. He gave no time for pause but proudly led her through what would be her home. Every room took her breath away, the many fine trappings of this mansion filling her with awe.
With her excitement mounting, he showed her to the wing of the house she would occupy after her wedding. He threw open the door to her suite and she gasped audibly at its immensity. The entire room was done in red and royal blue. A monstrous canopy topped the bed and a stool was placed before it to ease her entry to the resting place. A fireplace large enough to walk into took up the major portion of one wall. The other furnishings—a desk, cupboards, dressing screens, couches and settees—were all done in the French style and shined with a high gloss.
From this room there were many doors. A large set of glass doors opened onto a terrace from which she could view the gardens. Another opened into a private closet and yet another led into an anteroom that could be occupied by her women or later adjusted to keep a child close at hand. And finally the door, the location of which she memorized immediately, that would lead to her husband’s room.
A sitting room separated them and oblivious to custom the earl led her through it to her intended groom’s bedchamber. This was all done in gold and brown, all the pieces large and heavy and of a design she did not know. There was a cabinet for liquor and a desk and other functional pieces, again the huge hearth and monstrous sleeping place. She noted that there was no footstool to aid him on entering and she had an instant vision of a little man, the size and stature of the earl, making a long running leap into the bed on their wedding night. Hesitantly she asked the whereabouts of his son.
“He seldom confides in me, but he’s a man to find duty wherever he is. You could make his acquaintance tonight, if you’re so inclined, but your aunt seems to favor having you publicly presented to him at the ball tomorrow night.” He shook his head as if exasperated and muttered, “God, but she’s a pompous creature.”
Chelynne giggled lightly. Eleanor was playing this part out as far as it would take her. This time the excitement of it was getting the better of Chelynne, or starting to. She had never been treated with such importance. The entire Mondeloy party was led to the opposite wing in the tower apartments reserved for guests of special importance. The earl bade them seek out their pleasures as they desired, his home and staff at their complete disposal. But Eleanor was adamant. They would keep privately to the tower and have their meals there until the ball. He argued that the diversions were there for the asking, but Eleanor thought a rest from their traveling more the order of the day.
However womanly her charms, Chelynne was a child at heart. Her young body was restless with excitement and apprehension. Resting was a favored pastime for overweight ladies like her aunt. For a maid in the sixteenth summer of her life, adventure and intrigue were preferred.
Stella settled Chelynne on the bed with a firm hand, insisting that rest was the most important thing now. It was not very long before the aging serving woman filled the room with her snores. Chelynne crept carefully from the bed and rummaged through her trunk for something unobtrusive to wear. Clothed in a less pretentious linen bodice and skirt, she slipped down the tower stairs and went swiftly away from the house.
The stables were not hard to find, but again the grandeur was stifling. They did not appear to be shelter for simple beasts, but yet they were. She had never seen anything so fine, nor so much activity within. Many grooms were hard at work and she approached one as he tended a most attractive mare. She touched the horse fondly and remarked on its beauty and fine lineage.
“One of ‘is Lordship’s finest,” he told her.
“Might I take her out?”
The boy seemed uncertain. “She’s new to us, madam,” he stammered. “She’s broken but still a bit ‘igh strung.” He had noticed at once how lovely this maid was and didn’t know the way to refuse her without hurting his case with her.
“But the earl assured me I could have the mount of my choice.” It was only a slight distortion. He had almost said that. “I am a guest in his household, you see.”
“You are one of the bride’s party?”
She laughed a little, considering the way she was dressed. She would resemble one of her own servants. And she noted the boy’s open admiration. She would probably not get nearly so much attention if she confided that, in spite of appearances, she was in fact the bride. “I am.”
The groom was filled with sudden hope. “And will you be staying with your mistress?”
“I shall,” she replied with a giggle.
She thought his a fine game, while he thought her a flirtatious maid. He seemed very near saddling the mount for her, but he paused and asked, “‘Ave you the permission of your lady?”
“Of course I do.”
“I don’t know if I should let ‘er out. She’s a special mare and ‘er spirit is light.”
“I assure you I can handle any mount in this stable.” It was no lie. She was indeed a fine horsewoman.
The groom bowed gravely. “I offer myself as escort, madam.”
“I should better like to go alone.”
“It is the rule of this stable. I cannot saddle a ‘orse for any woman from ‘is Lordship’s ‘ouse’old without attendants.”
“Very well,” she said. She worried with her time away. “But do hurry. It’s getting late.”
The mare was golden, a mount of fine quality. She wore on her forehead a star and white stockings graced her forelegs. Chelynne loved the horse at once and murmured to her in light, comforting tones. She was called Summer and she had come only a short time before to their stables.
“Summer,” she tested. “For your bright and youthful look,” she said to her horse. The mare bobbed her head as if in agreement and it set them both to laughing. Chelynne stroked her lovingly, giving her a firm hand and gentle touch, and before very long the horse and rider seemed inseparable friends.
Her young escort thought himself to be well in control of the situation, leading Chelynne down a road that put Hawthorne House farther and farther behind them. His horse was not nearly so young and fine, but he was little concerned with that. His thoughts all revolved around what secluded place he could find and whether or not she would let him have a kiss.
Chelynne eased the mare along carefully, learning her temperament with unhurried grace. Summer pranced a bit, but Chelynne showed her firmly who was mistress of the reins and she quieted again. Her escort praised her control and ability, but Chelynne had almost forgotten he was there. She was completely a
bsorbed in the horse.
The trees that bordered their path grew thicker as they moved farther into the countryside. Mischief sparked her. She saw her chance and took the reins in a determined grip, much to Summer’s confusion. A well-placed heel sent the mare bounding off the road and through the trees, leaving a much-bemused groom shouting at her back and trying in vain to follow. She rode in lighthearted abandon, finding this sport of losing an escort even more to her liking in this alien place. It wasn’t long before there was no sound behind her and she was shed of him.
Chelynne had an uncanny sense of direction in the out-of-doors. In a mansion like the one she would occupy she could become lost and disoriented in no time, but where there was a sky above and trees all about her, she was at home. The maze of rooms in the manor house was still confusing to her; she was a little afraid to venture through Hawthorne House alone. But that didn’t worry her as she rode. She could sense her way.
The countryside was beautiful and the ride refreshing. She found the familiar road and eased Summer into a trot. She wondered if she would find an angry groom waiting or if a party of searchers would have to be sent out to find him. She thought briefly about going after him but a fierce pounding of horse hooves behind her quickly changed her mind.
She turned to see a great black stallion with a rider astride who seemed as large and fearsome as the beast. Instantly afraid of this assailant, she squealed and urged her horse into a faster gait. Summer was tired from her ride and could not best the stallion given any advantage. Chelynne took the only chance open to her and turned Summer into the trees, hoping for escape in the wood. He was close at her back.
Her plan turned to folly as she came through that small copse into a clearing that seemed to stretch for miles ahead. She would surely become swift prey, but not without a fight. When he grabbed her reins, she threw herself to the ground and started away on foot. Ten steps, perhaps twelve, were taken when she felt his arm go about her waist and she was hurled to the ground.
Chelynne was stunned by the impact of her fall. The first sound reviving her was that of hooves beating the ground as her frightened mare fled the scene. He held his stallion in tow, preventing his chase of the mare. The face above her cleared and she looked into angry gray eyes.
“What the hell are you about?” he demanded.
She couldn’t manage a reply and found she didn’t have to. He walked away from her to a nearby bush and tethered his horse. As he accomplished the task he looked in her direction, his brows drawn together in a black scowl. She trembled at the sight of him.
“Where did you come by that horse?”
“The Hawthorne stables, sir,” she fairly chattered.
“And how did you gain permission to use her?”
“The groom saddled the one I selected,” she responded dully.
“His name?”
“Sir?”
“His name! The one who saddled the horse!”
“I...I didn’t ask.”
“So, one of my grooms just gave you the horse of your choice, just like that?”
“Your groom?”
“My groom! My horse, in fact! I would know your intention. Were you planning to steal the mare?”
“No, sir!”
“The men tending the stables are given strict orders not to lend out any horse but on my approval or the earl’s. I cannot believe that one of them would give you a horse, much less that one.”
“I didn’t take the horse without permission! The earl said I might have the mount of my choice. I am his guest.”
“A member of the Mondeloy party?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The same,” she replied coolly, standing to brush the dirt off her skirt.
“My father,” he muttered, as if vexed. “By not letting me handle my own affairs he ruins virtually every project I set my mind to. That horse was to be a gift to my bride. It was brought to my knowledge that she enjoys a ride. Now we must hope that the mare knows the way home. It’s not a beast I should like to part with.”
Chelynne watched him with wide, disbelieving eyes. This was to be her husband? Nothing about him resembled the earl. He was tall of stature, his chest broad and muscled, and he was fiercely dark, perhaps the mark of some Bourbon ancestry. Lean and handsome, he had jet-black hair, and his jaw was set in a firm, square line. His clothing would never give him away as nobility, for he was garbed in breeches and a tunic of animal hide, and at his waist was fastened a crude knife and not a sword. The boots were well worn and his hat, which he now struck with vicious intent against one thigh, gave evidence of a long and dusty ride.
“And what part of the bride’s party are you? Cousin to my betrothed, serving girl, perhaps?”
“I serve my lady closer than any, my lord,” she said softly.
“She’s lenient with her servants, then,” he snorted. “Sit, we’ll take a rest and let the horse blow before going back.” He dropped to the ground without giving her any further consideration. A blade of grass was pulled from its stalk and stuck between his teeth as he looked off into the distance.
Chelynne dropped down to the ground as well, carefully tucking her dress in around her knees. A quick survey told her they were secluded, and she was left to stare at his back, wondering at this strange, beautiful man. She had never dared hope for this. He was magnificent.
When he turned to look at her, she jumped in surprise. He chuckled, running his eyes slowly over her. When they met eyes again, his were sparked with mischief. “Well, tell me then, is my intended going to give me a bony ride or will I be lost in mounds of fat?”
“My lord?”
“Is she too fat or too thin?”
“Why...neither, my lord.”
“Come now, I know you’re loyal, most servant girls are. But I would know my fate. Is she terribly ugly?”
Chelynne lifted her chin a notch. “I’ve heard some say she is beautiful.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he said as if doubting it heartily. “Whatever young gallant is seeking her dowry would find her a handsome pet. But what do you think of her? The truth now. Is she at least bearable to look upon?”
“My lord, I know of no gallant to speak of my lady and I think her fair of face.”
“And her figure?”
Chelynne blushed. Her whole being seemed to burn with embarrassment. But she could see that what the earl said was true. He was not eager for his bride. “Much as my own. In truth we are the same size.”
“That I cannot believe,” he huffed. “If she has a body like yours, she must have the face of a mule.”
“My lord!”
“My lord, my lord...My name is Chadwick Hawthorne and while we are alone in the country and forced to ride one horse home, you may call me Chad. Your name?”
“Che...Charla.” She looked away nervously.
“Does something trouble you, my dear?” She lowered her eyes and pinkened a little bit more. “Well, you’re the finest thing that’s come of this wedding thus far. Will you be staying with your lady?”
“Until she dies, my lord,” she murmured.
“She must have a great deal of confidence to dangle you before my eyes.” He reclined on the earth, his head braced on his hand, and studied her leisurely. His gray eyes smoked over with a warm and liquid darkness. She looked into them then and saw a tenderness that she loved at once. It was at that moment that her head began to swell with dreams of what would come to pass between them. She had already fallen in love with him.
“You are not eager for your bride?” she asked softly.
“Hell, why should I be?”
“She brings a dowry...”
“That I could have bargained for without the promise of marriage. I would gladly have changed gold for the land and left her more fixed for other proposals. How many nobles want property in Jamaica? Many want gold.”
“You do not wish to marry?”
“Not under the circumstances,” he muttered.
“Whatever coul
d be as serious as that?” she asked innocently.
“Oh no, my little lamb,” he laughed. “You’ll not wheedle my life’s story out of me. Your lady would hear about it straightaway.” He reached out and crushed the silky softness of her hair in one hand. “I would much prefer a wife of my own choice, that is all.”
“Mayhaps when you meet her you will find she is your choice.”
“Life is never so kind as that, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Yet I think for once fate has dealt me a gift in lieu of the usual blow. I had not hoped she would bring such a lovely maiden with her.”
“You flatter—”
“I don’t flatter...ever. I’m sure you’ve been told often enough how beautiful you are. It is a simple fact. I’ll not mind looking at you too much.”
“You would be a bold husband for any woman,” she whispered.
“I’m afraid, darling, that I wouldn’t be much of a husband for any woman at this time in my life. Just the same, a satisfactory lover.”
“My lord, you take too much liberty...”
She lowered her eyes, for his stare seemed to penetrate her very soul. When she dared to look at him again he was watching her still, his eyes dark, smoky and filled with lust. She couldn’t seem to escape them and she was falling, helplessly. She realized with some surprise that he had slipped a hand around her neck and was pulling her to him, slowly and steadily. She could summon no resistance. Their lips met and a wave of excitement spiraled through her, causing her stomach to jump involuntarily. She could concentrate on nothing but the bold urgency of his mouth and the warmth of his breath.
With a quick movement she was pulled down beside him and he rose over her to kiss her again, obviously experienced in his passion. She put her hands to his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but the signal her brain gave her limbs was lost and instead her arms went around him to hold him to her. One large hand found the small of her back and pulled her hard against him while another found her breast. A low moan escaped her as her desire mounted. She was lost in this wild and beautiful madness. Her breath came in shallow panting gasps. She had never lived before now. He covered her with his long lean body and she felt his masculine desire hard against her thigh. A vision of them tumbling naked on the grass before they had even been introduced came to her mind and with a cry of panic she wiggled away from him, pulling her clothing around her.