Читать книгу The Illegitimate Montague - Sarah Mallory - Страница 10

Amber drifted back to wakefulness, amazingly content and at peace, like a feather drifting gently back to earth after a great storm. It was almost dawn, a grey twilight hung over the clearing. She was lying in a man’s arms, their naked limbs fitting snugly together in the most natural way and she felt relaxed. More than that, she felt cherished. Loved. She had been an innocent maid when she had married Bernard, and he had been a selfish lover, their coupling had left her feeling lost and dissatisfied. At the time she had not known why but now, lying here with Adam, she understood.

Adam. She moved slightly, tentatively touching the lean body stretched beside her. They had not met since they were children, yet she had felt an immediate affinity with him. Perhaps it was because he had come to her rescue once again. She smiled in the darkness. It was more likely his magnificent physique. She recalled how she had reacted to the sight of his naked chest, when he had removed his wet shirt, the firelight glinting on his wide shoulders, the rippling muscles of his chest. Just the thought of it sent shafts of aching lust running through her again.

Reluctantly she moved away from his warmth and curled herself into a ball. How wanton he would think her. How shocked she was that she had thrown herself at him! Amber had no idea what had come over her. Could she blame it on the wine, perhaps, or on their situation, surrounded by the gently billowing fabrics, as if they were in some exotic pavilion? No, nothing could excuse her behaviour. She had thrown caution to the winds and given herself to Adam. Something within had taken over, compelled her to kiss him, and after that, she was lost.

Amber sat up, fear chilling her heart. She had never been so completely out of control before. Adam had withdrawn early, so there could be no baby, no lasting evidence of her weakness, but what if it happened again? She must make sure it did not, or she would risk losing everything she had worked so hard to achieve.

She had been a widow for more than seven years, in charge of her own life, and this sudden vulnerability was terrifying. She had known nothing like it before. Amber had been fifteen when her mother died and she had stepped into her shoes, taking over the accounts and running the shop. It had not been difficult; she loved the business and as a child she had spent all her spare time in the warehouse, learning about the different fabrics, talking to the customers and accompanying her father on his business trips. She had soon realised that while her father was an excellent salesman, it was her mother who knew which fabrics to buy and how much to spend to keep the finances in order.

Amber had inherited her mother’s natural flair for business and she had hoped that her father would listen to her advice, that with a little economy they could make the savings and investments needed to expand. Instead, without his wife’s moderating influence, he had spent his money foolishly and within the year it was clear that the business would need substantial investment if it was to continue. Bernard Hall had been a gentleman by birth and knew nothing about trade, but he had had a little money which he was willing to invest. Amber knew now that she had been the bargaining tool her father had used to entice Bernard into partnership. She had resisted his advances for three years, but at eighteen she had given in to the pressure from Bernard and her father and become Mrs Hall.

It had not been a happy time. They had needed Bernard’s added investment to continue, but his strong, bullying personality had dominated her father and Amber had been obliged to watch the business she loved sinking further into decline. She had thought that by marrying Bernard she might have more influence, instead she had merely become his chattel, to be used or ignored, and any remonstrance had been met with a swift and violent rebuttal. He had constantly belittled her; she had been reduced to the role of a servant. Amber could admit now her relief when Bernard had died less than two years after their marriage. By then her father was a broken man and she had taken up the reins of the business, dragged it back from the brink of disaster and with steady perseverance she had built it up.

It had taken her years to recover from Bernard’s constant bullying and at the same time she had struggled against prejudice, customers and suppliers who thought that because she was a woman alone they could cheat her—or seduce her. They did not succeed and over the years she had grown stronger, more confident. Independent. She would not allow anything or anyone to prejudice her position.

So what was she doing here, lying with a man she hardly knew?

Adam sighed and rolled over, slipping one hand around her hips. Immediately her body responded, relishing the contact, the way he moulded himself against her. Amber tensed, trying to ignore the siren call of her own desire.

She felt his breath on her thigh.

‘Is anything wrong?’

Something close to panic engulfed her. She must not give in. She must not allow these new and terrifying feelings to possess her, to swallow her up. This man was a danger to everything she had lived and worked for. If she allowed him to take her in his arms again she would be lost. He must be set at a distance. Like a drowning man she clutched at the only lifeline she could see.

Summoning every ounce of resolution, she gave a careless laugh.

‘Wrong? No, of course not. But I have to get on. There is a lot to do here.’

Immediately he released her and she could not ignore the little stab of disappointment that he did not argue. She said brightly, ‘I have my business to think of, and you will be returning to Lancashire very soon, will you not?’

‘Tomorrow, if matters work out well for me.’

Amber nodded. How right she was to distance herself from him! Adam threw back the covers and got up.

‘Where are you going?’

He turned back to look down at her, a rueful smile quirking his mouth and setting loose a net full of butterflies in her stomach.

‘To get dressed. I cannot lie with you naked beside me and not make love to you. I think that would be beyond any man.’

She blushed. ‘No, of course.’

She watched him walk away to gather up his clothes and pick up his saddlebag. He moved gracefully; his naked body was lean and lithe in the morning light, like any hero should be. She was grateful he had been hers, if only for one night.

‘I will take myself over there,’ he said, pointing to a clump of bushes, ‘and allow you to dress here undisturbed.’

He disappeared into the green undergrowth and Amber hunted for her own garments. The sight of them scattered around reminded her of the passion that had made it necessary to divest herself of them so haphazardly last night. Her blood heated at the very thought of what they had done, but almost immediately she shivered.

Such wanton, abandoned behaviour was quite shocking. If anyone learned of it her reputation would be lost and her business would almost certainly be ruined. She did not think Adam would speak of it to anyone. She trusted him, even more than she trusted herself. Hurriedly she picked up her chemise and scrambled into it.

Adam shook out his clothes and sighed. They were dry, but sadly crumpled and muddy from their time in the river. He had a clean shirt and neck cloth in his saddlebag, but had not thought to pack anything else.

A rueful smile touched his lips. He had not expected to rescue a damsel in distress and get a soaking for his troubles! However, the night that had followed had been more than ample reward. His mind drifted to lying beneath the stars with Amber in his arms. His lack of control troubled him. It could only be the consequence of the fight: he knew from experience how one’s senses were heightened by a battle. The exhilaration of victory made men reckless. That would account for the immediate, overwhelming attraction he had felt for her. It was completely foreign to him, but then all his other battles had taken place at sea and by the time they had reached port his euphoria had died and the harlots on the quay had held no appeal for him. He told himself it would be no different with Mrs Amber Hall, in the light of a new day. They could go their separate ways and think no more of each other. Thank goodness he had withdrawn in time, and there could be no risk of an unwanted child to complicate matters.

He shrugged on his jacket and raked his fingers through his hair one final time. No, she would be dressed by now, that luscious dark hair scraped back into some semblance of order, and they would be able to treat each other as polite, distant acquaintances.

Unfortunately fate had one more joke to play on him. When Adam stepped back into the clearing he found Amber dressed only in her chemise and stockings, a frieze blanket pulled around her shoulders. She had pinned up her hair, but she looked so fragile, so forlorn, that it was as much as he could do not to run to her and fold her again in his arms. His voice was sharper than he anticipated when he asked her what was amiss.

She jumped. The forlorn look was replaced by a bright smile as she held up a complicated tangle of pink ribbons and webbing.

‘I think I will need you to lace up my stays again.’

His lips twitched.

‘That is not something I have ever done before.’

‘Then consider it part of your education, sir!’

Amber placed the corset around her and presented her back to him. She bit her lip as she felt his hands against her spine, so close, so personal, but she must act as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she was a woman of the world, used to a man’s touch.

‘There.’ He finished tying the laces and his hands moved to her shoulders, waking that traitorous demon of desire again.

With a light laugh she slipped away from him.

‘Enjoyable as it would be to dally here with you all day, Mr Stratton, I have work to do.’

She gave him an arch look and saw his frown, a quick contraction of his brow before he joined her in packing away the bolts of now dry cloth.

Amber found it easier to be working, avoiding awkward questions, but she had to force herself not to flinch when their hands met accidentally, and she was careful to restrict any conversation to their current task.

At last the final roll was packed and they set off, Adam riding beside the wagon. When they passed a field gate she lifted her whip and pointed.

‘You could reach Castonbury Park in half the time if you cut across country.’

‘Are you tired of me already, Mrs Hall?’

His quizzing tone made her heart lurch, and it was a struggle to smile and respond airily.

‘I am, of course, grateful to you, but I have my business to attend to, and I have no wish to keep you from yours.’

‘I should like to see you again, before I leave Castonbury.’

‘Oh, that is quite unnecessary, Mr Stratton.’

He shot a frowning look at her.

‘Have I offended you in some way?’

Heavens, how difficult it was to do this.

‘My dear sir, of course not. You have been a perfect gentleman.’

‘Then why are you acting like this, as if … last night never happened?’

‘Last night was quite delightful, of course, but we both know it cannot be repeated. There is a naval term for it, I think … ships that pass in the night.’ She achieved a giggle. ‘Although we did not quite pass each other, did we?’

His face took on a stony look.

‘Do you really think our meeting quite so insignificant?’

Open your eyes at him, Amber. Give him that guileless expression of surprise.

‘Of course it was significant. Without you I would have lost a great deal of stock. I am very grateful to you.’

He made her an elegant bow over Bosun’s neck, his voice and his manner thick with sarcasm.

‘I am glad to have been of service to you!’

Inwardly she flinched, but she had wanted to put him at a distance, and seemed to have achieved her aims. Surprising, then, that she should feel like bursting into tears.

She waited for him to turn his horse and gallop away, instead he continued to ride alongside her.

‘Much as I am eager to reach the Park,’ he said coolly, answering her unspoken question, ‘you pointed out to me last night that my coat is in need of a little attention. I shall stop off at the Rothermere Arms to see what can be done to repair the damage.’

Amber’s conscience stabbed her.

‘You have lost two buttons. I do not think the inn will be able to help you there.’

‘Yesterday you said I deserved a new jacket,’ he reminded her.

Those blue eyes threatened her defences again and she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

‘Goodness, you do not suppose I remember every little word I say?’ she quipped. ‘You may come to the warehouse and I will mend your coat for you there, if you like. Or I could direct you to one of the seamstresses I know, although none of them live on this side of Castonbury.’

‘Thank you, madam. I have lost enough time already and have no wish to go chasing around the countryside! I will come to your warehouse. And if you could allow me the use of a mirror and some water, too, I would be obliged to you.’

His clipped tones told her he was keeping his temper in check. Good. She did not want him to be kind to her, just as she was beginning to regain control over herself.

It took them an hour to reach Castonbury. They saw no one on the road but all the same Amber was glad to have Adam’s company, the memory of yesterday’s assault still fresh in her mind. They said very little, but as they entered the village she pointed to a tall, stone building at the far end of the street.

‘There, that is my warehouse, with the shop built on the side. Ripley and Hall, cloth merchants.’

Adam heard the note of pride in her voice as she read out the words on the sign. She followed it with a soft laugh.

‘Oh, dear. I do hope poor Fred isn’t laid low with worry about me!’

Another surprise. From the moment he had first seen Amber Hall she had taken the wind out of his sails. When they had seen off those ruffians he had expected to find her shocked, tearful, even faint. Instead she had positively beamed at him, full of energy. The immediate and mutual attraction was undeniable, but he had tried to fight it, whereas Amber … He remembered that first, tentative kiss. Had she intended to seduce him? Looking back it seemed quite possible, especially when he thought of her behaviour this morning. He would not have been surprised to find her regretting their actions, afraid of what had occurred, but she had acted like a worldly-wise mistress, eager to move on. And now, just when he was beginning to think that she was nothing but a heartless strumpet, she knocked him off course with such warmth and concern in her voice as she spoke of ‘poor Fred.’

He dropped back and followed as she guided the wagon through the double gates into the yard. Even before she pulled up a lanky youth and an old man came hurrying out.

‘Thank goodness you are here!’ The youth put up his hand to help her down.

‘Aye, we bin that worrit about thee,’ growled the old man, going to the horse’s head. ‘We was gonna get up a search party if you ‘adn’t shown up soon.’

‘Well, I am here now, and safe, as you see. And we have Mr Stratton to thank for that.’ She jumped down and turned to him, her smile lighting up the yard. ‘This is Frederick Aston, my clerk, and holding the horse is Jacob, who helps out in the warehouse.’

Adam looked from the pale, thin youth to the gnarled old man holding on to the dray horse and realised why Amber had thought it necessary to fetch the cloth herself.

‘But what’s happened?’ cried Fred, looking in horror at the damaged bolts of cloth.

‘A few ruffians thought it would be a good joke to cast my load into the river,’ she replied. ‘If Mr Stratton had not come along, then it might all have been ruined. As it is, only those bolts on the top were soaked. They have dried out somewhat, but you had best put them to one side for laundering.’

Frederick turned to her, his rather colourless eyes filled with anguish.

‘Oh, Mrs Hall, if only you had let me come with you—’

‘What, and leave old Jacob to look after my shop and warehouse all alone? I needed you here, Frederick.’ She glanced up at Adam, and some of the certainty seemed to leave her. ‘Now, if you and Jacob would look after Mr Stratton’s horse, and kindly unload the wagon, I shall take our guest indoors.’

She led the way in through the warehouse. It was stacked high on all sides with rolls of fabric—gaily patterned cottons, creamy muslins, shiny silks in a rainbow of colours, woollen cloth in every shade from black and deepest blue through autumn browns to greens the colour of spring leaves.

‘So Frederick and the old man are the only help you have?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, but they are very loyal, and we manage very well.’

There was something defiant about the way she spoke but Adam did not question it. Silently he followed her between the racks to a door leading into a small corridor with a narrow staircase.

‘Ah,’ he said, following her up the stairs. ‘You live above the shop.’

‘Of course. I grew up here.’ She led him to a bedroom with a washstand and a mirror in one corner. ‘This was my father’s room. I think his shaving box is here somewhere… .’

Adam held up his saddlebag. ‘I have my own razor, ma’am, and a brush and comb, thank you.’

He eased himself out of his coat, his grazed knuckles and a certain stiffness in his shoulders reminding him of yesterday’s confrontation at the river.

‘Good.’ She reached out and took his coat, making sure she did not touch his hand. ‘I will find Maizie and send her up with some water.’

She picked up the jug and Adam watched her hurry away. She was nervous, but that was only to be expected: she was a woman alone, and he was in her house. It occurred to him that she had not been so nervous when they had been alone together under the stars, but now she was acting as if that had never happened. The woman was an enigma, but if she wished to forget their encounter, so be it. He had enough worries of his own. With a sigh he sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for the maid to return with the hot water.

When he had washed and shaved, Adam went downstairs in search of his coat. The shop was empty and he took the opportunity to look around.

A bow window looked out onto the street and allowed the morning sun to flood in, making the polished mahogany counter gleam with the lustrous sheen of a dark ruby. Lengths of ribbon hung in a profusion of colour at one side of the window, while behind the counter rows of drawers lined the walls, topped with shelves where rolls of fabric were neatly stacked. Returning to the rear of the shop he now noticed that a fire was burning merrily in the hearth, for although the spring sun streamed in through the window, its warmth did not extend to this nether region. He sat down on one of the two armchairs placed on either side of the fire and waited for his hostess to return.

He did not have to wait long. The door at the back of the shop burst open and she hurried in, his jacket over her arm. She checked when she saw him, then came forward, shaking out his coat and holding it up for inspection.

‘There. I have brushed it clean as much as I can, and sewn new buttons on for you. I am afraid they are not a perfect match, and the coat looks a little shabby too.

I am sorry for that—if you were staying longer I would have a new one made for you.’

He took the coat and shrugged himself into it.

‘Then perhaps I will stay.’

He noted the look of alarm in her dark eyes before she turned away, busying herself with straightening the candlesticks on the mantelpiece. She said haltingly, ‘About last night … Fred and Jacob will not mention to anyone that we were alone together. I trust I may count on your discretion too?’

‘You have my word upon it.’ He paused, watching her back. She was tense, ill at ease. He wanted to know why, but doubted she would confide in him. He said quietly, ‘You sent breakfast up for me. I thank you for that.’

‘After your kindness yesterday it was the least I could do.’

‘Kindness! Amber, I—’

‘Yes.’ She interrupted him. ‘Your arrival was fortuitous, Mr Stratton, and our time together was a pleasant interlude, but I am sure you wish to get on now.’

‘A pleasant interlude?’ His brows snapped together. ‘Is that all it was to you?’

‘Of course, it would be foolish to think anything else.’ She raised her head and put back her shoulders before turning to face him, saying brightly, ‘You are looking much more the thing now, Mr Stratton. Jacob has saddled your horse, and is waiting in the yard for you.’

She was dismissing him. She stood, eyes downcast, waiting for him to leave. Her manner was cool, an ice maiden compared to the passionate woman he had held in his arms last night. Should he mention that? Did he want to stir up such memories when he would be leaving Castonbury again shortly?

The answer had to be no.

With the slightest of nods he left her, closing the door carefully behind him.

Amber heard the quiet click as he shut the door. Only then did she look up. He had gone. And that was what she wanted, was it not? He had no intention of staying in Castonbury—the fact that he was travelling with only one spare shirt told her as much—so it was best that they end it now, before she lost her reputation.

And her heart.

Amber strained her ears, listening to his footsteps fading into nothing. He would walk out through the warehouse to the yard, leap on his horse and ride away. She ran to the window. After a moment she heard the ring of metal on the cobbles. As he passed the window he drew rein and looked in. Amber jumped back, letting the coloured waterfall of ribbons hide her from view. Was it disappointment she saw on his face? She could not be sure. It was gone in a moment, as he settled his hat more firmly on his head and trotted off.