Highwayman Husband. Helen Dickson

answers in places Laura tried to ignore. This betrayal of her body aroused an impatient vexation. ‘You treat the word love lightly, Lucas. It is an emotion that should be a test of devotion and commitment, and until I get used to having you back I would appreciate it if you will allow me to sleep alone.’

      ‘What if I refuse to agree?’

      Laura swallowed and looked up at him in desperate appeal, his tall, muscular frame making her achingly aware of her own helplessness, and the futility of trying to resist him. ‘If you insist, then I will do my duty and submit to you.’

      Lucas stared at her, stunned by her choice of words. ‘Submit?’ he repeated. ‘I am unable to believe that my wife should speak of the act of making love with her husband as some form of punishment. It isn’t as if you haven’t shared a bed with me before.’ When she flushed and averted her eyes he frowned with concern over the tension and anxiety he saw on her face. He moved closer and tipped her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. ‘Am I to understand you did not enjoy what I did to you that night, Laura?’

      ‘I— No, I didn’t like it—and you made me feel less than worthy of your attentions,’ she told him bluntly, with a trace of accusation. ‘I found the whole thing painful and undignified, and I can very well live without it. I made up my mind not to repeat it in a hurry.’ When he removed his finger from her chin and stepped back, unable to meet his steady gaze any longer she looked away in sheer embarrassment, her cheeks as pink as the roses that clambered in profusion over the walls at Roslyn.

      Lucas looked at her intently, as if he were seeing her for the first time. The things he had done to her on that one night they had lain together as man and wife paraded across his mind, bringing pain and regret. In his prison cell he had often found himself lost in that memory, and afterwards he was left with a lingering feeling of failure.

      There had been no tenderness or regard in his treatment of her. His mind had been so preoccupied with the importance of his mission to France the following day that he had given little thought to the fears of his young wife. She had surrendered her virtue without a struggle, and he had coldly and deliberately taken her innocence as his due. He realised now that he must have scared the hell out of her.

      She was standing an arm’s length away from him, and she looked flushed, extremely lovely, and terrified half to death. He was surprised that it gave him intense pleasure to contemplate taking her to bed and guiding her gently, tenderly, along the paths of love until she was moaning with rapture in his arms.

      ‘Laura, this marriage might not have been of our choosing, but it was done and we will have to find a way to live in harmony with it. I did you a great wrong on the night I took your virtue, and nothing I can say or do will change that,’ he said, speaking with great gentleness, firstly because he was dealing with an anxious and bewildered young woman, and secondly because he genuinely wished to make amends for any pain he had caused her.

      ‘I should have exercised more care and consideration for your youth and inexperience. I hurt you, and for that I implore your forgiveness. I promise not to treat you like that again. Please believe me when I tell you that the next time I make love to you it will be different from before.’ She looked so relieved that he smiled crookedly. ‘You needn’t work yourself up into a fevered anguish. You are reprieved—for now, at least.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I would be grateful if you would allow me a little time. I’m so glad you understand.’ Fixing his gaze on her lips, he smiled, a slow, lazy smile that made her heart leap. ‘Now what are you thinking?’

      ‘That the reprieve I grant you will be harder for me to bear than it will for you—so do not take too long.’ He lifted a brow in tender mockery. ‘I’m not cut out to be a monk.’

      ‘No?’ She laughed lightly, teasingly. ‘My mother always used to say restraint is good for the soul.’

      ‘I doubt your mother was referring to our making love,’ he countered, his gaze caressing her smiling face. The radiance of her smile heartened him.

      ‘No,’ she replied, pink-cheeked. ‘I don’t suppose she was.’

      His eyes glowed warm and he grinned roguishly. ‘You are blushing—that’s charming. I don’t intend to spare your blushes. We know so little about each other, Laura, that we will find it interesting to discover more—and we have all the time in the world to make those discoveries.’

      Picking his jacket off the bed, which Laura foolishly realised had been his true reason for crossing to the bed in the first place, and not because he’d had any designs on sharing it with her, he took two objects from the pocket and handed them to her—her sapphire necklace and the silver snuff box he had taken from Edward.

      ‘I think these belong to you.’

      ‘I could not understand why you took Edward’s snuff box and left the rest. Why did you?’

      ‘It was your betrothal gift to him, was it not?’

      ‘Yes, but I don’t see—’

      ‘I don’t like my wife presenting gifts to other men,’ he told her sharply.

      ‘How could you have known I had given it to him—or that he would have it on his person tonight, for that matter?’

      ‘I didn’t. I took a chance. It was John who told me you had given it to him.’

      She frowned crossly. ‘I think I might have told John far too much. Why did you take my necklace?’

      ‘To make the robbery more convincing—and it pleased me to discover how reluctant you were to part with it.’

      ‘You took it all the same.’

      ‘And now I have returned it. And if you are ever accosted by a highwayman again, my pet,’ he chuckled, gently tweaking her cheek, ‘I expect you to guard it with your life.’ Collecting his pipe and tobacco pouch from the hearth, he strode towards the door.

      ‘I will. I promise. There is just one more thing, Lucas.’ He turned and looked back, waiting for her to go on. ‘Who was your accomplice tonight?’

      He didn’t deign to reply, but cocked a brow and looked at her with ill-concealed amusement.

      Laura moved closer, determined to find out. ‘Who was it, Lucas? Tell me.’

      ‘Don’t you know?’

      She stared at him through eyes huge with horror and disbelief. She recalled how his accomplice had moved and mounted his horse with less agility than his companion, and with sudden clarity all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, presenting the whole picture. ‘That was John, wasn’t it? Oh—Lucas, how could you? To take him, as old as he is, on such a dangerous mission—why, the poor man might have had a seizure.’

      ‘John may be sixty, Laura,’ Lucas said, opening the door, ‘but a doddering old man he is not. He’s as tough as old boots. Besides,’ he said, chuckling softly and with a gleam in his eyes, ‘he enjoyed himself.’

      ‘Did he, now?’ she said crossly, thinking that master and servant must have slipped into the house unnoticed while she had been telling Edward she wasn’t going to marry him. ‘Well, I shall have plenty to say when I see him in the morning. You see if I don’t.’

       Chapter Four

       O nce alone, Laura stripped off her clothes and slipped into a deep-pink silk robe, tying the sash about her waist. Sitting at the dressing table, she studied her face in the mirror. She was almost twenty-one years old, and little of the girl who had come to Roslyn remained. The fresh glow of innocence had been replaced by a patina of cool sophistication. Two years of hard work and living in Cornwall had given her maturity, had transformed the girl Laura into a woman.

      When Lucas had brought her to Roslyn, after he had done his duty she’d had no doubt that her husband of three days would eventually return to London to his former pleasures and leave her buried in Cornwall without family or friends.