For example, take her ability to sit a horse as if she’d not only been born to it but had ridden every day of her life. Yet, she hadn’t been on a horse in sixteen years.
It had to be coincidence—perhaps the mare was one of those rare horses who instinctively knew how to carry anyone, no matter their ignorance. Although he had to admit, Meggie had looked completely at ease. Her lithe body moved in perfect conformity with the mare’s strides, not a touch of fear on her face even at a full-out gallop.
So perhaps, instead, Meggie was one of the rare naturals who instinctively knew how to ride no matter her inexperience.
Whatever the case was, Meggie was all inconsistency.
One moment she seemed as lost as could be, making no sense, and in the next, she appeared to possess a razor-sharp awareness. If he dared to think it at all, there were times when she actually seemed perfectly normal…
Hugo ran a hand over his eyes, knowing that was wishful thinking on his part. He supposed some mentally confused people had their moments of clarity before they became lost again. Anyway, he
knew
she wasn’t normal. He’d plucked her from a lunatic asylum, hadn’t he?
He watched as Meggie took off toward the water, her long flaxen braid flying behind her, her riding habit hitched up around her knees, exposing shapely calves.
Swallowing hard, Hugo tried not to think about how the flesh of those exquisite legs would feel under his hands. He’d find out soon enough, but first he had to get through the rest of this day. All he wanted was to take her here and now.
He released a slow breath of longing, telling himself to focus on nothing more than a lazy afternoon at the beach.
Meggie’s wolf ran at her heels, kicking up small tufts of sand, nudging at her hip, then dancing a circle around her as if to draw her faster toward the sea. Meggie danced with him, laughing and teasing, running forward and back again, then racing away down the beach. Hadrian crouched, then took up the chase, springing at Meggie as he reached her, but careful to miss her by inches.
As he watched them play, Hugo wondered why he’d ever thought the animal dangerous. Hadrian behaved exactly like the most loyal of dogs, perhaps a touch over-possessive of Meggie. He really couldn’t be faulted for that, though, Meggie being what she was and helpless to understand danger.
Maybe Sister Agnes had known what she was talking about after all, when she’d said that he was sweet-natured, intelligent, and good at guarding livestock. He obviously didn’t worry the horses, nor did he seem to worry the people who came into contact with him. To be honest, the only person whom Hadrian had worried was Hugo himself.
Well. Now that he’d had time to assess the situation in a thorough and logical manner, he could now see that Hadrian was no more threatening than a large dog.
Meggie bent down and picked up a seashell, examining it carefully, rubbing it between her fingers. She lifted it to her face and smelled it, then held it out for Hadrain to smell.
Hugo smiled. Meggie was like a child, exploring the world with all of her senses, eager to share her findings. She took such delight in the simplest things—things he took so much for granted. The taste of lobster, the first drop of wine on her tongue, even the smell and texture of a seashell she rejoiced over.
Hugo hadn’t examined a seashell in years.
An irresistible impulse took hold of him, and he pulled off his own boots and stockings and rolled up his trousers.
He walked across the sand toward her, drawn by her enthusiasm. A dim memory stirred in him of the days long ago when life had still been vivid and exciting, a new discovery around every comer. The days before the world had assumed a sameness, a gray dullness that permeated everything. A sameness that brought nothing but weariness and boredom and an urge to find ever-increasing thrills in dangerous exploits and physical excesses. Emotional numbness could be attained from large quantities of drink.
“Hugo, look,” she said, holding out something else she’d found. “It is a crab skeleton, I’m almost sure of it. Isn’t it? It has claws with tiny pearly teeth and see here, ridging on the sides of the flat shell.” She gently placed it in the palm of his hand.
Twenty-four hours before Hugo might have scoffed at such foolishness. Now he held the little skeleton as if it were the most precious of treasures. “It is indeed,” he said. “Which means that there must be crabs scurrying around somewhere. Let’s go see if we can find a tidal pool. That would be the most likely place to find a crab.” For some reason suddenly nothing seemed more important than finding Meggie a crab.
They spent the next hour or so walking along the beach, poking among the rocks, discovering all sorts of wonders: sea urchins, their glistening round black bodies covered with sharp spikes; fossils of sponges; periwinkles glued to rock faces; and in one pool, a wriggling eel, patiently waiting for high tide to sweep it back out to sea.
Meggie exclaimed over everything, poking and prodding, smelling and stroking. Meggie proclaimed seaweed, which Hugo had previously viewed as slimy and unattractive and to be avoided at all costs, to be beautiful. She pointed out the silky texture it assumed underwater, the graceful sway of the fronds, the rich green hue that only became dark and dull when exposed to air and sunlight.
Hadrian, equally curious, poked his nose into everything, which only served to get his nose nipped by a crab when they finally came across one. He yelped in surprise, then swatted a paw at the crab, sending it flying. When it righted itself, it scurried away in indignation.
Meggie laughed until she cried, and Hugo joined in, wiping tears from his eyes. The wolf vanished behind a tussock on the dune to lick his imaginary wounds and recover his dignity in private.
Hugo smiled in supreme satisfaction. He’d found Meggie her crab. He felt as if he’d given her the most enormous gift.
They wandered some more, Meggie unearthing a spent seagull egg, a piece of green glass polished smooth by the sand and wind and sea, and a curiously shaped piece of driftwood that made Hugo think of a snake he’d once captured and tried to tame—unsuccessfully.
All these ended up in the coat that Hugo had removed to act as a bundle for Meggie’s fast-growing collection. He doubted his coat would ever smell the same again, but he found that he didn’t mind in the least.
Finally, when the sunlight began to soften to deep gold and lower steeply toward the west, and the shadows lengthened on the beach, and the tide began to creep up the shore, they found a sheltered place against the dunes. Sitting with their backs resting on the rise of sand, they watched the seagulls flying and screeching overhead, diving into the sea to feed and emerging with wriggling fish in their bills.
Meggie, who hadn’t stopped talking in hours, became silent. Her gaze followed the seagulls’ swoops until her eyelids grew heavy, finally closing altogether.
Hugo slipped his arm around her shoulders, nestling her in the protective curve of his arm, drawing her head down to rest against his chest as she dozed.
Hadrian lay quietly off to one side, his head resting on his huge paws, but his eyes ever watchful of Meggie.
Hugo released a long breath of contentment, his gaze traveling out over the water as his thoughts traveled inward into the unfamiliar quietude of his soul. Toward peace. Toward Meggie.
He couldn’t remember an afternoon that he’d enjoyed so much, and it had required nothing more than a beach and the company of this woman. Amazing.
Somehow Meggie made everything seem fresh and vibrant to him, as if he were seeing the world through new eyes, Meggie’s eyes. Eyes that were clear and untroubled, eyes that made him think of angels. Now he knew that the quality he’d first perceived as ethereal was really nothing more than simple innocence.
Maybe that was what he needed in his life: a good dose of innocence. He’d been so jaded for so long that he’d almost forgotten what innocence was.
This afternoon had reminded him how precious a gift innocence was. He’d known enough women in his time, all of them full of affectations and endless manipulations, to realize that Meggie was a rarity. She had not a trace of pretentiousness in her, no studied mannerisms, no feminine wiles.
God knew, she didn’t need any. He desired her to the point of distraction exactly as she was.
His hand stroked over her hair as he thought back to the moment when he’d first stood on Lyden land. Hearing the cries of the gulls from the sea, he had believed that he might actually find happiness here. That his own wings, so long lame, might stretch and take flight. That he might actually find a measure of peace. Of completion.
And here he was, two months later, sitting on a patch of sand with a sleeping wife in his arms, feeling an extraordinary sense of satisfaction.
Granted, he didn’t really know her, and she wasn’t exactly the sort of wife he had expected to end up with, but he could find nothing to regret. Or at least not at this point, despite her unfortunate mental limitations. Yet without those, would she be the sweet, unaffected girl she was?
The truth was that despite all of her shortcomings, Meggie made him feel more alive than he had in years. She made him
feel,
period.
Oh, those feelings as often consisted of frustration or annoyance as they did of amusement, but that didn’t trouble him. Nor was he bothered by the way he bounced back and forth between these sensations as if he were as demented as she. The point was that he made no effort to suppress any of his emotions.
That alone was astonishing, really, considering that he’d spent his life concealing his feelings from everyone, including himself.
Something about Meggie most definitely touched him, and in a way and place no one had ever touched him before. He only knew it felt good, even familiar in the oddest sort of way.
Maybe he simply felt accepted. Completely accepted. He didn’t have to pretend to Meggie. He had no need. She had no expectations of him, and therefore for the first time in his life he was not required to meet any. Meggie was happy simply to be, and as a result she liberated him to do the same. Just to be. It was a unique experience.
Hugo, who’d had little sleep the night before, closed his eyes. The pounding of the surf, the distant cries of the gulls, and the sound of Meggie’s soft breathing just beneath his ear provided a gentle, soothing backdrop.
The last thing that occurred to him before drifting off was that he hadn’t thought of money in hours.
It was another first.
A
contentment she had never felt before filled Meggie as she and Hugo slowly rode home. They occasionally exchanged a comment about the passing scenery, but otherwise they preserved a companionable silence. Meggie was glad for it; she needed time to gather her thoughts, to absorb everything that had happened to her in the last few hours. As if the last twenty-four hadn’t been startling enough.
But this afternoon had been the first time she’d felt a real sense of connection to Hugo. This afternoon had shown her a side of him that she had only hoped for. He had revealed a capacity for merriment as well as tenderness.
Tenderness … she’d thought she was still dreaming when she awoke to find herself in his arms—his temple resting on the top of her head as if he had always held her that way, his chest rising and falling against her cheek in the soft, even rhythm of sleep, and his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear.
Drowsily savoring his closeness, she drank in his warm, masculine scent and relished the shape of the hard, sculpted muscles beneath his shirt. The weight of one arm rested loosely across her waist; his other arm draped around her shoulder, with his hand lightly cupping her arm.
He had given her an afternoon she would cherish for the rest of her life, simply because she’d asked.
He, a sophisticated man of the world, had run about in the sand with bare feet, waded in the surf, explored puddles and pools, poked in rocks and dug in holes, all to please her.
She had laughed harder than she could ever remember, reveled in every last moment. And in the process she had lost her heart.
Meggie shook her head in wonder.
She’d actually fallen in love with her husband, just like that. A deep, singing happiness filled her very being, for she hadn’t expected God to give her such a gift. It was enough that He’d given her Hugo at all. Now her conscience was clear because she could return Hugo’s feelings fully and honestly as he so richly deserved.
She wished she could tell him so.
The trouble was that she didn’t know the first thing about how to go about it—she didn’t really know the first thing about love, when it came to that. She had loved her aunt Emily, of course, and Sister Agnes, too, but that was a different sort of affection, nothing to do with the love between a man and a woman.
Perhaps if she’d had a mother and a father to learn from, or married friends, or sisters with husbands, she might have felt more confident about how to behave. Instead, she had been raised by an elderly widow and nuns. Men hadn’t been any part of her experience, except for the random thoughts she happened to intercept in the few she had come in contact with. And those interior musings
certainly
didn’t have anything to do with love.
She was getting the impression that love was not something men liked to speak about. Hugo hadn’t said a word about it since his proposal, and even then he’d only mentioned the subject reluctantly. At first all he’d said was that he was “taken” with her.
So maybe speaking of love was incorrect. Maybe ladies and gentlemen considered the subject vulgar, overly sentimental. On the other hand, Hugo had no trouble speaking about lust, so that was obviously perfectly correct.
She sighed, her head aching with confusion. She didn’t want to do or say anything wrong, especially not on so important a topic. Oh, well. Hugo was bound to know enough about the proper behavior for both of them. He would show her the way. He would teach her. All she had to do was follow his lead, be silent about those things that he was.
Fortunately, tonight she wouldn’t have to say a thing. She could demonstrate what was in her heart with no words at all.
Meggie shivered with anticipation. The sun had nearly set and nightfall was just around the comer.
She looked around, realizing that while her thoughts had been wandering they had changed course, and she didn’t have the first idea where they were. This route was different from the one they’d taken going out. It skirted around toward the west, following the river from a deep bend it made along its course, and then wound east again.
Scented pines lined the path they’d turned onto, a liquid wash of rich golden light filtering through their boughs and dappling the ground. Just as Meggie wondered whether she’d entirely lost her bearings, the house came into sight. Her hands froze on the reins.
Lyden Hall was ablaze, brilliant orange flames illuminating all the windows of the west wing.
“Hugo!” she cried in panic. “Hugo, we’re on fire!”
He looked over at her and laughed. Their beautiful home was about to bum to the ground and he actually laughed.
“Hugo, for heaven’s sake,
do
something,” she said, appalled by his indifference.
“What would you have me do, Meggie? Extinguish the sun?”
“The—the sun?” she stammered.
“The sun,” he repeated. “Look again.”
She did. Of course. The reflection of the sun, setting in the west, had caught in all the hundreds of panes of glass and gave the illusion of fire. “Oh. How silly of me. I should have realized.”
“Why? You’ve probably never seen a house with so many windows. It is an amazing sight, isn’t it? This happens at Southwell, too, whenever we have a good sunset. The whole bloody place looks as if it’s about to go up.”
“Does Southwell have as many windows as Lyden?” she asked, trying to imagine what Hugo’s family home looked like.
“Even more,” he said. “I’ll take you there one day soon and you can see for yourself. It’s one of the larger houses in the country.”
Meggie’s eyes widened. “Really?” she whispered, terribly impressed.
“Really. That tends to be the case with ducal seats. Southwell has been in the family for generations, and every now and then when one of my ancestors developed an urge to build onto the structure, build he would. You could get lost in it for days.”
“I could easily get lost in Lyden,” she said. “Oh, Hugo, how am I ever going to adjust to being married to you? First I thought I was going to live in a sweet little house, only to discover all of this.” She made a sweeping gesture that included not just the huge house but the land as well. “Now you tell me that Lyden is nothing compared to Southwell.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I will manage. How does your mother look after it all?”
“She doesn’t. There’s an enormous staff who looks after it. She merely keeps an eye on them, especially in my brother’s absence. Now that Rafe is married he and his wife spend much of their time at their home in Ireland.”
“I suppose they have an enormous staff there as well?” “Large enough to keep everything running smoothly. That is how it will be here, Meggie, once I hire a housekeeper and butler and a proper complement of servants. Were you worried that you would be all on your own?”
“Well, not as worried as I was yesterday,” she said honestly. “I realized very quickly that Aunt Dorelia and Aunt Ottoline know everything about running Lyden. Why do we need to hire a housekeeper when we have them? Isn’t that a terrible waste of money?”
Hugo snorted. “Dorelia and Ottoline do not run a house, they run a carnival from everything I’ve seen so far. We have a Gypsy for a footman, a criminal for a cook, and God only knows who else lurks in the bowels of the house. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover the laundry woman has two bearded heads. I will know for certain when I discover whiskers in my small clothes.”
“Hugo,” Meggie said, laughing at his foolishness. “You must be kinder about Aunt Dorelia and Aunt Ottoline. I think them very dear, and they are so thrilled to have us here.” She frowned. “That reminds me—I’ve been meaning to ask you. I gathered from everything I’ve heard that you only recently bought Lyden Hall.”
“Yes, that’s true,” he said. “I bought it two months ago. Actually, I bought it the same day I saw you for the first time, an interesting coincidence.” He flashed a smile at her that made her heart turn over. “I must have known even then that I was going to marry you, and I’d need a house in which to install you. Why do you ask?”
“Only because I wondered how it all works, why the aunties are still living at Lyden when it has been sold away from the original family,” she said. “Are you related to them in some way? I was not sure on the point, since you are so rude about them.”
“Related?
Good God, no. I told you, I’d never laid eyes on them before. They came with Lyden like a twin pair of horsehair sofas, all prickle and annoyance and no comfort.”
Meggie grinned. “You do have a way with words, even if they are unkind.”
“It’s called irony, my dear, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Nor should you.”
Meggie refrained from answering. Irony? The true irony was that for an entire afternoon she’d forgotten she was meant to be a dimwit, and Hugo hadn’t even noticed her lapse.
Not that they’d touched on subjects that had evoked any exhibition of intelligence on her part—that slip about Aria had been the worst of her mistakes—but she hadn’t remembered to be overtly stupid, either.
Maybe if she was careful to keep her exemplary education to herself, she could simply be herself. Wouldn’t that be a blessing? Really, all she wanted was to enjoy Hugo’s company and to have him enjoy hers, to be in perfect accord with each other just as they had been on the beach. Surely that couldn’t be so difficult, even if she wasn’t supposed to understand what irony meant or a host of other things.
The bigger challenge was going to be keeping her gift from him, she thought with an inward wince. If he ever found out about that, he’d surely take a disgust of her, and that she didn’t think she could bear. He might be wonderfully generous but his generosity would never stretch so far as to accept a wife who divined other people’s thoughts. He was bound to see her as just another carnival freak.
“Meggie, why are you looking at me as if I’m a fly on the wall that you intend to swat?” Hugo asked as they pulled up the horses in front of the steps.
“A
fly?”
she said, summoning up a smile. “I did not think men of your station compared themselves to anything less than lions and dragons and such,” she teased. “Surely no fly has ever flown on a ducal standard? Or perhaps I am too ignorant to know any better.”
Hugo’s face went very still. “Perhaps,” he said, dismounting and tossing his reins over the post by the steps. He helped her down and let go of her quickly.
Baffled by his sudden coolness, Meggie wondered what she’d said wrong this time, and then she remembered that he didn’t like to be reminded about the differences in their breeding and upbringing. “I’ll take Hadrian to the kitchen and see to his supper,” she said, trying not to be hurt by his change of attitude.
“Meggie—leave Hadrian there tonight, will you? I’d rather not have him skulking about.”
“You’re not still afraid of him?” she asked, astonished. “You seemed to get along so well this afternoon.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” he snapped. “I’ve never been afraid of the damned beast, as I’ve repeatedly told you. I’d just like some privacy in the bedroom. You
can
understand that much, can you not?”
“Yes, of course,” she said in a thin voice, fighting back tears. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t take your meaning at first.”
“Never mind,” he said more gently. “I forget sometimes that you do not always grasp the point.”
“It would help if you tried to be more direct,” she said, looking down at the ground, not wanting him to see that he’d upset her. “You can’t expect me to read your mind.”
The words slipped unbidden out of her mouth, and Meggie choked in horror as she heard them. “I—I didn’t mean that,” she stammered, her face flushing with heat. “I only meant to say that I—that I … oh, never mind!”
She turned and fled into the house, her composure in shreds.
Hugo watched her go, perplexed by her sudden show of emotion. Here she’d been happy as a lark the afternoon long, as pleasant company as could be, and in the blink of an eye she’d turned into a tearful, jabbering wreck.
He supposed that was what came of mental instability, although to be fair, in his experience women often behaved in this illogical manner. He just hadn’t expected it of Meggie. She’d seemed so full of fun on the beach, easy to get along with. So … comfortable.
Hugo raked both hands through his hair with a muttered curse. All he’d done was ask her to put her damned wolf in the kitchen, for God’s sake. He didn’t see what was so unreasonable about that. Anyone would think he’d behaved like an ogre.
Still, he supposed he’d have to make it up to her or she’d be sulking for days, if past experience with the female sex was anything to go by.
Damn. He didn’t even have any trinkets on hand to cheer her up with. Baubles always worked well with women, and with Meggie they needn’t even be expensive, since she’d never know the difference.
Maybe some nice chocolates would do the trick. With luck there’d be some stored in the pantry. He’d have to lower himself to ask one of the wretched Mabey sisters or the even more wretched Cookie, but he supposed a small lowering of himself was worth the price. He wanted Meggie eager and willing in his bed tonight.
Lord—he’d die if he didn’t have her in his bed tonight.
At least he had the solace of knowing that the tears that had threatened were genuine, and not some clever ploy to wring an unwilling concession from him or to make him feel guilty for a real or imagined crime.
If there was one thing he hated, it was a woman who tried to manipulate him by withholding sexual favors. The beauty of Meggie was that she wasn’t capable of manipulating her own mind, let alone his.
“Roberto,” he bellowed, not accustomed to waiting for a footman to take his horse away.
Roberto did not appear. Naturally Roberto didn’t appear, Hugo thought blackly. Why should he? No one paid any attention to Hugo’s wishes. No one would even know he was lord of the manor, given the way they summarily ignored him.
Well, tomorrow he’d set things straight. Indeed he would. He and Reginald Coldsnap would sit down and see to the hiring of a proper staff, a staff who showed some respect, not to mention some credentials.