Trust Me (38 page)

Her hands shook and
her stomach cramped.

Don’t be silly. It
is a gentle mare.

Just like the one Jon
had provided for her during their time at the cottage in the woods.

Such a gentle
creature.

Yes, she’d ridden
with Jon, and not only the mare, Sally, but once on his massive black stallion,
Hades. But no, she couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t. Not alone.

Yet how else was she
to escape from Marshwray Place?

If she left on foot,
they would catch her. She would be dragged back and locked in chamber–or worse.
Her stomach tightened. In her mind’s eye, images of herself being held against
her will in that house seemed to become merged with the terrible images from
her dream of being trapped inside the casket. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.
No, no, no. She couldn’t go back there.

What had happened in
there?

Was Saxby dead?

Would she be accused
of killing him?

She had to get to
Jon.

He would know what to
do. He would protect her. He always did.

She let go the wooden
frame then walked slowly towards the horse. She’d grown up on a horse farm. She
had, at times, ridden astride. But could she ride without a saddle?

The horse seemed to
be appraising her. She could sense its curiosity. She held her breath, waiting.
For what? Some sign of approval.

The horse nickered
softly.

Anne put out a hand
and her whole body began to tremble. The horse nuzzled her shaking hand. The
wet, cold nose pressed her. A feeling of warmth, of trust blossomed inside her.

The dim moonlight
made it difficult to search the bridles for the proper size. There was no time,
though—she must go now. She grasped a bridle at random and took it to the
horse.

She regarded the mare
cautiously. God, please don’t let my nervousness make the animal skittish. She
held her breath as she eased the bit in and then slipped the bridle over the
creature’s head, her heart a lump in her throat all the while. She expected the
horse to rebel at any moment. To become violent—

No, don’t think
that way.

She studied the
horse. Goodness, it was such a gentle, obedient creature. Had God decided to
aid her flight to safety? What a foolish thought. She had, in her cowardly
panic, very likely just left a man to die…

But no, the servants
had been coming.

Stop thinking such
extreme thoughts.

 
She took a deep breath and gazed into the
mare’s dark eye and willed the animal to understand her. “Just you and I,
sweeting. We shall come through this together.”

She led the horse out
of the stable into the open. She ran back into the stable, found a crate and
dragged it out to the mare.

Where did she intend
to ride this horse? All the way to Cambridge? What foolishness. She was grossly
out of practice at riding.

And could she really
ride bareback her first time back on a horse?
 

No, don’t think
negative thoughts. Just focus on getting yourself on the horse.

Any distance she
managed to get away from Marshwray Place would be to her advantage.

She placed her hands
on the animal’s shoulder. Beneath the glossy coat, she felt the ripple of its
powerful muscles. Muscles that could kick a carriage wall in. Muscles that
could crush a man’s skull.

Muscles that could
carry her away from this place of danger and to the arms of the man who loved
her.

Suddenly, weakness
spread through her entire body and she sagged against the mare. Could she
really do this? She glanced back at the house. Lamplight shone through many
windows. The house had been roused.

They would come
looking for her. They would bring lanterns and search the entire grounds. She
would be taken back there. Held against her will. Maybe even bound to ensure
she didn’t escape again.

Maria would do it.

Her throat went tight
and her lungs burned as though she were in the casket from her dream. Confined.
Trapped.

Her heart began
pounding a head-reeling speed, her throat went completely dry. Urgent energy
pulsed into her blood with every heartbeat. They would catch her, confine her,
trap her!

No, no, no! It
couldn’t happen.

She climbed on the
crate then slung herself over the horse.

The nightdress rode
up almost to her hips and her bare thighs grasped the sides of the animal. All
that powerful horseflesh. Waiting docilely. Waiting for her to command it.

She had once been an
excellent horsewoman.

They said one never
forgot.

She grasped the reins
and gave the animal a little squeeze in the sides with her legs.

The mare began to
move.

The feel of the horse
moving, yes, it was true, she did remember. Or, more accurately her body
remembered. She tightened her hold on the reins. The horse immediately slowed.
She rode the mare away from the house and down towards the drive.

The animal moved
smoothly. All that strength at her command. A small surge of confidence
radiated through Anne like a physical rush. She squeezed her legs against the
sides and the horse surged faster. The wind blew into her loose, flowing hair.

God, she’d forgotten
this feel. A sense of utter freedom pulsed through her body with each with
every beat of her heart. Tears of joy and release streamed down her cheeks.

She glanced over her
shoulder at the house. It was receding. Slowly, but it was receding. She was
making her escape.

And she hadn’t
descended into madness.

****

Jon sat beside
Grandmother’s bed, listening to her laboured breathing. The doctors had said it
would not be long.

He was still in
shock. The gurgling, rattling sound took on a disjointed rhythm. His mind drifted
back…

He was on the bed,
where they had laid him, and he couldn’t draw a breath.

A moment ago, he’d
been happily eating walnuts.

Now he was
choking!

They had pounded
him on the back and he had coughed and coughed and coughed, and now, he was too
weak to even attempt to cough up the obstruction.

“Oh God, oh God!
Save my son, my only son!”

The panic in
Mama’s voice had scared him but a moment ago. Now listening, he felt a strange
calm. A disconnection from himself.

He could no longer
see her or the maids who had hung back, white faced and wringing their hands.
He couldn’t feel his body. He was sleepy…

A sharp crack
sounded.

Mama cried out.

“Useless! You
stupid useless chit!” Grandmother shouted.

His jaw was
gripped, hard. His mouth pried open. She shoved her hand inside, he could feel
the signet ring she always wore on her right hand.

Her fingers
pressed down his throat.

She wanted to
strangle him! She wanted to end the whole matter. She had always hated him.
Always hated Mama. She was a bad woman. A witch-woman.

But he was too
weak to fight her.

Her fingers dug in
his throat.

He gagged. And
gagged.

Her nails bit into
his gullet.

“Damn it, damn
it.” She was muttering under her breath.

There was a mighty
sucking, a bone shuddering sensation. Then her hand was gone and he was
coughing and coughing, his throat raw, on fire.

Air rushed into
his lungs.

“Did I really chase
her away, Jonny?”

The laboured,
breathless voice started Jon into moment. “What?” he asked, hastily busying him
with pouring some watered claret into a glass. He held the glass to her lips.

She shook her head
and motioned it away. “Did I really chase your wife away?”

He sat there,
stony-faced.

What did one say to
the dying?

“I just wanted to see what she
was made of… I was always a fighter, myself…” Grandmother wheezed and her voice
faded out.

****

Down the tree-lined
lane, the animal’s hooves thundered on the pavement. Then she was on the main
road, headed for Marshwray village.

But she was also
growing fatigued. Quickly.

A bit light-headed.

Weak.

How far had she come?

She glanced over her
shoulder. Upon turning her head, she grew more light-headed. Nausea washed over
her.

The lights of a
carriage showed in the distance. Coming from the direction of Marshwray Place.

Her spirits sank.

Oh God, they were
coming for her!

Her nausea
intensified, so suddenly that her body quivered with it. She grew so dizzy, she
had to focus on the back of the horse’s head for a moment.

The carriage drew to
a stop along side her, both she on her horse and the vehicle going slowly.
Slowly, Anne turned to look at it.

The door came open.
The interior lamps shone on dark chestnut hair. Anne recognized that heart
shaped face. That complexion, pale as rose petals.

“Anne, Anne!” Cherry
cried. “Let me take you to London.”

Anne’s body was near
exhaustion. She clung to the horse, watching as the carriage stopped and a
footman alighted. He walked towards her.

“Get off that horse
and into carriage.”

Anne was exhausted.

And sick, very sick.
She hadn’t the strength to fight anymore. When the footman reached her, she
allowed him to help her dismount. She gagged and the servant held her, bending
her over slightly. A small amount of bitter wine and bile came up. And then
nothing, but the painful retching went on for several moments.

When at last she had
recovered, she walked slowly to the vehicle and let the man help her inside.
She sagged down onto the seat whilst Cherry shook her head and wrinkled her
forehead at her.

“Why didn’t you wait
for me?”

“What?”

“Inside, you should
have waited for me. But you went running off!” Cherry said with amused
irritation.

Why would she have
even expected Cherry’s help? Anne licked her dry lips. “I thought you had gone
to London.”

“I was about to leave
when I noticed your little spot of trouble.”

“
You
hit Saxby
in the head!”

“Well, of course I
did.” Cherry spoke as if to a bird-wit. “How else were you to get out of
there?”

“Why would you help
me?”

“Because I want
her
to give up this idea of marrying Jonathon Lloyd for his title. Good God, I do
not want to spend the rest of my life with that vile man in-between the two of
us.”

“I thought you found
him pleasing at one time?” Anne couldn’t help asking.

Cherry smiled with a
rueful air. “Perhaps I did. I think just about every lady with a flirtatious
bent in Mayfair has entertained fancies of him as a lover. But his behaviour at
Whitecross Place put an end to any remaining fondness I once might have felt
towards for him. I despise him wholly.” She flicked her fan several times,
causing her chestnut ringlets to dance about her cheeks. “But I suppose I
should not speak ill of him. He is your husband, after all.”

“If you despise Jon
so much, why did you care that he had wed me?”

“What makes you think
I cared?”

“You spread those
rumours about us?”

“I did what I did
because Maria wanted it. I’d do anything she asked of me. I am shameless for
her. A fool for her. That how it has always been between us. Ever since she was
a girl of eighteen in her first season and I was her chaperone. You don’t
understand the lengths she would go to once she has her heart set on something.
Or to seek revenge. She had Rebecca Howland’s son expelled from school just to
ensure that Rebecca would be forced to seek Ruel’s aid. ”

Anne sat in stunned
silence. She would do almost anything Jon asked. But she would never hurt an
innocent party. Never.

 
“And I admit I do enjoy vexing Ruel.”
Cherry’s eyes narrowed. “But I did not realize Maria was becoming so taken with
you. I want you out of her life.”

Chapter Fifteen

Anne stared up at the
entrance to Lloyd House. The ribbons on a black wreath rippled and snapped in
the gusting wind. The grand white columns were draped in black as well. An
ominous juxtaposition to the light flurries that danced on the air. Foreboding
made her footsteps seem heavier as she climbed the steps.

She was alone.

No Nellie.

No servants.

Cherry’s carriage had
dropped her at the curb and left immediately.

By the time she
reached the door, she was winded. She leaned against the portal as she
struggled to catch her breath. She couldn’t remember cold cutting through her
clothes like this ever before. She was cold to her bones.

And tired.

Her stomach growled
mightily.

But she couldn’t
worry about any of that. She had to see Jon first.

She lifted the
knocker.

After a few moments,
the door opened. A young housemaid stood there. Her pale brows rose and her
mouth dropped open. She closed it quickly.

“My lady!” She walked
backwards few paces. “I-I mean welcome home, Lady Ruel.”

The girl hurried to
make a curtsey.

Anne shook her head
and pushed past the servant to make her way to a bench near the door. She
collapsed upon it. She looked up.

The girl was
fidgeting with her hands. Her eyes were large and she was pointedly staring at
Anne’s cloak, so obviously a servant’s garment. “Shall I take your wrap, my
lady?”

“Please…no.” Anne
spoke breathily. “Just bring me some tea, hot tea.”

“His lordship—should
I call for his lordship?”

“No, just the tea—oh,
and be sure to put plenty of honey in it, double what you would. And milk.”

The girl hurried
away.

Tiberia came gimping
across the glossy polished floor tiles.

Anne smiled and held
out her hands. The dog’s tail began wagging fiercely and it came to her and
laid its head on her leg.

The animal whimpered
softly.

Anne stroked the
shaggy fur and wondered at her continued weakness.

You’re increasing.

Rebecca Howland’s
words echoed in Anne’s mind.

Was she?

She placed a hand to
her stomach and yet despite all her recent gorging on second helpings at meals
and scavenging between meals, she could detect no gain in her flesh.

But Jon’s child could
be growing there.

The Ruel heir.

In wonder, she gazed
up at the high ceiling and the grand staircase.

Mrs Howland had said
the recurrence of her madness had been caused by the changes in her body due to
pregnancy and were temporary.

Temporary.

Oh God, she wanted to
believe that with all her being.

Hadn’t she just
proved that it was temporary? Hadn’t she just experienced a major victory over
her madness?

Yes, a resounding
victory.

I can trust in
myself again.

Her mouth fell open
slightly and she felt the enormity of that realization.

For the first time
since the accident, she stood on solid ground.

On her own.

She didn’t really
need Jon to help her face her own life.

She wanted to share
that life with Jon.

And now there was no
reason to hold back from him.

No reason left to come
up with reasons to distrust him. She finally trusted the most important person
of all, herself, and she could go to him out of her own desire. Not her
dependent neediness.

The tea came and she
drank it, quickly, gratefully. As the sweet liquid washed over her tongue and
down her throat, strength returned to her limbs almost instantly.

She bid Tiberia stay
behind, leaving her in the care of the maid. Then Anne arose and climbed the
stairs. She walked down the corridor to the private suite of the earl and
countess and placed her hand on the doorknob to their sitting chamber.

Her heart leapt into
her throat. What would he do—or say— when he saw her?

Would he really
welcome her?

Sweat broke upon her
palms. She turned the knob and the door came open.

He sat in his chair,
by the window. He was wearing his banyan and holding a steaming cup. He must
have been looking out the window, as he usually did during his morning tea.

He had turned at the
sound of the door.

Of course he would.

Anyone else would
have knocked first before coming into the chamber.

He stared at her
blankly, his eyes slowly widening.

She stood there,
halfway in the open door, listening to the clock on the mantle tick off the
seconds whilst he stared at her, as though he did not quite believe his own
eyes.

Mentally, she shook
herself and closed the door and walked towards him.

He stood.

She was reminded of
how tall he was. As though meeting him for the first time. And his expression
was fierce. He did intimidate her. Her hands began to shake slightly. “I-I am
sorry for your loss, my lord.”

“I’ve asked you not
to call me ‘my lord’.”

How chilly he
sounded!

Or did he?

Was it just that he
was a bit guarded?

She searched his face
yet couldn’t discern his mood. Her heart began to beat so rapidly now.

“Yes, of course.” She
bit her lip, feeling foolish. Awkward. “When…I mean did she…”

“Early this morning.”
His guarded mask slipped and didn’t he look a bit haunted?

Inwardly, she winced.

Oh, poor Jon.

 
She put her hand to her mouth and held her
breath.

Waiting.

“It was a hard death,
Anne. She suffered much.”

Sympathy slashed into
her heart. “Oh Jon…”

“I have watched men
die, from wounds incurred in battle and from sickness. But that, last night… It
was not easy to witness.”

“Well, she was the
nearest thing… she raised you.”

“Yes, she did.”

His tone laid a welt
over her heart. Oh, she should have been here with him. She should have held
his hand and helped him keep vigil over his Grandmother’s deathbed.

If Saxby and
those-those— oh God, there was no other word for it! —Those two
heartless
bitches
had not helped him to detain her, if they had allowed her to come
here, she would have been with Jon very moment.

Only Cherry’s
possessive jealousy had ensured Anne’s escape. Had permitted her to be here
now, to be with Jon in the stark light of the morning after.

She felt an odd sort
of gratitude for Cherry’s shallowness and evil bent.

“I am so very sorry.”
She frowned, concentrating hard to put her sympathy for Jon into words. “That
she raised you would make the witnessing all the harder and you say it was also
a hard death…” Her voice trailed off. Lord, she wanted to offer him her
sympathy but she never knew what to say to people. Her words just sounded
stupid and obvious. Nothing there to give comfort. Her need to give him solace
and love burned and ached in her chest, in her throat. Her eyes burned with it.

Oh, it was really no
good.

Her vision blurred a
bit and she looked down, to hide her eyes.

His footfalls sounded
softly on the floor. “Yes, Anne, as you say, it was bound to be hard no matter
what. For it was indeed as you say. Despite all our difficulties, she did care
for me after a fashion.”

There was a peculiar
note in his voice. A poignancy.

He stood near her.
“She collapsed in front of me.”

Anne’s throat began
to ache.

“I had just told her
that I would be cutting her funds and sending her to live in the country. She
became enraged and then she collapsed, right on the cold, hard marble.”

She could see hear
his increased breathing, had heard the heaviness in his tone. It was as thought
someone were slowly squeezing her own throat.

“Oh Jon,” she
whispered softly.

He came closer. “For
years, she was the only one who held any semblance of belief in me.” He bent
his head towards hers. “The only one until you.”

His voice was hoarse,
thick with emotion.

Emotion that she felt
resonate in her own body. She strove to discern what those emotions were.

Need. Gratitude.

Love.

Whatever deficiencies
she still possessed, he needed something else from her. Something she could
give him. Some strength or quality no one else had ever been able to give him.
He saw it and he loved her for it.
Loved her.
Her throat was tight and
she swallowed, hard.

“I need you here,
Anne. But I need more than that. I need you to believe in me, to believe that I
can fulfil you, that you can rest all your burdens upon me and trust in me not
to fail you.”

Her mind spun with
all that he had just said. It would take days for her to sort out what she
thought about it. But, her heart had also heard and it took control, pushing
her thinking mind’s doubts and worries aside with one single sweep.

He needed
her
and she must not fail him.

She swallowed harder.
“I have come home.”

Her voice sounded hoarse,
soft. Her words were so woefully inadequate for the moment.

But it didn’t matter.

She must trust her
heart to lead her. She must trust that she could give what he required.

“Have you?” he said.

She nodded and then
she stepped back and dropped to her knees before him.

He laid a hand on the
crown of her head. “You’ve come home for good?”

“If you’ll have me,
after-after everything that has happened and everyone is talk—”

“Nothing matters but
the circle of you and me.” He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face
up. “It is done with Saxby?”

“I did not lay with
Saxby.”

He searched her gaze
so deeply. “Then why the devil did you lead me to believe you would?”

“I knew you wouldn’t
let me go otherwise.”

“I don’t follow your
logic, Anne.”

“I didn’t want to
burden you with my madness.”

“You still don’t
understand how our interaction should go. It is not your place to anticipate
what will please me. I have tried to tell you this. When I want something from
you, I will instruct you as to exactly what I want. Your only duty to me is to
obey.”

“I did not want to be
a burden.”

“You must learn to
trust me, Anne. I mean really, deeply trust me. Trust me to be strong enough to
shoulder all your burdens.”

The fire was built up
rather high and it blazed brightly in the hearth. She was growing overly warm
in the heavy servant’s cloak and her two nightgowns. She began to remove the
cloak.

He touched her cloak.
“What the devil is this?”

She sighed. Oh Lord.
He didn’t know any of the past night’s happenings and she really did not have
the will or energy to relate them at the moment. “It is a very lengthy story
and I just don’t have the wherewithal to tell it yet.”

“Good Lord, Anne!
What the devil could have happened to make you look like that?”

“Please understand,
I’ll explain later.”

He searched her gaze
for several moments and then he made a resigned gesture. “All right Anne, but
you will tell me before this day is over. No hiding things. I won’t tolerate
any more hiding from you. Look at what hiding your fears concerning your
illness caused between us.”

He took her hand.

She let him lead her
to his chamber.

He closed the door
then stared at her. “You know the rules in my chamber.”

“Oh,” she said. He
wanted her take off her clothes. Really?

She watched him go to
his night table and open the drawer. She took a deep breath then kicked off her
shoes, removed the cloak and then her nightdresses and stockings.

He turned to her and
his gaze dropped. “You are a grand sight, my love.”

“Come.” He held out
his hand. “Kneel for me.”

She went to him and
knelt.

He held a gold chain
in his hand, letting the sapphire pendant dangle. “Shall I place this on your
neck?”

She nodded.

But he held back a
moment. “I did not have sexual relations with Rebecca, not since I met you. I
want you to understand that. Though I did see her again, after you left for
Marshwray Place. She came here, whilst we were parted and offered herself. And
I did not lay with her then either.”