Royalist On The Run

‘I hurt you.’

‘You made a promise you did not keep.’

‘No, Arabella. My parents made a promise on my behalf. As yours did.’

‘That does not alter the fact that you let me down. I got on with my life when you married Anne Lister. I believe the wedding was held in the presence of the King.’

She smiled thinly, remembering how beautiful Anne had been. The Listers had been known to Arabella’s family, but because of the Listers’ allegiance to Parliament they were never friends. As the only daughter of doting parents and the sister of three adoring elder brothers—two of whom had lost their lives at Naseby—Anne had been spoiled and indulged all her life. She harmed everything she touched. With a sly look and a mere inflection of her voice she could cause pain to the happiest of hearts.

Arabella had often asked herself why Anne was like she was, inflicting cruelty for its own sake, taking a sensuous delight in seeing another’s pain. Arabella could see her now—those slanting green eyes beneath the brown hair, that hard, red-lipped mouth. It seemed incredible to Arabella that anyone could have been deceived by her. Yet her power to charm had been overwhelming. People fell under her spell like skittles knocked over.

But Arabella had not been taken in, not for a moment. The moment they had laid eyes on each other, both of them had been aware of a mutual hostility. It hadn’t mattered to her one iota that Edward was a King’s man—indeed, she had preferred the rich trappings of royalty than the spartan, puritanical way of life her family tried to force on her.

But Anne would have none of it. She had been determined to have Edward and married him without her brother Malcolm’s consent when he was away with his regiment. Once she had what she wanted she flaunted herself shamelessly when in the company of Edward’s friends. Edward’s appeal was diminished and she was entirely without mercy. Their heated quarrels were notorious and it was no secret that Anne had begun to look elsewhere for her pleasure.

‘Anne had a large inheritance from her mother,’ Arabella went on. ‘So, yes, Edward, you married well. When you ended our engagement when the first conflict was over, like many more Royalists who had no intention of abandoning the cause, you needed funds to raise a troop of horses. You would have been a fool if you had let her slip from you and didn’t seize her fortune for yourself.’

His face hardened. ‘You think I am that mercenary?’

‘You gave me no reason to think otherwise.’

‘However you interpret it, it served my purpose. At the time the whole future of England was at stake. Desperate means called for desperate measures.’

‘Are you saying you didn’t love your wife?’ she ventured pointedly.

‘I thought I did. I was wrong and you were right. I needed money. Emotions did not count.’

‘Emotions, but not honour. Your actions were not exactly subtle and did you no credit in my eyes.’

He looked at her for a long considered moment before saying, ‘You are a different person, Arabella. I feel I am meeting you for the first time.’

‘And do you approve?’

‘I approved before—however badly I behaved towards you.’

‘Then why did you leave me?’ She looked at him steadily as she waited for him to answer, yet not wanting to hear it. ‘Please don’t tell me. I knew Anne. She was very beautiful—and exciting. No man could resist her. You were no exception—and I was very young and inexperienced in the ways of the world.’

‘But now you are a woman.’

‘I had to grow up quickly when I married John.’

‘Were you not happy with John Fairburn?’

‘Marriage is not always what we expect.’ More than that she would not say, but with her head bent over her task so he could not see her face, she thought of silent meals, of the brutality she had been forced to endure in her cold bed, of John constantly chastising her for any transgression, however small, and she said nothing.

‘After John died followed so soon by our home being sacked and burned when the Roundheads came calling, with Stephen away and London being an unsafe place to be, I came to Alice.’ He was watching her intently. Arabella could feel the heat of his gaze burning through the fabric of her dress. ‘I shall be a while longer,’ she said, struggling to sound casual and unconcerned. ‘Are you comfortable?’

‘Perfectly.’

She jumped at the sound of his voice so close to her ear. Her eyebrows sloped gently above her eyes and furrowed slightly as she continued to clean away the dried-on blood from around the wound. Her hair fell across her eyes in such a way as to provide a drape from his penetrating gaze that so disturbed her.

‘Please put your head to one side. This is very precise work.’ She was finding it difficult to concentrate with him so close, close enough for her to breathe in the smell of his skin.

‘Is it in your way?’

‘Yes, it is. It’s blocking the light.’

He tilted his head back. ‘Is this enough? Can you see now?’

‘It’s fine.’

The cold of the still room was welcoming, but it could not keep pace with the heat building up inside Arabella’s body. She had not seen him for five years. She should be immune to him by now and it angered her to know he still had the power to stir her deepest emotions.

She remembered how, before he had ended their betrothal, he had teased her and playfully tugged her hair as though she were still a child, unaware how her blood thrummed in her veins and her heart beat quickened in her breast, as she yearned for him to look at her the way he looked at Anne Lister.

Chapter Two (#ulink_18154cdc-516c-55d2-9e02-6a015ece877f)

Edward noticed how Arabella gnawed her bottom lip with her small white teeth as she became absorbed in her task. With her head bent he wanted to place his hand on it, to feel her warmth, to touch her skin. He wanted to ask her more about her life. He saw something different about her, something that had not been there before. It was a look that comes with maturity and suffering.

Suddenly she looked up and a pair of velvet amber eyes met his. They wrenched his heart for they were filled with sadness and soul-searching vulnerability that spoke of her loss and made him wonder just how deeply the ugliness of war had affected her. No one was immune to the loss of loved ones, but to see it on one so young affected him deeply.

Had she found happiness in her marriage? Her brief reply to his question told him she had not. Edward had never met John Fairburn, but he had the impression from others that he was not a likable man and harsh in his treatment of others. When Arabella had spoken about the death of her daughter he had seen a look of total desolation in her eyes. It was the sort of look that could break even the hardest heart. It had taken everything in him to stop his hand reaching out to her, to tell her again how sorry he was for her loss but, all things taken into account, it was wiser to sit still while she tended his wound—and watch and listen to her breathe.

He couldn’t believe how changed she was. The awkwardness had gone and even though she was as slim as a willow sapling, she was the most stunning creature he had seen in a long time. No matter how his eyes searched her face and form, he could not find that gangling girl from before they were betrothed, who had hid behind her mother’s skirts and skittered shyly away when he approached.

In the past, of course he had seen her, been aware of her, had always enjoyed her company once she had lost her shyness of him, but he had never really looked at her, not properly, not deeply, as he was doing now. But he had not forgotten how bright her eyes were, how soft and generous her mouth and the small, tantalising indentation in her round chin. Nor had he forgotten the softness of her heart, her genuine warmth, and the trust he had seen in her eyes when she had looked at him. They were the things he had remembered when, in his desperation to find somewhere safe for Dickon, he had thought of Arabella. Dickon was the most important person in his life. He would sacrifice or endure anything for his son.

Even after everything that had happened in the past, he knew she was the one person he could trust with his son.

From the moment he’d recognised her in the hall, he’d found her nearly impossible to keep from openly staring. Her red-gold hair tumbled freely about her shoulders, a shining, flaming glory to the torch that was her beauty. Her amber eyes had called to him. Her smooth, creamy skin, glowing beneath the softness of candlelight, beckoned his fingers to touch and caress.

Edward, wallowing in his own misery over his failed marriage to Anne, didn’t know why it should be, but when he had heard of her marriage the thought of Arabella in the arms of another man had made his gut twist. That was when he felt the impact of the mistake he had made.

At the time Anne had seduced him with her beauty and her body. She was exciting, enticing and their coming together had been as swift and as wild as a summer storm, their impulsive wedding the act of a desperate man. He had been unable to resist her. But happiness had eluded him. Just two months into their marriage their passion had burned itself out. He’d known her body, but he’d never managed to touch her soul. Nothing had prepared him for the shame or the pain at her subsequent betrayal.

Meeting Arabella after five years, who would have thought that she would have grown to such beauty? Normally self-assured, strong and powerful, Edward felt a certain unease at the way she made him feel off balance and hungry for something he couldn’t put a name to. She stirred something in his soul, a sense of wonder and yearning that he’d forgotten was possible. The hunger was soul deep and it scared him.

Arabella stood back. ‘There, it is done. The wound will leave a scar, but it should not trouble you much.’

‘Damn the wound. What about us?’ His words were impulsive, spoken in the heat of his roiling emotions and without thought.

She met his gaze levelly, cool, composed and in complete control of the emotions raging inside. ‘Us, Edward? How dare you suggest such a thing? I am no longer that awkward, sensitive girl you knew. I have changed. We both have. You made your choice five years ago, and if you were any sort of a gentleman you would leave me in peace.’

‘Come now, Arabella. The prospect has a certain allure, you must agree.’

‘I am sure you find allure in most things, Edward—and most women.’

‘You accuse me unjustly. I only ask that you do not block your heart against me.’