Madeleine Page 9

  “Sonya followed you when you left the ballroom,” Daniel said impatiently. “She saw you get in the post chaise and who was in it with you. I immediately told the duchess you were ill and that Sonya had taken you home.”

  “A footman even brought me your cloak, which helped,” Sonya interpolated. “At any rate, the illness story shields our absence for today.”

  “Provided we return quickly and discreetly to Edinburgh. And Usher keeps his treacherous mouth shut.”

  “He is not treacherous!” Madeleine objected. “And by the way, did you by chance think to bring my trunk? For I do not wish to be married in last night’s ballgown.”

  Daniel glared at her. “Sonya brought some things, so you may change. We have kept the house to preserve the illness fiction. We return there, now. With luck, the duke is so smitten that he will not look too closely into this illness. Tittle-tattle can easily be put down to jealousy and disappointment.”

  “Daniel, I’m not going back,” she said as gently as she could. “At least, not without Roderick. You must know I will never marry the duke, even if he wishes it.”

  “I wish it! And I forbid you to marry Usher. It will not happen!”

  Madeleine sighed and sat down. “They’re bringing tea,” she remarked. “You’ll feel better after that.”

  “Tea will not make Usher any more palatable to me!”

  “He was palatable enough when you first brought me here,” Madeleine retorted. “And when we stayed longer than one night.”

  “That was before—” He broke off abruptly, flapping one angry hand, and pacing around the room.

  “Before you thought the duke might look at me?” Madeleine guessed. “Daniel, he spoke to me one evening, danced with me another. That isn’t the stuff of marriage contracts, even if I was prepared to marry him. Which I’m not.”

  “Damn it, Madeleine, you’ve known Usher no longer! And any man who resorts to abducting you from under the noses of your family—”

  “He didn’t abduct me,” Madeleine interrupted. “I inflicted myself upon him and forced his hand.”

  Instead of the new burst of rage she expected, Daniel paused and glanced back at her, a glint of hope in his eyes. “Usher does not want to marry you?”

  She lifted her chin. “Yes, he does. But he wanted to wait before offering for me, to be sure he was quite well first. I decided waiting was unnecessary.”

  “That was not your decision!” Daniel railed. “None of it is. I withhold my consent!”

  “It makes no odds,” Madeleine said. “This is Scotland. I don’t need your permission. And it would be well for all of us if you accepted this marriage with grace.”

  “Where is he?” Daniel demanded suddenly.

  “I’m here,” Roderick said, strolling into the room in front of a small, austerely dressed man. “Apologies for not being here to welcome you. Allow me to introduce Mr. Gillan, the minister of Usher Parish Church. Mr. Gillan, my betrothed Miss Deare, her brother Sir Daniel Deare, and her friend Madame Kosara.”

  Common courtesy compelled Daniel to acknowledge the introductions and to cease badgering Madeleine. Instead, he contented himself with glaring at Roderick.

  “I am not happy with such haste,” the minister pronounced, sensing an ally in Daniel. “Since the lady’s brother is here, where is the harm in calling bans and marrying in three weeks like Christians?”

  “Since her brother is here,” Roderick countered, “where is the necessity?”

  “I’ll withhold the dowry!” Daniel said between his teeth.

  “You can’t,” Madeleine said flatly. “It’s not under your control.”

  “We don’t need it anyhow,” Roderick said impatiently. “Look, Deare, I know your affairs are all to pieces. We can talk about settlements with the lawyers. But none of it will make any difference to the fact that Madeleine and I wish to be married. Now. And will be. If your scruples are too strong, Mr. Gillan, we can easily go elsewhere.”

  Though Madeleine judged shrewdly that the minister would not go so far in his opposition to the laird and his soon-to-be lady.

  Perhaps Daniel realized it, too, for he threw himself onto a chair, dragging his hand across his forehead. “Damn it, this is madness!” he exclaimed. “Madness.” He glared at Roderick as though in accusation, and the eyes of the two men clung for a long, hostile moment.

  Madeleine was almost afraid to breathe.

  Then Daniel barked out a laugh. “Damn you, you’re both mad. Saving your presence, Mr. Gillan. Marry then, but know this, Madeleine, you could have been a duchess.”

  “I don’t care,” Madeleine said happily and found Roderick’s hand with her own.

  Chapter Nine

  They were married in the sitting room in front of Daniel, Sonya, and Mr. and Mrs. Usher. Graham, the cook, the maids, and even the groom and the gardener, watched from the hall. Madeleine had changed into the becoming morning gown that Sonya had brought, and Roderick wore his smarter black coat.

  It passed in something of a dream, for Madeleine couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She was afraid she’d wake up and discover she was still in Edinburgh and the duke’s ball still to be endured. But the man beside her was so real, so solid as she clung to his hand that sheer happiness rose up from her toes, and overwhelmed her by the time they were pronounced man and wife. The servants cheered form the hall, then scurried off to serve a hastily prepared feast in the dining room.

  Later, Madeleine and Roderick wandered through the house hand-in-hand.

  “Could you bear to sleep here?” he asked doubtfully, as they stood in the center of the room under the glass roof.

  “Of course I could. It will be different.”

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Come.” He led her toward a door next to the wardrobe and opened it. “I gather you didn’t get so far in your tour of the house, but if you like it, we could make this your bedchamber. Then you would have somewhere to escape me.”

  She smiled. “And you could invite me into your lair occasionally.”

  His fingers caressed her wrist as she looked about the large, airy apartment.

  “It was my mother’s morning room,” he said.

  “I think it would make a lovely bedchamber.”

  “Then you must tell Sonya and Graham how you would like it, and they may see to it all while we are gone.”

  She blinked. “Gone where?”

  “On our wedding trip. Wouldn’t you like one?” He took her into his arms, holding her gaze. “Our first adventure together.”

  “Second,” she said breathlessly. “Our first was surely the flight from Edinburgh. Was that truly only yesterday?”

  “No, it was today. We don’t have to go away. We can stay here for now if you would rather set things in order first. Or we could simply leave in the morning.”

  “Tomorrow?” she said, startled. “But we have no plans, no passage booked…Where would we go?”

  “Wherever we liked. We could go north into the Highlands, or take ship for France.”

  She laughed with delight. “I think I am as mad as you! Very well, let us simply wander each day where the notion takes us.”

  “With that sorted out…you must be exhausted. Is it time for bed?”

  Her body flamed. “You mean to let me sleep?” she said breathlessly as his lips caressed her ear lobe.

  “Of course. We have the rest of our lives.”

  “Put like that,” she managed, “I suppose there is no hurry for sleep either.”

  He smiled, drawing the pins from her hair so that it fell loose about her shoulders. “Then let me make love to you under the stars.”

  None of Madeleine’s expectations or imaginings had prepared her for a marriage like this. Her husband consulted her and then just made things happen.

  In the morning came the novel joy of waking tangled in his limbs and being seduced all over again. And then, after Roderick had left a string of orders and she had said a bemused goodbye t
o Daniel and Sonya, and the older Ushers, they simply climbed into the carriage and set off—via Edinburgh to retrieve her clothes.

  Madeleine had never travelled purely for pleasure before, and the spontaneous nature of their journey was beguiling. They travelled to France on a yacht belonging to a friend of Roderick’s and watched the sun set at sea. They spent several days in Paris, buying clothes, marveling at art, and walking along the banks of the Seine. And then they spent the next two months going wherever they chose, deciding day by day whether to stay where they were or travel on. In this way, they wandered through France to Italy, where they lingered for some time before returning home via Switzerland and the Low Countries.

  They stayed sometimes with friends, sometimes at inns. At other times, they rented villas or even slightly seedy rooms. It wasn’t all comfortable, but it was all part of the adventure that was marriage with Roderick Usher.

  They grew very close during the trip, in ways she supposed would have happened more slowly before marriage, during a more conventional courtship. As it was, spending nearly every hour, waking and sleeping, in each other’s company, was something of a revelation. If she had ever harbored secret doubts over the wisdom of such a hasty marriage, their two months abroad happily dispersed them. She enjoyed every moment of his company and they talked endlessly, both bantering and conversing more seriously. He seemed fascinated by her insights as she was by his breath of knowledge and accomplishment. He bought a mandolin and a guitar in Italy, and serenaded her, accompanying himself on each in turn. She discovered he had a rich tenor voice that, even more than his speaking voice, sent shivers of desire up and down her spine.

  For physically, too, marriage was a joy to her. She quickly became a slave to his lovemaking, learning how to arouse and assuage his passion, and eagerly reaching for every pleasure he offered. She gloried in her power in such situations—and in her helplessness. It was a sealing of trust as well a growing obsession, a vital need. In fact, it was as well she liked it so much, for Roderick was a very physical man, and his needs were frequent and demanding. She obliged with joy, more than happy to lie in his arms for hours in the middle of the day, or sacrifice a night’s sleep for a far greater pleasure.

  Inevitably, it was not all delight. They had disagreements, although remarkably few, and their passionate reconciliations more than made up for the brief clash of anger.

  More worrying for Madeleine were the occasional nightmares which tore through his sleep, waking her with their violence. At such times, he would throw himself about the bed, panting, pushing desperately at some unseen weight, and she could not comfort him. Her warmth, her embrace, just became part of his dream.

  The first time it happened was in an old, picturesque town in southern France, where they had rented a small house. Although all the windows were open, the ceilings were low and the walls close. She suspected he was uneasy before they retired, but she had not been prepared for the violence with which he shoved her away when she put her arms around him.

  She fell back with a startled cry that woke him. He stilled, staring at her. A beam of moonlight shone through the window and across the bed, showing her his pale, exhausted face, his eyes widening with the understanding of what he had done.

  “Dear God, Madeleine, I’m sorry. What did I do to you?”

  With trembling hands, she relit the candle. “I’m not hurt. You just pushed me away.”

  He sat up, taking her hands in his. “Forgive me. I should have warned you about the nightmares. I had thought—I hoped—I had left them behind.” He kissed her fingers fervently, “Shall we have sperate rooms?” he asked bluntly.

  “No!”

  His grip tightened. “Then you must promise me, if it happens again… When you see the nightmare has me in its grip, you must get away from me. I won’t know it’s you, Madeleine, until I awake. The fear, the need to escape is too powerful.”

  “But I can’t leave you like that.”

  “Madeleine…” He gazed at her, and she had never seen him so vulnerable, so helpless. He swallowed. “I can live with what happened. I can live with the nightmares. I could not live with hurting you.”

  She laid her cheek against his, trying not to weep. “I promise,” she whispered, because it was all she could do for him.

  However, as time went on, the closeness of rooms seemed to disturb him less. There were still odd nights when he slept on a balcony floor, or on a flat roof, but mostly, he slept in bed with her.

  She recalled one of her first conversations with Graham, when he had suggested Usher House was not as good a place for healing as Roderick thought. After all, the house held many ghosts for him, including the tragedy of his brother.

  The story of Robert came out, too, one evening in Italy. It had been one of the best days and, basking in her ever-growing love, Madeleine was enjoying a late supper with Roderick in the rooms they had rented in an old palazzo. Relaxed and replete with a glass of wine, he had told her an amusing story of how he and his brother had secretly sailed around the loch when they were children and managed to avoid punishment when they were caught.

  It had been perfectly natural to ask, “What happened to him?”

  His smile faded. “Do you mean, how did he die? He grew…melancholic. He was like that when I came home from the war, and God knows I was not in much state to lift him out of it. I think I made him worse for you see…he had grown up with a fear of being buried alive. I think it stemmed from when our parents died when we were children and he had seen their bodies walled up in the crypt below the church. I remember him whispering, How will they get out?”

  His lips twisted. “When he learned what had happened to me, it added new possibilities to his own horror, quite aside from his concern for me. Perhaps we were bad for each other. I think we knew it in our hearts, but neither of us would leave.

  “We argued. Quite a lot. Then that evening, I found him on the roof, gazing down at the loch. I pulled him back angrily, and we quarreled again. I…” Pain filled his eyes as he gazed at her. “I never told anyone this before, but I was afraid he meant to jump, to kill himself, and I fought with him—physically and verbally—to try and make him care, to keep him back from the edge of the roof and the edge of whatever insanity was trying to drive him over it.

  “And then the shout of fire went up. Smoke was billowing from the other side of the house where James and Janet had their rooms. I ran to help. As I reached the door from the roof, I heard him say, You’ll save them, Roddy.”

  He closed his eyes. “It should have been We’ll save them. But I didn’t notice. I thought he was following me. I swear I thought he was. But he didn’t.” His eyes opened again, grim with naked agony, “I left him there, Madeleine. I left him alone, and he died.”

  She rose and went to him, sitting in his lap to put her arms around him and press her cheek to his.

  “He died,” she whispered, “but you don’t know how. He could have fallen. He could have walked to the loch and drowned later by some other freak accident. However it happened, he is at peace and wouldn’t want your guilt. Unjust, unnecessary guilt. For you had to go to the most immediate danger, the fire. There was nothing else you could have done.”

  He hugged her closer. She was sure her words held nothing that had not been said or thought before, but her comfort clearly meant a lot to him. From that evening, she felt his brother’s death was just a little easier for him to live with.

  Apart from occasional bouts of grim silence which she usually let run their mercifully short course, Roderick’s mood seemed to lighten a little more each day. His social unease soon vanished, allowing her a glimpse of the charming, devil-may-care officer he must once have been. Even his restless pacing and constant movement relaxed. He would always be eccentric, just a little strange, and in truth, she liked that about him. But he seemed to be finding a balance centered on their marriage, and that made her proud as well as happy for him.

  By the time they reached Bruges, they knew
each other very well. She had told him everything about her life, about her father and Sonya, and her anxieties over returning home to the brother she barely remembered.

  In great happiness and optimism, they crossed the North Sea for home.

  And everything changed.

  Chapter Ten

  They arrived at Usher House in the midst of the Scottish summer—which was not, Roderick warned her, necessarily very different from any other season.

  “The rain tends to be a little warmer,” he said sardonically.

  But it was not raining as their coach pulled up the familiar drive. Usher House almost sparkled in the sunshine, and Madeleine wondered, as they drew into the courtyard, how she had ever imagined the building to be gloomy or menacing.

  “The drive has been repaired,” she commented.

  “So I saw. We should find a difference to the house, too.”

  To Madeleine’s surprise—for this was a somewhat casual household—the servants all lined up in the courtyard to welcome them back. Sonya could not restrain herself, and flew out of the front door to embrace Madeleine as soon as she stepped down from the coach.

  Laughing, she hugged her friend before turning with surprised pleasure to embrace her brother. “How wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad to see you here!” Then she turned to back to Mrs. Usher. “How are you?”

  “Bless you, my dear,” the old lady twittered, “Now that you are Mrs. Usher, I think you should just call me Janet!”

  James was delightedly greeting Roderick as if he hadn’t expected to see him and turned now to her with bewildered pleasure.

  “Madeleine,” Janet said, for no obvious reason, though Madeleine rather suspected she was reminding her husband who the strange young lady was. “Roderick’s wife! We couldn’t be happier.”

  “Indeed, we couldn’t,” James said fervently. “Very glad it’s all worked out for the best. Is it sherry time, Janet? Would like to drink a toast to the happy couple!”