'It was a lovely ceremony, don't you agree?'
'Lovely.' He noticed a small bundle on her lap. 'What is that package?'
'It's a gift.'
'Gift?'
'Yes. It's an American word meaning 'something given to one person from another.'' She handed him the parcel. 'It's for you.'
'For
'Not exactly. But you'll understand once you open it.'
Curious, he untied the ribbon and carefully removed the wrapping. Inside lay the sketch she had drawn of him at the stream, when she'd asked him to reminisce. A beautiful cherrywood frame surrounded the picture.
He stared at it in silence, warm pleasure spreading through him. While it was customary for his family to exchange gifts on occasions such as birthdays, he couldn't recall the last time anyone had surprised him with a present.
It took a full minute to locate his voice. 'I find myself at a loss for words, Elizabeth.'
'Oh, dear. You don't have to say anything,' she said in a small voice.
'But I do.' He dragged his gaze from his gift and looked at her and was surprised to see she appeared distressed. 'I suppose I should say thank you, but it certainly seems inadequate for such a thoughtful gift.' He smiled at her. 'Thank you.'
'Oh! You're very welcome. When you didn't say anything I thought…'
'Thought what?'
'That my amateurish sketch was a foolish thing to give a man who has everything, including many priceless works of art.'
'My silence meant nothing of the kind I assure you. It's just that I cannot recall ever receiving such a lovely gift. I was momentarily at a loss for words.' His candid admission surprised him. 'Where did you get the frame?'
'Your mother graciously invited me to search about in Bradford Hall's vast storage room and I found it there.' A wry grin pulled at her lips. 'You would not believe the lengths I had to go to to escape the seamstress's clutches for even a few minutes. In spite of my time away from the pincushion, she fashioned a beautiful wedding gown.'
'Yes, she did.' He carefully rewrapped the sketch, then placed it on the seat next to her. 'Would you care to sit beside me?' he invited patting the cushion next to his thigh.
She moved alongside him without hesitation. As soon as she was settled he leaned over and placed a light kiss on her lips. 'Thank you, Elizabeth.'
'You're welcome.' She smiled at him and he fought the powerful urge to drag her onto his lap and kiss her senseless. Determined not to succumb to desires that would only leave him aching the entire journey, he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket.
'The trip to London will take nearly five hours,' he said shuffling the cards. 'Do you play piquet?'
'No, but I'd love to learn.'
It didn't take him long to realize his new bride possessed an uncanny aptitude for card games. It seemed he'd no sooner explained the rules to her than she was beating him. Soundly.
Although he'd suggested they play cards to keep his mind and hands occupied and off his bride, things were not going quite as he'd planned. He'd played quite well until she removed the spencer to her traveling ensemble. It was impossible not to notice how her full breasts pressed against the soft peach muslin of her gown as she studied her cards with frowning concentration.
Then, to make matters worse, she grew warm and discarded her fichu, allowing him a clear view of her creamy skin and an occasional teasing glimpse of cleavage. He found himself staring at her breasts, unable to concentrate, and down two tricks in no time.
'Are you all right, Austin? Is your head paining you?'
He snapped his gaze up to her face. 'Actually, I feel a bit, er, overheated.' He pulled aside the curtain and drew in a relieved breath. 'We'll be stopping in a few minutes to change the horses.'
While the coachman changed the horses, Austin gratefully stretched his legs. He kept his eye on Elizabeth, whom he observed a short distance away, bending over some plants.
When she returned to his side, he helped her back into the coach and they resumed their journey.
'You'll never guess what I found' she said, settling her skirts around her.
'By your delighted smile I'd have to guess diamonds.'
She shook her head and held out her bonnet. It was filled with bright red strawberries. 'There were dozens of them. The coachman invited me to help myself.' Reaching into the bonnet, she picked up a berry and handed it to him.
'Have you ever heard of the Origin of Strawberries?' she asked, popping one in her mouth and chewing rapturously.
'No. Is it an American story?'
'In a way. It's a Cherokee Indian myth. Papa told it to me. Would you like to hear it?'
Leaning back against the velvet squabs, he said 'Absolutely.'
'A very long time ago, there was a couple who were very happy together. But after a time they began to argue. The wife left her husband and headed toward the Sun land far away in the east. He followed her, but the woman never looked back.
'The Sun took pity on the man and asked if he were still angry with his wife. The man said no and that he wanted her back.' She paused and popped another berry into her mouth.
'So what happened?' Austin asked fascinated by her unusual tale.
'The Sun made a patch of succulent huckleberries rise up directly in front of the woman, but she paid them no heed. Later he put up blackberries, but she ignored them as well. He placed several other fruits along the way to tempt her, but still she walked.
'But then she saw the strawberries. Beautiful, ripe, luscious strawberries. The first ever known. When she ate one, her desire for her husband returned. She gathered the berries and returned to give them to him. They met on the path, smiled at each other, and went home together.'
She smiled and offered him another berry. 'Now you know the Origin of Strawberries.'
'A very interesting story,' he said his eyes trained on her lips, moist and stained pink with strawberry dew. The memory of kissing her berry-sweet mouth washed over him and he immediately commanded himself to think of something else. Bloody hell, why was that so difficult?
While they enjoyed the rest of the fruit, he wondered just what he was going to do to keep his hands off her for the remainder of the journey. His wife, however, solved that problem for him soon after finishing the last berry.
'My goodness,' she said stifling a yawn. 'I'm so sleepy.'
Her eyelids drooped and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. He could easily resist temptation if she fell asleep. Pulling her against him, he nestled her head on his shoulder. 'Come here, Miss Robust,' he teased 'before you slide to the floor and render yourself unconscious.'
'I suppose that would be rather undignified' she said in a sleepy voice, snuggling closer against him.
'Behavior most unbecoming a duchess,' he agreed but she didn't hear him. She was already asleep.
Shifting gently so as not to awaken her, Austin stretched out and cradled her against him. With her lilac scent surrounding him, and her soft body pressed against him, all his senses leapt to life. Damn it, it appeared resisting temptation was not going to be as easy as he'd thought.
While he was throbbing, she was sleeping. He was hard and heavy with need she was soft and languid with slumber. She sighed in her sleep and hugged him closer. A deep groan escaped him.
Damn it all, this was going to be one hell of a long ride.
Chapter 12
