very male appreciation. She wriggled, but he held her fast. ‘You will be allowed to hide under those sheets later, my dear Elizabeth. For the moment-’
‘But my name is not Elizabeth!’ she burst out. For a second, she thought he was going to drop her, but he strode across to the bed and set her down. She squirmed between the sheets. That was better. She could not think straight if he was gazing at her with so much desire in his eyes.
‘Explain, please,’ he said curtly. Suddenly, he was frowning.
Oh dear. She should have told him before, when they came back from the gypsy camp, but they had had no time alone. And then the furore over the mistletoe clasp-and that very public kiss-had pushed all other thoughts from her mind. ‘My name is-was Bethany de Clifford. I was always called Beth. Don’t you see, Jon? They were searching for a missing Elizabeth. It is no wonder that they never found a missing Bethany.’
He shook his head and then he laughed. ‘And you remember everything now, do you? Parents, a family? Now I think of it, I seem to know the name, de Clifford.’
She nodded. ‘Sir Humphrey de Clifford was my father’s grandsire. Papa was a younger son with no prospects. When he eloped with my mother, who was only a poor curate’s daughter, the baronet cast him off. Lady Marchmont always told me I was lucky to have any position at all, after they died, for I was barely a lady.’
‘You are more of a lady than she could ever be.’ He leaned over her and ran his fingers through her hair. ‘And now that you are a countess-
‘
She flipped the sheet away so that she was totally exposed. And so that he could not ignore the empty space beside her. ‘What I should like, my lord, is a little…er…energetic male company. Of course, if you are not in the mood to provide it, I could always-’
He was beside her, and kissing her, before she could say another word. They had been passionate before, but this was different. This was passion between lovers who were no longer afraid, lovers who had at last recognised that, together, they made a single, perfect whole.
Jon was holding her in his arms as though she were as delicate as a snowflake and as likely to melt away. But she would not. She was strong now, and lusty, and she wanted to love him with her body as well as her heart. ‘Love me,’ she whispered, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him close. ‘Love me. I am yours.’
Epilogue
Beth rolled over sleepily and reached across the pillow. ‘Jon?’ she murmured. She wanted to be in his arms again, rejoicing in his touch.
He was gone!
She was jerked fully awake. She sat up. No, she was not mistaken. Jon’s side of the bed was empty. He had loved her. And then he had left her. But surely it made no sense now? Why would he not stay?
She scrabbled about for the tinder box and lit her bedside candle. What was she going to do? Tonight, she had been so sure he would stay that she had not even asked him. She must ask him now, this minute, or she would never have the courage to do it. Then she would be condemned to sleeping alone for the rest of her life.
She swung her feet out of the bed and dragged on her wrapper. She could not find her slippers. No matter, she would go barefoot. After all, she would be returning to bed very soon.
She lit a branch of candles, leaving the first one by her bed. Then she crept out into their shared sitting room. It was silent, and dark. The fire had gone out long ago. She set the candles down on the little table by Jon’s door and put her ear against it. Still silence. She took a deep breath and eased the door half open.
He was lying on his back, asleep. She could hear his deep, even breathing. She pushed the door a little wider and reached for her candles.
‘No! Stop! Release her or I will shoot you down. Oh, good God, no, no!’
Candles forgotten, Beth raced across to the bedside. Yes, he was still asleep, but now his breathing was shallow and rapid, and there was sweat on his brow. A dream. No, a nightmare! Something terrible. For a moment she stood frozen, wondering whether to wake him, or leave him.
She did neither. She let her wrapper slide to the floor and slid into the bed beside him. He was shaking. And muttering. Tentatively, she reached out to place her palm on his naked chest. After a moment, his shaking stopped. She slipped both arms around him and allowed her body to stretch down the full length of his. He groaned and tried to pull away, but then his whole body relaxed and he returned her embrace.
Beth smiled against his skin. She would wait.
‘Beth?’ It had taken at least ten minutes for his body to emerge from that nightmare and for him to realise that she had joined him in his bed.
She touched a kiss to the line of his jaw. In the dim light from the sitting room, she could see his profile, but little more. ‘You were having a terrible nightmare.’ She understood only too well what they could do. She took a deep breath. It had to be now. ‘Is that why you insist on sleeping alone? Because of nightmares?’
He groaned. He started to push her away, but then he pulled her back into an even closer embrace. ‘I…yes. I had hoped you would not find out, love. It was-’ He shuddered.
The dark might help, Beth decided. ‘Tell me. Perhaps if you speak it aloud, here in the dark, the memory will stop tormenting you.’
After a long silence, he said, ‘Very well. It was after Badajoz. I was in the town, with two young subalterns, trying to restore some order. It was impossible. The men were all roaring drunk, and- They had a woman, an innocent Spanish woman. They were going to rape her. I tried to stop them. I…I shot at the ringleader, but my pistol misfired and then the blackguards struck me down. My companions carried me back to camp. They were too young and too frightened to do anything else.’
Beth closed her eyes against the horror of it. ‘And the woman?’ she said in a tiny voice.
‘I found her body. Later, after the looting had stopped. My only consolation was that the rapists were also dead, killed by their comrades’ wild shooting. There was so much death…’
‘It was after Badajoz that you sold out?’ She had to know it all.
He nodded against her hair. ‘They left their wounded comrades to bleed for two days while they drank the town dry. It was sickening. So when Mama wrote about George trying to ruin the estate all over again, I took it as an excuse to resign my commission. But I should have saved her. She died because I failed.’
Beth did not have to ask what he meant. She stroked his hair back from his damp brow and snuggled against him. ‘You did all you could, my love. You risked your life for her.’
‘Wellington should have stopped it. He knew the horror of it all, and he did nothing. For two whole days, he did nothing.’
It was no wonder Jon had sold out after such disillusion. But Beth would not say that, not ever. She would simply hold him while he slept, until the nightmares subsided.
‘Come back to bed with me, love.’ She took his hand and sat up, pulling him after her. ‘You have nightmares here. In my bed, we have only love and passion. Come, sleep with me till morning. The memories will not dare attack you there.’ She smiled at him, even though she was sure he could not see.
‘I swear your goodness could heal anyone, and anything, my love.’ He caught up his dressing gown and, together, they padded across the floor and back to their marriage bed. Soon they were peacefully asleep in each other’s arms.
It was Christmas Eve at last. Jon felt more contented than ever before. His beloved wife was by his side and, thanks to her, he had spent his first undisturbed nights in months. He owed her so much. Yet, when he had offered her the moon, she had asked only for a chance to drive his horses!
He waited until the curricle had come to a stop and the groom had run to the horses’ heads. She really drove extremely well. He reached across and squeezed her fingers gently. ‘Perhaps you would like to tool the curricle round the lanes for ten minutes or so and then return for me? I have business with Miss Mountjoy, but it will not
