Married to a Stranger (Danger and Desire 3)

Chapter Twenty-Two

The postillions drew up in the road at the point where the narrow back way to Long Welling turned off. As Cal got out they began to protest that they couldn’t risk the equipage down that track, not with four horses, not in the dark.

‘I don’t expect you to,’ he said, paying them. The chaise rumbled off, leaving him standing by the roadside, portmanteau at his feet, the darkness broken only by moonlight breaking through the tree canopy overhead. There was no sign of light from the house somewhere down below him. An owl hooted, an ineffably lonely sound.

He hefted the bag and began to walk, instinctively taking care to move silently until he reminded himself that this was not India with tigers and dacoits lurking in the jungle and he would do better to watch his footing on the potholed track. It was easier to concentrate on that, and the rustling sounds of the woodland night, than to contemplate what he would do if Sophia was not here.

She was safe, he felt certain, not in the way he had with Dan, but with a desperate faith that he would know, somehow, if she were not. Then the bulk of the house loomed out of the darkness and a light flickered and he knew that Sophia had reached shelter.

Cal pushed open the back door on to the cavernous kitchen to find Chivers standing at the table, clearing away the remains of a simple meal. She looked up, startled, as the draught made the candle flames flicker. ‘Sir!’

‘Is your mistress well, Chivers?’ Cal closed the door behind him and came in.

The girl swallowed, searching for words. ‘She’s safe. We got here without any trouble and we’ve had some supper and the beds are made up.’ She hesitated, then seemed to find courage. ‘But she’s not happy, sir. She’s not crying, but she’s grieving. And I don’t know what to say to help make it better, sir.’

‘You’ve done all you can, Chivers. Thank you. You take yourself off to bed when you’re ready—I’ll look after your mistress and lock up.’

The maid met his eyes, seemed to see something there that reassured her and nodded to herself. ‘She’s in the parlour, sir. Good luck, sir.’

‘Thank you, Chivers.’

The house was

dark as he moved through it, wary of the uneven floors and odd steps. It creaked around him like a fat old dowager settling into a comfortable chair to the peril of her stay-laces. Cal smiled wryly at his own flight of fancy, then sobered as the spill of light under the parlour door showed him where Sophia was. He took a deep breath and laid his hand on the door latch.

Sophia put down her pencil on the desk, set both hands in the small of her back and stretched. Now there was nothing to think about but Callum and the fact that she had left him.

The door latch clicked behind her. ‘Do you want to go to bed, Chivers?’ she asked without turning. ‘I don’t need any help with this gown and I think I will be too restless to settle for an age yet.’

There was no answer. She swivelled round and almost fell from the stool. There, looking steadily across the long oak table, was her husband, his hazel eyes so dark they seemed almost brown.

‘Callum.’ How had he found her so quickly?

‘What are you drawing?’ he asked, as if he had just strolled in from his study at home.

‘You,’ she said, finding her voice. ‘You and Daniel.’ She lifted the portraits and put them on the table. They were the best thing she had ever done, she knew it, but while the pictures of Daniel were as good as she could make them, helped by Dita and Averil’s descriptions, there was something special about the portraits of Callum. She was aware of it, but would he notice? Would he care?

He picked one of Daniel up, put it back and lifted another. Callum’s mouth curved in the faintest smile.

‘You lost all your drawings of Daniel in the wreck,’ she said. ‘Averil and Dita described him for me, I thought you might like to have them one day, when it was not quite so raw. Perhaps you could colour them, or show me how.’

His hand tightened on the paper and he put it down, smoothing out the creased edge with a frown.

‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

He picked up a picture of himself. The best one. The one that had made her weep as she drew it.

He looked up at her then and the breath caught in her throat. She had never seen emotion like that on his face, never seen such uncertainty. ‘There is such feeling in this,’ he said after a moment. ‘Sophia, I know you married me for security and position and to help your family. Was there anything else?’

‘Not at first,’ Sophia admitted in a rush. Callum said nothing, but he had become very still. ‘There was desire, of course. You must have realised that I was hardly indifferent to you! I may have been innocent and inexperienced, and perhaps it took a little getting used to, but I do not think a woman finds such pleasure in a man’s bed as I do with you if there is not a fundamental attraction.’

‘Or a man in a woman’s,’ he said.

‘Really?’ Momentarily distracted, she sent him a quizzical glance. ‘I understood that men were quite happy to take sex where they could find it, never mind who the woman was.’

Callum gave a slight huff of amusement. ‘The mechanics and the release, perhaps. To find the pleasure I discovered in making love to you, no, that is not experienced without something more. It took me a while to realise that.’

‘You feel more for me?’ Sophia whispered, hardly daring to ask. Callum seemed in the mood to tell her the truth, but she was not certain she dared to hear it.