When I wake in the wee hours of the morning, my eyes are still closed. I know exactly where I am, which I was afraid I would not, and exactly whom I'm with.
I feel his big, heavy arms around me, pinning me to the spot, pressed with my bottom against his groin. I attempt to move, but he tightens his arms immediately in reaction, never breaking a light snore.
He smells incredible—some combination of leather, vanilla oil used rub his saddle, and hay from the barn mixed with good brandy and the musky scent of skin that was in the sun all day.
I pat his hand and squeeze it. I can't help but feel like the safest women in the world. And then I can't help but think of Willoughby. He must be gone by now. If he's smart, he's abandoned Hattan altogether. There is nothing for him here. Christopher tightens his hold on me, and I drift off to sleep.
It feels like moments later when I open my eyes again, but the sun is brilliant and high in the sky, and I am alone. I stand up, find the wash basin, do some basic cleaning up, get into my trunks, and dress. It must be late.
I walk down the stairs, looking around. Each step is painful. Something has changed, it certainly feels like it anyway. But the more I walk, the more the soreness goes away.
"Mistress", I hear, and turn to see Penelope, who curtsies.
"Is the Colonel at breakfast?", I ask.
"It's nigh on 11 o'clock, Mistress", she says, as if speaking to an idiot, "We have kept a plate warm for you, but the master will be in for luncheon in an hour if you'd like to wait."
"Where is he now?"
"Outside. He does like the nice weather, the master does", she says with a second curtsey, and leaves me.
I walk outside to find him with Athena, feeding her tid bits of ham.
"Marianne!", he says, greeting me with joy. He hands the bird to Wallace and embraces me.
"I trust you slept well", he says, a bit nervous again.
"Very well. I apologize for rising so late..."
"This is your home now, Marianne, you must do as you always do. And I think a bride is allowed to sleep in the morning after her wedding", he teases, and we kiss gently. It brings back all the memories of last night.
"The Middletons are insisting on hosting for us for dinner. I told them later in the week would be fine. Is that all right with you?", he says.
"The Middletons have been here already?" Ugh.
"Sir John only. He just offered the invitation, but knew better than to crowd newlyweds", he says. "That word 'newlyweds'. I can't get used to finally being married, to finally having you."
I walk into the circle of his arms and rest my head against his chest. "My love", he whispers. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"Are you...okay...this morning?", he asks with trepidation.
"Sore, but it will pass. Maybe tomorrow night we can..."
"Marianne, you make the rules. You don't have to explain to me why you would like to rest. In a week, you'll be hurting me. I promise", he winks.
He puts an arm around me, and we walk back inside.
"What time do you get up?", I ask him.
"Six. I've lived on a soldier's schedule for so long, it's second nature. We used to be up at five in my regiment. But I told the staff you'd be rising at a more genteel hour. Let's get an early lunch and I'll teach you how to hold Athena", he offers.
I'm terrified to hold the giant bird of prey, but she takes to me quickly. His huge glove is covering my hand and half my arm, the bird perched there, wondering what I'm so upset about it.
"If there were the slightest chance of any harm to you, do you think I would allow this, much less encourage it? She likes you", he informs me.
It's exciting to hold onto such power. A hunter in the palm of my hand. He nuzzles into the back of my hair. "Shall I show you how to release her?", he whispers, his voice thick with lust. Perhaps I have two in the palm of my hand.
"Yes", I whisper back. He moves my hand slightly and the bird takes off and flies high into the sky, so high, she is barely a speck to our eyes, then dives back down out of the clouds and glides above the lawn.
"Searching for mice and rabbits. She'll be back", he says. "Let's take a stroll and she'll be ready to be put back in her cage."
Walking. Surely Willoughby knows I'm married. Surely he would never approach Christopher.
"Colonel Brandon, sir", we hear screamed out the front door and turn to see Beryl. "Forester cannot find the wood you bid him to saw. For the, you know..."
"Oh for goodness sakes. All right, I'm coming Beryl. Tell Forester to open his eyes, but I will come to him and show him the lumber to be used and the paint. Go ahead, my love, I'll catch up", he adds to me.
"A mystery?", I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"A gift", he answers with a smirk. "And another one to show you later."
I stay where I am.
"I'll be two minutes, my love, you can't fall in two minutes, can you?", he asks with a smirk. "I'll be 'round to catch you in no time. Go on."
I give him a dirty look and he breaks into laughter. Such a rare thing, the inimitable sound of the Colonel's laughter.
I start out close to the house and walk slowly. He knows better. He knows it's over. I keep repeating that to myself. He's not foolish enough to stay around here once he knows I'm married. I walk blindly toward the back of the house. He knows better than to come close to Delaford or be seen.
"Walking alone again. Now I KNOW you must be looking for me."
"You are not here!", I yell, before even turning around to see him there, on the edge of the woods, watching me. "Are you crazy? You must know I'm married. You're on Christopher's property."
"Oh, it's Christopher, is it?"
"He's my husband", I insist.
"I know", he spits back. "I know you're angry with me, but I don't know why you went through with it. I've been trying to get you alone for weeks."
"I know that too. It's over, Willoughby..."
"Why do you never call me 'John'?", he asks, sounding wounded.
"Stop this! I'm married!"
"You don't love him, you love me", he insists.
"You must be insane. I'm another man's wife, why don't you hear me? If he sees you, he'll kill you."
"Awfully concerned about my well-being", he smiles.
"I'm not concerned at all!"
"As well you shouldn't be, my love. I've spent a lot of time practicing. A lot of time deciding which guns to use and why. This time everything will go differently."
"Everything?", I ask. "This time? What are you talking about? Just get out of here!"
"You'll see. Come with me now, Marianne. Forget about all this. I have money now. You remember I said after I saw my aunt, I was going to come to Barton Cottage at 4, do you remember? And speak to you and then your mother? I was going to ask for your hand. You have to know that. The divorce is final and Isabel Grey haunts me no longer. We can go off to Venice, Paris, anywhere you like", he insists.
"Paris? The world has been at war for years..."
"And Boney has been locked in his island jail for years", he says. "We can do whatever we like. I have the funds now."
"What I would like is to live in peace with my husband. I love Colonel Brandon", I state.
"Oh please! He feels safe to you, he feels convenient, he feels like a certainty compared to someone like me who is as wild as you are. But that doesn't mean you love him. You can count on him. You're grateful to him. It's not the same thing", he explains.
Shut up, Willoughby.
"He's more akin to a father than a lover, and probably always was", Willoughby adds.
"I can tell you didn't see us together on our wedding night to say that", I spit back.
He squeezes his eyes closed and grits his teeth. "You've...? Are you serious? You let him touch you? How many lives in France did he take with those hands? He's a fighter, not a lover. Don't say that Marianne! Don't you ever talk about that!" He grabs my wrists tightly.
"Let me go!", I shout.
"Not until I remind you what you're missing", he hisses, and pulls me into a kiss. I struggle against him, beating his chest, and he just deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth, massaging my tongue with his until suddenly I'm kissing him back, my hand on the back of his head. That mouth. Those eyes. I will never forget them...then I shove him away.
"I made my choice. Never come here again", I shout, and march away.
I turn to see the man called Forester standing there. Watching me.
"The Colonel just wanted me to tell you he was coming", he says, confused.
"I...thank you", I say. He walks off. Damn it. My head spins around to look for Willoughby, but he's gone.