Free The Bride Insists by Jane Ashford

figured carpet and blue hangings were old and worn. A massive four-poster bed and wardrobe in dark wood contrasted with a newer dressing table and mirror. A bright fire warmed the space. Clare walked over to one of the two wide windows. The cliff fell away beneath her, yielding a vertiginous view of the tossing sea.
    â€œMaster’s room is through there.” Mrs. Pendennis pointed to a connecting door in the right-hand wall. “John’ll have your things up in a trice.”
    â€œThank you. Would it be possible to have a bath?” Clare thought longingly of hot water and scented soap and warm towels.
    Anna Pendennis’s wrinkled face creased further. “We have a tin tub the girls use in front of the kitchen fire. We could carry it up, perhaps.” Obviously trying to hide reluctance, she turned away. “I’ll set the water on to heat.”
    â€œNo, that’s all right,” replied Clare quickly. “Just a can of hot water will be fine.” Clearly relieved, the old woman nodded and went out. Nothing in this house had been updated since its construction, Clare reminded herself. But she could not stifle a sinking feeling when she confirmed her suspicion that a screen in the corner hid a chamber pot. The state of the place was daunting.
    Still, it was pleasant to be alone for the first time in days. She took off her battered bonnet and stained cloak and went to hold chilled hands out to the fire. And in that moment of relaxation, without warning, the enormity of what she’d done hit her. She was hundreds of miles from anything familiar. She’d pledged her life to a man she hardly knew. She’d taken on a household that seemed in complete disarray, including two unexpected, and clearly eccentric, children. How could Jamie not have told her about them! Clare watched her extended hands begin to tremble in the warm firelight.
    Heralded by a knock, her trunk and satchel arrived, and then a can of steaming water to be poured into the washbasin that also waited behind the screen. Declining Anna Pendennis’s diffident offers of help, Clare undressed and had a thorough wash. She was worn out, she told herself. She hadn’t slept well during the nights on the road. Things would look better after a real rest. Digging out a fresh nightgown, she climbed into the huge bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. The sheets were soft and clean and smelled of lavender. Clare crawled between them and was almost instantly asleep.
    When Selina tapped on the door and looked in a bit later, she smiled to see Clare lying so peacefully. Gently closing the door, she went downstairs to warn the Pendennises not to disturb their mistress until she woke on her own. Clare needed rest. Selina knew from her own state how tired she must be. And any situation looked better after a good night’s sleep. At least, so she hoped.
    Some time later, Jamie knocked on the door between their bedchambers and, after waiting a moment, came in. He was braced to apologize for not mentioning his sisters, for their poor behavior and that of their wretched pet. He was ready to assure his irate wife that he had reprimanded the twins, and to escort her downstairs to a dinner he knew would be only tolerable. Anna Pendennis was admirable in so many ways, but she was not a good cook.
    Jamie found Clare sound asleep, her face sweetly peaceful against the white of the pillow. The dancing firelight picked out stray gleams in her pale hair and washed her cheeks with color. But there were dark smudges under her eyes, and exhaustion showed in the depth of her slumber. The journey had been hard on her; he knew that. He’d pushed because he was so eager to be home and get to work; his heart thrilled every time he thought of what he could now do for his tenants and acres. Still, he shouldn’t have left her to arrive alone. It had been rude at best and thoughtless at worse. He’d been ready for reproaches about that lapse,