Free The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride by Anne Herries Page A

lover—who? Why had she been so anxious to leave the parlour earlier that evening? Afterwards, she’d returned with her sewing. He’d noticed mud on her shoe. She’d also spoken of leaving, which had been a surprise to her uncle. He would swear it had been a slip of the tongue—but why had it been in her mind?
    Just what was Mistress Babs up to? Again, a smile touched his lips. She had not liked it when he called her thus. Was it a pet name? He felt a touch of jealousy as he wondered again if she had a sweetheart, yet why should he feel jealous?
    His thoughts brought a frown to replace the smile. Had he truly considered making a girl he did not know his wife? He’d known almost immediately that Sir Matthew hoped for the match. He felt himself responsible for the girl in the absence of any other relative—and for some reason he feared that his son might take after the girl when he returned home from his college. He did not wish for a match between Babette and his son, so he hoped to marry her off to his second cousin before his son returned.
    James had thought his cousin’s hints and explanations clumsy, too eager, as if he wished to be rid of the girl—though she had a fair portion, if he had cared for such things. Sir Matthew had told him that her father had left her a small chest of silver and some valuable jewels, which were apparently lodged with the Jews of London for safe keeping until she married. Why did his cousin not think it a good match for his son? James would have thought it an excellent prospect for a young man about to enter the church—Mistress Babette was, in fact, above him in class and fortune.
    Perhaps that was it, James reflected. His cousin lived an honest, hard-working life with few luxuries and little time for frivolity—and perhaps he sensed that such a life would not suit Mistress Babs for long.
    She belonged in a beautiful house with graceful rooms filled with pretty things and should wear silks and velvets rather than the plain gowns that were all she needed for life in her uncle’s house. James’s house was filled with the beautiful things he’d planned to give to Jane—he had not been able to live there since she died.
    His eyes darkened with pain. How could he even think of putting another woman in Jane’s place? Yet in time he must marry and it was true that the Royalist girl had roused him from the depths of his grief. He did not love her, could never love anyone as he loved his sweet Jane...and yet...and yet... Riding with his arms about the girl and the scent of her in his nostrils, he’d felt a stirring in his loins. He had wanted to touch her, to caress her, bury his head in her hair and lay her down in a secluded glade within the wood to explore the delights of loving...
    He had never made love to Jane in the physical way, never touched her pale flesh or kissed her deeply. How bitterly he had regretted that after her death, but in a strange way he had wanted to keep her on her pedestal to worship from afar. She was his gentle Jane, his love—and to despoil her with a man’s greedy needs would somehow have been wrong. Of course when they married...
    James frowned as he realised that he’d never felt tempted to take Jane down to the sweet earth and ravish her. How strange that he hadn’t realised it before. He had wanted to protect and cherish her, but the powerful need Mistress Babs had aroused... No, he had not felt that with Jane.
    He did not wish to marry the girl, even though he must wed one day to ensure an heir. No, she was not fit to take Jane’s place...and yet...and yet...he could not sleep for thinking of her.
    If it were merely lust that she had aroused, then any woman would supply his needs...but despite his determination that she meant and could mean nothing to him, James knew that she had touched him in some way.
    He wanted her as he never remembered wanting any other woman, her scent and presence in his arms arousing feelings that had lain dormant for