Lord of the Abbey (18 page)

“
Just what, Rowena?” Harry gently persuaded her to continue. She clearly seemed to be uncomfortable and searching for words.

“I never knew a man might desire to spend time with his wife and children. My own father did not.” She shook her head. “I never knew that it could be different.” She looked to him. “I just did not know, is all.”

She looked confused. She was frowning. Again, lost in her thoughts. Painful memories. “Rowena, not all men are like your father. Many cherish their wives and family. I will.” Harry meant to assure her. Meant to win her. The only men she knew who valued women were an eighty-seven year old Italian Marchese and the sixty something year old Sir John.

Rowena forced a smile. “Harry, of course you will! The lady you take as your wife shall be very fortunate indeed. I shall be happy to invite her to Stonedown for tea when you bring her to Abbey Grange.” She forced herself to sound happy and light-hearted. For she knew someday soon Harry Bellingham would take a wife. Young, handsome and eligible Earls did not stay unmarried long.

“There are the Brides up ahead, Rowena.” Harry tried to keep his tone light, but he was rattled. There was only one woman he
ever
imagined as his wife. And it appeared she had no intention of marrying him.
Yet!
He pursed his lips together in grim determination. He would persuade her to change her mind. Marry
him
.

Did he need to be more direct? Or perhaps not mention marriage for a time? Given her circumstances, she might need time. Harry frowned as he mulled over his choices. He wasn’t certain how to proceed. Hmm? Rowena did not seem opposed to allowing him to kiss her. Perhaps he should build on that. He’d kiss her the very second he pulled her off that mare.

“Ah! We’re nearly there! I’ll race you, Harry!” Rowena shook off her dismal thoughts. She would enjoy Harry Bellingham’s company for as long as she could. She surged ahead of him, urging her spirited mare forward.

Harry followed behind her. He could easily overtake her mare with his lightening quick black, but he held the stallion back and allowed her to win. Relished the sparkle victory brought to her eyes. Savored the delighted smile she flashed his way when they reached the field where the ruins of St. Bridget’s Chapel lay long forgotten. He and his younger brother, George, often poked through the ruins during their boyhood summers in Glastonbury. Ironically, looking for treasure then as he did today.

But first things first. A kiss. The foremost thought on his mind. Harry dismounted quickly and walked to where Rowena still sat atop her mare. He didn’t ask, he just reached up and placed his hands about her slender waist, lifting her from her saddle. Slowly, he brought her down the length of him. He meant to woo her. Show her he wanted
her
.

Harry’s warm hands on her waist distracted her. Even more disconcerting was the rush of warm and tingling sensations that threatened to overwhelm her as her body slid down the length of his, all hard muscle, and heat. Rowena placed her hands on his strong, muscled arms without even realizing it. She could not resist. She had to look up into those dark brown eyes. There were warm flecks of gold there. Harry’s gaze was intense, yet he smiled down at her. It was a gentle, tender smile.

“
Rowena, I want to kiss you again. May I?” His first impulse was to just take. Crush her in his arms to cover her lips with his own. Taste her. Kiss her deeply. Win her. But he didn’t. He sought her permission instead.

“Yes.” It was the barest of whispers. She uttered her answer quickly and without any thought whatsoever. The only reality in her mind at that moment was that she
wanted
Harry Bellingham to kiss her again. She closed her eyes. Felt Harry’s lips brush ever so lightly across hers.

It was a sweet, gentle kiss. His lips feathered against hers. He kissed each corner of her mouth then covered her lips with his. Rowena felt as if she were drowning in warmth and tenderness. Then she felt his tongue flick against her lips and she opened to accept him. She returned his kiss. Stuck her tongue in his mouth again! Wanted this. Wanted more.

Harry felt certain that in the light of day and being out of doors as he was, there would be no problem with restraint where Rowena Locke was concerned. He was confident he would not lose control as he had the night before.

He was wrong.

He first felt his control failing when Rowena’s tongue moved against his and she began to return his kiss. The movements were tentative at first then grew bolder. His hand moved to her nape to bring her sweet mouth closer. He deepened the kiss. Drank from the honey of her lips. He tightened his hold on her, reveling in the feel of her soft curves pulled flush against him. Just like the previous night, passion, raw and wild flamed between them. It ignited quickly. Engulfed him. It was quite the strangest feeling, this loss of discipline. So disconcerting. Never before had he experienced this wild, unbridled passion from merely a kiss. He always was able to keep his passion in check. Stay in control in any situation regarding the seduction of ladies.

He felt Rowena’s fingernails digging into his arms, reveled in the feel of her body molding to his, pressing, arching closer. He knew she was lost in their passion just as he was. He also knew the rest of their party would appear on the lane beyond from behind a copse of trees lining the road at any moment.

Reluctantly, he released her. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew it was best. He was determined to spare her the embarrassment of being caught. He looked down into that angelic face. Her blue eyes were darker than normal, blues and grays swirling, resembling the skies before a spring storm. Her lips were a touch rosier than usual, perhaps even slightly swollen from their kiss. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hands suddenly dropped from his arms.

Then he saw uncertainty cloud her eyes. He felt the need to explain, “Rowena, I fear our party shall be upon us in a moment. We will continue this particular discussion again very soon. I promise you.” He traced her jawline with his thumb, then grinning, took her gloved hand and placed it on his arm. He led her toward the scant remains of the chapel ruins.

Rowena found herself quite breathless, and struggled to regain her composure.

At that moment the phaeton appeared in the distance, with Micah, Lyon and Charlie riding behind it.

By the time the rest of their party arrived at the field and dismounted, Harry and Rowena had both recovered. They stood within the ruins of the chapel itself, there being nothing but a few broken bricks, stones, and broken tiles lying about in the new shutes of spring grass. They chatted about the bits of remains they spotted scattered around the ruins while they waited for the others to walk across the field.

“It does feel like holy ground.” Rowena acknowledged as she stood in the center of the long forgotten chapel foundation.

“It does, Rowena. There is that energy here,” Harry agreed. He felt the energy. It was hard to describe, but there always was a strong, holy energy in every church he had ever entered. Even though there were no walls here, he still felt that energy. The memory of thousands of prayers? Angels? God? He never had been certain, but always felt it.

Micah reached them first. “The well is just there.” He pointed beyond where Harry and Rowena stood, toward a small copse of trees and brush. One thorn tree stood out from the rest. It was covered with multicolored strips of fabric tied on to branches as prayer rags, locally known as
clooties
. Locals said prayers then tied a scrap of cloth on a branch as an offering.

Micah talked as he walked toward the unkempt well. “The opening is quite small. I can’t imagine there being a very large chamber below, but it appeared this morning there is some semblance of a chamber there. Mayhap the light is better this afternoon and I can see inside.” He walked past them, carrying a bucket containing various small tools.

“There are large chambers below both the Chalice and the White Springs,” Harry reminded him.

“True.” Micah nodded.

Charlie, carrying a hoe and a shovel, caught up to him. “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

“It’s still muddy from the rain, and the terrain is rough here, are you certain you wish to walk further?” Harry looked to Rowena.

“Harry!” Rowena scolded him playfully. “I wouldn’t miss this if I had to swim in mud!” she stated quite emphatically.

Harry laughed. Amusement glittered in his eyes.

Though Rowena was impatient to see what Micah and Charlie were doing at the site of the well, she waited, all happy smiles, for her aunt and Sir John. Lyon walked with Lady Sperring. Rowena took Sir John’s arm, wishing to help steady him over the uneven ground. She chatted happily with the elderly gentleman as they made their way toward the old well.

Harry stayed very close to Rowena. He suddenly had one of his odd, peculiar feelings that managed to always alert him when something was not quite right. He scanned the countryside around them, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He saw nothing unusual.

He knew Lyon felt it too, for he took a sudden interest in their surroundings as well. They exchanged knowing glances. Harry moved even closer to Rowena. His arm brushed hers as he came beside her.

Micah and Charlie removed their coats and were working with the hoe and shovel to remove some of the overgrown bushes and weeds from around the well. They were forced to widen the opening for one of them to fit down into the chamber. They took special care to leave the Thorn tree adorned with clooties exactly as it was. It was an obvious shrine. A place of pilgrimage for many of the locals it seemed.

“Charlie. Go and fetch the lantern. We did bring it, didn’t we?” Micah questioned as he squatted near the opening and peered in.

“We?” Charlie laughed. “Of course
I
brought the lantern, Micah! And the shovel, the pick. And yes,
I’ll
go fetch the lantern. It will no doubt be me you send down there. I’ll be back momentarily.” Charlie chuckled and displayed a mischievous grin as he received a black scowl from Micah.

“Does it appear there is a chamber down there?” Harry asked. The small structure above the opening was decaying and almost crumbled completely away. The marker was so worn it was impossible to tell if anything had ever been etched upon it.

“Possibly. I can hear the water. It sounds like the actual spring is further back than the opening. The problem is, Harry, it seems the chamber is partially full of dirt. Mud more like it. Possibly one of the chamber walls has caved in, or it has served as a large drain for centuries. All in all,“ Micah paused as Charlie returned with the lantern, “I’d say Charlie can squeeze in there fairly well.”

“Me? You’re much trimmer than I am, Wincanton! You tell me so all of the time!” Charlie laughed, pointing a finger at him.

“I am taller than you, Charlie, and I’m broader in the shoulders. No chance Harry can fit in, he’s taller than all of us and his shoulders are broader than mine.” Micah looked to Lyon. Raised an eyebrow. “The space is quite limited.”

Harry looked to Lyon then. He was a bit taller than Charlie, but leaner. Both Micah and Harry were too tall to manage movement in an area as compact as the well chamber promised to be.

Lyon scowled at both he and Micah.

“
Do you think you can fit, Lyon?” Rowena asked sweetly. “If not, perhaps you would allow me to try. I am smaller than all of you.”

“
Out of the question, Lady Rowena.” Micah shook his head vehemently. “You will not go down there alone.” He looked to Lyon again. Quirked an eyebrow.

Although Harry wished to immediately quash the idea of Rowena going into the well, he reasoned he could not act in a manner that smacked of control. “We could never send you into the chamber without knowing its condition, Lady Rowena. As Micah said, the walls may not be stable. It would be better if Lyon were to go in first, and check the situation.”

“
It appears you are our savior, Lyon,” Rowena sighed.

Lyon bowed deeply, smiling at Rowena. He motioned for Micah and Charlie to move out of his way. He removed his coat and handed it to Charlie. “I do believe I can manage, Lady Rowena. As Harry said, it’s probably dangerous.”

Rowena thought she heard him mumble something about a brand new pair of Hessians, but she wasn’t certain. The banter between the men was teasing, she knew. Lyon was not truly cross. This was just the way these men interacted. How she knew this, she did not know – but she did. They were a tight knit group, these four. More like brothers. The time she spent in their company was vastly entertaining.