Page 64 of Honor Unbound

“As you wish.” Brett lowered his head. His kiss was sweet from the cake. Sweeter still was the tenderness behind it. He cupped her face, tasting every corner of her mouth as he tugged her gown down her shoulders.

Marie’s heart pounded behind her breastbone as he lay her down. “This is mad,” she murmured. “We’re mad.” The whole day had been mad.

She never could have guessed last night how much her life would have changed in one day. Never could have imagined that she’d let his impetuousness rub off on her. Right now, this moment, she was starting on a new path, one she didn’t know where it would lead. She could only hope Brett would follow it with her to the end.

Their clothes were tossed to the floors amid her nervous giggles. Giggles turned to moans. Moans into gasps.

After, Marie lay half on top of him. Brett’s fingers combed absently through her hair while she felt his heartbeat slow to normal beneath her palm. “So that’s what all the fuss is about,” she said.

Brett huffed out a laugh. “It will get even better. Especially when we get a bigger bed. This was barely made for one.”

Marie rolled fully atop him. All of her earlier fatigue had disappeared, and she grinned. “I’m not complaining. Are you?”

Brett spun, putting her beneath him. “No complaints.” He lowered his head to hers. “We’ll make it work.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lady Mary

Itook theproffered axe, but my heart wasn’t in my throw. The blade barely nicked the target and thunked into the wall behind, taking a wedge out of the plaster.

“Ooh, bad luck, that.” Mrs. Talbot winced. “Mr. Hardcourt is returning next week to give us more lessons.”

My jaw ached from how tightly I clenched it. “Yes, I know. I wrote up the club’s schedule. Speaking of which, we are to have another lesson on the preparation of gun powder.” I looked at her eyebrows. “You might want to absent yourself that day.” And with a nod, I stepped out of the way so the next woman could try her hand at axe throwing. I only felt a little bit guilty at the scarlet flush that crept up Mrs. Talbot’s face as I left. The woman didn’t deserve my ire, but today was testing my patience.

I’d written up everything I’d learned in my investigation, the facts, my suspicions, my theories, and had it delivered to Sir Kelsey. It had filled a full three pages, and he wrote me back one line:Thank you. Interesting.

Then there had been more whisperings and significant looks among my servants, most especially Marie and Burton. When asked, repeatedly, if there was something I should know, my question had been dismissed. Ignored.

I slammed the door to the Archery Room, which should have been named the spiky-instruments-flying-through-the-airroom, as we didn’t discriminate on what type of weapons we threw. But that would have been too wordy.

Spinning on my heel, I plodded down the hall. I wouldn’t stand for being ignored. When asked whether Marie or Burton should accompany me to the club, I had snapped in the negative.

Better to be alone than in the company of deceivers.

I detested not being included in matters.

“Lady Mary?” Bernard, the club’s doorman, toddled up to me, a large cloth sack in his hands.

“Yes?” I took a deep breath and tried again, taking the dagger out of my voice. “Yes, Bernard? What is it?”

“It’s arrived.” He held up the sack. “The equipment has arrived.”

As I’d only ordered one type of equipment recently, I knew just what he meant. “Excellent. Follow me.” I turned on my heel and made my way to the Great Room. Not all the chairs had been put away following our latest lecture, and a few scattered glasses and napkins needed cleaning up, but there was still plenty of space to experiment. “Now,” I said, turning to Bernard, “let’s see what our magistrate likes about this so much.”

Bernard set the sack down and pulled out three long clubs. Each had a slightly different head at the end. A box emerged next, and Bernard handed it to me. “The balls, milady.”

I took one out of the box and held it up to the light streaming through the high windows. It was small, a leather pouch stuffed with what I was assured were the finest goose feathers in England. Two rows of delicate stitching encircled the orb. I dropped it to the ground and held out my hand for a club.

“Which one, milady?” Bernard tilted his head.

“Does it matter? Any of them.”

He passed the shortest one to me. It still felt unwieldy. I gripped the top of the shaft. “I don’t have a hole to aim for, but Idon’t think that will matter.” I planted myself in front of the ball, raised the club, and brought it back down.

I blinked. The ball remained on the ground, unmolested.

I swung again. Missed again, saying something very unladylike in the process.