A week ago, she’d thought happiness was within her grasp. That she would be content in a passionless marriage, able to have an impact on the world and feel useful for a change.
But how could she find happiness in that life, knowing that Will existed but wasn't hers?
Quite some time passed before she found the strength to speak. “What will happen tomorrow?”
He shifted beneath her, pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. When he spoke, his voice was small, weaker than she thought it could be. “Assuming nothing has happened to the cart, we can’t be more than an hour’s ride away.”
Damn, but she wished she were brave. She possessed the fortitude to argue with peers of the realm to advance women’s causes, to travel across the countryside with a man she barely knew, but she lacked the strength to ask him for what she wanted.
Perhaps she wasn’t so formidable after all.
Chapter 15
On the morning ofher wedding to an earl, Adelaide awoke in the arms of a blacksmith. Her mouth was dry from the dust of the barn, and she was certain her hair was a tangled mess and her breath offensive, but she didn’t want to move, wouldn’t move until absolutely necessary. Because once she moved, she’d have to start her day.
Her wedding day.
As though he heard her screaming thoughts, Will stirred and pulled her tighter against his chest. The ridge of his erection pushed against her bottom, and she curled her hips back, earning a grumble. “Do you want to destroy me, woman?”
For now, she could pretend it was still the previous night, that her destination wasn’t looming like a storm on the horizon. She giggled, although the tension didn’t ebb from her throat. “I’m doing my best. Is it working?”
He nipped the place where her shoulder met her neck. “There won’t be much left of me after you leave.”
The ache behind her breastbone burst open and burned, but she blinked the pain away while he rolled her onto her back and entered her in one smooth, devastating stroke that pushed the air from her lungs. Will’s breath rattled, indistinct sounds that might have been smothered sobs reaching her ears as he joined with her, clutched her to him. Was he falling apart as well? Was she the only thing holding him together?
Her climax poured over her in a gentle glow, like the first rays of sunshine warming the night-cooled field, evaporating the surrounding mist. She keened, arched against him as he praised her strength, her passion, her beauty. When he came a moment later, pulling out to pulse against her hip, his crisis seemed to tug at his soul, wrenching at the very marrow of his bones before he collapsed at her side, wrapping himself around her as though, if he held her tight enough, he could keep her.
Please, God. Let him want to keep me.
Unfortunately, nature made itself known, and she extracted herself to take care of her personal needs. She dragged on her still-damp and mud-soaked clothing to venture outside, and when she returned, he had dressed and was tying up the bedroll.
He kept his head down. “What time is the ceremony?”
The color drained from her vision. “Half-past eleven.”
He nodded, shrugged on his jacket. “It’s not quite seven, but we should be going.”
Her legs dragged as they helped Phyllis across the field, a distance that seemed rather short when not dodging lightning, and Will hooked the donkey to the cart without speaking.
When Adelaide settled by his side on the bench, he moved as though he would put his arm around her. Instead, he shifted away as he took up the reins. The space felt far colder than the morning air.
In less than an hour, each moment fleeting but also interminable for the strained silence between them, they’d reached the outskirts of Barrington. The high street teemed with people hanging banners from thatched roofs and sweeping the cobbled sidewalks, washing windows, and arranging flowers in boxes. The excitement was palpable in anticipation of the celebration.
Her wedding. A ceremony that would give her the freedom to pursue her writing and enact change, but would bind her forever to a man she respected but didn’t love.
Barrington Hall lay a quick ride up a gravel track beyond the church, and her heart fell at the sight of the stone and ivy-drenched walls, the overflowing garden beds and tidy paths. She would now be mistress of this place. But at what cost?
Anger stormed in her gut, the collective rage of impotence shared by every woman who had been told she was too outspoken, told to hold her tongue because of her gender, who had to cut out parts of her desires to achieve security. She had chosen her path, but did she have any alternative?
As soon as the cart rattled to a stop before the arched stone entry of the estate, servants began pouring out, clearly frazzled by the bride's late arrival. Will helped her down without saying a word. Her nostrils flared as she pressed her lips together to contain her scream. She wanted Will tofightfor her, to take up arms and battle to win her heart. Now was the time to ask him, to tell him that he had a chance, thattheyhad a chance if he’d reach out for her.
But she was being rushed inside, and their time was running out. She turned to face him, grabbed for his hand. “Will, I—”
“I probably will never see you again,” he said, his eyes so earnest that the words died on her tongue, “but I want you to know how proud I am of you. You’re going to change the world, and I can say I had a small part in it.” He shrugged, but his tightshoulders turned it into a shudder. “I helped you get to your wedding day.”
“Don’t go yet,” she begged. “Stay, we can talk more, please.”
“I have to get to Saltford if I have any chance of keeping my apprenticeship.” He shook his head, ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “And you won’t need me anymore. You’ll be a countess. Everyone will listen to you.”
