He knew her so well.
Before she could muster some sort of answer, he said, “I love you.” His hand covered hers on the table.
I love you, too.
She didn’t speak the words aloud. She did not trust herself. Instead, she turned her hand over to clasp his as hard as she could.
He looked at their joined hands and then said, “I know, Leonie. When you are ready, I will be here.”
“I fear I’ll never be what you want.”
A sober look came to his eye. His answer was to raise her hand to his lips.
That night, she rested her head on his chest and listened to the beat of his heart and prayed she could make right all that she’d done wrong.
The next day was Squire Jones’s annual hunt culminating in a village dance. The event was the highlight of their country society.
Of course the Earl of Rochdale and his lady were invited as were all the members of his family. Roman told Leonie that he was just as happy to stay home but she felt they should go. “It is our first social engagement. It would be churlish after all the help he has given us with Bonhomie to refuse his invitation.”
She was right.
However, Roman had his reservations. The squire liked his food and drink. The squire prided himself on his stamina when it came to strong spirits. Roman knew Leonie still struggled; after all, didn’t he struggle with trusting her?
He’d unburdened himself to Lawrence a week ago. He’d confessed he wanted his wife in all ways. Lawrence understood the danger of drink, having grown up around those who imbibed too freely.
“I believe she loves you,” Lawrence had said. “In time, you will have the right answer for your own heart.”
In time...Roman hated those words. He wanted to know now. He did not know how much longer he could live like a monk around her. Their celibate games in bed were growing tiresome. He wanted to possess, to be inside her, to have his seed grow within her.
Early that morning, Roman, Lawrence, and Briggs rode in the wagon to the squire’s far field to join the hunt for pheasant and whatever other bird they could flush.
Squire Jones informed them they would be eating whatever they shot for the day so the game was on to see which hunter could bag the most birds. Roman would have liked to bring Soldier for the experience but decided this might be too busy a hunt for a pup. He’d left his little friend in one of the stalls. His whining had been a pitiful sound. Roman warned Leonie to not let him loose. “He will try and find me.”
She agreed.
Leonie would be traveling to the squire’s later with his parents and sisters.
It was good to be out in the air. The early June day was the sort that made a man glad to be alive. The company was a mixed collection. There were several of Roman’s largest tenants and neighbors from as far away as twenty miles.
Roman acquitted himself well for the hunt. He didn’t bag the most birds but his number was respectable and only one was gun shot. Lawrence also managed a goodly number. Squire Jones crowed his approval. “You have earned your dinner for your family, my lord.”
“I always wish them well fed.”
The squire laughed. “They will be.” His nose was already turning a cherry red. The spirits had been flowing freely. That was one of the reasons why the others had such poor aim. Many of their birds were inedible. There was too much shot in them.
Roman had refused the spirits. Watching Leonie’s battle, he was wary of what he consumed. He enjoyed a tankard of ale but that was enough.
Shortly after the noon hour, the men started for the squire’s house. They handed their birds over to the kitchen and then the serious drinking began. The squire mixed his own punch and took great pride in the ingredients.
“Arrack?” Roman questioned. He knew the liquor. It was much like rum only far more potent.
“Just a touch,” Squire Jones assured him. He then added the whole bottle as well as a bottle of brandy and claret.
Roman decided he’d keep with his ale.
At that moment, he looked across the grounds and saw his family coming in the cart he’d purchased for trips around the parish. Leonie sat with her arms around Edward and Jane while Beth drove. Dora was giving instructions and his parents were laughing.
Leonie looked like a charming shepherdess with her tawny gold hair curling wildly beneath a wide brimmed hat trimmed in colorful ribbons to keep the sun from her face. Her dress was the green of new leaves. The style was simple, but his wife could wear a sackcloth and set men’s imaginations afire.
