His wife.
Jesus, he would never tire of saying that. Maddie was all he’d wanted, the only woman he’d ever loved, and she was his. Forever.
She avoided his gaze as she said goodbye to her parents. Then she wrapped her fingers around Harrison’s arm and tugged him out the door. “Let’s go.”
Once at the carriage, he helped her up. “I assume you are still mad at me.”
“Perceptive of you.” She settled on the seat and stared out the window.
The Archer cottage was barely five minutes away from the chateau. There wasn’t much time for a protracted conversation, which he would initiate once they were at the house. However, he did want a bit of his old Maddie back, the girl with the sunny disposition and loud laugh.
Before anything else happened, he had to coax some of the anger out of her. Slipping off his gloves, he shoved them in his coat pocket and snatched her hand. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t relent. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Worshipping you, if you’ll let me.”
The answer seemed to stupefy her so he took advantage by pressing his mouth to the bare skin of her arm, just at the edge of her glove. She gave another tug, weaker this time, and sucked in a gulp of air. He kissed her again, his tongue flicking the tender skin, and goose bumps erupted on her flesh. Feeling victorious, he began unbuttoning the glove, the tiny pearl beads slipping through the holes one after another. Each small bit of her skin received attention from his mouth, moving higher and higher, toward her hand, until he nibbled on the delicate underside of her wrist.
Her soft pants filled the carriage as they drove through the quiet town. Working steadily, he loosened the thin cloth until he was able to pull each finger free. When he finished, he pressed a deep kiss to her palm. “I always liked your hands. They’re strong and capable, not delicate.”
“It’s from tennis. I try to soften them with ointment,” she whispered, her gaze locked on their hands. “Nothing works.”
“You don’t need to soften anything for me, Mads. I like every rough edge and hard spot. You are perfect.”
He heard her swallow thickly. “I am hardly perfect.”
“You are perfect to me. You always have been.”
“Even when I was covered in sand and seaweed that one time? You called me The Colossal Sea Creature for the rest of the summer and said you were going to write to Mr. Barnum about hiring me.”
“Even then.” He flipped her hand over and kissed the back. “Especially then, because you never failed to make me smile at a time in my life when I desperately needed it.”
The carriage slowed as the wheels turned into the drive of his family’s cottage, and he reluctantly released her. The dark mansion was cold and brutal, with its boxy front and looming chimneys. Squat and forbidding, with no flowers or hint of welcoming, so very much like his family. He’d been trained to be quiet here, to walk instead of run, to hide his thoughts and never let anyone know what he was feeling.
Soon the property would belong to him and he would refashion it into whatever Maddie wished. Maybe he’d tear the structure down and start over, build something entirely new. Then they could forge happy memories here, with no remnants of his past.
The front door opened and Evans, the butler, began directing the footmen to help with the trunks. “Mr. Archer,” he said as Harrison descended. “Welcome back.”
“Hello, Evans.” He turned and helped Maddie out of the carriage. “May I present my wife, Mrs. Archer?” Maddie stiffened, likely surprised at hearing the words for the first time, so he put his hand at the small of her back and guided her forward.
“Mrs. Archer.” Evans bowed. “It is a pleasure. Please accept my congratulations on behalf of the staff.”
“Thank you.” Maddie’s face softened at the older man, one she’d met often during their childhood. “I see you haven’t changed a bit since the last time I visited.”
Evans puffed up, obviously pleased from the compliment. “Kind of you to say, ma’am, but the knees are a bit creakier. I can always tell when rain is coming.”
“I’ll send you some of the liniment I use on my sore muscles,” she said. “It helps after tennis practice. I got the recipe from one of the pitchers for the Brooklyn Bridegrooms.”
Harrison frowned as they moved inside. “A baseball player?”
“Yes. He’s a friend of my coach, Valentine Livingston.”
Jealousy curled through his belly, but he stifled the growl rising in his throat. Of course she’d made friends and gone out during these past three years—he had done the same in Paris—yet he was greedy to reclaim every minute of the time they were apart. He wanted her all to himself.
You are the one who left. You can hardly blame her for carrying on here.
True. Someday he would learn of all that he’d missed, the adventures she’d undertaken without him. Tonight, however, had a very different purpose. And it wasn’t talking.
He tugged her toward the back of the house, in the direction of his surprise. “Evans, as soon as everything is settled with our bags, you and the rest of the staff may have the night off.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And please pass on my thanks for all you and the staff have accomplished today.”
The staff had moved mountains to do as Harrison had asked. His father had accepted their obedience as his due, acting as if every employee and staff member owed him absolutely everything—including their bodies, if he so desired. He had been an abusive employer, and Harrison had to prove to the staff that he would not act in the same barbaric manner.
Shaking off those memories, he clutched Maddie’s hand tighter and led her outside. He was ready to let go of the past and embrace their future together.
Once they reached the back lawn, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She tried to dig in her heels as they neared the stables. Not far was the carriage house, its wooden doors closed. “Harrison, I have experienced enough surprises today. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone in a bath.”
Turning, he scooped her into his arms. “I swear, you’ll like this one.”
With her arms wrapped lightly around his shoulders, she remained quiet the rest of the way to the carriage house. The feel of her against him was dizzying, like he’d sipped absinthe for hours. He’d thought of this night so often, had imagined it over and over, that he almost couldn’t believe he’d finally done it.
She’s my wife. Mine, forever.
Tonight, he was going to show her exactly what that meant.
He set her on the ground and pulled the carriage house doors open. Inside, everything was arranged exactly as he’d asked. The structure had been emptied, the vehicle and equipment replaced by a tiny round table, two chairs and a divan. Lights were strung across the ceiling, the bare bulbs casting a gentle yellow glow over the interior, and plush carpets covered the floor. An array of sweets and fruit littered a side table, while a bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket next to the table.
Her head swiveled as she took it all in. “What is this? I don’t understand.”
He took a deep breath. Even if what he said scared her, it was time for honesty. He owed her that much. How could they ever move forward if he didn’t tell her why he’d come to Newport?