Gingerbread Bride

Chapter Eleven

When Mary came down to breakfast the following morning, Uncle Wren was there, deep in a conversation with Rick about the kinds of ships that might have been available to King Arthur in defense of his realm. Mary smiled.

Rick, who was looking her way, stumbled over his sentence.

"I am sorry, sir," he said to Uncle Wren, "I have forgotten what I was saying."

Uncle Wren gave him, and then Mary, a benevolent smile. "Well, it does not matter, young man. I have suddenly thought of some correspondence I must to attend to. Will you excuse me?"

As soon as they were alone, Rick crossed to Mary. She looked up into his vivid blue eyes. Could such a magnificent man possibly want her, plain Mary Pritchard?

"Mary." His smile was warm, and his voice, when he said her name, purred along all her nerve endings. A caress in a single word.

"Rick." She tried to match him, and, judging from his sharp intake of breath and the flare in his eyes, was not a total failure.

Then Enid arrived, followed closely by Bosville, and Mary could not help but believe they were up early just to annoy her.

As the morning wore on, she became convinced of it. Bosville was everywhere she turned, and Enid, too, though Mary blamed that on Rick's constant attendance. Enid had clearly decided Rick was to be the next victim of her charm, and was pouring it out with such a lavish hand that Rick looked decidedly ill.

All three even followed her to the kitchen and watched her decorate her gingerbread biscuits with boiled icing and bits of dried fruit.

Mary was grateful to escape on a brief shopping excursion with Polly, slipping out the kitchen door to avoid company, though if she'd been able to attract Rick's attention without alerting Enid's, the walk would have been even more pleasant.

She could not see Rick when she arrived back and delivered the reels of ribbon her aunt had needed. Bosville was there, instructing a bemused undergraduate on the correct tying of a cravat. Enid had finally found common ground with one of Aunt Theo's daughters, vigorously discussing how to attach the swags of evergreen, ribbons, and bells to the picture rail of the main parlor.

When Mary went upstairs to take off her bonnet and pelisse, though, Enid came too. "Mary," she said, "I found something I want to show you. Come this way."

Mary, curious, if a little cautious, followed behind, out the side door and into the garden. "What is it, Enid?" Enid said nothing, just lead Mary down a path until they came around a hedge, and there before them was a small tower, perhaps as tall as the house, but less than ten feet in diameter.

"How charming," Mary said. "What is it for?"

"I have no idea," Enid said, "but I found it yesterday when I walked this way, and I remembered it when you mentioned the dance floor. Wouldn't lanterns up there by the window light this part of the garden?"

It could work. Mary opened the door with some difficulty, because it was stiff, and stepped inside. The tower was hollow, and blank walled until just below the roof, where a series of window spaces let light in. They could easily also let light out, but getting a lantern up could be tricky. Though she could see some possible handholds and footholds...

At that moment, the door shut behind her with a tired groan and then a thud. Shut and—from the sound of it—bolted.

She called out, but Enid was gone, and Mary was well out of earshot of anyone else in the house. What was Enid up to? No good, that was certain. Mary frowned. She would not let her cousin get away with it.

She examined the inner wall of the tower again. Moments later, she'd stripped off her dress and petticoat and was climbing the wall in her stays and under-drawers. It was as tricky a climb as she expected, and Enid was out of sight by the time she reached the windows.

Now what? The outside of the tower was smooth, and besides, she could not climb in the open air in nothing but her undergarments.

Rick came into view, entering the garden through the gate from the road. She smiled. He must have found a way to elude the two cousins and followed her. What a pity she came back the other way.

The next moment, she frowned again. Bosville appeared from the direction of the house, and approached Rick. A few moments of conversation and Bosville handed Rick something—a note, it looked like—clapped Rick on the shoulder, and went off.

Rick stood there, reading the note. He frowned at the path that led down the garden, and then back at the house, clearly suspicious.

Whatever those two were up to, it was time to stop it. Mary, with some effort, managed to push out the ornamental trellis that blocked the window. As it crashed to the ground, Rick stopped in his tracks, looked up at the tower, then turned and went hurrying back towards the house.

Bother. Was she going to have to rescue herself? But as she thought that, the top legs of a ladder appeared. Looking over the side of the tower, she saw Rick holding the ladder steady.

"Your stair awaits, fair princess," he joked.

Dressed, or rather undressed, as she was? She looked back at the inside wall. Perhaps she could climb back down, and he could let her out. But she'd only just made the climb, and her arms were still trembling; she wasn't sure she could get back.

Rick was looking anxious. "Is there a problem?"

"Shut your eyes, please?"

His face cleared. "Of course." And he screwed his eyes shut, rather more dramatically than she thought necessary.

The ladder made the descent easy, and she breathed a sigh of relief as first one foot, then the other, reached the ground. She stopped breathing altogether when Rick's arms came round her waist.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me to see you clambering around a roof, Mary Pritchard?" he asked, holding her so tight she squeaked. He didn't release her, but, instead, bent his head to rub his cheek on her hair. "I'm confident you had an excellent reason, but I swear, I've aged ten years in the last five minutes."

She had had a reason, but for the moment, it escaped her. "Rick?" she asked.

He let her go, stepping backwards. "I beg your pardon. For a moment I... I take it you didn't send the note your nasty cousin gave me?"

He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Dear Rick," she read, "please meet me in the summerhouse. With all my love, Mary."

Mary saw red. "That weevil," she hissed. "That sneaky, mean, two-faced little maggot!"

Rick caught her around the waist again before she could storm down the path. "Whoa, Mary. Who is a maggot? Not Bosville, I take it?"

"Him, too," she fumed. "They're both in on it. Enid locked me in the tower, and Bosville gave you the note."

"Ah," Rick nodded. "Husband-hunting. I thought that might be it. You want to tell them what you think of them, I take it? You might want to get dressed first."

Mary felt the heat of her blush, but Rick the Rogue barely looked her way. He opened the tower door and waited outside while Mary changed.