If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) (26 page)

Ten the love my own heart’s missing!

Wynbrook always imagined the night before his wedding would be spent in some sort of drunken carousing prior to settling down to married life. Tonight, however, he found himself in an isolated house, snuggled warm and cozy in his bed, a copy of
The Captain’s Curse
in hand. With all the excitement, he had not yet been able to figure out how the heroine escaped the crazed peg-legged captain. Considering Kate’s opinion of married life, he figured he may be doing a lot of reading in bed and he might as well get used to it. If he was to have no romance in his life, at least he could read about those who did.

He was just getting to a particularly nail-biting moment with the cursing captain knocking three times on the door of the tower room of the distraught heroine when a knock on the door of his own room shocked him back to reality. He looked up from his book, momentarily confused. Had someone locked him in his room and was coming to ravish him senseless?

“Enter,” he called, willing to take the risk. To his surprise, Kate entered the room, looking around furtively to ensure there was no one else present, and then barred the door behind her. Perhaps he was being locked in his room after all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

She walked up holding a candle, her silver eyes glinting in the candlelight. She was dressed in a simple wrap, her long brown hair falling in thick waves around her. Truly, she looked more faerie than human. He would not have been surprised if she’d sprouted wings and flew around the room.

“I cannot go through with it.” Her strange, light eyes filled with unshed tears.

Wynbrook’s heart dropped. He was afraid something like this would happen. “What is wrong?”

“I fear we are too different to suit. I think too much of you to let you do something I know will make you miserable for all your life.” She placed her candlestick on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. For a girl trying to give him the heave-ho, she certainly had a friendly way of doing it.

“You think so well of me that you do not wish to marry me?” he repeated. Given how skittish she was about marriage, he was not surprised she was having second thoughts.

“Yes.” Kate shifted on the bed, moving closer. Her thick, brown hair pooled around her and he longed to touch it.

“Never mind the institution of marriage. I thought we had established that you did not look upon kissing me with utter abhorrence.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “True.”

“Let me understand this correctly. You enjoy being with me, you think well of me, you are attracted to me and enjoy our kisses. Thus, you have come to the conclusion to dissolve the engagement?” He was beginning to enjoy himself. But then, he always enjoyed himself when he was with Kate, and never more than when they matched wits.

“I think the only reason I could enjoy kissing you is because we were
not
married,” she said with exasperation.

“I beg your pardon?” He had lost her train of thought entirely, but never had he been so attentive to any conversation. The air between them hummed with anticipation.

“What we shared up until now was because we both gave in to our mutual attraction. After we are wed, I no longer have the choice to refuse. When we speak vows, anything between us will be obligation. To be frank, if I could share your bed without the unwanted legality of marriage, I do believe it would be…acceptable.”

Wynbrook held his breath. He was not sure if she was truly saying what he thought she was saying. If it were anyone else, he would think it was some sort of perverse joke, but he knew Kate was incapable of such mean-spirited humor. “So you would like to share my bed, but only if we are not married. It is that what I’m hearing?”

Kate paused a moment and looked him square in the eye. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“So the natural conclusion is that we live together without the benefit of marriage.” It was the most interesting conversation he’d ever had. In bed or otherwise.

“No, that is not possible. If nothing else, Robert would kill you.”

Robert would kill him—besides, he had no intention of making Kate his mistress. He realized anticipating his wedding vows was not technically proper, but they would be married in a few hours, so what could it hurt?

“So what do you suggest? Is there any hope for us?” He reached out and stroked her hair, twisting a lock around one finger. He was playing with fire.

“Do you want there to be hope for us?” she asked breathlessly.

“Kate, I want to marry you. I want to take you to bed tonight and every night of my life. Any other lady would seem utterly dull and lifeless compared to you.”

Kate’s face, generally so firm and rigid, relaxed, and she gave him a true smile. “It is kind of you to say. I wish there was such a world in which we could be together, without obligations and contracts.”

“We have tonight,” he suggested softly.

“Would you be willing?” she asked in a small voice. “Would you be willing to spend the night with me?” She could not even look at him when she asked.

“The price is marriage. You must know that.”

“Yes, but at least I would have one night when my body was my own.”

He did not wait for her to change her mind but drew her into his arms to kiss her. She responded, wrapping her arms around him. This was one thing they did well. She was not the first woman he had kissed, but he was perfectly content with having her be the last.

She deepened the kiss, sparking fire within him. Despite it being a cold January night, he was burning hot. Excitement pulsed through his veins as she pressed herself closer to him, her softness melting into him.

“Admit it, you came here with the nefarious intent to ravish me senseless,” he whispered in her ear when she at last allowed him to take a breath.

“Yes, I did.” And she giggled—an occurrence so extraordinary, he had to pull back to make sure he was still holding Kate. Lady Katherine
never
giggled. But there she was, gazing at him with ethereal eyes and a naughty smile on her face.

“Well! I like you more and more each day!” He trailed kisses down her cheek to the hollow of her neck. “And especially more at night.”

He slid a hand down her trim back to a rounded backside. He nearly groaned; he had wanted do to that for so long. He began pulling up the fabric around her, impatient to see her in all her naked glory.

“Wait, stop!” She pulled back, trembling.

He cursed himself for moving too fast. Stupid, stupid. “Forgive me. I…I was a little too eager.”

“I do not blame you for wanting me.” She looked at him slyly with glinting eyes. “But if this night is to be mine, I must have my way with you.”

He had never been more turned on in his life. The bedclothes before him tented and
The Captain’s Curse
fell to the floor.

* * *

Kate’s heart beat in her throat. She had thought she was shy. Apparently, she was not. She just wanted control.

John gave her a slow smile, as if reading her fevered mind. “I will lie back and let you do whatever you wish.”

Slowly he pulled his nightshirt up over his head and dropped it over the side of the bed. He reclined back onto the pillows, a perfect model of masculinity. His tawny hair was mussed in an adorable manner. Stubble shadowed his square jaw. His chiseled chest rippled with muscles, just as it sent ripples of excitement down her spine. His green eyes beckoned her to come take a chance.

She moved forward and slid her hands up his chest, thrilling in the feel of him—warm, soft, yet solid and muscular. Truly, no man should be so attractive. But she was awfully glad he was. It should not make a difference to her what he looked like under his clothes, and certainly she did not like him because of it, but his chiseled physique was a delicious, sweet treat.

She ran her hands down his arms, enjoying the feel of his hardened muscles, which she suspected he was tensing just to give her a little show. No matter what he did, he was a glorious specimen of man. She pulled the covers down slowly, gradually unwrapping the present that was just for her.

The muscles of his lower abdomen and the little trail of hair leading down from his belly button made her heart pound. She was hot and sweaty in unmentionable places. She continued to pull down the covers until she revealed him in all his naked glory.

She had seen a naked man before. Even an aroused man. Living on board a naval vessel had left little to the imagination, but this was different. He was standing up proudly for her, only for her.

“You must like me a lot,” she murmured.

“Immensely.”

“I do not wish you to get a big head,” she scolded.

“Too late!” He grinned at her.

She was not certain what to do next. He was naked before her. She was ready for more. She had a fairly decent idea of what more was, but how did one get from here to there?

“This is rather awkward,” she confessed.

“We have a lifetime to practice,” he said seductively, looking as comfortable lying naked before her as he did walking into a ballroom. “I do not suppose I could induce you to remove your wrap?”

Being a fair-minded person, she supposed she should afford him the same view. She unwrapped her dressing gown slowly, not because she was attempting to be seductive, but because she was unsure of what she was doing. Her wrapper fell around her on the bed, revealing a gauzy nightgown.

John parted his lips in anticipation. Gone was the suave, confident lover. He gazed at her with an intense longing that gave her pause. And made her continue. He looked like he wanted to devour her. Never in her life had she felt so desired. This might have been power, but it was terrifying.

She slowly pulled up her nightgown, bunching it in her hands. Was she truly going to do this? Nobody had seen her naked. Maybe the midwife who’d delivered her, but after that, no one.

She took a deep breath and pulled the nightgown up and over her head in one swift movement. His breath caught and he sat up in bed toward her. She trembled, whether from the cold or the intensity of his gaze she did not know.

“You are so beautiful.” His voice was awed. It gave her hope. “And so small.”

She was crushed. She crossed her arms over her breasts. She knew she did not have a mountainous bosom, but it was hardly chivalrous to mention her flaws when she was naked before him.

“No, I am not talking about your breasts, which are perfect by the way and I do hope you will allow me to pay them due homage. I speak of you. Your waist is tiny.”

She was not sure if this was a good thing. “I have not a huge appetite.”

“It is only that you are such a strong person, I am surprised to find all that power in a petite form.” He held out his hands to her, beckoning her.

She allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace. It felt better with his arms around her. And warmer. He lay back down and she came with him, stretching herself out on top of him. He drew the blankets up around them, and that was a comfort too, keeping her warm and out of view.

“The candles?” she asked.

He pinched the wicks, heedless of the flames, casting them into complete darkness. This was better.

“May I touch you?” he whispered.

“My back,” she relented and was rewarded with warm, powerful hands kneading up and down her back, massaging out the painful knots until she was like jelly on top of him. This she could get used to. Oh, yes, this was definitely something she wanted repeated. Often.

“My arms,” she suggested, and he focused his attention on her arms, rubbing out the tension from her shoulders down to her hands. This was delightful.

“My neck.” His strong hands moved to her neck, up to the back of her head. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her and how to touch her. She may have groaned a little.

“My…thighs.” She had wanted to say something else but lost her nerve.

He coaxed her legs up so she was straddling him. His breath caught and he trembled beneath her. She felt open and very naughty. He massaged her thighs and heat built up inside her, yearning for release. It was good, but she wanted more, needed more.

“My backside.” His hands were finally on her derrière, where she had wanted them since the night began, possibly since the night of their first kiss. This was heaven, but still she wanted more.

“More.” It was the only word she had, and he knew what she wanted. He reached down to the place between them. She groaned again. She was ready to explode.

“Kate,” his voice was raspy. “Kate, I cannot hold out much longer. Can we?”

“Yes, now!”

He rolled her over and they were joined. Pleasure and pain and then pure pleasure. The man knew what he was doing, and she surrendered willingly to the delicious tension he built within her. She could not hold back. She needed to trust him, wholly, fully, and she did. She cried out as her world exploded into sheer bliss. He shuddered and moaned and collapsed on top of her. Had she killed him?

He slid his full weight off of her but kept his arms around her, cradling her. “Incredible,” he murmured.

“You liked it?” she asked tentatively. It was earth-shattering for her, but her experience was limited to a repertoire of one.

“Liked? My dear, sweet girl, I have never been more…or had such… Oh, I can’t even form words right now. Suffice to say, if the rest of our married life will be celibate, I will still be satisfied.”

“Oh, my dear, sweet man. Our marriage may be many things, but it will
not
be celibate.” Of this she was certain.

“I am ecstatic to hear it.”

“So…can we do it again?”

Wynbrook awoke with the smile still on his face. He reached for her before remembering that he had escorted her back to her chamber in the early morning, before the house had awoken. They had whispered and giggled like guilty children stealing sticky treats. He rolled over in bed and breathed deeply. Her scent, an intoxicating mix of soap and lavender, still lingered on the pillows.

Kate’s arrival the night before had been most unexpected. In truth, he had prepared himself for a long time of marital celibacy before Kate would be ready to share his bed. He had shoved aside his more amorous impulses, not wanting to frighten her away, particularly since she was overly skittish to begin with. But last night…last night was beyond anything he had allowed himself to dream.

He took a deep breath of the cool, early morning air. The fire had been lit in the grate, but the room was still chill and frost shone like sparkling diamonds on the windowpane. Today, he would marry Lady Katherine. Life was very good indeed.

Tristan had been good enough to bring John’s valet, and with his help, Wynbrook was soon dressed in a light gray, double-breasted tailcoat with a striped gray-and-silver silk waistcoat. He wished to go speak to Kate at once, but he knew there would be a host of female objections to such a move, for it would be terribly bad luck to meet with the bride prior to the wedding. He wasn’t sure how anticipating their vows the night before fell in the balance of good versus bad luck, but he hoped very much for a reprieve. They had endured enough difficulties. It was time to start afresh with something good in their lives.

“You look very well,” said Anne when he walked into the drawing room. She looked him over with a critical eye and gave him a nod of approval.

“I am glad I am not a complete discredit to you. How is my bride-to-be this morning?”

Anne scowled at him. “She certainly has a mind of her own. But I sat her down for a discussion, and after a while, she came ’round to my point of view regarding her wedding clothes and specifically the veil,” said his sister darkly.

Having been the recipient of several of his elder sister’s “discussions,” John felt no small measure of sympathy for Kate. He did not know the exact nature of the debate regarding wedding attire, but he was sure he would not wish to get in between those indomitable females in a head-to-head debate.

“I hope you have not badgered her to death.”

His sister raised an eyebrow. “Not to death. Just until she complied.”

“Poor Kate.”

“Poor Kate? I’ll have you know I was talking to her for at least two hours. You might have some sympathy for your sister.”

“Yes, of course I do. And I appreciate your efforts to remedy the situation we find ourselves in. I do apologize if our hasty wedding has caused you any embarrassment or trouble.”

His sister waved off the comment. “You did what had to be done. Darington was in trouble and you had to render assistance. I only wish you could have done so without taking Kate along.”

“I wish I could have too. But she knew what the coach looked like and I did not. Besides, there was very little hope of convincing her not to go. I believe she felt more strongly about running after her brother than you do about wedding clothes.”

“Well then, it would have been hopeless for you to try to discourage her,” said his sister with a small smile. “In any case, I believe with the correct handling of the situation, we may be able to come out all right. I have been busy with my correspondence, telling the tale we need to distribute amongst our friends and relations, in the hope that it will be disseminated and believed.”

“Perhaps you should let me know what the story is, that way I can be more ready to confirm.”

“Yes, yes, that would be wise. I have told my friends that Darington was called back to service on an urgent matter and was on his way to Portsmouth to meet with his ship when he was attacked by robbers. He defended himself bravely, dispatching several and chasing off the rest, but in the process was shot. He lay at death’s door, and missives were sent to his sister and best friend—that is you, my dear brother—to come as soon as may be to render aid and potentially hear his last words.”

“Very dramatic. I do hope we arrived in time.”

“A little drama does a lot in misdirecting attention,” explained his sister. “Given the dire circumstances, Lady Kate and yourself, who had recently become engaged but had held off announcing it so as not to overshadow Jane’s wedding, set out at once. You found Darington and nursed him back to health at the Darington family seat at Greystone Hall. Once he recovered, you were married in her local parish with his blessing. After spending the wedding night at Greystone Hall, you will travel to Brighton for the honeymoon before returning to London.”

“Sounds like you have considered most everything.” John was much impressed. “And Miss St. James?”

“I saw no need to mention her. Though we are most indebted for her assistance, it seems embroiling her in this particular adventure would in no way be of service to her.”

“Yes, I agree. What are the possibilities of honeymooning in the Lake District instead of Brighton?”

Anne shrugged. “As you wish, but you must return to London as soon as possible and show yourselves to be man and wife.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“You suppose I am right? Of course I am right. Honestly, Brother, when will you learn to accept that I know all?” The last was spoken with a humorous twinkle in her eye.

John gave her leave to gloat. Considering how much trouble they had brought themselves in this adventure, she had very neatly devised a story that accounted for their actions and would be satisfactory to all except for the true high sticklers, but they weren’t very good company anyhow.

* * *

Wynbrook stood at the front of the church, facing the local rector who looked even older than the ancient stone chapel. There were more people in the chapel than he’d expected. He had anticipated only his siblings and the household staff. Clearly, the elderly rector had let slip that a wedding of some magnitude was to be held, for many people from the sleepy fishing village had arrived to witness the public splendor of such an event. Even Kate’s old housekeeper, Mrs. Hennings, along with her daughter, had managed to make an appearance.

Tristan stood next to him, and Anne acted as the matron of honor for Kate. Even Ellen made a rare public appearance in the front pew, the wheeled chair tucked out of sight for the proceedings. Despite the number of people in their Sunday best, it was a considerably smaller wedding than anything he had imagined he would have. He knew if Anne had had her way, he would have had a grand society wedding with hundreds of guests. To be able to marry in a small chapel with the lady who had stolen his heart was an unexpected blessing.

He knew the moment Kate entered the chapel. The air around him crackled and he ached to turn and look at her. Tradition, however, mandated that he remain looking at the rather ancient rector instead of turning to see his bride. It was agony to wait for her to walk up to him where she belonged. She had decided no one could take Robert’s place, so she walked herself down the aisle.

“She’s beautiful,” whispered Tristan.

“I know.”

“You haven’t seen her today,” returned his brother.

Yes, I have
. But John kept that observation to himself. They may have anticipated their wedding vows, but he was well and truly married to her in his heart.

At last, Kate stood beside him. She was quite beautiful. He saw his sister’s hand in the simple elegance of the silver dress with intricate beaded lace and the ancient lace veil that had graced the heads of many Lady Wynbrooks back through the generations. Anybody could look pretty in an expensive gown, but Kate had something more. There was a flash in her eyes when she looked at him, a spark that was only for him.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God…” The rector began his traditional recitation of the order of marriage. He spoke in a monotone voice of deep reverence—or possibly boredom, having performed the office countless times.

John met Kate’s eye. She was lovely. She was brilliant. And she was his.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Kate’s eyes opened wide. The rector continued on, clearly not hearing him.

“Truly?” breathed Kate.

“Truly. Thought you should know.”

Kate said nothing more, but the light in her eyes shone brighter as a smile grew on her lips. She was the happiest and most beautiful he had ever seen her. He returned her smile. He had spent so many years hiding behind a mask of cool detachment, but when she looked at him and smiled, there was no hope of pretending it did not shake him to his core. He had always hidden his insecurities at being thrust so quickly into the role of the earl after his father died. He feared he could never quite fill those shoes. But if Kate, his most vocal critic, could find in him something she liked, it gave him confidence to feel worthy of her and the title he had inherited.

“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace,” intoned the rector. He paused the traditional few seconds. Wynbrook smiled at the true, honest smile Kate gave him. He turned to the rector to continue.

Instead, a voice rang out from the back of the church. “I know cause why these two cannot be wed.”

Kate gasped. Everyone turned to the back of the chapel. The rector began to continue and then paused, his words trailing off. Clearly, he was unaccustomed to anyone interrupting him at that particular juncture.

A young man strode boldly forward into the chapel. He was dressed as a gentleman, with short, curly black hair and blue eyes. Beside him was a more burly man, dressed in a rough fashion.

“Forgive me for the interruption. I know it must be quite unwanted, but I have a paper you will want to see before you speak your vows.” The young man and his companion strolled boldly down the aisle.

“State your name, sir, and your business,” demanded Wynbrook, stepping in front of Kate to protect her.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I have just been informed that my father and the late Lord Darington had created a marriage contract between myself and Lady Katherine.”

“
What
?
” cried Kate, her happy face turned to anguish. John hated the man for that, hated him for ruining his bride’s wedding day.

Everyone save Ellen were on their feet. People were talking in an excited manner. The rector tried to calm the overall din of the chapel. Wynbrook tried to find something to say. How could this be happening?

“May we see the document?” Wynbrook asked. The parchment was produced and Kate snatched it out of the man’s hand and read it over.

“I cannot believe this. What was your association with our family?” demanded Kate.

“Apparently, our fathers made an accord long ago,” stated the young man. “Perhaps we should withdraw from this public place and discuss it more privately.”

John looked around at the church packed with eager townsfolk, whispering excitedly at the strange goings-on. “Yes, perhaps you are right.” He did not wish to be a show for others, particularly because he knew how much Kate would hate it. They could read over the contract in detail when they were alone.

“I have my carriage outside, if it is convenient,” suggested the man with a gallant air.

John was about to comply with the suggestion when he caught Ellen’s urgent gesture.
Hobnail boots
, she mouthed to them.

Both he and Kate looked down at the footwear of the gentleman’s companion. The man who stood a bit behind the young gentleman was wearing a pair of poorly constructed hobnail boots.

Kate leaned in quickly and whispered in his ear. “That is the man who kidnapped me.”

Wynbrook fought the desire to shout to have the man arrested. He could not charge the villain with abducting Kate without revealing something they did not wish made public. He needed to remain impassive. “I beg your pardon. What did you say your name was?”

“Perhaps we should withdraw so as not to embarrass the lady further?” suggested the man in a polite undertone.

“Your name, sir, for in truth you look familiar to me. Have we met?” asked Wynbrook.

“No, no, I am certain we have not,” said the man. “I am Captain Silas Bones, at your service.” He gave a credible bow.

“The son of Dr. Bones?” Kate’s words were like ice; her face had returned to the frozen mask she wore.

“Yes. He treated your father in his illness.”

“He
killed
my father, you bastard!” shouted Kate.

Villagers gasped. One woman fainted to the floor and others rushed around her to fan her back to sensibility.

Captain Bones grew a shade paler, but his countenance did not change. “I understand sometimes families can blame the physician when their loved one departs this earth too soon—”

“No more lies, Captain Bones, in this holy place,” said Wynbrook, struggling to maintain his civility and control. “The truth is your father poisoned the late Lord Darington.”

“Poisoned? No, I assure you—” Bones backed down the church aisle, his man behind him.

“He poisoned my father out of revenge, because your father is none other than the traitor to the Crown, Captain Harcourt!”

The villagers again gasped in shock.

“Who told you that?” Bones asked, his eyes narrowing.

In the pews, Mrs. Hennings opened her mouth in an anguished, silent scream.

“The truth always comes to the fore,” said Wynbrook in a cryptic manner. He would never betray the former housekeeper, nor would Kate.

The man’s lips were tight, his eyes narrow. “Whatever the sins of my father, I think you will find the contract legal and binding. Do keep the papers. I have another copy. Of course I do not wish to break up such a happy couple, so all I ask is for you to follow the terms of the contract.”

“The contract states if I do not wed you, you are entitled to my entire dowry,” cried Kate.

Silas Bones shrugged. “I did not write the terms of the agreement. But it was signed by both our fathers.”