The Wild One (16 page)

"
Rescue
me?"

"Surely you didn't think I'd allow Lucien to
banish you into obscurity, now, did you?"

"Well, I — The duke didn't ban—" She gave a
disbelieving little laugh and leaned out the window, grasping the
blanket tightly at her breasts. Her hair, caught in a long, dark
braid, swung tantalizingly out over her bosom. "Really, Lord
Gareth. This is ... highly irregular!"

"Yes, but the hour is late, and as it took
me all day to find you, I was feeling rather impatient. I do hope
you'll forgive me for resorting to such desperate measures. May I
come in and talk?"

"Of course not! I — I cannot have a man in
my bedroom!"

"Why not, my sweet?" He pushed aside a
small, leafy twig in order to see her better and grinned cajolingly
up at her. "I had you in mine."

She shook her head, torn between what she
wanted to do — and what she ought to do. "Really, Lord Gareth ...
your brother will never approve of this. You should go home. After
all, you're the son of a duke and I'm just a — "

" — beautiful young woman with nowhere else
to go. A beautiful young woman who should be a part of my family.
Now, do collect Charlotte and your things, Miss Paige — I fear we
must make haste, if we are to marry before Lucien catches up to
us."

"
Marry?!
" she cried, forgetting to
whisper.

He gazed at her in blank, perfect innocence.
"Well, yes, of course," he said, clinging to the branch as it
dropped another few inches. "Surely you don't think I'd be hanging
out of a tree for anything less, do you?"

"But —"

"Come now." He smiled disarmingly. "Surely,
you must see there is really no other option for you. And I won't
have my niece growing up without a father. What kind of a man do
you think I am? Now, gather up Charlotte and get your things, my
dear Miss Paige, and come outside. I am growing most
uncomfortable."

Juliet pulled back from the window, rubbing
her temples in confusion and disbelief. This was too much. Yes,
she'd been disappointed that Lord Gareth hadn't tried to stop her
from leav/ing the castle, had secretly hoped he'd chase after her,
but this — this was insane.

Or was it? He was offering them his name and
protection. He wanted to take care of them, to do right by his dead
brother and the woman who would have, should have, been his
brother's wife. Noble gestures, yes, but. ... Juliet bit her lip,
her stomach knotting with confusion and, yes, fear.
But I don't
love him! I desire him, yes, but what if that's only because he's
Charles's brother? What if I only feel that desire because he's as
close as I can get to Charles, the next best thing? I should want
this man for being the man he is, not for resembling, or being
related to, the man I wish I could have!

Confusion and fear mounted. Outside, the
branch rustled as Lord Gareth shifted his weight on it. Desperation
tore through her. God help her, what should she do? She wanted,
needed, a man like Charles, and here was this brother of his —
crazy, reckless, proposing to her from a tree branch!

Oh, he was offering the perfect solution,
but wasn't it wrong to marry him when she still loved Charles? And
wouldn't she be failing to honor that love if she accepted this
offer from a man she
knew
wasn't right for her?

Yes, but I do have a lot of fun with
him.

And there was Charlotte to think of.

Charlotte, who needed a father.

Juliet swallowed, hard.
That's it, then.
I will marry him, but only for my baby's sake.

She dressed and packed. Five minutes later,
her braid pinned up beneath a plain white mobcap and Charlotte in
her arms, Juliet crept from the room, quietly shutting the door
behind her so as not to disturb any of the other guests.

The future was uncertain, but one thing was
not:

Lord Gareth de Montforte had not
disappointed her after all.

Chapter 12

Deciding to get married was easy. Deciding
where
to get married posed considerably more trouble, for
England's laws decreed that three weeks must pass while the banns
were posted — and with Lucien no doubt in hot pursuit behind them,
time was not a luxury. Scotland was exempt from the law, but as
they stood debating it outside the inn, Gareth vehemently declared
he wasn't dragging his betrothed and a baby all the way up to
Gretna Green. Everyone argued. Everyone offered suggestions.
Finally, Cokeham piped up. He had a cousin in Spitalfields, in
London, who would probably marry them, provided he could get
approval from his archbishop.

"Right, let's go then," Gareth declared,
striding toward Crusader and glad to settle the matter at last. His
bride-to-be was standing a short distance away, quiet —
too
quiet. It wasn't hard to see that she was having second thoughts
about the idea, and the longer they delayed, the more uncertain she
would get.

He had not misread her. Indeed, the more
they had argued, the more Juliet's apprehensions grew. Gareth
wanted to get her to the altar, but he had not stopped to think
how
he would get her to the altar. Such lack of preparation
worried her. Would he be any better prepared to take on a wife and
child?

What are you getting yourself into?

The Den members were mounting their horses,
Chilcot passing her trunk to Tom Audlett who balanced it on his
pommel, Perry buttoning up his coat, Lord Gareth leading his horse
forward. As he approached he gave her his slow, heart-melting de
Montforte smile, but this time it only left her cold and wanting
and all the more nervous than she already was.

He touched her cheek. "What is wrong, Miss
Paige?"

"Nothing," she lied, unwilling to hurt him.
"It's been a long day, that's all."

"And I have only myself to blame for that. I
was out rather late last night, and I'm afraid I slept in this
morning — otherwise I would have caught up to you much sooner."

"A bit cup-shot, were you, Gareth?"

"Go hang yourself, Chilcot."

"Cup-shot?" Juliet asked, raising a
brow.

"The after-effects of Irish whiskey on the
morning after," Perry supplied, acidly. "I daresay I felt them
myself."

"We
all
did," Audlett muttered,
steadying Juliet's trunk.

"In any case," Gareth continued, "I could
have murdered Lucien when I found out what happened. You know that
my brother and I do not get on, Miss Paige. Never have, never will.
I am only sorry that our differences have now affected you as
well."

"Oh — I didn't realize that they had,"
Juliet said, puzzled. What on earth was he talking about?

"Well, he sent you away, didn't he?"

"Actually, no — I left of my own free
will."

"
What?
"

"Yes — he told me he wouldn't make Charlotte
his ward but that I was welcome to stay at Blackheath Castle for as
long as I liked. He didn't send me away at all; I left."

Gareth swore beneath his breath. "He let
me
think he'd sent you away!"

"Why would he do that?"

"Yes, why would he, Gareth?" chorused the
others, equally confused.

But Gareth's face was growing dark with fury
and embarrassment.

Perry gave a little cough, amused. "I
suspect it is because His Grace has something up his sleeve," he
mused, "though the devil only knows what it might be
this
time."

"The devil, indeed," Gareth snapped, kicking
viciously at a loose stone. "I'll kill that manipulative bas—" he
caught himself, slammed a fist against a nearby tree, and walked a
short distance away, cursing under his breath and trying to get his
temper under control.

Juliet came up behind him and touched his
arm. "I'm sorry, Lord Gareth. I know you blame your brother, but if
it hadn't been for me, you and your friends wouldn't be standing
out here in the middle of the night, far away from your homes and
your beds."

"Beds?" Chilcot snickered, exchanging
glances with Sir Hugh. "I can assure you, madam, that if any of us
were in bed at this hour, it certainly wouldn't be our own —"

"Be quiet, Chilcot," Gareth said sharply. He
stalked back to his horse, yanking the stirrup irons down with loud
cracks that showed his increasing annoyance. "This is my future
wife you're talking to, not some harlot. Show her some
respect."

Chilcot lowered his gaze, but not before
Juliet saw the sidelong glance he threw Audlett, the sly look
Audlett gave Cokeham, the quick visual exchange between Perry and
Sir Hugh. She knew Gareth's friends were discreetly studying her,
measuring her worth against that of their leader. And why shouldn't
they? She was just a colonial bumpkin who spoke differently,
dressed differently, and thought differently than they did. No
doubt they found her lacking.

"Forgive me, Miss Paige," Chilcot said, with
exaggerated remorse. "I am indeed a bacon-brained idiot
sometimes."

"You're a bacon-brained idiot
all
the
time," Gareth muttered. He wiped the saddle dry with his coat
sleeve, gave the big horse a pat on the shoulder, and then, before
Juliet knew what he was about, he spanned her waist with his hands
and lifted both her and Charlotte up onto the horse in one easy
motion.

A moment later he'd swung up behind her, his
chest against her back, his arms framing her body as he gathered up
the reins.

"You still going to go through with it,
then?" Perry asked, nonchalantly.

Gareth shot his friend a hard look. "Of
course I am. If that cunning rascal thinks to play his little games
with
me
, he's got another thing coming. It's time the mighty
Duke of Blackheath got his comeuppance." He gave a smile of pure
malice. "Lucien forbade me to have anything to do with Miss Paige.
Therefore, I can think of nothing that will infuriate him more than
if I marry her. Now, come on, let's go. Time's wasting."

~~~~

Sometime during the next hour Juliet dozed
off, lulled to sleep by the enveloping warmth of Lord Gareth's
arms, the gentle gait of the horse beneath her, and exhaustion.
When she blearily opened her eyes, the clouds were moving off to
the southwest, and dawn rimmed the horizon in distant bands of pink
and gold. Her head was resting against a hard, masculine arm. With
a start she jerked up, blushing and uncomfortable at such intimacy.
Her sudden movement startled Charlotte, who began to whimper for
her breakfast.

"Good morning," came Gareth's cheerful voice
from behind and above her head. "I trust you slept, even if just a
little?"

Juliet, blinking, looked about her.
Buildings, still dark in the pre-dawn light, had taken the place of
enclosed fields and roadside hedgerows. Coal smoke lay heavily on
the air. "Probably more than you, my lord. Are we in London?"

"Yes, though we'll have to cross the bulk of
it to get to Spitalfields."

Charlotte's cries strengthened, becoming
lusty wails.

"What's the matter with her?" he asked,
worriedly.

"She's hungry."

He stiffened. "Oh."

Perry, riding just ahead, turned and lifted
an amused brow. Sir Hugh grinned.

Charlotte's wails grew piercing.

Lord Gareth cleared his throat. "I, uh ...
suppose you'd better attend to things, then. We can stop here, and
maybe you can take her off behind a tree or something..."

Sir Hugh was downright snickering now.

"I think I can manage right here, Lord
Gareth," said Juliet.

"
Here?
"

"Why, yes." She pulled the loose folds of
her cloak up and around Charlotte, tugged down her bodice, and,
behind the discreet veil, put the baby to her breast. Immediately,
Charlotte quieted. No one could see, but nevertheless the Den of
Debauchery members urged their horses into a trot and all but fled
ahead.

"I ... er ... don't know about this," Lord
Gareth mumbled, deeply embarrassed.

"You'll have to get used to it if you wish
to be a father, my lord."

"Yes, but ... I mean — that is...."

"She can't just sit down to a pork pie and a
mug of ale," Juliet chided gently. She twisted around to look up at
him. His handsome face was as pink as the dawn, and it went
downright crimson as Charlotte began making very loud sucking
noises.

"God help me," Lord Gareth muttered, looking
away.

God help me, too,
Juliet thought,
amused, for against her bottom she could feel him getting hard,
stimulated, no doubt, by the mental pictures that Charlotte's loud
suckling evoked. Her lips twitched helplessly at his unfortunate
predicament — until
that
part of
him
twitched, and a
swift blast of answering desire roared through her own blood.

Her own face flamed red, and she stiffened,
shocked and alarmed. Suddenly it wasn't so amusing anymore.

And what will you do tonight, Juliet, when
you have to share a bed with him? Hmmmmm?

Oh, God. She could not allow herself to
think about
that
— not now, not yet!

Tension crackled between them. Unspoken
words. They were both exceedingly aware of his excited state, he
too polite and she feeling too awkward to call attention to it. But
it was there, growing harder, growing larger. Juliet's heartbeat
thumped in her ears. Her breathing grew strained and ragged. Then,
mercifully, Charlotte finished, and Lord Gareth was urging the big
hunter into a trot, eager to rejoin the safety of his friends.

Perry turned as they approached. He, like
the others, was grinning wickedly. "Fatherhood will agree with you,
old boy," he drawled, ducking as Gareth's hand lashed out and
knocked his hat awry.

"Yes, you were made for it, Gareth. The
picture of domesticity, you are!"

"Shut up."

More guffaws, all around. But they were all
exhausted from so many hours on the road, and eventually everyone —
and every
thing
— calmed down, the Den members slumping in
their saddles as the horses carried them ever closer to their
destination. Shod hooves clattered against the cobbles, echoing
against the still-dark houses that pressed close on either side of
the road. The light grew stronger, the streets wider, grimy,
soot-stained buildings of brick and stone beginning to rise around
them. Beyond their rooftops, dawn's high, feathery clouds were
mauve against the brilliant orange sunrise. And down every silent,
narrow side street were long rows of houses, all boasting doors and
windows alike in every way, and chimney pots that stood like blunt
teeth against the pinking sky.