Wicked (31 page)

“Good, you’re quiet!” he teased. “I never meant a word of what I said. I’m truly sorry that you never met my parents, for they were blessed, yet the least class-conscious people I ever knew. My mother would have adored you. She would have had the greatest admiration in the world for you and
your
mother because you had nothing and made everything of yourself from it. Abigail, my dear, was first and foremost a mother, a fabulous parent. She would have admired and had great sympathy for all that your mother did for you and your future.”

“But you don’t have to marry me just because—”

His finger fell on her lips. “Good God, let me finish!” His smile eased the firm force of his words. “I am not marrying you ‘just because’ of anything. Ah, Camille! You’re so brilliant, so fierce and yet so blind in some ways! I adore you. I am madly in love with you, with your determination, your stubborn streak, your intelligence—as well as your recklessness in following your heart. But you will have to quit putting your life at risk—that is something I will insist on in my wife! Camille, don’t you see? It wasn’t just a mask I wore. Everything about me was ugly, bitter and cursed. Then you stumbled into my life and stripped away the mask and the curse. Without you I fear I may find myself stumbling again, cursed for all time. You’d not allow that, would you?”

She was unable to speak.

“Now I’m asking you to talk,” he said.

She smiled. And in the small confines of the carriage, she threw herself atop his lap, kissing him with the wildest abandon.

“You mean it…to marry me?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, only if you love me.”

“Oh, dear God!”

“It is asking a lot, for a woman to love a wretched beast.”

“I do love you!” she whispered fervently. She locked her arms around his neck. “Absolutely. And we will open the grounds to orphaned children, and we’ll do what we can to help those who are born into poverty and squalor. And the Nile! Oh, Lord, we’ll go down the Nile!” She grew serious suddenly. “But Brian, we must bring the child to the castle to raise!”

“What child?”

“Ally! The sisters are wonderful, but you must take responsibility.”

To her amazement, he burst into laughter.

“This is not a joking matter!” she told him fiercely.

“I dare say the sisters will break both your arms, my dear, if you try to take Ally from them.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Camille. I should have corrected you before, but I’m not sure you would have believed me. Ally is not my child.”

“But—”

“I have no children, my love, though I am quite willing to make all manner of attempts to achieve the state of fatherhood. I would love a little girl like Ally.”

“But then who…?”

“The sisters were great friends of my parents. My father granted them several annuities, and thus, they are like aunts to me. I know Ally’s suspected parentage, but it is suspected only, and a confidence. I have to ask you to believe in me, and love us both, if you will. She isn’t my child, but she does refer to me as Uncle Brian.” He hesitated. “She’s not my father’s child, either. There is a possible royal connection, but this is something you must never repeat. Many are afraid it could cost the child her life.”

“Good Lord!” Camille exclaimed.

He brought a finger now to his lips. “It must be kept forever secret,” he said very seriously.

“Of course!”

He smiled. “She is a lovely child and ever dear to me. She was never frightened by the mask.”

“Well, neither was I!” Camille told him.

“Never?”

“Well, only a little!”

He laughed and kissed her.

When they reached the castle, they entered hand in hand. Evelyn came anxiously from the ballroom.

“Well, the others are back to their lives or picking up the pieces thereof!” she said. “And now, finally, here you two are! Ralph has gone off to some pub with Corwin. Tristan and I waited dinner for the two of you but you didn’t come. Still, we’ve really just begun.”

“Forgive me, Evelyn. Please go ahead,” Brian said. He cleared his throat and looked at Camille, unable to keep the spark of sheer vitality from his eyes. “I’m afraid I feel the need to retire immediately.”

“Well,” Evelyn murmured, frowning. “Camille…”

“Exhausted! Absolutely exhausted!” Camille said, and she flew for the stairs.

Seconds later, he was behind her. And she was in his arms. Clothing was strewn…and she enjoyed every single, wonderful inch of her naked beast.

I
N THE GREAT BALLROOM BELOW,
Evelyn sighed, taking her seat, watching Ajax nap happily before the fire. She looked at Tristan.

“Well, Sir Tristan, I do believe we’d best plan this wedding quickly!”

“Ours?” he teased.

“I never!” she protested.

“But you will,” he promised.

Evelyn was shocked to silence.

“Oh, come, come, Evelyn!” Tristan said. He rose. “Good heavens, woman! You may use that superior little tilt of the nose and perhaps confuse others, but never me.”

“I never!” she said again, her voice sounding a little strangled.

He walked around the table, coming up behind her. His
hands landed gently upon her shoulders and he lowered his lips to whisper against her ear.

“But don’t you want to?” he asked with quite an insinuating grin.

“Their
wedding!” she said firmly.

“Of course. And then ours,” Tristan said.

“We shall talk!” she said primly.

“Ah, we shall do much, much more!” he assured her.

She turned, ready to protest once again, but he kissed her. An excellent kiss, he thought. Not pushing his luck too far, but…

And at last, when he drew away, she was silent for several moments.

“We will talk,” he assured her.

At last, she cast propriety to the wind.

“And much, much more!” she whispered, whereby he determined he absolutely must kiss her once again.

ISBN: 978-1-4603-6435-2

WICKED

Copyright © 2005 by Heather Graham Pozzessere.

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