A Marquess for Christmas (5 page)

And
when he couldn’t hold back his excitement any longer, he’d lift her up in his
strong arms and wrap her thighs around his waist. With a searing kiss, he would
command and she would whimper in response, allowing him whatever he wanted.

When
he entered her, the way would be eased by the thick dew of her arousal. She’d
feel every inch as he claimed her, rocking her body over his until they were
fully one.

She
would give him everything. Every sigh, every caress, every squeeze of her sex
would be in homage to him. Because he was the god who had awakened her, who had
brought her out of slumber and ignited the desire she’d thought lost forever.

With
each thrust, he would draw her deeper and deeper into his world even as he went
deeper and deeper into her body. And he would take her to the precipice until
she cried, screaming his name.

What
was his name? Violet came out of her daydream, still soaking in now tepid
water, her hands between her legs, and her desire only partly eased.

She
wanted to know more about him. She wanted to know his name, so that when she
came again, she could whisper it to the heavens. Maybe the angels would grant
her wish.

Violet
rose from the water and stepped onto a towel. Miriam had not returned, but that
was just as well. She needed to check if Dr. Littleton had finally
arrived—and to see if the stranger was coherent enough to tell her who he
was.

Chapter Three

Kit
did not recognize his surroundings. The
cherrywood
armoire and the large four poster bed were not his own. His gaze went in and
out of focus and he saw two footman and a girl that he couldn’t recognize. She
was tall with flaxen hair. Next to her stood another woman with high cheek
bones dotted with freckles, midnight hair, and emerald colored eyes.

“
Bel
—” He started to speak, but his words came out
slurred. When she put the blankets over him, he tried to reach for her arm.

Her
eyes widened and she gave a tiny yelp.

“
Don’tch
be mad at
Friddy
.” His
words were a garbled mess.

“I’m
sorry, sir. May I help you?”

He
looked at her again, blinking a few times to clear his vision and realized that
she wasn’t his sister. She was young, but fuller than Bella, who was tall and
thin like a birch tree.

A
sharp stabbing went through his head and Kit squeezed his eyes shut. As he
released his hand from the girl’s arm, he noticed how heavy and dull it was.
His body was almost numb, except for the bashing on his skull.

A
cool hand felt his forehead and rubbed his temple. Then everything faded and
Kit could only see shadows. The room with its large windows and the bed with no
canopy vanished as if they’d never been there at all.

In
his mind, he saw a face. His sister’s face, scowling at him again. She pointed
a long finger at him. The scene from earlier today came back to him, playing
its theater across his addled mind.

“Pray
tell me what is wrong this time, Daniel. Sylvia Hargrove is pretty, the
daughter of an earl, and her uncle is a Belgian duke. She can trace her family
all the way back to Henry VII.”

Kit
rolled his eyes. They’d had this conversation before, in different times and
locations. He wiped the corner of his mouth and threw down his napkin on the
mahogany dining table.

“What
do I care? Her father could be the Prince of Wales and I still would not marry
her. Is lineage all that matters to you? The ugliest horse in Christendom would
be fine with you if she could prove she was descended from Charlemagne.”

Frederick
laughed. Isabella’s icy stare made her husband choke on his brandy. Sometimes
he wondered if Freddy ever regretted his decision to take Isabella to wife. Her
obstinacy had only worsened after becoming a duchess.

This
visit was a mistake. He’d thought that he could just come and spend a weekend
with his family and see the new stud Freddy had bought.

Kit
continued. “I will not marry her. And do not think I will reconsider that other
one. What was her name? The mousy-haired girl with twisted teeth who thinks
that whist is the tool of the devil.”

His
sister pointed a finger at him. “Well, in your case it is. If you put as much
time into your duties as you do in your gaming hells, I would not have to worry
about you.”

It
was an old point. Because she was the eldest, she saw fit to inform him of how
he should conduct his affairs. At times it was endearing, as their parents had
died when he was thirteen and she was eighteen. But now, he’d had enough.

“I
am over thirty years old, Bella, not some ignorant boy fresh out of the
schoolroom. I can choose my own wife.”

She
fixed her dark green gaze at him. “Then act as your age dictates. You are
wasting your life with cards and women. And, let me not even start on the…the…
boxing
. ‘
Tis
bad enough you sponsor those thick-headed hooligans,
but then you have to compete with them, too? A marquess consorting with the
dregs of London, letting them maul and maim you for
sport
. ” She shivered and shook her head.

She stared him down and her mouth went sour. “And despite
my repeated insistence, you continue to involve my husband in your debauchery.”

“Freddy is a grown man. I see no need to coddle and
shepherd him like a five year old.”

Besides,
Kit was bloody proud of the boxing. He competed with the best—in private
clubs, open fields, alleyways and everything in between. He knew how to jab,
knew how to weave and duck, and he knew how to win. He earned respect not for
being a marquess, but for outwitting his opponents.

Bella
forgot that a third of his fortune was made from his fists and his instinct at
gambling. He never bet what he couldn’t lose, but he rarely backed down from a
bet he could win. It was all about strategy, sizing up the opponent, knowing
what he could afford to lose—and how badly his opponent wanted to keep
it.

“What
I do with my time is none of your affair. You are a duchess. Do you not have
affairs of your own? Instead of worrying about me, you should see to your own
household.” He nodded at Freddy, who was fond of boxing and cards himself.

“Danny,
you will waste your life. Waste everything that our father gave us. If you
merely boxed at the club or in the privacy of your home as any decent gentleman
does, that would be fine. But you compete in illegal matches. For goodness
sake, you bribed a magistrate last month!”

Of
course he had. He needed to be sure that the authorities didn’t break up the
match. Public boxing was still a punishable offence, despite his efforts to
have the laws changed.

“You
put your energy into such trivial things. Do you not care about your good name?
Would you see the estates go to ruin or transfer to
Stewart Elliot
?”

He
rolled his eyes. Not that again. His sister couldn’t bear the thought of their
cousin inheriting the title. All because Stewart used to put honey in her hair
when she slept and spilled wine on her dress at her coming out party.

Stewart
could be a mule’s ass, but he’d been in love with her since they were kids.
Isabella thought him the lowest form of rodent she’d ever seen. She baited him
like a cat and he took her abuse with the stupidity of a devoted dog.

“When
I marry, it will not be to some ignorant chit or some pedantic nitwit who will
drag me to an early grave with her nagging.”

“Well,
by all means, choose then, but do not wait until you are gray and your pistol
is so rusted that it no longer fires.” Her gaze traveled down below the table.

“I
shall ignore your terrible effort at vulgar humor. Don’t think that will sway
me.”

“Then
perhaps this will.” She pulled a letter out of her reticule and handed it to
him.

His
jaw dropped when he saw the familiar handwriting. His fingers traced it as if
he’d never seen its like before.

“What
is this?”

“Since
you obviously will not listen to me, perhaps you will listen to your father.”

He
scanned the contents until his eyes came upon his given name and the word
bride
.

Daniel needs the guidance of a good woman,
Bella. Without it, he is cast into darkness. I know, for I was just like him.
See that he finds a suitable bride, someone who is strong enough to challenge
him when his own nature leads him astray. A wife will not only tame him, she
will make him the better for it.

With
trembling fingers, he refolded the letter, not able to continue. His eyes stung
and his chest burned. It had been twenty years since he’d found his father
ice-cold and withered, sprawled on the floor next to his chamber pot.

What
if Bella had made it up? Another glance revealed that the paper was yellowed
and brown and the faded scrawl seemed too distinct to be a forgery. His father
had written the words, though he’d never said such things to Daniel. Why?

Kit
stood, causing the Chippendale chair to fall back and nearly crash to the
floor. A footman caught it before it touched the Oriental carpet.

“How
could you keep this from me?” he demanded. She’d obviously had this in her
possession for years. Why had she hidden it from him?

Isabella
calmly rinsed her fingers in a small dish of water and wiped them dry with a
napkin before folding it into quarters and setting it down by her bowl. She
motioned to a servant, who pulled out her chair as she stood.

“The
letter was addressed to me. If father had intended for you to see it, he would
have written the same to you. Since he did not, I can only conclude that it was
for my advisement rather than your own.”

“And
yet you throw it in my face now because I will not comply with your wishes?” So
like Isabella. Though she disdained gambling, the woman was a sharp strategist
and master player. This was a ploy to force his hand.

“I
do what needs must be done.” She stared at him. “What you will not do.”

He
was done with her games. She had gone too far this time. Using his own grief
against him was a cruel maneuver.

“And
I am done, madam.” He turned to his brother-in-law. “My lord, I think I shall
take my leave. I received a letter from our cousin Drake in Yorkshire. He wants
me to come as soon as I am done here. I think that is now.”

Freddy
gave a brief nod. Obviously, he was too deep under his wife’s thumb to get
involved in this exchange. Kit didn’t blame him. A husband had to choose his
battles with a wife as tenacious as Isabella.

Without
saying another word to his sister, Kit ordered his things to be sent to
Yorkshire, then went to the stables to get his horse.

The
Kittricks
were a proud and
stubborn family. They were bred obstinate and cunning, which made for a dangerous
combination. Unfortunately, his sister was a
Kittrick
through and through.

Being the marquess had never been Kit’s choice. But his
father had taken ill and his desire no longer mattered. He’d done what was
expected of him.

Freddy caught him in the entrance hall. “I am sorry about
the letter. I had no idea. Please consider staying. Bella is high-handed, but
she is only that way because she has no idea how to handle you.”

Kit snorted. “Bella has been handling me for twenty years,
Freddy. The only reason she is so vexed is that I no longer allow it. I gave
her trouble as a boy, but I also went to the schools she wanted, the parties
she wanted—hell, I hob-knobbed with Privy
Councillors
and archbishops because
she insisted
.
Nothing I did was ever enough.”

No matter what he “gave to the family”, Bella always
expected more from him. She would never be happy, so he’d stopped placating
her. He wasn’t cut out to be a politician and found little joy in pandering to
the Chancellor of the Exchequer or the Prime Minister’s cronies.

At first, boxing was a release, a distraction from his own
dissatisfaction. It was a channel for the rage inside of him. Eventually it
became something more.

“You cannot spend your entire lives with horns locked,”
Freddy said. “Eventually, you will have to find a way to make peace.”

“Do not make it sound as if we are Napoleon and Nelson
waging war in the Atlantic.” Kit put his hand on Freddy’s shoulder. “I will
return for Christmas.”

“Is there anything I can say to convince you to remain?”

“No. Not this time.” He turned back to the door. “Goodbye,
Freddy.”

It
would take him hours to Stewart’s estate, but he couldn’t stay long enough to
even wait for the coach. He wanted to get as far away as possible. Once he was
back in relaxed surroundings, he could be calm and reason out what he wanted to
do about his sister’s meddling. Like it or not, he’d have to see her again at
Christmastide.

He
knew he was being stubborn. Ultimately, Kit would do his duty, but bloody hell,
he had plenty of time to settle down and have children. Hadn’t the Earl of
Southdown married last month at forty-five? There was no cause to rush. He’d be
damned if he let Bella trample over his plans and shackle him to a dull lady of
virtue merely to preserve her precious family name.

Besides,
the truth was, he hadn’t a penny’s worth of interest for
modest
women, as Bella called them. Pretty though she may be, a
proper lady would only get a smile and a dance. He reserved his affections for
women with fire.

* * * *

The
doctor hadn’t been much help. He’d arrived bedraggled from the storm, looking
more unkempt than Violet had ever seen him. He’d looked over the gentleman for
a few minutes, pressed his ribs and told them all he needed was plenty of rest.