Come the Dawn (44 page)

The butler stood impassive.

“After that will be the second week of the month, which will pose problems for Mrs. Harrison with a house full of guests. Of course Albert and his new bride will wish to be here, except that
they
will not be back from Yorkshire for several more weeks. I sent them up to visit the bride’s family, you know. Which means…”

Thorne watched her, frowning.

“Six weeks hence
might
be possible.”

“If you think I’m waiting
six weeks,
then you’re—”

The duchess’s eyes twinkled as she savored Thornwood’s impatience. “No, I supposed you would not. Perhaps five then.”

“Your Grace,” Thorne growled.

India decided it was time to intervene. She slid closer and whispered in her husband’s ear. “Never fear, Dev. If all else fails, I know a certain oak trestle table in the attic, which we might always call into use. If your impatience grows too great, that is.”

Thorne’s eyes darkened. He shifted, fighting a wave of heat.

“Is something the matter, Thornwood?” the duchess demanded.

“It’s my, er, arm. Yes, my wound is paining me,” the Earl of Thornwood lied, watching his wife bite back a laugh.

“Then you certainly
must
have some more calf’s foot jelly. And some of the duchess’s excellent tea,” Alexis said anxiously.

Thornwood sighed. “Utterly Machiavellian. Soon Alexis and Marianne will be just like you.”

Ian and MacKinnon grinned, while Luc and Silver relished the sight of this new member of the family falling victim to the duchess’s managing ways.

“Now as I was saying, we might just be able to whittle off a few days and plan for one month hence.” The duchess studied her grandson-in-law. “That is assuming that you will be physically competent by then, Thornwood. You are looking rather pale and it would never do for you to be out of sorts on your wedding night.”

Luc chuckled.

Ian cleared his throat.

India flushed crimson.

But the Earl of Thornwood merely laughed lazily as he gazed at India. “Oh, I expect I will manage to bungle through, Your Grace.” Heat filled his eyes as he studied this woman he knew would admonish and irritate and inspire and torment him for the rest of his life.

The woman he loved above all else in the world.

The woman he prayed would soon bear his child.

Ian laughed, but found the duchess’s gaze turned thoughtfully upon him. “And now that I’ve dealt with your impossible sister, I believe it’s
your
turn, Ian Delamere. Though what female could find
any
interest in a great hulking figure like you is beyond me.” She frowned and tapped her pale cheek. “Of course there is the Townshende chit. Impeccable bloodlines, and that squint of hers isn’t
too
noticeable.”

India’s brother held up his hands hastily. “Now,
Grandmama…”

~ ~ ~

Three nights later India and Dev finally managed to slip away from a noisy masquerade being held in Swallow Hill’s ballroom to celebrate Marianne’s birthday. The candles had been blown out and the cake consumed, and Marianne was now happily immersed in opening a sea of presents.

By then Thorne deemed it safe to fetch away his wife.

“But what about the rest of the presents, Thorne?”

“She’ll never even notice we’re gone,” Thorne said. “Besides, I have something I want to show you.”

India’s lips curved. “Your set of rare etchings, my lord?” she asked silkily.

“I just might at that,” the earl growled. “It’s been hell being near you for the last three days and not being able to have any privacy. Today I almost locked the door in the library and started shucking your clothes.”

India’s eyes glinted. “You had the same idea I had, I see.”

Thorne took her hand and pulled her to the stables, where his great black gelding stood waiting, already saddled.

“But Thorne, your arm.”

“My arm is fine, wife, except for a few twinges. I only wish the
rest
of me felt so good.”

India knew exactly what parts he was talking about. She was feeling fairly restless herself. “But where are you taking me, Thorne? Back to the
Gypsy
perhaps?”

“Reprobate,” he murmured. “No, I want you to see the house where we’re going to raise all those children. Carlisle Hall is not like Swallow Hill, you know,” he said gravely. “The roof is in disrepair and everything is sadly in need of a woman’s touch.” He looked uncertainly at India. “It will be a change for you. Not necessarily a pleasant one.”

“A
wonderful change. With a wonderful man and three wonderful children,” India said firmly, sliding her hands around his waist. When they were both mounted, she snuggled closer, catching up her satin skirts before her. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Thorne swallowed as one long white leg was thrust against his hip. “For me to regain some fragment of my sanity, I think.” Shaking his head, he guided their mount out over dark fields lit by the warm silver glow of a full moon.

They rode slowly, each acutely conscious of the brush of the other’s body. They shared slow, lazy kisses, their fingers taking any excuse to twine and mingle. Their soft, intimate laughter drifted through the still, warm air when Thorne finally reined in his mount on a hill overlooking the gabled roofs of Carlisle Hall.

Moonlight melted through the tall windows and painted the stone walks of the garden a ghostly white. What Thorne had said was true, India saw. The grand old Tudor house was in need of care, but immediately she envisioned a thousand projects that would keep them busy for the next fifty years or so, while they raised a dozen unruly children.

She sighed happily and raised her hand to Thorne’s neck, well pleased at the thought.

“Do you — dislike it too much? After Swallow Hill, it’s very small, I know, but—”

“I love it,” she said firmly.

“You do? In spite of the leaking roofs? But you haven’t even seen the bedrooms.”

“I’ve slept in far worse while on caravan with my father, I assure you.” India turned, sliding her hand down her husband’s broad chest. Beneath them the great gelding neighed softly, then bent to nibble at a clump of tender grass. “The house will be fine, my love. I only hope that a certain treacherous French pirate will come to visit once in a while,” she said wistfully.

Thorne’s eyes darkened with desire. “Perhaps he is closer than you imagine, my lady.”

“Do you think so?” India reached lower and found the hard length of male muscle rising hungrily to meet her. Her eyes took on a heated gleam. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?” she murmured as she closed around her goal.

“Sweet God.” Thorne groaned, his face a mask of pain. Without another word he caught her tight and slid from the horse. There, beside a bank of flowers, he stared at India’s creamy skin molded by her satin gown, at the auburn curls spilling loose around her shoulders. “This pirate is a dangerous man, you know. He takes whatever he wants.”

India’s tongue slid over her parted lips. “So do I.”

Thorne closed his eyes, fighting for the control that was fast slipping past him. When he opened them again, India was pulling the first button free at his neck. “Exactly
who
is the pirate here, madam?”

“Shall we draw lots?” India purred.

“God help me,” Thorne said in a vain prayer.

“Actually, I think we both are.” The white linen pulled free and India bared her husband’s powerful shoulders. Her lips moved over the rippling muscles. “I’m in the mood to do some very dangerous things tonight, I warn you.”

Thorne muttered softly. His hands closed over her hips as he brought their bodies together.

India’s fingers lingered slowly over the hot, throbbing skin captive in her hand. She smiled at his response, which was instant and fierce. “Amazing. Far better than I remembered, actually.” She smiled up at her husband. “Almost as good as that notorious river pirate who once tried to seduce me.”

“Almost?” Thorne slid one satin sleeve from her shoulder. “You’ll murder me, woman. I swear, you’re more dangerous than any pirate I ever had to fight.” He found one tight coral crest peeping between the ruffled white lace at her bodice. “I’m most certainly close to dying. Still,” he said appreciatively as he heard her breathless sigh, “I suppose there
are
worse ways to die…”

~ ~ ~

The next week passed in a glorious blaze of early fall color.

Ian recuperated, Thorne grumbled incessantly, and Alexis seemed to be everywhere at once, tending to everyone’s needs.

At last the duchess pronounced Thornwood fit to be out of bed for a whole day, and immediately he swept India off to Swallow Hill’s rose gardens.

Alexis sat happily on the other side of a wall of blooms and watched Thorne bend down and kiss India. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he, Josephine? Of course, you’ve missed a great deal of activity since Uncle Ian’s had you off to finish your repairs. Now let’s see.” She frowned. “First, there is the duchess. She has been so kind. She is even going to give me my very own gown of real silk. Of course, Marianne will have a finer one, because she is older, but I don’t mind. She will look lovely in pink with her dark curls. And then there is Cook. She has promised to teach me to make plum tarts. Then I will be
very
happy.”