Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (22 page)

The shot rang out, and Lady Caroline Elliott, highborn daughter of a duke and society miss, rode him, wild and wanton, in a voluptuous race to a lusty finish.  Rigid in the throes of fulfillment, his stunning fiancée reached for the spoils of victory with unabashed ardor and a scream that would have summoned the entire crowd of partygoers had he not covered her mouth with his.

The sheer magnificence of her completion drove him straight into the realm of rapture.  Burying his face in her neck, Trevor groaned, “Oh, God.”

Her heart beat a rapid salvo, which mirrored the pulse pounding in his ears and soothed the savage within him.  He pressed a kiss to her velvety flesh and nuzzled her chin.

“My, but that was delightful.”

At her charming admission, he chuckled.  “You know, I believe marriage may not be quite so torturous, after all.”

“What?”  She sat back and cast him an irresistible pout.

“Relax, darling.”  He pinched her bottom, and she humphed.  “No man in his right mind would confess to being happily leg-shackled.”

“Why?”  Head cocked to the side, she folded her arms in a manner that suggested reproach, which might have been successful were it not for her current position in his lap.  “Is it so unfashionable to love one’s wife?”

Love?

Bloody hell, he had never said anything about committing his heart.  Myriad responses raced through his addled brain.  In the end, he opted for the unvarnished truth.

Trevor shrugged.  “Because it simply is not done.”

“That is absurd.”  Caroline swatted playfully at his chest and eased from his embrace.  When their bodies parted, she glanced down and froze.  “Oh, dear.”

In a reflex action born of years of experience, he withdrew his handkerchief and offered the lace-trimmed square.  “Here, take this.”

“Thank you.”  Although he had seen her naked as the day she entered this world, his future wife, with head bent, skittered behind a large-leafed plant.

“By the by, I suggest you settle yourself.”  After righting his clothes, he ran his fingers through his hair and stood.  “We had better return to the ballroom before your brother comes in search of you.”

“Don’t worry about Blake.”  She emerged from the foliage looking every bit as prim and proper as she had prior to their tempestuous liaison.  “I happen to know he has an assignation with a certain lady and will be rather occupied with the chase.”

“Indeed?”  Trevor offered his escort.  “I can relate.”

She elbowed him in the ribs.  “You, sir, are a cad.”

“Yes, but I am your cad.”

They strolled through the gardens, and he could not resist whispering lewd praise of her performance in the orangery.  By the time they entered the main house, Caroline’s cheeks were red as a tomato.  He prayed no one would suspect the cause of her flustered state and hoped the smug satisfaction soothing his senses was not evident in his expression.

To his infinite gratitude, it appeared that none of her friends were any the wiser.

None, that is, but Sabrina and Everett.

Upon spying her friend, the innocent Douglas clucked her tongue and rocked on her heels.  “Goodness, you two must have had a ripping argument.”

Though he had not thought it possible, his intended’s blush intensified.  “You could say that,” Caroline replied as she averted her stare.

With a noticeable swagger, Everett neared and whispered, “Enjoyed yourself, did you?”

Trevor pretended to find something interesting in the crowd.  “I am in your debt.”

“Indeed, it appears you are.”

Trevor rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration.  Never would he hear the end of this night.  As he mulled a series of pointed rejoinders, his betrothed summoned her cadre of female friends.

“So, do tell.”  Everett chucked his shoulder.  “Does all that spirit lend itself to other pursuits, or can you freeze water on her derriere?”

“Watch yourself, Markham.”  Trevor tugged on his cravat and grinned as Alex jerked on Caroline’s hand and gawked at the betrothal ring.  “That is my future wife you are disparaging.”

“My humblest apologies.  I meant no offense.  You have my best wishes for eternal happiness.”  Everett leaned near.  “But you had better stop seducing her with your gaze, else her guardians will hang you from the nearest yardarm.”

Trevor winced.

Peering to his left, he discerned he was the sole subject of the most inauspicious regard of the men in his soon-to-be extended family, rakes whose experience and understanding of the sensuous arts no doubt rivaled his own.  As such, Caroline’s demeanor provided every proof of a well-pleasured woman.  The sea of frowns and arched brows conveyed that their secret rendezvous was not so secret.

“Oh, my friend.”  Everett gloated.  “You are done for.”

“Will you cease your prattle?”  With clenched fists, Trevor gritted his teeth.  “I am beginning to think you were a chit in another life, for your endless chatter.”

“Now, now.  Do not be--”

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”  As a Botticelli angel, Caroline stood before them.

“Heaven forbid.”  His voice oozing characteristic charisma, Everett wagged a finger.  “One so lovely should never beg.”

Trevor was certain he was going to be ill at any second.

“I merely wish to thank you for your assistance in our difficulty.”  Caroline held her hand to her lips, then pressed her palm to Everett’s cheek.  “Dear man, you are a romantic at heart.”

To Trevor’s perpetual delight, the ever-suave, always imperturbable Lord Everett Markham blushed.

“Well, look at his high and mighty lordship.”  Sabrina slapped him on the back.  “All pink in the face.”

“Oh, shut up,” Everett snapped.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When she entered the dining room the following morning, Caroline was nonplussed to find Trevor seated at the table conversing with Blake and her mother.  “My lord, what a pleasant surprise.”

Her incredibly handsome intended and her sour-faced sibling stood.  Curious in an instant, she struggled to maintain a calm façade, while inside a hunger burgeoned in her belly that had nothing to do with food.

“And I did not expect to see you so bright and early, my dear brother.  I had thought you were staying at your bachelor lodgings.”

“You thought correct,” Blake groused with an equally dour frown.  “And I would still be there now, tucked amid warm sheets, had not Mama sent for me at the crack of dawn.”

“It seemed a nice idea to break our fast as a family.”  Her mother winked.  “Especially in light of our new addition.”

“Ah, yes.”  Blake reclaimed his place and sipped his coffee.  “You are right as always, Mama.”

How Caroline managed to stifle her laughter, as she considered the selections on the sideboard, she did not know or care.  No doubt her brother had left behind more than a cozy bed, and it was obvious His Grumpiness of Rylan was in no mood with which to be trifled.  Just then, an impressive growl rumbled from her empty stomach.  Good heavens, she was famished, and her unusually voracious appetite seemed boundless.  After retrieving a plate, she opted to forgo her typical morning fare of dried toast and, instead, served herself generous portions of eggs, kippers, and bacon.

When she turned toward the table, she discovered Trevor had pulled out a chair.  As she neared, he dipped his chin and smiled.  His wicked expression gave her gooseflesh, images from their tumultuous tryst the previous evening flashed before her eyes, and she shivered.

Whatever happens, Caroline, do not dare trip
.

With a grace and ease of which her sire would be proud, she settled her plate and herself with nary a stumble.  A newfound level of feminine deportment invested her none too petite frame as she draped a napkin in her lap and picked up her fork.  “I trust you passed a pleasant night, brother mine?”

“Indubitably,” Blake declared with a smug smirk, then stabbed a mound of meat pie and paused.  He glanced at his plate, peered at Trevor’s, then Caroline’s.  A brow arched in question, and he studied her with unveiled interest.  “What is this?  No toast?”

“I find I am quite starved, though I do not know why.”  She shifted in her seat and scooped a pile of eggs.  “I feel as if I have not eaten in a sennight.”

“Indeed?”  Blake narrowed his stare and inclined his head.  “Tell me, my charming sister, just where did you two hie off to during the ball?  You were gone for quite a while.”

Caroline choked on a half-chewed piece of bacon and gulped down a river of water.  Trevor, who had been devouring his breakfast like a ravenous wolf, faced her.  In unison, they blinked.

“We took a turn about the garden.”

“We toured the Chatham’s library.”

A loud chink pierced the quiet as Blake’s silverware hit the elegant china.  With an ominous scowl, he asked, “Really?  The garden
and the library
?”

Did she detect a note of sarcasm?

“Yes.”  Caroline bit her tongue against the panic welling in her chest.  “You know how fond I am of books.  And I wanted to show Lord Lockwood some rosebush varieties I believe would make an excellent addition to his family estate in--”

“Althrup,” Trevor inserted.

“That is it.”  Thank goodness the man could think on his feet.  “Althrup.”

“Mmm hmm.”  Blake sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table.  “Books and roses, Lockwood?”

“You should have been there, Rylan.”  Trevor cast her a naughty grin.  “It was quite...stimulating.”

Caroline’s cheeks went up in flames.

On an exhale, Blake said, “Mama, we need to get these two married, and the sooner the better.”

“My son, I could not agree more.”

“But, I thought you did not want to raise suspicion among the
ton
.”  Caroline chewed her lower lip and wondered if her relations had guessed what occurred between her and Trevor at the Chatham ball.  “What of the scandal?”

“Have you considered what could have happened had you been caught playing in the bushes?” Blake inquired with a snort.

“Forgive me for being forward, but anyone with a pair of eyes in their head could see the tendre developing between both of you.”  Her mother dabbed the corners of her mouth and set her napkin on her plate.  “I daresay there is already a running wager at White’s as to the birth date of the earl’s heir.  Have you any objections to hastening your nuptials, Lord Lockwood?”

Caroline feared she might swoon.

“None, Your Grace,” her soon-to-be-husband replied without hesitation.

Now she was certain she was going to swoon.

“Mama, do you really believe the situation merits such drastic measures?”  Were there not an audience present, Caroline was positive she would have consumed her fingernails and gnawed all the way to her knuckles.

“What is the matter?”  Trevor leaned close.  “Do you not wish to marry me?”

“No--yes--that is to say...I thought our original plan one of sound judgment.”  Was it her imagination, wishful thinking, or did he look disappointed by her initial response?  “Of course, if you agree that a quick marriage would be best, then who am I to say otherwise?”

If it seemed as though her life was spinning out of control prior to that moment, and Caroline was positively adrift as her near future was plotted with a precision that Wellington himself would envy.  Her mother decided they should forego a large wedding in favor of a small, private ceremony at St. George’s Church.  Blake was tasked with writing the Archbishop to request a special license, which would allow Trevor and Caroline to marry within a fortnight.  By the time the quartet adjourned their odd assembly, everyone had a list of items to be completed in the next few days.

Caroline and her mother shopped on Bond Street for her trousseau, they planned the menus for the wedding breakfast that would follow the ceremony, and they dutifully made the rounds of afternoon tea parties.  Soon, the
haut ton
was abuzz with the impending nuptials of Lady Caroline Elliott to the man society had long referred to as the Elusive Earl.

But for Caroline, Trevor was anything but elusive.

He called on her every day, a different hothouse bouquet in hand.  She knew the flowers were intended as a subtle reminder of the tryst they had shared in the orangery at Chatham House.  However, she was certain she would die of embarrassment when her mother commented on his fondness for flowers and suggested they erect their own hothouse.

To which her incorrigible husband-to-be replied, “Actually, I have just arranged to have one built at my ancestral pile.”  He studied Caroline with a shameless gleam in his eyes.  “I have only recently discovered the simple pleasures to be had in an orangery.”

There were other gifts, as well.  He brought her a small tin of sugared candies, a box of chocolates, an elegant gold gilt jewelry box embossed with the Lockwood family crest, and a pair of diamond stud earrings.  But it was the first present he had bestowed upon her, the wooden replica of the
Hera
, which she kept on the night table beside her bed.  On a sunny afternoon, he took her for a drive in the park; they sat under the maple trees in Berkley Square and ate flavored ices from Gunter’s, then promenaded through Hyde Park.  Another evening, he appeared on her doorstep with tickets to a play on Drury Lane.

Before she knew it, the eve of her wedding had arrived.

#

As he stood in front of the elegant town home marked 24 Upper Brooke Street, Trevor studied the gold embossed summons he had received only that morning.  Pressed in wax was the imprint of an intriguing seal bearing the shape of an eight-point wind-star.  Underneath was the Latin phrase,
Nulli Secundus
, Second to None.

Lord Lockwood,

The honor of your presence is requested at six o’clock, 24 Upper Brooke Street.  Be prompt and discreet.

The Brethren

Trevor raised his hand to knock and was startled when the door opened to reveal none other than Admiral Mark Douglas, father of Cara and Sabrina, and a legend in the British Navy.