Major Wyclyff's Campaign (A Lady's Lessons, Book 2) (35 page)

A bare second later, Anthony was beside Sophia, pulling her into his arms, alternately clutching her and holding her away, scanning her for injuries. "Are you all right? Oh, Sophia, if he has hurt you—"

"I am fine," she cried, "but you... Are you hurt?"

"I have not a scratch on me." He pulled her into another fierce embrace. "Sweet heaven, when I saw him grab you—"

"I thought that man was going to club you—"

"I wanted to rip him apart—"

"I tried to scream, to warn you—"

"I didn't mean those things I said. You didn't believe them—"

"Not for a second, Anthony. Not even for a second." Then they were kissing, their mouths fused together as they expressed all the things that could not be said. The fear, the terror of the last few moments, drained away to be replaced by a fierce hunger, a need to touch and be touched.

She would have happily spent the rest of her life there, enmeshed in his arms in the middle of the woods, but Anthony had better sense. Breaking away, he closed his eyes, his breathing labored as he spoke.

"We cannot stay here. That shot will have attracted others." She looked down at the villains stretched out at their feet, then she watched in dazed awe as Anthony threw her an apologetic look. "I adore this gown, sweeting, but I am afraid I have need of the fabric." Then, before she could respond, he dropped to one knee, swiftly tearing strips off her skirt and using them to bind the unconscious men. "It will not hold long, but it will certainly be adequate for us to make our escape."

He finished his task, then quickly grasped her hand. Together, they dashed off into the woods, heading for safety.

* * *

The next morning, when he appeared, Baron Riggs seemed a good deal more congenial to Sophia than the last time they'd met. His manners were impeccable as he set to business, taking notes as she gave him her version of events.

Almost everyone who'd taken part in the past day's adventure was present, including Melissa and Lord Blakesly the elder. Everyone had time to give their own story, detailing the rescue with excited voices. But it was Melissa and her uncle's accounts that held them all riveted. The horrible privations endured at Mr. Sween's hand gave Sophia chills, making her all the more pleased by the part she had played in their rescue. Indeed, Lord Blakesly the younger had a great deal to answer for—especially now that Mr. Sween was in custody, telling his own version of events and blaming it all on the young peer.

The only one missing was Anthony, as he was the only one not residing with Aunt Agatha. Sophia tried not to fret. It was too early for morning callers, she told herself, and the major preferred to follow the niceties of society. But as the day wore on, Sophia's confidence began to flag. Surely, she told herself, after all they had endured, he would not disappear now.

Well after luncheon, the baron finally stood, putting away his notes. "This has been a most productive day," he boomed, smiling at the company at large. Then he began the necessities of taking his leave. It was not until he was bowing over her hand that Sophia noted his keen gaze on hers. Then, he spoke in an undertone.

"The Major has already explained to me that your previous escapade was a ruse, deliberately established to distract young Blakesly. I trust there are no hard feelings."

"Of course not," Sophia responded, doing her best to cover her surprise.

"Excellent. I cannot tell you how happy I was to hear that the two of you were already married. It put me entirely off my port, thinking I had ruined a woman such as yourself." Then he frowned. "Though how your secret nuptials distracted Blakesly, I cannot begin to imagine. But, then, Major Wyclyff is a seasoned campaigner. Knows a good deal more about these things than I do, I imagine."

"Thank you for understanding," Sophia responded, her smile growing brighter by the moment. She should have known Anthony would find a way to save her reputation. Despite the baron's purported discretion, she had no doubt that the news of her "secret" nuptials would be spread far and wide by now. Now if only Anthony would appear so that she could set about thanking him properly.

She had descended into another stewing silence when Reg startled her, bowing over her hand and taking his leave as well. "Must be off to get my own special license," he said as he turned his fond gaze to Melissa. "You don't mind hosting my fiancee and her uncle, do you?"

"Of course not," Sophia exclaimed as she bestowed a kiss on his cheek.

"Won't be long," he continued. "I'll be back in a trifle, and then we'll be married and they will both come live with me. Would invite you for Christmas, but I understand you may be in India." Then, before she could answer, he dropped his voice, giving her a scandalous wink as he spoke. "Still, I do wish I had been able to interrupt a seduction."

Then he was gone, and Sophia was left staring at her aunt's full parlor, wondering if indeed things were going to turn out as Reg expected. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Sophia knew that she had left things with Anthony in a highly unsettled state. They had been arguing when Mr. Sween captured her. Maybe he had thought back to that. Certainly he was nowhere to be seen this morning.

Still, if it meant waiting a day or a decade, she would remain steadfast to Anthony. He was her love, and she would wait for him, knowing he would some day return to her. It surprised her how easy it was to make that vow, now. She loved him. Naturally, she would wait for him.

If only he would appear so she could tell him.

By nightfall, her spirits had sunk very low. The rambunctious party had quieted, the distractions ended, and everyone had gone to bed, exhausted by the excitement. Everyone, that is, except Sophia. She sat at her window, staring out into the starlit sky, silently asking the moon what had happened to Anthony.

There was no sound to alert her. No whisper, even, that she was no longer alone. But she turned nevertheless and saw him standing, dusty, tired, and yet still gloriously handsome, in her door. "Thank goodness I can pick your front door lock," he said with a grin. "I wouldn't have wanted to wake the house."

She was up and in his arms as fast as her feet could carry her. He barely had time to shut her door before she flung herself at him, arid then they were kissing, their touch as passionate, as gloriously all-consuming as ever.

"Sophia," he murmured against her lips.

She pulled back, needing the time to draw breath. He apparently did not. He began raining kisses upon her neck while she sighed in delight "But where have you been?" she asked.

"London. Bribing yet another magistrate to say he married us three months ago in the hospital. Our Baron Riggs is not so easily cowed, you know. He wanted to see the papers straightaway. He said if he did not have proof I'd done right by you, he would clap me in irons right next to young Blakesly."

"Oh, Anthony, he didn't."

"He did, and rightly so, if I let a prize such as you escape my grasp." He returned to her lips, kissing her with a thoroughness that set her bare toes curling. When he had finished, he looked into her eyes. "Sophia, I have waited longer for you than any other woman. I have bribed two magistrates, become a butler, spent a night in gaol, even braved a madman's lair to win you. If you say you still fear marriage to me, I believe I shall kill you."

She smiled at his long suffering expression. "That would be like fearing to draw breath. Anthony, I am only alive when I am with you." She snuggled deeper into his arms. "I never even knew what it was like to enjoy the company of a man until you made me laugh. That first time I appeared in the hospital—I do not even remember what you said—only that I laughed freely for the first time."

"I said that for an angel of mercy, you were too damned tall."

She chuckled, his words still able to affect her. "Yes, and you added that I made a bedridden man crick his neck too far."

He lifted her fingers, stretching them out one by one on his palm. "That is how I got you on my bed. You sat right down and held my hand."

"And once you touched me—"

"
You
touched
me
," he corrected.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Once
we
touched, there was nothing we could not speak of—"

"Or argue about," he said. He seemed somewhat amused by that.

"Nothing we could not share," she amended.

His smile faded as he spoke. "But then came the fever. And it was painful for you to watch, painful to feel?" he asked.

She gripped his hand in memory, her sight blurred. "It was more than the fever. I had been groomed for a rich, tided husband."

His expression seemed to freeze. "And I am neither."

She released a bitter laugh. "But the others were nothing compared to you. It became torture just to be around any of them."

"So you gave away your dowry and came to live in Staffordshire with your aunt." It was not a question, but she answered it anyway.

"Yes." Her gaze dropped to the floor, but he lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"What was all that about you seducing me?" His voice sounded thick, almost husky, but his words were clear enough to make her cheeks flame.

"I..." She bit her lip. "It was Reginald's idea."

"Why?" he repeated, his tone leaving no room for escape.

She tried to squirm away, but as usual, he would not release her. "I had come to realize something."

His smile was slow in coming, but no less brilliant. Or smug. "And what did you realize?"

Sophia watched the easy spread of his grin and felt a little indignation pull at her. She straightened her shoulders and pulled backward, but he held her fast, his lips drawing close enough for him to whisper into her ear, "What did you realize?" His voice was almost triumphant.

"You think you know what it is." she challenged.

"I do. I think it is what I realized in gaol. The morning after I first made you mine."

Sophia pulled back, raising an eyebrow, trying to make her expression haughty. "Major Wyclyff, you presume too much!"

He would have none of her indignation. Instead, he grinned. "Kiss me and tell me you love me."

"I will not!"

"You will."

"Never!" She said the word—meant it even—but his eyes were seductive, his presence clouded her mind, and worse, his touch sent shivers of delight all through her body.

"Do you love me?"

She could not stop herself. "Of course!"

"Then say it!"

"I will not be commanded by you!"

His grin was almost blindingly bright. "Then perhaps we should say it together, my stubborn dear. I love you. I love you with all my heart, and I have loved you since you first held my hand in the hospital. I have loved you when you buried corsets and inoffensive furniture, and when you decided in your tenderhearted wisdom to release three wagons of dangerous fighting birds. I love you. Lady Sophia."

Her knees were melting with his every word, her heart bursting with joy. She had not believed she would ever hear those words, not from him. And yet, despite all the exultation singing through her veins, she said something entirely different.

"We were supposed to say it together."

He rose up from where he had been nuzzling her neck. "I know, but I could not wait for you. I have been wanting to tell you since I first kissed you."

She arched into his caress, her eyes shutting in delight. "Why did you wait?" she asked. "I vow it would have saved us a great deal of trouble."

He pulled away slightly, moving so his hands could have better access to her body. He stroked her sides in long movements. "I was not fully aware of my feelings until much later. I'd told myself all sorts of reasons for wanting you as my bride. By the time I realized, you had become too difficult to contemplate spending a lifetime with."

She stiffened, suddenly worried. "And now?"

He grinned and shifted his hands to brush across her breasts which made her knees shake with desire. "Now, it is too difficult to contemplate spending a lifetime apart." He lowered his head, and she raised her lips to meet his, eagerly sharing the emotions that flooded her senses. But all too soon he pulled back and his hands stilled and fell away. Soon he was not touching her at all, and his expression was grave. "Sophia," he asked as he dropped onto one knee. "Will you marry me?"

She took a deep breath. This was an important moment. She knew that when she said the words, she would commit herself to a lifetime spent by this man's side, traveling the world as part of his entourage. She would be his wife, giving up everything she thought she'd wanted. But she would be at Anthony's side, and they both knew now that she would never be so simple a thing as his ornament. After all they'd been through, she found the words were simple to say.

"I love you, Major Anthony Wyclyff. I have loved you from the moment you teased me into sitting on your bed and holding your hand. I loved you when you showed up at my breakfast table as my terribly insolent butler and when you lied to protect my honor after our night in gaol. I love you, and I cannot understand why I fought it so hard." She reached out, touching his face as she finally faced her deepest fear. "But what if I lose you?"