Seduced (31 page)

She smiled, for she could see him cracking under her insistence. “Just take it, Jack.”

He nodded, slowly at first, but then faster. “I want to,” he admitted, his voice catching. “Even though I know it will do you no favors.”

“I disagree,” she whispered. “Losing you would be the worst thing in my life, Jack. And you can keep that from happening. You can save me from that fate just as you saved me from O’Malley.”

“How?” he asked.

“Ask me to marry you,” she said with a soft smile. “And pledge your future to mine.”

He drew in a long breath and she waited, not very patiently, for him to decide if he was going to continue this argument. At last he reached for her hand. As their fingers tangled, he said, “Marry me, Letitia. For better or worse, be mine.”

“Forever,” she whispered as her tears of relief and joy began to fall.

He reached for her with his good arm and pulled her to him, sealing their well-fought and well-earned bargain with a kiss that seared her to her soul and let her know that everything would be all right. That her future was secure. And that they would love each other for the rest of their lives.

One Year Later

“Nothing is worth doing that isn’t worth doing well,” Jack said, making War laugh as they stood together in the dimness of the stable, shining the saddles of the horses they had worked with that day. Jack had to do most of the work with his right hand, but he hardly noticed the weakness of his left anymore. He had adjusted to his wounds at some point. There was some lingering pain, especially when a storm brewed, but it was bearable.

More than bearable when he thought of the life he now led.

“It was kind of Mrs. Gray and her husband to offer Letitia and me the use of the big house until she recovers,” Jack said, setting his work aside as his brother did.

The two of them left the stable and started up the big hill toward the huge house above. The Woodley estate in Idleridge was inhabited by Mr. and Mrs. Gray most of the time, with War and Claire and Jack and Letty staying in the newly built homes half a mile past the stables.

“Mrs. Gray is so happy to be surrounded by Woodley babies,” War laughed. “She could just pile them up and nibble them all day. How is Letty feeling?”

Jack smiled as he thought of his wife. Their daughter, Jillion, had been born ten days before. Letitia was just now getting back to her feet. “She is fine. Radiant, of course. But you know. After all, Gavin is just six months old—Claire still retains that ‘happy new mother’ expression.”

“Claire would be beautiful in sack cloth,” War said with a laugh. “But I may be slightly biased in that account.”

“A husband’s prerogative,” Jack said with a playful bow.

They had reached the house now and entered, smiling at the servants as they moved toward the voices in the parlor. All the Woodleys were gathered there now for a family affair.

Once Jack would have felt out of place at such an event, but now as he entered the room and was greeted by the cacophony of children’s laughter and shouted greetings from Letitia’s cousins and aunt and uncle, he welcomed it. It sank into his bones. It warmed him.

But nothing warmed him more than the sight of his wife rising from her place on the settee, Jillion cuddled in her arms. She moved toward him with a wide smile, one he returned as he pressed a kiss to her lips and took his daughter.

“How was the stable?” she asked.

He nodded. “Fine. That mare is about to pop. Sometime this week we’ll have a new foal to coo over.”

He smiled, and it wasn’t false. When he’d first come here to recover from his injuries, he’d never thought they’d stay. But War had helped and eventually began to ask for his assistance. Jack knew his brother was trying to help him, and at first he’d recoiled from the pity. But over the past few months he’d truly begun to take a shine to the work his brother did. It was honest and earthy, and it allowed him time with War outside instead of stuck in his bed like an invalid.

“War says you’re a natural,” Letitia offered with a smile for her brother-in-law, who had now moved into the circle of her cousins and their spouses.

He stared down at Letitia, drinking her in, breathing her in and all she represented. His new life, his second chance, his everything.

“I love you,” he said.

She jerked her gaze up, as if surprised by this declaration in the middle of the parlor. But then her face lit up. “I love you, Jack. Forever.” She placed her hand in the small of his back. “Now let’s join the others, shall we?”

He nodded and followed her into the Woodley madness. To his family, to his home, to the place where he belonged. All because of her.

Coming next from USA Today Bestselling Author Jess Michaels:

A wedding that cannot happen…

A man who is not what he seems…

A woman who betrayed for love…

And a couple who can never be.

It will all happen during one year of passionate
Seasons
. Starting with An Affair in Winter, coming July 12. Turn the page to read the entire first chapter.

Seasons Book 1

Rosalinde Wilde pulled the edges of her worn pelisse tighter around her body and yet she still shivered. The thin fur lining did almost nothing to block out the bitter wind that seemed to swirl in the carriage around her and her maid. Poor Gertrude huddled closer to her, the two women seeking body heat to save them from the chill.

“Great God,” Rosalinde muttered as she fought to keep her teeth from chattering. “Grandfather meant to punish me by making me take this older carriage to Stenfax’s estate, but this is beyond the pale.”

Gertrude shrugged. “H-how could anyone guess that a rare snow storm would hit in October?”

Rosalinde kept her council on that question. She feared that even if her grandfather had known a chance storm would overtake them on the road, he might have still forced her to follow him and her beloved sister Celia to the country now instead of allowing her to accompany them when they made their own trek ten days before. After all, he claimed Rosalinde was a bad influence on Celia. And he seemed to like hurting then both.

A blast of loud wind hit the vehicle, rocking it back and forth violently. Rosalinde squeezed her eyes shut. Without the inclement weather, their carriage would normally be rushing along at a brisk clip. Now they hardly moved as the snow swirled and the wind howled. She pitied poor Thomas and Gertrude’s husband Lincoln, their groom and driver, who had to ride out in the elements.

“We’ll never make it to Caraway Court tonight, Mrs. Wilde,” Gertrude all but wailed.

Caraway Court. It was the estate of Celia’s intended, the Earl of Stenfax, where Celia would be wed in just over a fortnight. The name made it sound very grand, indeed, but Celia had written that there were parts of it that were somewhat in shambles, proof of Stenfax’s need for a bride with a dowry. Of course, Celia needed to wed a man with a title, so the match was perfect.

Rosalinde sighed, determined to push away troubling thoughts. She squeezed Gertrude’s gloved hand and focused instead on comforting her frightened maid. Rosalinde was strong. She’d always had to be.

“Oh Gertie,” she said softly. “We’ll be fine!”

She smiled in the hopes Gertrude would not see her own hesitations and fears about the idea of being stranded in the freezing cold. But no sooner had she managed a look she hoped didn’t resemble a grimace, the carriage came to a stop.

Rosalinde sighed as she pulled back the curtain covering the drafty window. Outside the storm swirled on and the late afternoon sun was fading far faster than it should have been. Fear gripped her despite her best efforts to keep it at bay.

The carriage rocked and suddenly Thomas, her groom, appeared at the window. He smiled shakily and opened the door. Although he tried to block it, wind and snow blew in around him.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilde,” he said, “but I don’t think we can go much further. There isn’t much snow in reality, but the wind is blowing it around so much that it’s near impossible to see.”

Rosalinde nodded. “I can see it’s getting treacherous, indeed. But what are we to do, Thomas? We may freeze if we stay out in the elements overnight.”

Thomas shot the frightened Gertrude a look. “Lincoln has an idea,” he began.

Gertrude leaned forward, smiling at last, as she always did when she heard her new husband’s name. “Does he?”

Thomas nodded. “Aye. He says there is an inn a few miles east of the main road. If we can make it there we’ll be safe for the night and be able to rest the horses.”

“Mr. Fitzgilbert will be furious if we don’t make it tonight,” Gertrude whispered.

Rosalinde swallowed hard. That had been her own thought and she couldn’t deny the anxiety in her chest when she thought of the potential for his wrath. Even a claim of an act of God like the snow wouldn’t appease her grandfather, she was certain.

She looked at her groom, his face bright red from exposure to the wind and cold. She could imagine Lincoln was just as miserable, not to mention the poor horses. There was no way she would deny them all shelter and perhaps sentence them to death.

“Grandfather can hang if he thinks I’ll get us all killed for his foolish timeline,” she said. “Thomas, tell Lincoln to try for the inn.”

Relief flashed over Thomas’s face, making clear how dire the circumstances were. He nodded. “I will, ma’am. But be warned, it will likely take close to an hour to get there on these roads.”

Rosalinde flinched at the prospect but forced a smile. “Just do your best.”

He closed the door and Gertrude reached out to readjust the curtains on all the windows to hold in as much heat as possible. As the maid turned her head, Rosalinde could see the worry on her face. The fear.

She reached out to touch Gertrude’s arm. “Gertie, Mr. Fitzgilbert won’t blame you,” Rosalinde said softly. “I will insure that he blames me for our delay.”

Gertrude didn’t look fully convinced but nodded.

Rosalinde settled back against her seat and shoved her hands into her pelisse pockets. “Celia will worry though,” she mused out loud.

Gertrude nodded. “Yes, but she must be very caught up in arrangements for the wedding. That will distract Miss Celia.”

Rosalinde pursed her lips. She wasn’t so certain of that fact. Celia was the most disinterested bride she had ever known. Neither she nor Stenfax seemed to have allowed emotion to come into the equation of their nuptials at all. After her own bitter experience with marriage, Rosalinde supposed she should be relieved that Celia wasn’t letting her heart lead.

And yet she was uncomfortable with the fact that her younger sister was only being practical. Would she be unhappy with that choice in the future? Would she regret being forced to make the choice Rosalinde had not?

Rosalinde glanced over to find Gertrude watching her closely. Apparently she was awaiting some kind of answer to her earlier statement about Celia’s wedding. She shrugged.

“Well, worried or no, we’ll get there tomorrow and it will have to be enough. All we can hope now is that we arrive safely at this inn of Lincoln’s and that tonight is more uneventful than today has been.”

“How could
anything
be as eventful as today?” Gertrude asked with a laugh.

Rosalinde joined her in the laugh, for she knew in her heart that her maid was right. The inn couldn’t be anywhere as shocking as the road had been. Not at all.