The Devil In Disguise (33 page)

She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck.

“What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” he began, pushing her to stand at arm’s length. “You could have been killed!” he yelled, then pulled her back in, crushing her lips with a soul-searing kiss.

He broke the kiss abruptly and stared down into her eyes. “You saved my life,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“And you saved mine,” Lucinda replied, her hands reaching to cup his face. “You brave, bloody fool!”

“You are the brave one, Lucinda, you,” he began, looking at her with such love and devotion. “I was a coward. I couldn’t see my way clear—I was afraid of what I felt, afraid of what it would mean to admit such a thing—”

He stopped abruptly and swallowed hard. “I love you, Lucinda. I have all along.”

Lucinda’s heart felt ready to burst with joy as she pulled his face to hers, their lips nearly touching. “It is about time, Your Grace.”

He closed the distance between them and kissed her again, a tender lingering touch that filled Lucinda’s heart with hope anew.

“Promise me you will never attempt such a dangerous act again,” he said as he gathered her more closely to himself.

All around them was chaos, Corinthians descending on Garenne’s body while others tended to the nervously dancing King Solomon’s Mine. Carmichael aided Lord Weston, who had been grazed in the leg by Garenne’s haphazardly fired bullet.

But here, with Will by her side, all was quiet, the world finally as it should be.

“You’ll need to make an honest woman of me to earn such a promise, Your Grace.”

“Bloody hell, woman, is that all?”

“Hardly.”

“Good,” he replied, a crooked smile capturing his mouth. “I would hate to think that love had softened your self-possession.”

Lucinda laughed knowingly as she looked up into the dark canopy of trees overhead, the moonlit sky peeking through here and there. “Oh, Your Grace. You’ve no idea. No idea at all.

CASTLE
CLAIREMONT
DERBYSHIRE
1812

Will rubbed Lucinda’s lower back gently, causing his beautiful wife to emit small sighs of relief. “Shall I fetch a chair?” he asked, looking with concern at her sizeable belly where it just skimmed the wood fencing.

Lucinda raised a hand to her brow, shadowing her eyes from the bright sun in order to see the new stallion as he romped in the pasture. “Will, I’m perfectly fine,” she answered reassuringly. “Now tell me, what do you think of Thor?”

Will’s gaze followed Lucinda’s, catching sight of the majestic bay Thoroughbred as he pranced about in the lush green field. The horse had arrived only the day before, yet he’d settled in with ease. “I think my opinion is of no consequence. It’s what you see that matters.”

“Smart man,” Lucinda confirmed, turning to Will and smiling beatifically. “His legs are as straight as they come and his eyes—oh, so kind, yet the sheer, unadulterated pleasure in them when he runs? Yes, I think he’ll serve your mares well.”

“Better than Sol, then?” Will asked wistfully.

Lucinda reached out and cupped his face in her hands. “I miss him as much as you, my love. But I fear Cleopatra would perish if we were to separate the two—never mind my aunts.”

Will knew she was right, of course, the aunts having taken control of the Grey breeding program with iron—and quite expert—fists. In little more than a year the first of Sol’s offspring would race, and anyone worth his spurs was sure that it would be
the
moment to see. He would not stir up trouble between Lucinda and her aunts simply because he missed his horse.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Will turned his attention back to his wife, her growing belly making him smile once more. So much had happened in the last year that Will wondered at times if it was all a dream. He’d allowed himself to love and be loved, something he thought was not possible. And surprisingly enough, his world had not ended, but rather expanded in a way that he could have never imagined.

His involvement with the Corinthians had changed drastically, which had surprisingly suited Will perfectly. His life was so full now that he was no longer the angry Iron Will of old, who’d run from his demons while lacking a true path.

He’d found that true path, and blessed peace, at Lucinda’s side.

His wife dropped her hands to her hips and breathed deeply.

“Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a chair?” Will pressed.

“No,” Lucinda replied, turning back to watch Thor. “Your mother and Lord Pinehurst are due to arrive any moment. I hardly want to be found dusty and smelling of horses when they do.”

It had taken time. A lot of time, actually, but Will and his mother were slowly reclaiming the love that had been lost between them. Will could not say that he’d let go of the past entirely, but he’d made a start. They’d made a start, together.

“Will they marry?”

Lucinda eyed Will hesitantly. “Do you want them to?”

“I do, actually,” Will replied, rather surprised at his answer. “Do not misunderstand me. All this family needs is another pigheaded male. But they do seem to care for each other. Quite a bit, from what I’ve seen—though I’m hardly a judge of such things.”

“You have the softest of hearts—”

“Speaking of pigheaded men,” Will interrupted, sure that his wife would dissolve into a puddle of tears if he did not, “where is that brother of mine?”

“Practicing his proposal on Serendipity.”

Will came to stand next to Lucinda at the fence line, capturing her with an unabashedly confused stare. “What could my prized mare have to do with a proposal? And, more importantly, what could Michael have to do with either?”

“He’s intent on asking Lady Mariah for her hand—but not before he’s spoken to you first,” Lucinda replied, her eyes glistening. “He’ll leave for London straightaway after the baby is born, so please, do make yourself available. You’ve been so caught up in the harvest I fear he hasn’t had the opportunity to broach the topic.”

“Why on earth would the man want to talk to me? What do I know about proper courtship and proposals?”

Lucinda looked at him full in the face and Will knew they’d not escape the day without one more good cry. “Because you’re his brother—a true and proper one, now that you’ve taken back the ducal responsibilities.”

“Don’t cry, Lucinda. I’ll talk to Mich—”

“It’s just that I’m so proud of all you’ve done. For Michael, and for your mother. But especially for yourself,” she said, the tears slowly beginning to slide down her full cheeks.

Lucinda turned to look at Thor, who had stretched his long neck over the fence and was now nudging his nose up against Lucinda’s belly. “Tell me that you’re as happy as I am, my love.”

Will reached out and patted the giant horse softly on the head. “Indeed. And more, my love. So much more.”

They say that it take a village to raise a child. Oddly enough, I found the same to be true of writing and producing a book.

Randall. You are mine, and I am yours. I’m pretty sure that I got the better end of the bargain, but I’ll take it. Thank you for loving me far better than I could ever love myself.

The Girls. You challenge me to be a better person every single day. No, really. Every. Single. Day. And I love you all the more for it. XO to infinity.

Wallace Dyer Jr. Thank you for Bob Dylan and Diet Sprite, for Christmas trees and deliciously crude humor. You left us too soon.

Michael Dyer. You rolled me down a hill in a box when we were young and told me whatever didn’t kill me would make me stronger. You were right.

Julie Pottinger. You picked me up and brushed me off when I needed you to, laughed and cried with me, and convinced me that the impossible
was
possible if tackled one step at a time. Thank you for walking the road with me.

Jennifer Schober. One. Awesome. Agent. Thank you for reminnding me that it’s all in the journeey, not the destination.

Junessa Viloria. Best. Editor. Ever. Your professionalism, editorial skills, and keen reader’s eye made this book what it is. It’s that simple.

Jennifer McCord. You shared your expertise and insight at no cost, encouraged me to follow my heart, and became a dear friend. For all of this and more, I thank you.

Franzeca Drouin. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Your brain, it is an impressive thing. Thank you for your mad research skills, ability to meet ridiculous deadlines, and coolness in general.