The Stolen Bride (28 page)

“We can’t trace things back like that, David,” said Randal. “Hever had to be stopped from his dirty games. Doubtless a lot of his peculiarities could be put on his mother’s account. And if Sophie and I had not gone meddling in your business, it all might have turned out differently again.”

He and Verderan left to return to Tyne Towers. The Reverend Mortimer had to go to attend to his parish business. The four remaining discussed the macabre events of the past two days.

As the clock struck ten Jane rose to her feet. “It is time for me to retire, I think,” she said. When she reached the door she gave a little shiver. “Do you know, I think I am afraid of the dark tonight.”

Her husband got quickly to his feet. “I’ll escort you.” As his arm came comfortingly around her waist he said, “Don’t worry, Tiger Eyes. It’s all over now.” She leaned her head gratefully on his shoulder and they left the room.

Beth only then became aware that she was alone with Sir Marius again. She found herself wishing she could have a gentleman’s arm comfortingly around her on such a night. A particular gentleman’s arm. She looked at him hesitantly and her nerve failed her.

“I think I too should retire,” she said hastily, getting to her feet.

He rose as well. “Not afraid of the dark, Elizabeth?”

In truth, after the story they had heard, the gloomy ancient corridors of Stenby Castle were a frightening prospect but how could she admit it? “Not at all,” said Beth firmly.

He chuckled. “A man likes to feel like a knight-errant occasionally, you know. Indulge me and let me escort you to your bedroom.”

“Certainly not!” said Beth, knowing her cheeks were flaming.

He grinned, scooped her up and sat down again with her in his lap, easily ignoring her struggles.

“Let me go!” she cried, pounding ineffectually at his enormous chest.

“Don’t be silly,” he said, unmoved. “I only want to talk to you and you keep running away.”

Beth gave up the hopeless struggle. “I do not keep running away. Life has been a little hectic recently, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed,” he rumbled, good-humoredly. “But you’ve also been running away. Why? Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course not,” said Beth attempting to be prim. How could she be prim when she was sitting on his lap, leaning against his big, warm body, with his arms around her?

“Well, you should be afraid,” he said. “I could do anything I wanted with you and you’d never be able to stop me.”

Beth swallowed. The thought of what he might want to do with her was churning her insides.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me, Elizabeth?” he asked softly.

Silence demanded an answer. “You’re a good man,” she said at last.

“True enough,” he admitted and his hand moved up to rest warm against the back of her neck. “So why are you running from me?”

The firm massage of the tightness in her neck and shoulders felt wonderful and Beth sighed and relaxed. “There’s nothing for us,” she said sadly, “except an affair. And I am determined to resist that temptation.”

His hand moved up into her hair and stilled. He tilted her head so she had to look at him. “And is it a temptation?” he asked with a smile of delight.

“Of course not!” she instinctively protested. But then she mirrored his smile. “You know it is. But, Marius, I could not.”

The smile widened to a grin. “That’s the first time you’ve used my name like that, Elizabeth. I like the sound of it on your lips. Say it again.”

“Marius,” breathed Beth helplessly.

His lips gently brushed over hers.

“Oh, Marius...”

They settled on hers firmly and the kiss was instantly deep and hungry. Beth moaned a protest even as she reached up to pull him nearer. But then she struggled away.

“No, Marius. Please!” When she had his attention, she gasped. “Please, my dear, don’t seduce me. Let me go. You’ll forget me soon enough. You’ll see. It will be better—”

He silenced her with a hand over her mouth. “Stop babbling, woman.” When he took his hand away Beth stayed silent.

“I will not forget you,” he said straightly. “It will not be better that way. I will not forget you, Elizabeth Hawley, because I cannot imagine forgetting my own wife.”

“Your what?” asked Beth, stunned.

“Wife. I’m going to marry you. So sit back and be seduced.”

A hundred emotions surged in Beth, but she gave in to the most pressing and hit him hard on the nose with her fist. He howled and let her go.

“No, no, and no!” she shouted, when she had a sofa between them. “No, I won’t be your wife, no, you are not going to marry me, and no, I will not sit back and be seduced, you great, thick-headed ox!”

Though his eyes were watering, he had a besotted grin on his face. “Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why won’t you marry me?” he asked. “The rest sort of follows from that, I think.”

“You think if I agree to marry you, I’ll let you seduce me?” asked Beth in outrage.

He stood and loomed over her across the suddenly frail-looking sofa. “Your mind goes more ways at once than a flock of pigeons in a storm. Why,” he demanded, “won’t you marry me?”

“Because,” snapped Beth, “I haven’t been asked!” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth at the admission.

He shouted with laughter, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her bodily over the back to stand on the sofa. He fell to one knee and she had the unusual experience of looking down at him.

“My dearest Elizabeth,” he said with teasing sincerity. “You have come to mean the world to me. In a few short days it has become clear to me that my life will be immeasurably the poorer if I cannot share it with you. I delight in your wit and wisdom. I admire your courage and independence. And,” he added, his gray eyes full of the promise of passion, “I love the way you blush like a girl and kiss like a woman of the world.”

Beth felt her knees weaken and she grasped the nearest support, his broad shoulders.

He slowly rose to his feet so their faces were level. “Marry me, Elizabeth. Please.” Before she could summon her wits to answer, he added with a grin, “Or I’ll sink into a decline and fade away.”

She hit him playfully in the chest for his nonsense. He just looked at her, waiting. Beth thought of a hundred things to say, but in the end she just said, “Yes.”

He grabbed her and swung her around and around until she was dizzy and crying to be let down. He collapsed into a chair and took up matters where they had recently broken off. Beth waved a warning fist near his nose.

“I will not be seduced, however,” she said.

“I was afraid of that,” he responded, engulfing her threatening fist in his much larger one. “You throw a good punch for such a tiny little thing.”

“Arthur taught me,” she said. “He also taught where to hit for the greatest effect.”

One eyebrow quirked as he chuckled. “I think I had a lucky escape.”

Beth blushed.

“No seduction?” he queried wistfully.

Beth quelled her own desires. “No.”

He put her on her feet and stood. “Will you allow me, though, to be a gallant gentleman and escort you to your bedchamber?”

“Of course,” said Beth, smiling at him. It had taken a little while for the glory of it to sink in, but now she was aware of happiness filling her to the brim, spilling over to brighten the world. He loved her. She was his. They would be together forever and the world was truly a more wonderful place.

As they passed through the door his hand stroked softly down her spine and she could not help a long, wistful sigh.

“No seduction,” she said, hoping she sounded more adamant than she felt.

“It’s quite a long way to your bedchamber,” he murmured softly as he picked up a waiting lamp to light their way. “Care to lay odds, my darling gambler, on the chance of you changing your mind during such a long journey?”

Beth gulped and just hoped her willpower was up to the task before it.

 

The next day Jane and her husband were amused and delighted to find that Marius and Beth were engaged to marry and that neither of them was willing to wait very long for the event. Straight after breakfast Marius whisked a starry-eyed Beth off to Shrewsbury to buy a ring.

Jane went to check on Sophie and found her already up but breakfasting in her bedchamber, lying on a daybed.

“I can’t move very far without all these bandages falling off my leg,” Sophie complained. “I’m going to have to play the invalid for a few days if I want to be healed for the wedding. You will let Randal up, won’t you?” she asked anxiously.

“I doubt Wellington’s crack troops could keep him away,” said Jane drily. “In truth, most of the inhabitants of the Castle and the Towers have been trying to get you two into an improper situation for weeks. Just for a bit of peace.”

The two young women laughed together. “It has all been rather ridiculous, hasn’t it?” said Sophie. “But I really did wonder what he felt for me. It’s the Ashby charm that’s to blame. I do hope none of our children get it.” At the thought of children she blushed rosily.

Jane looked a little self-conscious too. “Speaking of children... By next Easter you and Randal will be aunt and uncle.”

“Jane! How wonderful...”

At that moment the door opened and Randal walked in as if he had every right in the world. The word wonderful on Sophie’s lips slid easily over to apply to him.

The two were immediately lost in each other and with a smiling shake of the head, Jane left them alone.

Randal came to sit on the edge of the chaise. His hand went to rest with natural possessiveness on Sophie’s hip. She carried his other hand to her lips.

“Hello, minx,” he said.

“Hello.”

“Does your leg hurt much?”

“Not too much.”

Counterpoint to this prosaic conversation their eyes and hearts spoke of love and desire, hunger and unity. His hand burned on her hip. Her fingers twined with his restlessly.

“How is Chelmly?” Sophie asked.

“Better than we could have hoped,” said Randal with a smile. “He’s weak as a kitten and has the devil of a headache, but judging from the questions he was pestering me with, he’s lost none of his faculties.”

Sophie grinned with relief. “He sounds like the old Chelmly indeed.”

Randal smiled thoughtfully. “Not quite. I think you may find him more willing to fall into the matrimonial trap. I suspect the mere notion of the estate being in my feckless hands has scared him out of his misogamy forever.”

“Trap indeed,” said Sophie thoughtfully. “Is that how you regard it?”

With a laughing groan he slid down beside her on the chaise and eased her over him. “If it is a trap, minx, there was never a man more willing to be caught. Don’t let me hurt you,” he said softly.

“You couldn’t ever hurt me,” she said, laying her head deliciously on his chest, hearing his pounding heart.

“I spanked you once,” he said.

“You did not,” she replied, without moving.

“You were about six. You tried to pick up a loaded gun.”

“I don’t remember that, but it sounds as if I deserved it.”

“You did. You acted as if I’d hurt you, though. You howled like a banshee.”

Sophie giggled. “Probably so you wouldn’t hit me anymore. It’s the best way. The few times my mother tried to switch me I shrieked so much at the first stroke she lost her nerve.”

“And look where it’s got you,” he said, his hand rubbing softly where the switch might have done its work. “A few proper chastisements and you would have had the sense to marry Trenholme.”

Sophie turned slightly so their faces were close. “It’s got me heaven, and well you know it. I’ve wanted you, Randal, since I was a child. When I reached for that gun I was probably just trying to please you. When I howled it was probably just because you were angry. I could never live without you.”

She feathered soft kisses on his lips.

“And you’ve entranced me, little flame,” he said, “since you were in your cradle. You were an utterly beautiful baby, you know, even to a young boy who cared nothing for such things. You were a delightfully naughty child and I encouraged and protected you. You followed me around and I loved it. You made me feel like a god.” His fingers wandered her back, sending dancing promises throughout her body. “You still do,” he said softly.

He surrendered to her teasing and kissed her. The magic was already familiar to Sophie and she no longer wanted gentleness. She reached up to hold him close and taste him, feeling the wonderful shudder go through both of them at the contact. She rubbed against the slight roughness of his clothes. She felt him tense. And then he pushed her away.

“Sophie,” he said unsteadily. “We can’t do this.”

She wanted to protest, but knew he was right. “It hurts,” she said.

“Believe me, sweet torment, I know.”

He slid from under her and stood, raking a hand through his disordered curls. “Sorry as I am to say it, Sophie, but it’s back to propriety until the wedding.” He turned back with a beautiful smile. “And this time, minx, can you not tease me to death?”

Sophie grinned in delight. “Did I? You didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh, I noticed. The day you left your gown loose at the front and found so many excuses to lean over...”

Sophie giggled.

“The way you kirtled your skirt up high whenever we played any kind of sport...”

Sophie mischievously began to inch her skirt up her leg. It was enthralling to play this game with him and she couldn’t resist.

He sharply tugged her skirt back to her ankles. “Behave yourself, Sophie.” His eyes were warmly smiling, though. “The times you brushed up against me when there was room all around...” He took a deep breath. “Sophie, I have to go.”

By the door he stopped and it was as if he braced himself for a painful task. “Sophie. If you still think it best, we’ll postpone the wedding until Chelmly’s on his feet again.”