The Wedding Chase (36 page)

Maggie jerked upright when the adjoining door opened. Lord Northcliffe stalked in, satin dressing gown draping bare legs and chest, looking for all the world like some reckless god come to earth, the kind in those Greek stories Miss Zel was forever reading.

“You may leave, Maggie.” His voice was as hard as his handsome face.

“Yes, m’lord.” She readied miss’s towel and dressing gown, but his lordship was already shedding his robe and reaching for his new wife. Maggie dropped an oil bottle. The man wasn’t wearing a stitch. And he seemed to have forgotten she was even in the room.

“I need to dry off, Wolfgang, I’m cold and wet.”

Maggie scurried for the door.

“Fine, I’m hot and dry.”

Water splashed as Maggie grasped the door latch. When she yanked the door wide a sizzle like bacon slapping a hot griddle hit her ears. Face burning, she stumbled through the door. A flash of gray whipped past her feet. She turned back toward the room, toppling on her knees as a solid form smacked her in the back, leaping over her shoulders.

“Remus,” Maggie called, but the huge beast could no more hear her than sprout wings and fly.

Cat and dog barreled headlong for the two naked figures by the bed. “Lord.” Maggie prayed for divine assistance and closed the door.

She stood motionless outside. His lordship swore fluently, Miss Zel’s voice was a little softer, every other word either Wolfgang or Mouse. Glass broke, wood cracked. Maggie knocked tentatively at the door.

“Who the hell is it?” Lord Northcliffe was not a man she could easily approach at the best of moments.

“Do you need help?” Maggie inquired timidly.

The door flew open, his lordship had donned his robe, but failed to fasten it. She looked away as he barked, “Get someone, now!”

Maggie darted down the hall, and Jenkins and McDougall nearly ran her over at the stairs. “The animals … Miss Zel’s room.”

She followed them back down the hall, peeking around Jenkins through the open door. The room looked like a
whirlwind had struck, chairs and tables overturned, bed drapes ripped, glass and crockery littering the floor. His lordship, dressing gown now securely tied, straddled Remus. That animal was still, finally recognizing a beast wilder than himself.

Miss Zel huddled in the bed, blankets pulled up over her bosom, clutching the cat to her chest with bare arms. Two sets of slanted eyes stared at Maggie, wide and unblinking.

“Straighten the furniture and get that glass up before someone’s cut,” his lordship snapped.

Miss coughed. Maggie looked up from the glass. Gracious, this was not a time to be laughing.

“What’s so funny, Lady Northcliffe?” his lordship growled.

Miss’s laughter rolled out. “I’m … sorry.”

Lord Northcliffe climbed off the dog, motioning to Mc-Dougall. “Take this thing into my chambers.” He pulled the cat from the giggling Miss Zel, placing the animal in Jenkins’s arms. “Jenkins, join him, I’ll be there shortly. We’ll find a way to control these beasts or consign them to hell.”

He sat on the bed beside Miss Zel as Maggie lowered her head, filling an unbroken vase with shattered glass. “The comedy is over, calm yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” Miss tried unsuccessfully to choke back more laughter. “You are so … funny.”

“Me? Funny?” Maggie could hear the scowl, as he bit out the words. “Explain yourself, madam wife.”

“Madam wife …” She was off on another peal. “If only you … see yourself.”

“Satan’s horns, I think the world was safer before I tried to thaw the ice maiden.” He paused, then continued, his voice very low and controlled. “Go on, explain yourself.”

“Well, first … you looked like a stallion.” She stopped laughing. “Kind of magnificent, ah, ready to mount a mare.”

Maggie gasped. “Miss Zel!”

“Miss Zel, indeed. Close your ears, Maggie, finish with that glass and leave.” His voice dipped so low, Maggie had to strain to hear. “And that was funny?”

“No.” Miss gulped. “It was more funny when you mounted Remus and wilted.”

His lordship’s tone fell even lower, rasping out roughly, “You are treading on dangerous ground.”

“You said to explain.”

“The devil save men from plain-spoken virgins.” He tripped over Maggie’s feet. “And their redheaded maids.”

“Pardon, m’lord.” But he was already through the connecting door, slamming it behind him.

Miss Zel sighed from the big bed. “Hand me my wrapper, Maggie.”

Maggie winced at the bangs and crashes coming from the next room. “Seems they’re tearing up his lordship’s chambers now.”

Her mistress slipped on the thin silk wrapper, a broad grin lighting her face. “Yes, it seems they are.”

“Smile,” Zel hissed at him. “We barely made it through dinner, and your thundercloud attitude is not helping.”

Wolfgang surveyed the unwanted guests milling about the informal salon, whispering through bared teeth. “Better?” He glared at his toadeating cousin who stood nearby, leering relentlessly at Zel. The idiot seemed to have no idea he was putting his life in danger.

Zel stared coolly at Wolfgang. Then she pulled away from him, turning to her new cousin, Adam.

Grasping her hand, Wolfgang replaced it at his elbow, his voice low. “We’ll face this together. I need your restraint. Without it, I may do bodily injury to someone. I wasn’t thinking when I had Raf and Freddie leave after the wedding breakfast. They could have at least sat on your father and my mother.”

Zel’s father chose that moment to appear and grab Wolfgang’s hand, giving it a squeeze and shake while raising a champagne glass in his free hand. “ ’Gratulations, old man. Glad to have you part of the family.” He leaned his rounded belly forward, conspiratorially, not bothering to lower his voice. “Even if you had to get under her skirts to get her to the altar.”

“Fleetwood.” Wolfgang laid his warm hand over Zel’s stiff, cold one at his elbow, his throat tight. “You will treat my wife with the respect due her.”

Sir Edward’s ruddy cheeks reddened more. “Don’t get yourself in a snit. You know I respect the chit—”

“I am not a chit,” Zel interrupted. “If I told you—”

“See, she don’t respect me,” Sir Edward whined.

“Champagne, cousin?” Adam smiled, placing a filled glass in Zel’s hand, hovering too close to Zel on the other side, eyes again focused on the low décolletage of her pale green silk gown. Wolfgang felt another wave of anger stir in his chest. Satan’s tail, he wasn’t going to be a jealous husband, was he? Zel would have more sense than to conduct a flirtation with his foppish cousin. But they hadn’t spoken about what marriage meant, about fidelity, commitment, children—all those damn things he didn’t want to think about.

Drawing her away abruptly, rudely, from her father and Adam, he whispered, “I expect you to be faithful.”

Zel jerked about, golden sparks flashing in her eyes. “Giving orders so soon,
my lord
.”

“You promised only this morning to obey me.”

She choked on her champagne.

“As I think on it now, you didn’t say obey.” He hauled her against him, breathing in her ear. “You mumbled that part.”

“How could I agree to obey?” Her sweet smile contrasted with the flames still burning in her eyes. “That would be a lie.”

Wolfgang smiled back. “You said love clearly enough.”

A bright flush suffused her cheeks.

“No quick answer, my dear?” He widened his smile.

“Well.” She collected herself. “I do care about you a tiny bit, so it’s not such a big lie. And you have no room to taunt me. Even people outside the chapel heard you say …”

He used his most seductive tones on her. “Heard me say what, Gamine?”

“That part about, ah, with my body …” Zel stumbled over the words.

Wolfgang nodded, unwilling to help. “Yes?”

She blurted out, “With my body I thee worship.”

“And that, if we can ever be alone, will be no lie.” He greeted Zel’s friend Emily, approaching on Robin’s arm, with a full grin. Robin looked more than a little dog bit, and less than eager to converse with his new brother-in-law.

“Lies?” Emily teased, her dimples peeping out. “I hope you two are not starting your life together with lies.”

“All lies …” Robin slurred, stepping his lanky frame up to Wolfgang, staring at him with bloodshot eyes. “You’ll answer to me if you hurt her.”

“We’ve been through this before, Robin.” Wolfgang met his gaze sternly. “Don’t make a fool of yourself. She’s my wife now. I’ll protect her as I deem necessary.”

“Wolfgang, Robin.” Zel tugged at Robin’s sleeve. “Why must you two constantly posture and fight like a couple of roosters. I do not require protection.”

Robin jerked his arm roughly from her grasp. “Buy my notes … she’d sleep with the devil—”

“Fleetwood.” Wolfgang’s low grumble penetrated the younger man’s thick skull, and he closed his mouth with a sullen glare.

Zel turned to smile at Wolfgang’s mother and sister, who had joined the growing circle. “Mrs. Hardwicke, how can I make these two behave?”

“You cannot.” His mother, even from a half foot shorter,
seemed to look down her straight nose at her son, her voice calculated to freeze. “It seems as if my son has married into the perfect sort of family, for him.”

Wolfgang’s lovely sister smiled at him, her little shrew teeth showing. “Yes, dear brother, your new relations are certainly all
you
could ask them to be.”

“Dearest daughter and granddaughter.” Grandmama stepped to his side, her tone deceptively even, but her warning rang clear. “You should be considering an early bedtime, you have far to travel tomorrow and should get an early start.”

“Oh, we thought we would stay a few days.” His mother smiled, always eager to do battle with her own mother. “After all, this is the dear boy’s first time inviting us to Cliffehaven.”

“And the last,” Wolfgang muttered under his breath.

“Then none of us shall wear out our welcome. The newlyweds need time alone.” Grandmama signaled the footman for more champagne. “Diana, Dorothea, come join us to toast the bride and groom.” She waited while the guests all gathered round, then raised her glass. “To Zel and Wolfgang, may this union bring them the happiness they deserve.”

Aunt Dorothea pursed her lips, straightening a wrinkle from her gray skirts. “Yes, to the happiness they deserve.” She sipped lightly from her glass.

“May the marriage be fertile.” Sir Edward gulped down his drink and clapped Wolfgang’s mother on her back. “As well it should be. Your lad is a potent, virile fellow and my Zel, though not a spring chick, won’t be a shirker. Clever girl like her will get knocked up in no time. Probably already is.”

“Edward!” Aunt Diana stared at her brother, coughing repeatedly. Then she turned to the rest of the company with a conciliatory smile. “Er, yes, wasn’t it Shakespeare who said ‘it is a wise father that begets his own child’?”

Wolfgang’s sister gasped. “They shouldn’t be let out in polite society.”

His mother’s glare alternated between Diana and Sir Edward.

Robin snorted.

Aunt Dorothea sniffed arrogantly. “Breeding will tell.” She mumbled something, which Wolfgang couldn’t catch, about a barnyard.

Emily Carland laughed so hard she spilled champagne down her watered-silk gown.

Grandmama took Diana’s arm. “Yes, dear, I believe between Shakespeare and the Bible something like that was said.”

Zel stood very still, her face pale. Wolfgang squeezed her arm gently. “I’ll make our excuses.” He turned to address the sniffing, snorting, laughing, glaring group. “My wife and I bid you farewell. We’ll retire for the evening now and will not rise until after you have departed.” He smiled an advance thanks to Grandmama and escorted his silent bride from the room. “And if they don’t leave, I’ll growl fiercely and chase them all out.”

Zel smiled a little uncertainly at him as he directed her up the wide central staircase. “Beware of the Big Bad Earl.”

He laughed. “The Big Bad Wolfgang.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he lowered his voice seductively. “Now come into my chamber, little girl.”

She batted her eyelashes, jumping quickly into his playful mood. “What a big house this is, I fear I may get lost.”

“The better to keep you here, my dear.” He chuckled, feeling better every inch he moved away from the menagerie downstairs. “Through here, little girl.” He opened the door to his bedroom.

As he pushed her inside, she gasped coquettishly. “What a big room, it’s far larger than mine.”

“The better for our comfort, my dear.”

She glanced at the bed on the far side of the room, her
tone a little higher. “And what a big bed, I think we could fit a small battalion on that.”

Softly closing the door, he smiled broadly. “The better to please you in, my dear.”

He watched as she reddened and looked away to the dog lounging in a large three-sided box lined with cushions and draped in blankets near the bed. Remus lifted his head and shifted his paws. Wolfgang put a hand out and the beast stilled.

With a self-satisfied smile, Wolfgang waved toward the opposite side of the bed. “The queen also has a throne.” Hecate sat on a cushioned perch at the top of a tall carved armoire. Her yellow eyes surveyed the beings beneath her.

Zel laughed, a husky little rumble. “This is the product of all that noise earlier this afternoon?”

“Yes, a job well done, a situation well in hand.” He clasped her shoulders, lowering his mouth to hers, meeting her lips with the lightest pressure. His fingers found the tiny pearl buttons at the back of her gown and slowly eased them one by one from the little loops that held them captive.

Zel’s body pressed against his as she went up on her toes to better catch his lips. Her hands slid up his arms, across his shoulders. “What big shoulders you have.”

“The better to hold you with, my dear. And now, little girl, I’m ready for a different game.” Wolfgang pushed urgently at the sleeves of her gown. “I want to see and touch you, all of you.” His lips traced the smooth line of her neck as gown, chemise, and petticoat slipped down, baring her chest and back to her hips. But the purr he heard was not Zel, and he felt her tense in his arms. He pulled back. “What’s wrong, Gamine?”