“Did you love him?”
Aunt Delphi set her cup on the saucer, the gentle clink loud in the silence. “I came to respect him greatly. He was a very deserving man.”
“But did you love him?”
“Eventually. Sometimes one doesn’t get everything one wants in life. Sometimes you just have to make do.”
Sara stood, her arms crossed as if to ward off a chill. “I don’t want to make do!”
“No one does, but—” Aunt Delphi tilted her head to one side. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“I daresay it was the wind, for there’s a storm brewing. Marcus said it was starting to rain when he returned.” She gathered the tray and rose. “Sara, whatever happens, commit yourself with all your heart and never look back.”
“To Bridgeton?”
“To whoever will make you happy.” With one last smile, she left.
Sara remained in the center of the room, listening absently to the far off rattle of china as Aunt Delphi carried the tray downstairs. For a wild moment, she wondered what it would be like to spend the rest of her days with Nick. She closed her eyes and imagined wakening to finding him asleep at her side.
The thought simmered contentedly, and for the first time in two days, the tension left her shoulders.
But then she remembered Nick’s look of fury the night he’d discovered her with Hewlette and had accused her of laying a trap. Sara shivered. For all of his passion, for all of the pleasure she knew instinctively to find in Nick’s arms, he would never forgive her for this forced marriage.
There was no help for it. In the morning, she’d go to Hibberton Hall and free him from the horrible bargain her brothers had made. Finally content that she’d found the best course of action, Sara readied for bed. She’d just put her arms into her night rail and tugged it over her head when a loud click and the brush of cold air made her whirl toward the window.
She was immediately crushed against a powerful chest. She fought wildly, swinging her fist with all her might, a thrill of satisfaction breaking through her panic as her knuckles connected with solid flesh. Her assailant cursed, then picked her up and tossed her on the bed, pinning her to the mattress with his body.
“Damn it, Sara! Be quiet,” Nick’s voice sounded in her ears.
Sara instantly stilled, peering at him through the curls tangled across her face.
He released one of her hands and brushed the hair from her eyes. Though his touch was gentle, his face was grim. “I’m sorry to frighten you, but we’ve no time.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Time for what?”
“For our wedding, dearest Sara.” He said the words without a trace of tenderness.
“But we don’t need to do that. I was going to slip out tomorrow and tell you that it is all a mistake. Marcus can’t truly force us to do anything.”
Nick rolled off her and went to her wardrobe, reaching in and grabbing the first gown he found. “Get dressed.”
“Nick, I—”
He tossed the gown at her. “When I get married, it will be at a time and place of my choosing. And I choose now.”
“What?”
“You heard me. We are getting married this very night, and to hell with your brother.”
“But I don’t want to marry you!”
His eyes blazed hot blue and then suddenly, he wasn’t standing in front of her but lying on top of her once again, his body pressing hers intimately into the mattress. She struggled to free herself, but he caught her hands and held them over her head. “Let me explain something, Sara. We have been embroiled in a scandal. In order to avert disaster, we must wed. Those are the rules. You don’t have to like them, but by God, you will follow them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. Now are you coming willingly, or do I wrap you in a blanket and throw you over my shoulder?”
For some reason, the idea held immense appeal. Still, she worried he would fall trying to navigate the ladder. “I could scream.”
He grinned, the sight sending her heart into a spin. He rolled off her and leaned back against the headboard, his arms crossed behind his head. “Then scream. I’m sure your brothers would be all too happy to discover me in your room.”
He was right. And knowing her brothers, they would be all too glad to get their fists on Nick. Furthermore, they would see Nick’s presence as yet another reason why they should marry.
She pushed herself upright and noted the way his gaze flickered across her breasts. She glanced down and realized the thin muslin of her night rail hid very little. Blushing profusely, she crossed her arms over her breasts. “Damn it, I don’t want you in here. In fact, I don’t want you at all.”
“Too bad, sweetheart. Neither of us has a choice.” He lifted a brow. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you coming willingly, or do I abduct you?”
She sat staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. Nick smiled. If he couldn’t appeal to her emotions, then he’d appeal to her sense of adventure. “Perhaps you’re afraid.”
She glanced at the window for a long moment, a sudden gleam in her eye. “What did you use to reach the window? A rope ladder?”
“No, a rather mundane, wooden one.”
Sara scrambled from the bed, pushed the window farther open, and looked out, forgetting to cover herself. “Wherever did you find the ladder?”
Nick dragged his eyes from the graceful line of her legs revealed through her thin night rail. “I borrowed it from the carpenters at Hibberton Hall.”
“And you brought it all the way here?”
“In a cart. It’s only three miles.” Nick crossed to the window and leaned against the curtain, admiring the tumble of her hair. “Of course, I had to tell the carpenter an outlandish tale.”
“What did you say?”
“That I intended to abscond with a beautiful maiden.”
Her lips twitched, and Nick relaxed. He should have realized that she would be as upset as he had been by her brothers’ high-handed behavior. “Come with me, Sara. We shall have a grand adventure.”
“I thought you didn’t wish to marry.”
“I didn’t. But what propriety demands…” He shrugged, then slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Sara took it and opened it, tilting it so the candlelight fell on the writing.
Her lips moved as she read the words. “It’s a special license.” She lifted her eyes to his. “You really do mean to marry me.”
He took the paper and replaced it in his pocket, then bent and placed his lips to her ear. “Have you ever climbed out of your window in the dead of night?”
She sucked in her breath in excitement. “It is an adventure, isn’t it?”
The sight of her smile made his chest ache, and he knew that this moment would be with him when he finally died, no matter how mad he became.
“I’ve never climbed out of a window before. Or eloped,” she said.
“Neither have I. I must warn you, though—your brothers will be furious.”
She let out her breath in a satisfied puff. “I’ll do it.” Then she added, “But first, we have to reach an agreement.”
“Oh?”
“There are things we must discuss. I have certain requirements of a marriage.”
It was a damnable shame he would never meet the late Viscount Carrington, for he would have taken a great deal of delight in beating the hell out of the man. Stifling his impatience, Nick sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
She crossed her arms, blocking the enticing outline of her breasts from his view. “You know what type of husband I was looking for.”
“I’m not that kind. I won’t share what’s mine.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. “Before you begin making a lot of rules which neither of us will be able to abide, let’s just agree to take our relationship one day at a time.”
“I want honesty. If at any time you plan on…leaving me,
I want to be told.”
“That seems fine.”
She met his gaze steadily, a hint of mistrust in their depths. “And what of our future?”
“I have a house, I possess a fortune, and I promise to leave it all to you when I die.” He stood. “Do you need to know anything else?”
Disappointment lingered in her gaze, but she shook her head. “No. I suppose not.”
Nick reached out and pulled her to him, then lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. “There are other compensations for our marriage.” He nipped at her lower lip, then moved his mouth to her temple. “Lovely, erotic compensations.”
Within the circle of his arms, she shivered, and he became aware of her nipples pressing against the white linen of her nightgown. Moving slowly, careful not to startle her, he gently cupped one of her breasts, his palm kneading the tempting mound.
“Stop,” she said, her voice trembling with desire. “I’ll go with you.”
Nick captured her hand and placed a kiss on the palm. “Excellent. Then don your clothing and let’s be off.”
She dressed quickly while Nick pretended not to watch. It was difficult, the way his body ached for her. The thought that she would soon be his was almost too tempting to contain.
“Nick, how am I to climb down a ladder in a dress?”
“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that. Fortunately, there is another way out.”
She blinked her confusion. “What—”
He opened the door to the hallway and bowed. “After you, madam.”
“Nick,” she whispered, trying to push the door closed again, “you can’t go through the house! If my brothers see you, they will kill you!”
“Their own future brother-in-law? Surely they wouldn’t be so crass.”
“Shhh! Nick, I—”
He stopped her protests by swinging her up into his arms. “I’m through arguing. We are leaving through the front door, and that is final.”
She frowned, but looped her arms about his neck. “At least try and be—”
He kicked the door back, the heavy wood slamming into the paneling and echoing throughout the house.
“—quiet,” Sara finished. She closed her eyes for a pained moment and then sighed. “You are determined to start a fight, aren’t you?”
“Not if it means I’d have to set you down.”
“Anthony will not be happy.”
“Anthony can go to h—”
“Bridgeton, what in the hell are you doing?” Anthony demanded. He stood blocking the hallway, wearing nothing but a pair of breeches.
Nick nodded pleasantly. “Greyley. And how are you this evening? Or should I say morning?”
“Put her down.”
“No. She’s mine.” A devilish smile touched his mouth. “Treymount gave her to me.” Nick walked forward, but Anthony did not budge.
Sara peeped at them as they stared at one another, two gladiators prepared to battle to the death. Only she was between them, and had nary a weapon on her. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should sit down and discuss this calmly.”
“I have a better idea,” Anthony said. “Bridgeton will set you down, then he and I will settle this between us.”
“Winner takes all?” Nick asked softly.
“Of course,” Anthony bit back.
“Bridgeton.” Marcus’s voice came from behind them. “State your intentions.”
For a moment, Sara wondered if Nick would answer. But after a long silence, he shrugged. “I have a special license. I’m taking Sara with me, and I’m marrying her, to keep her from being banished or foisted off on the first stodgy old man who comes along. She deserves more, Treymount. Far more than either of you is willing to allow her.”
Marcus flickered a glance at Sara, then said, “Anthony, let them go.”
Anthony’s huge hands fisted, but he nodded. “So long as he plans to marry her tonight.”
“As soon as we arrive at Hibberton. The vicar is waiting even now.”
Marcus waited until Anthony had moved aside. “I’ll be out to see Sara tomorrow, Bridgeton. I will want to speak with the vicar when I come.”
“Of course.” Nick tightened his hold on Sara and continued to walk down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door.
Sara shivered in the night air. Nick pulled a large blanket from beneath the seat of the carriage and tucked it about her, then sat beside her. The carriage jolted forward, and they were on their way.
Sara pulled the blanket closer about her shoulders. This was madness, to abscond in the night like two lovers when they scarcely knew one another. She suddenly wondered if he liked plum pudding. Did he have a favorite color? What did she really know of the man?
Panic swept through her. Bloody hell, I’m marrying a complete stranger.
Well, that wasn’t strictly true. She knew the little he’d told her about his mother. And she already knew she was attracted to him—that was something, at least. He was also a hardened rake, and if anyone understood rakes, it was she.
The carriage finally rolled to a stop. Nick hopped down, then lifted a hand to assist her from the carriage.
Sara scrambled down, her foot tangling in the blanket and sending her tumbling right into Nick’s arms.
He swept her up once again and turned toward the house. “I know you wish for pretty words, but I’ve never been good at those. I fear you’ll have to take me”—his gaze dropped to her mouth—“as I am.”
“Damn,” she muttered.
A devilish light lit his eyes. Sighing, Sara looped her arms about his neck and let him carry her. It was rather pleasant to be held so. He walked right past the startled butler and went up the stairs into the front hall.
“M-my lord,” the ancient retainer sputtered. “My lord, where are you…who is…should I have Mrs. Kibble prepare a chamber for the lady?”
Nick stopped at the door to the library and glanced at the harassed butler. “This, Wiggs, is the future Lady Bridgeton, whom I am to marry in less than ten minutes.”
The butler’s mouth opened and closed. “Here, my lord?”
“The vicar is on his way.”
“My lord, it is nearly one in the morning!”
“I am well aware of the time. Notify me when the vicar arrives.”
Blinking rapidly, Wiggs bowed. “Yes, my lord.” He barely waited for Nick to turn before he scuttled down a side hall, ready to repeat the tale for the entire household.
Nick carried her to the settee and placed her on it. “You look lovely in pink, my dear.”
“I prefer red. Bright red.”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound teasing past her ears to settle in her bones. “So do I.”
There was a soft knock at the door, and Wiggs appeared. “The vicar has arrived, my lord.”
“Show him to the blue salon.”
Her stomach clenched, Sara moved to stand before the mirror that hung over the mantle. She ran her fingers through her tangled curls.
“Leave it. It looks fine.” His voice was so close behind her that she started, tensing when he slipped an arm about her waist to pull her against him. He lowered his face and pressed it against her hair. “You smell like lavender,” he murmured, then pressed his lips to her temple.
He took a last, deep breath before releasing her. “Come. It’s time.” He took her hand and led her from the room.
As they walked down the hallway, she glanced furtively at him. Gone was the sparkle in his eye, the teasing note in his voice. He was silent, his expression serious. A heavy weight pressed against Sara’s chest. What had she gotten herself into?
The vicar met them in the study, his kindly face dispelling some of Sara’s fears. He spoke quietly with Nick, and then turned and opened his book to begin the ceremony.
Before he’d spoken more than two words, a commotion was raised in the foyer. Amazingly, Sara heard Aunt Delphi’s soft voice pitched for combat.
“Damn it,” Nick said, taking a quick st
ep toward the door.
Sara forestalled him with a single touch. “It’s just Aunt Delphi.”
As if in answer, the door flew open and Delphi stood in the opening, Nick’s decrepit butler hovering behind her. Her back as inflexible as a steel pole, Aunt Delphi sniffed. “I came to witness the wedding, but this creature would not allow me to pass.”
Wiggs sent a helpless glance at Nick. “I tried to tell her that you were not home, my lord, but she would not believe me.”
Nick came to stand beside Sara. “Wiggs, bring us some tea. I’m sure Her Grace is chilled.”
Though obviously loath to retreat from the battle-field, Wiggs complied. Aunt Delphi watched him go with a martial gleam in her eye. “Thank you, Bridgeton.”
Nick bowed. “Of course, Your Grace. I’m delighted you came to witness the ceremony.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Sara supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. She glanced around the entry, but saw no one else. “And Marcus and Anthony?”
Delphi’s face pinched with disapproval. “They were halfway through their second bottle of port when I last saw them. I daresay they won’t be coming.”
Sara was glad of that much, at least. To her relief, the ceremony was quick. When the time came to place the ring on her finger, Sara was surprised when Nick pulled a small circle of gold from his pocket. Moments later, the ceremony was over.
Sara stood in the center of the room as Nick escorted the vicar to his waiting carriage. She was married. Thoughts of her other wedding intruded, and she couldn’t help contrasting the two. Her wedding to Julius had been a display of wealth, an exhibit of perfection. Every detail had been meticulously planned, with nothing left to chance. Her dress alone had cost a fortune, the church filled with flowers, a wide assortment of friends and family gathered to witness what should have been her finest hour.
Ha—that hadn’t come until almost three years later, when she decided she wouldn’t mourn the husband who had long before left her.
Sara gazed at the band on her finger. The warm light of the fire touched the gold and made the delicate design stand out in relief. Tiny flowers had been etched into the surface, a single vine twining about the whole. It was beautiful, elegant, and simple, and she somehow knew that Nick had selected it himself.