Best of Both Rogues (23 page)

The next morning Eve held her husband’s hand as they strolled along a narrow country lane. Green meadows, sprinkled with yellow and white wildflowers, rose gently over hills and sloped down the other sides. Azure skies with nary a cloud were perfect for a day of frolicking and laughter, but she and Ben moved in somber silence.

His fingers tightened around hers as they neared a bend in the dusty lane. They must be approaching the site of the accident. Eve closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for Ben. She supported his need to revisit the location, but couldn’t help fretting over how it might affect him.

He slowed his step until eventually he stopped before rounding the curve. She stood still, holding her breath. Releasing her hand, he hugged her to his side, and when she looked up to determine if he wanted to turn back, he smiled ruefully. “Many wives wouldn’t humor their husbands like this.”

“If that is true, they are a sorry lot. Furthermore, I am not humoring you. I am standing by your side, and there is no place else I would rather be.”

Tiny crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. “That was my poor attempt at saying thank you for being at my side.” Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips, lingering and sharing one slow and steady breath. When he straightened, his blue eyes reflected strength and determination. “I am ready.”

Eve’s stomach churned as she accepted his arm. When Ben suffered, so did she. Yet she wouldn’t shy away from being his lifeline if he needed one. As they walked around the curve, her breath left her in a relieved whoosh. She didn’t know what she had expected to see, but there was nothing but more meadow and a row of wizened oaks standing haphazardly along one side of the lane.

Ben silently surveyed the area, while she couldn’t shift her gaze from him. She watched for any hints of distress with such vigilance, her own hands began to tremble. Her husband looked toward the field, then back at the road several times before nodding. “It looks nothing like my nightmares anymore.”

“Oh?” Her whisper was nearly lost on the breeze.

“It is beautiful and peaceful. The trees are large enough to cast shade, and I can hear the birds.”

She wondered what he heard in his nightmares, but she refrained from asking. All that mattered was he didn’t hear it now.

“Charlotte loved wildflowers,” he said.

“Should we gather some to place on her grave?”

“No, I do not believe she is there.” Ben guided them toward a massive tree before looking up at the green canopy. “All around, I see Charlotte’s spirit. In the sway of the branches. The butterflies flitting about the field. Even the scent of sunbaked earth reminds me of her.” His mouth curved up gently as he turned to Eve. “This is a better way to remember her, to honor her life.”

“Oh, Ben.” Tears clouded Eve’s vision. Perhaps her husband could find peace at last. She retrieved a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes.

“I am grateful you encouraged me to return,” he said. “You were right about my need to say good-bye, but now it is time to look toward our future.” He gathered her to his chest and rubbed his hands slowly up and down her back as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Evie, and I am enthusiastic about loving you for the rest of our lives.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hillary.” Eve slid her arms around his neck and flashed a playful smile. “Likewise.” And then she pulled him toward her for a kiss that demonstrated just how enthusiastically she intended to love him forever.

Eve gripped the ship’s railing, her gloves protecting her hands from the rough wood. “Is that land? Dear Lord, are we nearing Lisbon at last?” Relief diminished the wave of nausea that had almost overpowered her moments earlier, driving her husband to usher her onto the quarterdeck for fresh air before she tossed up her accounts yet again.

“We have reached Portugal,” Ben confirmed and slipped his arms around her from behind, supporting her against his chest and keeping her from dissolving into a quivering puddle on the deck. “Soon we will sleep in a real bed and enjoy a decent meal.”

She groaned at the mention of food.

“My apologies, love.” He chuckled under his breath. “I only now realize my words could have been better timed.”

“I will likely feel different later this evening, but at the moment…” Closing her eyes, she melted against him as the men went about their duties on the main deck. She had been beyond pleased to learn Ben had kept his promise to provide work for the young men who had grown too old to remain at the foundling hospital. Two of the young men were members of the
Eve
Lorraine
’s crew.

“I am looking forward to our stay in the villa,” she said. She hated to admit it, but she was not the hardy traveler she had hoped she would be. Seasickness had been troubling her every morning since they had sailed from London, and a month on land sounded heavenly. With the way she felt at the moment, Ben might have a hard time convincing her to step foot on the ship again to continue their journey.

Of course, that would mean Mama, Sebastian, Helena, and Gracie must come to her if she never left Lisbon, because she couldn’t imagine a life without seeing them as often as she liked. Already they had been apart longer than at any other time in her life.

She’d said a tearful good-bye to her family nine days ago when she and Ben had seen them off to Scotland. By now, her loved ones would have reached Aldmist Fell and were likely settling in at the castle Helena had inherited from her late husband. Eve would miss Sebastian and Helena’s first Christmas together, but she was where she belonged—standing with the man she loved.

She cracked open one eye for another glimpse of Portugal. The clear blue waters and soaring cliffs along the shoreline were breathtaking. Her stomach pitched as the deck beneath her did the same. She held back another groan, not wanting to worry her husband. Having abandoned her bonnet in their cabin, Eve welcomed the salty wind blowing through her unbound hair. Ben kissed her temple, his presence and loving care fortifying.

Fortunately, he hadn’t needed her help weathering one of his episodes since they had returned from visiting Charlotte’s mother and brother, for she had been in no condition to support him. She was quite useless lately. He still had bad dreams on occasion, but he no longer cried out or woke gasping for air.

“Are you recovering, dearling?” he asked.

“By degrees. I am comforted knowing I will wake on land tomorrow, and this incorrigible seasickness will end.”

Ben eased her from his hold and turned her to face him. Strong brows lowered over his smoky-blue eyes. “You do not know?”

Her heart dropped. “Please tell me we will reach Lisbon tonight.”

A sly smile played across his face. Taking her elbow, he guided her toward the stern of the ship away from the activity onboard. “You haven’t recognized the signs, have you, Kitten? No wonder you’ve said nothing to me. I suppose there has been too much excitement these past few weeks.”

Eve frowned, not understanding what signs she was supposed to recognize and what too much excitement had to do with their stay in Lisbon.

Her husband’s smile widened. “The nausea in the morning? The soreness in your breasts?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “When was the last time you bled, Evie?”

She gasped. “Good heavens! I never thought to calculate…” Could it be true? If so, her husband was correct. She had been too preoccupied with preparing for their voyage and fretting over leaving her family. The shock of possibly missing evidence of one of the most joyful moments of her life caused gooseflesh to rise along her skin. “Do you think I am with child?” she whispered too.

“It has been at least five weeks since your last cycle. It seems very likely.”

Her cheeks flamed. “You pay a little too much attention to what I’ve always considered a private matter.”

He laughed and tugged her into his arms. “I beg your pardon then. If it is any comfort, I cannot help noticing all manner of things about you, like the way you glow after the sickness has passed, or how your hips are beginning to round the slightest bit. I can barely keep my hands off you.” Sliding his hands to her derriere, he fondled her apparently expanding backside and nuzzled her neck, his whiskers tickling.

“
Barely?
” She laughingly tried to extract herself from his hold. “You show no restraint at all, sir.”

He stopped nuzzling her neck, but he didn’t release her. “It is not my fault you are irresistible.”

“I beg to differ. I might not have recognized the signs, but I do know you are responsible for my condition.”

His smile faded and he brushed the hair back from her face with both hands, burying his fingers in her wild locks. “Are you pleased to be with child?”

Her throat burned with unshed tears. How could she be anything except ecstatic to carry his child? He was the love of her life. Her heart’s true desire for as long as she could recall was to be a mother, but the reality was even more joyful than she could have imagined. “Pleased does not adequately capture how I feel. I am elated, Ben. We are having a
baby
.”

The thrill of that word raced through her and she tossed her arms around his neck.

He laughed again, lifting her off her feet and planting a smacking kiss on her lips.

“Will we return home before it is time to give birth?” she asked.

He set her back on her feet. “I cannot imagine you would wish to be anywhere else, and you will want your mother and possibly Helena too.”

“And you.”

He blanched. “Me?”

“Perhaps. Amelia said your brother was in attendance when she birthed their son.”

“That blasted whelp is forever trying to outclass his older brothers,” Ben said with a wink. He bent down to surprise her with a sweet, loving kiss. When their lips parted, he leaned his forehead against hers. “There is only one place I plan to be when you bring our child into the world, by your side. Nothing will ever keep me from you, Kitten.”

“Oh, Ben,” she managed to choke out as tears filled her eyes. “You are turning me into a watering pot.”

“Watering pot or not, I will always love you, Evie. I wonder if we will have a boy or girl.”

“Does it matter?”

He grinned and slipped his arm around her waist. “Not one bit. I can sing and dance with either one.”

She laughed. “Just don’t make the mistake of holding our baby overhead unless you want a surprise.”

“Yes, Toby Boy taught me that lesson.”

They remained at the railing side by side, their arms wrapped around each other, happily chatting about their bright future as Lisbon loomed on the horizon.

She laid her head against his shoulder and sighed. “I love you, Ben.”

“I love you too.” He placed a kiss on her hair. “I never thought I could be this happy, Evie. You are my everything, and always will be.”

For the sake of the story, I chose to create a fictional orphanage in London where the heroine is involved in charity work. In reality, there was only one foundling hospital in London in 1819. My research indicates infants were sent to live with foster families in the country, where it was believed to be a healthier environment for the babies. I am sure they were correct, given the unsanitary conditions in the city. In this story, however, I’ve chosen to create a nursery in the foundling hospital where the babies are cared for by nurses and wet nurses.

Every time I finish writing a book, I pause to reflect on how many people are involved in the entire process from the moment the seeds of an idea begin to develop until the reader is holding the book in her hands. The number of people involved can be mind-boggling, especially when writing a book feels like such a solitary task. I’d like to take a moment to thank a few of these wonderfully supportive people I’m lucky enough to have surrounding me.

Thank you to my husband, kids, and extended family members who have been very understanding when I’ve needed to miss time together to finish the book by my deadline. It’s never a pleasant task to plant myself in front of the laptop rather than spend time with family, but your enthusiasm and understanding makes everything a little easier. I appreciate you more than words can express.

Thank you to fellow Regency author and critique partner Heather Boyd. Her feedback has been invaluable. From the first page to the last, she has been with me during this entire process.

A special thank you to my street team, the Social Graces. Not only do the ladies help spread word about my stories, they are excited about my current projects. Sometimes an author needs an extra boost of encouragement to keep going, and these ladies are a godsend.

Next, I would like to thank the group at Sourcebooks who create beautiful covers, edit my work, and help make my books visible to historical romance readers: Cat Clyne, editor; Skye Agnew, production editor; and Becca Smith, publicist. These women are just the tip of the iceberg. There are many others involved behind the scenes, but Cat, Skye, and Becca are there for me whenever I need help, and they make this experience a very pleasant one.

Finally, I would like to thank my agent, Nephele Tempest, for lending her expertise. She is a delightful person to know, and her support is equally important and appreciated.

Thank you for reading
!

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One Rogue Too Many

by Samantha Grace

From the betting book at Brooks’s gentlemen’s club: £2,000 that Lord Ellis will throw the first punch when he discovers Lord Thorne is wooing a certain duke’s sister.

All bets are off when the game is love

Lady Gabrielle is thrilled when Anthony Keaton, Earl of Ellis, asks for her hand. She’s not so pleased when he then leaves the country without a word. Clearly, he has changed his mind and is too cowardly to tell her. There’s nothing to do but go back on the marriage mart…

When Anthony returns to find his ultimate rival wooing Gabby, his continual battle of one-upmanship with Sebastian Thorne ceases to be a game. Anthony is determined to win back the woman who holds his heart.

Praise for Samantha Grace:

“Grace’s flair for crafting engaging characters and light touch when it comes to humor and charm result in another sexy Regency.” —
Booklist

“A merry romp… Grace captures the essence and atmosphere of the era.” —
RT Book Reviews

For more Samantha Grace, visit:

www.sourcebooks.com