His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2) (9 page)

She was within arm’s length of him now, and realization hit her a moment too late. He reached out and drew her toward him. Gasping, she found herself in his lap before her mind could fully comprehend what had happened. He had tricked her. She had fallen right into his trap, and the smug look on his face told her that was the truth of it even though she didn’t want to believe it.

“You blackguard.”

“I prefer scoundrel,” he said, grinning rakishly at her. “And now,” he said, his eyes dazzling. “I’m going to kiss my wife.”

Chapter Eleven
 

Archie had Gemma right where he wanted her.

His lips were a breath away from hers. Her eyes filled with snapping anger, anger which slowly turned to submission. She knew when she was defeated. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. He groaned. Damnation. How could he be put in such an untenable situation? He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to go through with his intentions for the night, but he also didn’t want her to resent him. Already, she was starting to hate what he had made her do. He wouldn’t give her more rope to hang him with.

Grudgingly, he released her, and put her back on her unsteady legs.

“What…what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’m releasing you. I’m showing you mercy, Lady Northam.”

“You are?” she asked, biting her lower lip in that adorable way of hers. Something inside of him snapped. He almost went back to his roguish ways by reaching out for her and taking her to his bed. For one brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like. They would be doing nothing wrong—except he would feel guilty for taking advantage of her. Though she was his wife, he wanted her coming to him, or at least inviting him to ravish her.

Gemma was quite correct. They barely knew each other—and that was for the best at the moment. He didn’t have time to indulge himself. He felt himself falling in love with her, and that was a novelty to him. He didn’t know many men who loved their wives. Come to think of it, Mallory was in the minority. Most marriages were made because they benefited one party, or both parties. This marriage didn’t benefit him at all. The dowry she brought to the table was nothing to scoff at but he didn’t need the money.

Standing up, he made his way to her door. Christ Almighty, he needed a drink.

“Where are you going?” she asked softly, the vulnerable sound of her voice made his insides clench. He could go back, he could make right what he had set wrong. He could have his wife in his bed tonight, or rather he could have his wife in her bed tonight. He shook his head. The angel and the demon inside of him were warring and he knew which one would win.

“I am going to find some rum or whisky, I’m not too particular at the moment.”

“That means…that means,” she said, her voice becoming stronger. “That means you are going to leave me.”

“Aye,” he said, feeling despondent. “Goodnight, Lady Northam.”

“Goodnight, my lord,” she whispered, just as he closed the door behind him.

Chapter Twelve

Gemma sat alone with Archie in their own conveyance.

He hadn’t uttered one word past helping her into the carriage. In truth, she had been surprised to see him riding with her. She thought he would have preferred riding on horseback alongside their carriages.

The journey to Brighton wasn’t a long one, and for that she was immensely grateful.

“What…” she said nervously, “What do you envision for our future?”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked. He had been dozing, but at her voice breaking the uncomfortable silence, he snapped to attention.

“I said…what should I expect to happen in the coming months?”

“I…uh,” he cleared his throat, and pulled at his cravat. “I…that’s…well, it’s all rather a mystery, isn’t it?”

“Are we to make our home here in Sussex, or do you want to settle in London…or…”

“Scotland?” he asked, smiling.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice wavering. She’d never been this nervous before. Archie was the only man who had ever set her world on fire, and he was mysterious enough to captivate her attention. Still, she wanted to find out more about him. She needed to know where her future lie.

“I thought we might go and visit some of my family after we settle into married life.”

Settle.

Her heart started racing. The thought of him coming back to her bedchamber and seducing her went through her mind.

“And…when shall you make your next visit to my bedchamber?”

“Looking forward to it, are you?” he asked cheekily.

“I merely want to be prepared.”

“I don’t think any amount of preparation will fortify you for what I have in mind for you.”

His words were laced with a promise that made her shiver. She looked away from him, and stared out at the landscape that was slowly passing them by.

“I could run away from this sham of a marriage.”

He looked at her with an expression in his eyes that made her burn. “There is nowhere that you can run to, where I shan’t find you, Lady Northam.” His words were dangerous. She believed them.

She was restless. Perhaps, she should have had them bring her Midnight so she could ride him in between riding in the carriage. They were going too quickly for her to get out and walk alongside as some did when they felt too confined.

“You should have brought a book,” he said, opening his eyes up and watching her as she shifted nervously on the satin squabs.

“I should have ridden with Mallory and Elizabeth.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes again. “Will you always be this…vexing?”

“Will you always be this insufferable?” she huffed.

He looked at her steadily, with an expression that was probably meant to intimidate her. She didn’t feel cowed in the slightest. Honestly, she didn’t think that he had it in him to ever lay a violent hand on her.

“As I have said before, wife, I like a challenge.”

“Why won’t you tell me more about your family? I would like to hear about your mother, and if you have any brothers or sisters, and I’m quite surprised that I have never heard of your family before.”

“You do like to rattle on, don’t you? You chirp more than a bird does.”

His last words cut her deeply. She fell silent, and stared listlessly out the window. She was done trying. He could be happy with her cold shoulder from now on. Getting to know him was no longer a priority to her. A megrim hovered behind her eyes. She pulled her travelling cloak closer around her, closed her eyes, and begged for sleep to take her.

Archie watched her sleep. In such a vulnerable state, she looked like an angel. His heart softened more. He was in love with her. There was denying it. Love complicated matters. Love made one weak—and he could never be weak. Sentimentality cost him too much in the past, he was too close to having everything that he had ever wanted. He couldn’t lose his nerve now.

His lady wife wouldn’t be happy with some of the things that he had planned—but she was a survivor. She’d learn how to cope—somehow.

Their carriage came to an abrupt stop, and the jarring motion woke Gemma. She sleepily looked over at him, and the soft smile she gave him made him weak. Stay strong. He had to remain steadfast.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking out of the window. She glanced back at him and her brows were furrowed.

“We…we decided not to go to Brighton just yet.”

“Where are we?”

“I think Mallory can explain that better than I can.”

“Why…why have we come to Welford Abbey?” she asked groggily. 

“I think your brother intends for you to have Welford Abbey now.”

“You lie.”

“No. I do not.”

Hope stirred within her. She had always loved the little manor house. It was quite small compared to Chichester Castle but oh, how she loved its quaint and homey charm. If she couldn’t have Chichester Castle, this was almost as good. 

“It’s…it’s mine? All mine?” she asked weakly. 

“Well, it will be ours, but aye, he’s given it to you…to us as a wedding present.”

Her mouth went dry. This latest announcement had quite undone her.

Archie loved the way she looked now. He could get used to seeing this delighted part of her. Maybe he should gift her with another country house. If being given Welford Abbey pleased her so much, he had a few properties of his own that would probably make her even happier.

“I shall have to tell Charles that he can fix up the treehouse that Malcolm built for me. He’s such an adventurous little monkey, and it will keep him out of trouble, if he has something to focus his energies on.”

“Your brother built you a treehouse?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t imagine you tearing about the estate, in such a wild manner.”

“You called me a hoyden. How is it that you cannot believe that I was once a tomboy?”

“I…I don’t know. You seem far too uppity to have been such a thing, once upon a time.”

This earned him a hell of a scowl, and more silence. He preferred her chattiness to her silence. Her silence unnerved him. When she was silent, she was dangerous. He didn’t want to ever anger her before they went to bed. He might not live to see the morning. The carriage door was whisked open by footmen. “Come along, my lady,” he said cheekily. “I want to see this grand house through your eyes.”

“Go along on your own,” she said stubbornly.

“Now, is not the time for you to have a temper tantrum, Lady Northam.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not wish to indulge you. If you do not come out of that carriage this instant, I shall come back inside for you. Not only that but I will close the carriage door behind us, and…” he dismissed the footmen and leaned in so only she could hear his next words, “And I shall ravish you.”

His thrilling words had the desired effect. She came to attention, and accepted his hand so he could help her out of the coach. The house wasn’t as old as their castle but the oldest parts of it dated back to the Elizabethan Era. It had been remodelled during the reign of George II, and was now quite possibly one of the prettiest manor houses in Sussex.

“Are you happy with the prizes you have received by entering into marriage with me?”

“These are mere trifles. I’m more interested in you, Lady Northam. You are by far the best prize. You are a priceless treasure, and I shall cherish you…if you shall let me.”

He watched her composure soften under his romantic wooing. His words had garnered a bit of affection from her at least. She would find that he had far more where they came from.

“I…uh…” Her attention was diverted to her brother and sister-in-law as they came toward them. Elizabeth handed off her daughter to one of the nursemaids, as everyone bustled into the house.

“Ah, it’s good to be back in this house. I hope that we will still be welcomed here even though it is now your domain, sister?” Mallory asked, giving his full attention to Gemma.

“I could never keep you away,” she said softly. “You should show Charles the treehouse that is out on the grounds.”

“Aye, it’s a fair pace from the house, but he will like it,” Mallory said. “I was quite jealous that Malcolm built it for you and not for me.”

They all laughed. “Sisters have a way of bringing that out in a brother,” Archie said. “They find the softness inside of us, and pounce on it.”

She remained silent, and Archie looked to his side at her cast down face. Losing Malcolm really had shattered her. Without another word, she rushed into the house past astonished staff. He followed her, and pursued her up the grand stairwell. As he left, her heard Elizabeth say, “She’ll never get over him. I wish I had met your Malcolm. He must have been a grand man.”

Archie was only focused on Gemma. He caught her before she had reached what must be her bedchamber door. Catching hold of her right hand, his actions made her falter in her steps. “I…I am sorry, Archie. We lost this house to Elizabeth’s father when my father ruined us at the gaming hells. He was a good father but he had an awfully bad habit that he could never seem to break. It ruined us, and it killed him. We were in penury. We…we had fallen as low as our sort could fall. We barely scratched by, and clung to Chichester Castle with all that we were worth. Had it not been for Mallory we would have lost that Estate as well.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, and he longed to hold her close. He fought for control, and kept his emotions bridled. “I have gone from pauper to heiress, and now…now I belong to you, much like you would own a cow,” her voice broke with emotion, and that was when he was at the end of his tether. He swallowed thickly, and brought her close to him. He held her like that for a few minutes. Silently, she took strength from his comfort, and he enjoyed the nearness of his person to him. He wanted to make her wife tonight, but he knew that he still had to bide his time.

“You are not my chattel,” he said his voice rough.

“You say that now, but what shall a few years bring? Shall you decide that you want me to be your dutiful servant and do your bidding even if I do not wish to?”

“I would never have you do anything that you didn’t want to.”

At his confession, she drew away from him and backed away from him with a startled expression touching her face. She looked surprised by what they had both shared. Fumbling with the doorknob, she finally got it to work, and slipped silently into her bedroom. He resisted the urge to follow her. God almighty, how he wanted to stay with her…he never wanted to have her look at him differently. What he had to do in the coming days would hurt him more than it would hurt her. Protectiveness swelled within him.

Come what may, he would ensure her safety. She was part of his family now, and as she was no longer a St. Martin—her safety was assured. No man would ever set a violent hand on his wife, but violence would come.

Some debts could never be paid—not even in blood.