The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (34 page)

“And meanwhile we dance as if nothing is wrong?”

His fingers tightened around her arms, not bruising like Lansing’s had been, but gentle and firm. “I have a plan, but you have to trust me on this.”

Trust.

She looked into those dark eyes, made darker by the shadows drifting across the moon. His hands were warm on her arms, and she found herself wanting to lean into him. She, Lady Anne, a woman who leaned on no one, who led men instead of being led by them. He wanted her trust, had been asking for it for weeks now. Little did he know, and little had she realized, she’d given him her trust long ago. Her trust and her heart.

Finally acknowledging her feelings should have terrified her, but instead relief lightened her shoulders and her soul. Yes, she’d given this man her heart, although he didn’t know it. Keeping the secret to herself was enough for now, and cherishing it in the long lonely months and years ahead would give her scant comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

“I trust you,” she said.

His breath left him in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for those words for an eternity. He pulled her close with a groan, until their bodies touched and he rested his forehead against hers.

“Ah, Emmaline. You do such things to me. Thank you, love.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, a gentle yet tumultuous kiss that nearly shouted his desire for her. She’d never known it could be this way. Is this what her mother had longed for? Is this what her father walked away from?

Nay. No one had the power to walk away from feelings such as these. She clung to him
as she’d never allowed herself to cling before. Simply because her heart was engaged did not mean she was less of a woman warrior.

“Remember something for me.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Remember this kiss and remember you said you trust me.”

She looked up at him, bewildered. She shivered in apprehension, suddenly terrified at the serious look in his eyes.

Before she was able to ask what he was about, Nicholas took her hand and led her back down the path and toward the lighted mansion. She looked over her shoulder, longing to leave, the pressure inside her intensifying. They were walking into the enemy’s lair when they should be heading for the open seas. She could much more easily fight there than here.

As they entered the ballroom through the door they had left, the governor appeared at their side. “There you are.” He smiled and Emmaline searched his expression for any artifice, finding none. Peter Lansing was obviously the rotten apple on this family tree.

Nicholas stopped, pulling Emmaline up beside him.

“My wife has been searching for you, Lord Addison. She would like to announce your betrothal, if now is an appropriate time.”

Emmaline looked at Nicholas, waiting for him to apologize and say that now was not an appropriate time, that they had to leave due to some emergency, but Nicholas was smiling and nodding, and the sound rushing through Emmaline’s ears drowned out what he was saying. He truly did intend to stay and dance while her world disintegrated around her. Her knees weakened, but she locked them in place. He had a plan and she said she trusted him. Now was the time to prove her trust.

The governor smiled and slapped Nicholas on the back. “She’ll be delighted,” he said, and wandered off in search of his wife. Across the room, Peter leaned against the wall, a drink in his hand, eyeing them.

Nicholas’s hold on her tightened.

Mrs. Lansing rushed up to them, her eyes alight with excitement. She grabbed Emmaline’s
hands as conversations around them halted and everyone turned to look at them. “How exciting.” She practically squealed like a young girl. “And how romantic you chose our house and our ball to get married.”

Emmaline’s head jerked toward Nicholas, who was staring at her with hooded eyes and a somber expression. Married? But … But they were to be betrothed. Not m-married.

“Pardon?” she managed.

Nicholas laughed, pulling Charlotte’s attention from Emmaline. “She’s still a bit shocked. I must admit it is sudden, but Peter planted the idea in my head and I couldn’t let it go. Why wait? Especially when everyone is here to witness the wonderful event.”

Emmaline tried to pull in a much-needed breath, but her lungs were paralyzed.

Making his way toward them, Peter halted midstride, his expression frozen in shock. Nicholas had called his bluff. She had to admit, this definitely diverted Peter’s attention from the ships and Lady Anne, but did he have to take such drastic measures as … as … she couldn’t even form the word in her mind.

She tugged on his arm. “May I speak to you in private? Please.” The please came out more like a hiss.

Nicholas kissed her on the cheek, sending all the ladies to twittering behind their fans. She swore she heard the term “increasing” more than once. Mortified, she prayed the floor would open up and swallow her whole, leaving Nicholas to deal with the mess he’d created.

Wonderful. Now everyone suspected the Widow Sutherland was with child and they were forced to marry.

Peter, finally able to move past his shock, joined his mother, a sly smile on his thin lips. “Did I hear correctly? You are marrying here? Now?”

She turned to Nicholas, awaiting his answer with bated breath, as the rest of the elite population of Barbados was.

Nicholas put her hand on his arm and squeezed her fingers. “Your idea was splendid, Peter. Why wait? Why not a wedding tonight?”

Peter’s gaze went to her, speculative, smoldering with resentment and anger from the realization he’d been the one to push them in this direction.

“Indeed,” he murmured, watching her carefully. “Mrs. Sutherland seems surprised.”

“Overwhelmed,” she managed to say. And surprised and angry. This was beyond acceptable. She couldn’t marry Nicholas Addison. He was … She was … They were unsuited. Their positions unacceptable for matrimony. What would he do once this was all over? Divorce her? Leave her like her father left her mother?

She stiffened and tried to slide her hand off his arm, but he was having none of that. He tightened his hold and shot her a warning look couched in a smile that would melt the heart of any woman in this room. Unfortunately for him, it merely strengthened her resolve.

“Please, darling. I must prepare if we’re to be wed
so soon
.” She smiled back, a warning in her look he was sure not to miss.

“The governor has already sent for the priest, sweet Emmaline. It won’t be long now.”
Trust me
, his eyes said.
Remember our kiss
, his eyes said.

She relaxed a fraction. Of course. This was a ruse. She should have suspected from the beginning. Nicholas would never marry her like this.

Activity at the entrance to the ballroom had people turning around, their whispers of “The priest’s here” ringing through the deafening silence.

“Trust me,” Nicholas whispered in her ear.

She nodded and smiled up at him. He seemed taken aback by her response, but recovered quickly with another warm smile just for her. Oh, how wonderful it would be if this were a true marriage instead of a farce. But those were thoughts for long nights when she was alone. For now she would go along with his plan. And what an ingenious plan it was. Peter Lansing would have to back off now.

The priest stepped up to them, bewildered and looking a little intimidated by the people surrounding him. “This is quite unusual,” he said, his prayer book clutched in his hand.

“We can dispense with the formalities and I will write up a special license after the ceremony.”

The governor practically bounced on his feet.

Special license? She glanced at Nicholas. How was he going to get around that?

The priest opened his book and started reading. Emmaline went to church with Dorothy occasionally, but Dorothy wasn’t devout, so the words held little meaning. She stood beside Nicholas while he spoke his vows. She repeated the words to everyone’s satisfaction and suddenly people were surrounding her, hugging her, wishing her the best. Emmaline suspected Charlotte’s tears were tears of excitement that such an unusual event happened in her home.

Nicholas didn’t let go of her hand, refusing to let anyone part them. Servants brought out champagne and passed it around.

“I was saving the champagne for Peter’s wedding but I believe this event calls for it,” the governor said.

“Let the new couple dance,” Charlotte cried out, and Emmaline wondered if the woman was foxed.

The band began playing and Nicholas escorted Emmaline to the middle of the dance floor. They were all alone, save for the hundreds of eyes watching them.

Emmaline smiled up at him and Nicholas smiled back, his look tender and loving. Oh, he was good, all right. He almost had her convinced.

“This was your idea?” she asked, following his lead as he spun her around.

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

“Very nice. A ruse unworthy of a viscount, but I’m impressed.”

His smiled turned down at the corners. “Ruse? There is no ruse.”

She stumbled, but he hid her misstep easily. “What do you mean? Surely we aren’t … We can’t be …”

He pulled her closer. Too close for propriety. “We most certainly are.”

She jerked back, but his strong arm around her wouldn’t let her get far. “The priest was real? We’re truly married?”

“Truly, legally and in the eyes of God.”

She stumbled again. The bright candlelight dimmed. People’s faced blurred. Her mind didn’t, couldn’t, stay focused long enough to comprehend but one thing. “What have you done?” He looked down at her and frowned. “Are you going to faint?”

“Of course not. I’ve never … fainted … Ever …” But she wasn’t so sure this time. The room grew heated. The fine silk of her gown clung to her, making her skin itch. Her breath came too fast.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Emmaline smiled, or at least hoped she smiled, while inside she died a little more each moment. How could Nicholas do this to her? He knew her feelings on the betrothal. Surely, he must realize she wouldn’t want to actually wed him. What did this do to her plans for revenge? Now that he was her husband, what did it mean for the people who worked her plantation? They relied on her for housing and food.

All her life, Emmaline captained her own destiny, relying on no one. According to English law, she was now at the mercy of Nicholas, who had the authority to do anything he wanted to her. Her heart stuttered and tears pushed against her eyes.

“Smile,” he whispered in her ear, but she couldn’t. Her legs weren’t working properly and she stumbled again.

Nicholas cursed and led her off the dance floor. Faces swam before her eyes.

Peter was but a few feet away, simmering anger in his expression, eyes locked on Emmaline, a warning written deep inside them. If Nicholas had hoped to divert Peter’s accusations, he’d miscalculated.

Emmaline shivered and looked away, her mind reeling.

“My thanks to you, Governor and Mrs. Lansing, for providing such a wonderful place for such a wonderful event. But I fear Emmaline is worn out, and I must take my bride home.”

“So soon?” Charlotte cast a glance around the room. More than likely she wanted them to stay because of the furor they caused at her ball. A ball that would be discussed for weeks to come, if not years. Nicholas and Emmaline definitely would be the topic of many more discussions.

“We are leaving tomorrow, I fear,” Nicholas said.

Peter’s head came up and his ears practically pricked.

“Leaving?” Charlotte’s face fell.

“We have a honeymoon to get to, after all. We shall return soon, however. Emmaline is enamored of her island and I find I’d like to learn more about sugarcane.”

“Good, good,” the governor said, nodding.

A grin touched Peter’s mouth. Emmaline feared they hadn’t turned Peter away after all.

It took longer than necessary to leave. People stopped them to offer their congratulations, eager for something to say the next day when they visited with one another and gossiped over the details and wondered if the new bride was increasing.

What seemed like an eternity later, they were in the carriage, Shamus up top, driving them home. Emmaline turned to the window and looked out. Clouds obscured the moon, giving the landscape a hazy, ethereal quality. There would be a storm tonight.

Tension stretched and expanded between them until she felt she would shatter.

“You’re angry,” Nicholas finally said.

“Yes.”

“I asked you to trust me.”

She made a sound of disbelief that wanted to turn into a sob. Since she never cried in front of anyone, she stifled it.

He touched her knee. She jerked it away. He sighed. She closed her eyes against the pain of betrayal and heartache.

“I did it to save you,” he said quietly.

“Forgive me if I don’t see that at the moment.”

“Emmaline, please look at me.”

“I find I am unable, my lord.”

“What would you have had me do?”

Against her better judgment and despite her words, she looked at him. There wasn’t much to see in the darkness except the downward turn of his mouth and the lines of fatigue on either side. Even though she was angry—furious—her heart hurt for this man. No doubt, he didn’t want to be burdened with a pirate for a wife. No doubt, he had plans to marry someone more fitting to his station in life. He was as stuck as she was, and yet the thought didn’t cool her anger.
He
was the one who did this to them.

“You could have cried off. You could have told them some urgent business called you back to England. You could have left us. We managed before without you.”

“Then what? You would have been forever looking over your shoulder, wondering when Peter Lansing would strike.”

“Marrying me was a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

In the darkness, she felt his sigh as much as heard it. His hand came down on hers. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Consider this, Emmaline. If we marry, I will not be able to turn you over to Kenmar or the king. I won’t ruin my family name by branding my wife a pirate.”

“How very noble of you.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Why is marriage to me so abhorrent?”