Three Proposals and a Scandal: A Sons of Sin Novella (14 page)

“That was well done,” Sidonie said.

“It was,” Hillbrook agreed. “I hope it’s third time lucky for him.”

“He needs to find a nice woman past first youth who will appreciate his qualities as a man, rather than his appeal as a marital catch.” Sidonie turned to Marianne and Elias. “I do so hope you’ll get married here.”

Marianne glanced at Elias. “That’s very nice of you.”

Sidonie smiled. “Don’t you understand? You’re our friends. We’d count it a privilege to host your nuptials.”

“If the weather cooperates, I should be back by the end of the week,” Elias said to Marianne. “I don’t want to wait to make you mine. And thanks to Tranter’s outrages, the sooner we’re wed, the better.”

She smiled back, although her father’s wounding repudiation rang in her ears. “I’ve cast my bonnet over the windmill. There’s nothing to be gained in delay.”

“And much to be gained with swiftness,” he said in a low voice. He meant that she’d come to his bed all the sooner. The thought filled her with nerves and excitement.

“Then we accept with pleasure,” she said to the Hillbrooks, stepping out of Elias’s hold, but remaining at his side.

“Lovely,” Sidonie said, hugging her.

“You and this louse will leave at first light.” Hillbrook hauled Tranter up, maintaining brutal possession of his arm. “I hope you’re not planning any more high jinks, my lord. I’ll trust you to walk out of this room without coercion.”

When Lord Hillbrook released him, Tranter was wise enough to keep silent. Sidonie headed for the door. “Tomorrow, we’ll plan the wedding. What fun, Marianne.”

Marianne frowned. “Surely we’ll only have a small ceremony.”

“I want no suggestion that this is a hole in the corner affair. The chapel at Barstowe Hall will be perfect. If we’re flooded in, we’ll row across the river. A wedding afloat will be
de rigueur
before we’re done. I wonder if we can get the Fairbrothers and the Rothermeres here in time. It would be lovely to have everyone together on such a special day.”

Elias caught Marianne’s hand as she went to follow Sidonie. “Thank you,” he said, reaching to touch her jaw.

She released an agonized squeak.

His touch had been gentle, but he caught her just where Tranter had hit her. Realization of exactly what had happened in the conservatory entered Elias’s eyes, along with a blind, consuming rage. She recoiled, although his anger wasn’t aimed at her.

“Tranter?” he said in a flat voice.

“Yes?” Tranter turned back toward Elias. He was nearly at the door.

Without speaking, Elias crossed the room in four swift strides and rammed his fist into Tranter’s face.

“For pity’s sake, man…” Tranter staggered back. He struggled to summon some defense, but Elias was too fast. A cut to the belly had the blond man reeling and gagging.

“Touch her again and you’re a dead man,” Elias snarled, and this time the blow to Tranter’s jaw brought him down with a crash.

Chest heaving, Elias stood over Tranter who groggily tried to sit against the wall. “Get up, you bastard, so I can hit you again.”

Marianne rushed to catch one closed hand. “Leave him, Elias, he’s not worth your trouble.”

Elias’s black eyes were opaque as they met her troubled gaze. She thought he hadn’t heard her. Then a glimmer of reason appeared. “He hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Oh, Elias,” she said on a broken note. She raised his bruised hand to her lips and kissed the torn knuckles. “He doesn’t matter.”

“He hurt you,” Elias said stubbornly.

Marianne had never had a champion before. Knowing that this man would give his life to keep her safe filled her with such piercing gratitude that tears pricked her eyes. She said the words she’d never spoken to anyone. “I love you.”

“Marianne, my darling—” Elias began as the door burst open and Richard dashed in.

“Jonas, the skies are clearing and there’s a moon. Not sure how long it will last, but do you want to row across the river and check the damage there?” He stopped and regarded the scene with elegant surprise. “Good Gad, looks like you’ve all been having fun without me.”

“We had a spot of unpleasantness, but all’s well now.” Hillbrook’s aplomb matched his friend’s. “Pray congratulate the happy couple.”

Coolly Richard surveyed the room. “Desborough joined the rest of your guests a few minutes ago. So he’s out of the running. Tranter’s on the floor nursing his bruises. So I’m guessing…Elias won Lady Marianne.”

“Just so,” Hillbrook said. “Now I mean to tear him away from his new betrothed. If we’ve got a break in the weather, we need to move. Elias, can you quickly gather what you need for a ride to London?” Two footmen appeared behind Richard. “Capital. Frederick and Edward, carry Lord Tranter to the boatshed and see he doesn’t leave until we’ve got him aboard. Knock him out if he objects.” The butler arrived to hear this unconventional pronouncement, but his bland features didn’t change. “Goward, arrange for Lord Tranter’s belongings to be down at the river in the next twenty minutes. There’s no time to be lost.”

The room exploded into activity. The footmen dragged out a woozy but vociferously complaining Tranter. Sidonie left to check medical supplies. Richard and Hillbrook went to change into their traveling clothes. Finally Elias and Marianne remained alone.

“How do you feel?” he asked, carefully tilting her face up to the light.

She managed a smile, although the idea of losing him, however briefly, now that she’d finally found him seemed too cruel. “He slapped me a couple of times. It’s nothing serious.”

His lips flattened. “I take it very seriously indeed. I wish I’d killed the bugger.”

“Really, it’s nothing much. I’ll get Sidonie to look at it.”

“I hate to leave you.”

“It won’t be for long. And when you come back, we’ll be married.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Travel safely.” She hardly believed that the evening’s disasters had reached such a hopeful end. With the exception of the bitter rift with her father, she couldn’t have asked for a better conclusion.

“I will.” He smiled faintly, stroking her cheek. His touch soothed the lingering soreness in the most magical way. “And try not to find any more men who want to marry you until I get back. Fending off your suitors is dashed exhausting.”

“I promise.” She knew that it was stupid to want to throw herself against him and beg him to stay.

He must have seen the distress she tried so hard to hide because he cradled her head in his palms. “I’ll be back in a few days. Then we’ve got the rest of our lives together.”

“I know,” she said, gallantly trying not to cry—and failing.

He saw how close she was to breaking. His expression softened and he gently ran his hands along her shoulders, lifting the collar of his coat so that it hugged high against her neck. The gesture’s unspoken tenderness only made her more tearful.

“Elias, unless you’re going to London in what’s left of your evening dress, you need to get changed now,” Hillbrook said from the doorway. He wore breeches and boots and a heavy greatcoat. A high-crowned beaver hat dangled from one hand.

“You have to go,” Marianne said hoarsely, raising her hands to Elias’s where they closed the coat at her throat to keep her warm. “Just make sure you come back.”

Frustration flashed in his eyes at this unsatisfactory parting. “Nothing could keep me away, darling.”

“Elias!”

Ignoring Hillbrook’s impatient summons, Elias leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was short but powerful, weighted with all the words he needed to say.

He drew away, staring at her as if imprinting her image on his memory. “Dream of me.”

“Always,” she whispered, but he was already gone.

Their wedding made it more difficult for Elias to enjoy a quiet minute with his new wife than courtship ever had. He’d hardly shared a private word with Marianne since returning from London late last night. By the time he entered the bedroom Sidonie and Jonas had assigned them, he was ready to explode with frustration.

That morning, he and Marianne had been married in Barstowe’s chapel. She’d chosen a pretty sky-blue gown, and Jonas had stood up in her absent father’s place. They’d returned to Ferney in brilliant sunshine for a spectacular breakfast. All day, happy people had surrounded the bride and groom. Happy people he cared about, but the company had soon lost its charm when all he wanted was to have his wife to himself.

Then he saw Marianne standing by the fire and she smiled with a welcome he’d waited his entire life to find. The day’s minor vexations melted away like snow in the summer sun.

“You’re so lovely,” he said in a hushed voice. “I don’t deserve you.”

A gold and vermillion dressing gown covered his nakedness. Given how edgy he felt, he wasn’t sure this was the wisest choice of clothing. Perhaps he should have pulled on a suit of armor.

She extended one slender hand in his direction. He was disgustingly pleased and proprietorial to catch the glint of her wedding band on the fourth finger. “I thought they’d never leave us. I’ve longed to be alone with you all day.”

Much as he relished it, he didn’t immediately accept her invitation. Instead he lingered to savor the moment, to etch it into his memory. He’d spent so long convinced she’d never marry him. This occasion needed its full due. When he was old, he’d remember the night he claimed Marianne Seaton as his. And he’d know that his life had been worthwhile.

His stumbling praise of her beauty had been inadequate. His wife looked like a goddess or a sensual angel. Her white satin nightdress clung to her luscious curves. The sleeve dipped back from her outstretched forearm, revealing the pale perfect skin and graceful wrist. Her lustrous hair, rich mink, flowed down her back.

She was the answer to every erotic fantasy. She looked pure and untouched, a pearl. He swallowed to shift the emotion crammed into his chest. He loved her so much.

He attempted to lighten the atmosphere. Tonight should be joyous, not weighted with past troubles. “Are you sure Sidonie isn’t hiding behind the curtains? No Genevieve under the bed? No Nell lurking in the dressing room?”

Her lips quirked. “They all left ten minutes ago.”

“What about Pen and Sophie?”

“Downstairs as far as I know.”

“I don’t want them pouncing when I kiss you,” he said, although he was overwhelmed at the effort his friends had made to turn this hurried wedding into a celebration. Harry and Sophie, James and Nell, Cam and Pen had all traveled miles to attend the ceremony. Sidonie and Jonas, with Richard and Genevieve’s help, had mounted a lavish party.

Marianne’s blue eyes were deeper than the ocean. “I thought you were glad to see your brother and sister.”

“I am.” At last he crossed the room to take her hand. Satisfaction filled him at how readily her fingers curled around his. “But I’ve suffered nearly a week without you. Right now, my family can go to the devil. The whole world, with the exception of you, my darling, can go to the devil with them.”

Amusement lit her eyes. He’d worried about her today, that she’d miss her father or shrink from the boisterous well-wishers. But he’d been beguiled and moved to watch her reserve disappear under the waves of open affection.

In London, he’d been outraged at the caricatures featuring a melting half-naked ice princess in the arms of an insipid blond nitwit. Now, he dismissed the world’s clamor as meaningless noise. Nobody who saw his bride tonight could doubt that she was anything but vital, generous woman. And a wife any man would be proud to call his own.

“We’re alone now. If you lock the door, we’ll stay that way.”

“Excellent suggestion.” He leaned in to kiss her. His circumspect peck during the ceremony had merely stoked raging hunger. Ever since that breathtaking interval in Jonas’s music room a week ago, he’d burned.

Her lips were soft and parted sweetly to his, but he raised his head before the kiss deepened into passion. He meant to be careful with her tonight, no matter how fiercely he wanted her.

“After I’ve kissed you.”

Her eyes slowly opened. She looked gratifyingly dazed. “You just did.”

“Again then.”

This time he briefly slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. When he turned away and crossed to turn the key, he nearly stumbled. She wasn’t the only one knocked silly by their kisses.

When he turned back, she was at the sideboard pouring two brandies. He heard a clink as her unsteady hand bumped the decanter against the rim of a glass.

“Is my gallant bride afraid?” he asked softly.

Ravishing color tinged her cheeks as she passed him a glass. “No.”

He tilted his eyebrows at her. “Really?”

She picked up her brandy. “Perhaps a little nervous. But that’s not the same as afraid.”

“Do you remember the night in the music room?” He took a sip, although he already felt intoxicated with the knowledge that this marvelous creature had consented to be his wife.

The pink in her cheeks intensified. “Of course.”

He recognized that anticipation sparked her jumpiness. “Tonight will be like that.”

“What we did then was wonderful.” Her voice lowered to seriousness. “That next night, I hoped we’d do it again. When I received that note asking me to go to the conservatory, I was sure you’d sent it.”

He paused, glass halfway to his mouth. “The idea that you met Tranter willingly never crossed my mind.”

He watched her tension ease as she sipped her brandy. “You trusted me more than I trusted you. I should have always known that you weren’t a liar.”

After his second—thank God, successful—proposal, they’d parted so abruptly that they needed to clarify some issues. He took her hand. It rested trembling in his grasp. His thumb brushed the gold ring, that tangible symbol of their triumph over the obstacles separating them.

“You were just a bit muddleheaded. And Cam’s defection had hit your confidence. No wonder you feared I was a fortune hunter.” Cam’s defection and her father’s subtle tyranny, convincing her that unless she was an obedient cipher, she had no value. But wisdom kept him silent on that subject. He wasn’t naïve enough to hope the scars Lord Baildon had inflicted had healed.