Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two)

Michael has been Elise’s future husband since she was ten...

Only he didn’t know this.

“I detest smelling salts!” Elise opened her eyes and shoved the offending bottle away from her face, then gave him a frosty glare.

“Then you should not have fainted.” Relief flowed through Michael. For a moment fear of losing her had paralyzed him, but when he realized what had happened he’d ordered the coach to stop and called for her maid to help him. God, he was going to hate explaining this to her brother.

“I didn’t faint. I
never
faint.”

He cracked a cocksure grin. “Right.”

“Did I hear my lady? Has she come to?” Bridget asked behind him.

Elise tried to sit up, but he held her down. “Rest. Your maid’s just concerned. Yes, she’s finally come around,” he said to the maid. “Why do you women insist on wearing things like this—” Michael held up the spencer. “—on warm days like today?”

“Because,” the servant said, “to appear indecently dressed will bring the wrath of society down onto her head. It’s my job to see that she at least appears conventional.”

“Did you...?” Elise sputtered, apparently just noticing her sleeveless dress and unbuttoned collar. “How did...?”

“I removed it to aid in cooling you. Don’t worry, I didn’t take any liberties. I was too busy fanning you with your book.” He lowered his voice so Bridget couldn’t hear him, and added, “Besides, when that time comes, I want you very much conscious, my sweet.” Smiling, he thought, how he looked forward to that day.

Elise muttered something he didn’t fully catch, though it sounded like a rant about stubborn men and their misguided allegiance. Michael knew she was well when she turned another frigid glance his way. “Let’s be off then,” he said. “Woodhenge is still some four hours distant, without the stop for lunch.” He held Elise’s hand, preventing her from leaving the coach and riding with her waiting maid. “No. You stay with me. She can ride in the other coach.”

“Oh! You arrogant cur,” she hissed. “I don’t
want
to ride with you.”

He held his tongue thinking she would definitely want to be with him before this day was over. If only he could restrain his frustration at her insolence. “Be that as it may, you will.” He sent Bridget back to her vehicle, and shut the door on theirs. Soon they were underway once again.

Within minutes Elise fidgeted with the book she’d finished. He could tell she was contemplating re-reading the thing to avoid talking to him. He didn’t want that. He wanted her ebullience and vivaciousness to fill the coach. He wanted to talk to her, explaining the decision he’d come to, and ask if she’d still felt the same about him, and about a possible future together. Then afterward, assuming she still did, he would laugh with her, hold her, touch her, kiss her.

But if she didn’t, he had only twenty four hours in which to change her mind. And the only way to begin with this spirited minx was to be honest, because that was the one thing he knew she valued beyond measure. She always had.

“Do you remember that night at the Holderman’s?” he began, his voice sounding somewhat strange, even to himself.
Maintain control
, his brain ordered his heart. When she nodded, he continued, “Do you remember what you said?”

“I’m afraid I said a great deal that night,” she said as she stared out the window. “I cannot remember specifically what it is you wish me to recall.”

Michael took a deep breath, almost afraid to begin. “You said, ‘
Have you ever known something to be so right and true in your deepest heart, without ever knowing how it could be that you know.
’ I have not forgotten your words. You spoke from your heart when you said that.” She turned to face him, and he thought he saw a flicker of something, an emotion deep inside her she was yet unwilling to give rise to, so he continued, hoping it was the response he’d wanted. “I think I understand what you meant now, because I don’t know where this feeling is coming from. I only know that I don’t want to lose it.”

“May I ask how you came to this conclusion?” Her voice barely contained her emotion. He could see that she wanted to believe him, and he could only continue as he’d began, with honesty.

“On my word, Elise, this... this... whatever-it-is between us caught me very much unaware. One day, you were just Ren’s annoying sister, and the next I wanted you and at the same time knew I could never have you. Then I started thinking on
why
I couldn’t and every reason came back to one thing—the agreement your brother and I made when we were young, in which we promised each other sisters were off limits. At the time it was made, I worried about your brother breaking Christina’s heart. You were never an issue, as you were just a child.”

She didn’t react to his speech, but he could see she was fighting a smile. Michael removed the loosened cravat completely, as it was growing warmer and more stuffy inside the slow-going coach. He shed his unbuttoned waistcoat, tossing it onto the seat with his jacket, and continued, “Then there was our age difference. In my head, I wasn’t seeing you as the young woman you’ve become, but rather as the little sister of my friend. Am I making sense so far?”

Michael could see the hope bubbling just beneath the surface, but she just nodded mutely. He went on. “That night, at the Holderman’s, you tried to tell me the age issue was irrelevant, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. Then
you
, termagant that you are, arranged that evening at the theater with Huddleston and Wilson.”

“I’ve got questions about that...” she began, but as realization dawned, her eyes first widened with shock, then narrowed with skepticism. “How did you know....”

He held up a hand to cut her off. “Later, please. Let me finish. When I asked Ren about allowing someone older than me to court you, he reminded me of a few things and clarified others, basically telling me what you’d said the night of the Holderman’s ball—that our age difference would not be an issue with him.

“Once that began to sink in, I started to see that I couldn’t allow someone to ‘tame’ you or break your spirit. It was the one thing about you that always drew me to you. That’s what makes you special.”

“You followed me the other night,” she said. He loved that tilt she got to her head when she asked him a question. “And you heard Edgcumbe, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I only thought to be there to protect you should you need me. Though you obviously held your own. I should have known you would be fine. You are a strong and direct young woman. Edgcumbe is like a colt still finding his legs, and not what you need, Elise. In a few years time, he would have worn your spirit down and you wouldn’t be happy. Neither would he. Then, soon after, he’d seek his comfort elsewhere, be it his club, gaming, or a mistress. And you would continue to grow older and unhappier.” He paused and let his words sink in.

“Look at me. Please, Elise.” When she did, he spoke again. “That’s not what I want for you.”

It seemed an eternity to him while she quietly digested his words. True to what he knew of her nature, she asked, “Why are telling me this? Now?”

“Because I want to kiss you again, Elise.”

A
LREADY
H
IS

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013, Sandy Raven

ISBN: 978-1-939359-05-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and/or reviews.

Cover design by
The Killion Group, Inc.

www.thekilliongroupinc.com

Formatting by
Author E.M.S.

http://www.authorems.com

Dear Reader,

Already His
is the second book in my series,
The Caversham Chronicles
,
and I hope you enjoy Michael and Elise’s story as much I loved writing it.

This book is special to me because the heroine and I have one passion in common. Horses.

Note that the type of horsemanship Elise practices in this book likely didn’t exist at that time in the form we would recognize it, even though Xenophon had written his book
On Horsemanship
around 350 BC, and Daniel Sullivan (d.1810) had already whispered his way across Ireland. Anyway I cannot, in all good conscience, write something my heart doesn’t believe is humane (i.e., the normal horsemanship practiced then,) so I didn’t do it. I believe in and practice safe and humane horsemanship, and cannot see any heroine I create doing otherwise. Elise also rides astride which women did do at the time according to my research. It was much more common in the countryside on the mainland, rather than in England itself, and women usually wore breeches of some sort under the skirts of their riding habit. Keep in mind that during this, my favorite period in English history, society believed it was undignified for a lady to ride astride. And when all a young lady had to recommend her were the size of her dowry, familial connections, and her reputation, they usually kept their reputations pretty spotless.

This Summer, the third book in the series.
Loving Sarah
returns to the ocean, and you’ll find the preview first chapter at the end of this book. It’s the story of Ren’s youngest sister who wasn’t in London during the events in this second book as she was too young, but she does make an appearance in the Epilogue.

Sarah craves adventure and thinks the three Seasons she’s had have been enough. She’s ready to settle into a comfortable spinsterhood. But first, there are a few things she wants to accomplish while she’s young enough to do so. One of those things is sail across the Atlantic in a race that her brother-by-marriage, Lucky Gualtiero, and his business partner, Ian Ross, are participating in. Knowing she will be sacrificing a great deal by doing it, she stows onto his ship waiting until after the start of the race to make herself known.

Except she didn’t make it to the right boat.

I would love to hear from you! So, if you have any questions or comments, I’m online at:

www.SandyRaven.com

and on Facebook at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandyRavenAuthor

Sincerely,

Sandy Raven

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my natural horsemanship mentor and friend, Janet Schipper. If I could just have an ounce of your understanding of how a horse thinks inside my brain, I’d be a much better horsewoman than I am.

To my DH, Curtis. They say that necessity is the mother of invention. But it’s also the maker of a pretty darn good proofreader and copy-editor. Thanks for helping me out. I owe you.

To Gail Shelton. You’re the best editor and friend a writer can have.

To my D1. You’re the absolute best I.T. Department a mom can have. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.

To my D2. You get me, and for that I love you more than you could ever know.

To Janet, Marilyn, Beverly and Nita. I have known no finer horsewomen in my life. I am honored to call you my friends.

P
ROLOGUE

Woodhenge (near Goring), Summer 1808

M
ichael Brightman, heir to the pile of crumbling stone in which he currently found himself, hurried through the narrow corridors, eager to reach the rooms he kept in this, his uncle’s home. He thought about his odds of finding a willing wench among the kitchen or laundry staff at that moment, but decided against it. And the village was certainly too far to travel in the middle of his older sister Sabrina’s wedding feast, take care of business, and return. Damn his balls, but the past two hours of staring at Miss Stansbury’s delectable decolletage—and envisioning his face planted between those luscious breasts—caused an uncomfortable tightness is his breeches that would need relief soon, whether by his own hand, or a willing woman.