At Last

At Last

Jacquie
D’Alessandro

First published in the UK
in
The Mammoth Book of Scottish
Romance
by Robinson, an imprint of
Constable & Robinson, 2011

Original Copyright 2011 ©
Jacquie D’Alessandro

Ebook Copyright 2011 ©
Jacquie D’Alessandro

Cover Copyright 2011 ©
Jacquie D’Alessandro

Ebook ISBN:
978-1-4524-8764-9

Ebook edition published by
D’Alessandro Associates, Inc. at Smashwords.com, April
2011

This book is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead,
is entirely due to the author's narrative. All rights reserved. No
part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission
in writing from Jacquie D’Alessandro, except in the case of brief
quotations for articles or reviews.

This Ebook version is
dedicated to all the men and women serving in our Armed Forces for
the sacrifices they make to keep our country safe. And as always,
to my wonderful husband Joe who is constantly helpful and
supportive, and our terrific son, Christopher, aka Helpful and
Supportive, Jr.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter 1

London, 1820

“
Dear God, what is
he
doing
here?”

The words rushed past Sophia Mallory,
Countess Winterbourne’s lips in a horrified whisper, her gaze
riveted on the tall, raven-haired man who stood framed in the
carved archway leading into the elegant ballroom. The sounds of
Lord and Lady Benningfield’s annual soiree--laughter mixed with the
hum of conversation, the lilt of the musician’s waltz, the clink of
fine crystal, all faded to a dull buzz in Sophia’s mind, as did the
more than two hundred guests milling about. Everything fell away
except him.

Ian
Broderick
.

His name reverberated through her brain and
she blinked, certain he was some figment of her imagination--not a
completely farfetched notion as in spite of her best efforts to
forget him, he’d invaded her mind daily since she’d left him six
months ago. She blinked again, but his image remained in the
doorway, larger than life, striking panic in her heart.

How had he, a man of no social standing,
managed to secure an invitation to one of Society’s premier events
of the season? Her stunned gaze flicked over the midnight blue
cutaway jacket that exactly matched his eyes and emphasized the
breadth of his shoulders. The intricate knot of his snowy cravat,
the burgundy and green plaid waistcoat that proclaimed him a Scot.
Perhaps his current elegant attire, freshly shaved face and neatly
trimmed hair--all the complete antithesis of the rough, workmen’s
clothing, day-old stubble, and untamed locks he’d sported the last
time she’d seen him--might have rendered him unrecognizable to
some, but Sophia would have known him anywhere, would have sensed
his presence even had the room been completely dark instead of
illuminated by dozens of candles. Where on earth had a
groundskeeper from the small Scottish town of Melrose procured such
expensive, perfectly tailored clothes?

The questions flew from her mind and her
stomach clenched when her attention returned to his face and she
noted his sharp gaze intently panning the room. He couldn’t
possibly be looking for her--could he? No, she’d been very careful
to hide her full identity from him. Yet, the very fact he was here
rippled a fissure of terror through her that his unexpected
appearance somehow had something to do with her.

Escape. She had to escape. Immediately.
Before he saw her. For even if he weren’t at this soiree because of
her, his discovering her here would set in motion any number of
scenarios, none of which would end well for her.

He hadn’t seen her yet--but based on the way
his gaze scanned the room, those intense eyes would fall upon her
within seconds. In spite of the crowd, her unfashionable height
unfortunately made her easy to spot. With her heart pounding hard
enough to bruise her ribs, she started to turn away, her every
instinct intent upon escape. A gloved hand grasped her upper arm,
stilling her.

“
Heavens, who is that
utterly divine man?”

Sophia tried to shake loose of Christine
Archer, Viscountess Handley’s, hold, but her best friend’s
tenacious grip tightened. As Christine was staring toward the
archway across the room, Sophia didn’t question to which “utterly
divine man” Christine referred.

“
I...I must go.” Sophia
pulled her arm free and desperately looked for the nearest exit.
Her gaze lit upon the French windows leading to the terrace and she
quickly stepped in that direction. But her hopes for a fast escape
were thwarted by the seemingly endless wall of revelers standing
between her and freedom.

“
Sophia, are you all
right?” asked Christine. She stepped directly in front of Sophia
and her expression immediately turned to one of deep concern.
“Darling, you’re pale as wax. You look as if you’ve seen a
ghost.”

I have
. In the form of a man she never thought she’d see again. One
she’d hoped never to see again. A ghost from her past she’d been
trying desperately to forget, lest it cost her everything. And
right now that past stood terrifyingly close. If the truth were to
come out--

She ruthlessly cut off the thought, and
keeping her back toward the man on the opposite side of the room,
she offered Christine what she hoped passed for a sheepish
expression. “Too much champagne, I’m afraid,” she lied, praying her
very observant friend wouldn’t recall she’d imbibed nothing
stronger than lemonade. “I’ve the most dreadful headache and simply
cannot stand the noise and this crush.”

Christine’s gaze turned sympathetic. “A good
night’s sleep is what you need. Although I hate that you’re
leaving, especially since that luscious stranger just appeared in
the doorway. I’ve no idea who he is, but I intend to find out.”

Dread rippled down Sophia’s spine. “Your
husband would surely object to such fascination in another
man.”

Christine laughed.
“Darling, I’m married--not dead. There is no sin in merely
looking.” Her gaze shifted over Sophia’s shoulder and a mischievous
grin curved her lips. “Although I’d wager that man knows a great
deal about sin.” She returned her attention to Sophia. “I’m certain
my Henry
would
object to my fascination--if that fascination was purely on
my behalf. However, it is you I’m thinking of, Sophia. You need
something--or some
one
--to lift your spirits.” Christine reached out and gently
squeezed Sophia’s hands. “It’s been nearly three years since
Robert’s death. It’s time to stop mourning. Time to live
again.”

An image of her deceased husband’s face, his
warm brown eyes sparkling with humor flashed through Sophia’s mind,
a mental picture that was instantly replaced by one of intense dark
blue eyes that seemed to burn a whole through her skin.

“
I’m fine,” she said, her
battle to remain calm rapidly slipping away. “I’ll start living
again tomorrow--after a good night’s sleep to rid me of this
headache.” She slipped her hands from Christine’s and with her head
down and knees bent to minimize her height, she began weaving her
way through the throng toward the French windows.

“
I’ll hold you to that
promise,” Christine called after her. “Expect me to call upon you
tomorrow afternoon.”

Sophia nodded without turning around and
focused on fleeing. When she reached the French windows, she
grasped the curved brass handle and opened the paned glass panel
just enough to slip outside. A gust of unseasonably chilly air,
heavy with the threat of rain, swirled around her, pebbling her
skin, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Heart pounding, she
anxiously peered back into the ballroom, her staccato breaths
fogging the glass. Dread seized her when she noted Ian no longer
stood under the archway leading into the ballroom, but then she
spied the back of a dark head standing on the far side of the room,
near the punch bowl. The man’s height identified him as Ian and
Sophia sucked in a quick breath of relief. Thank God. Now she just
needed to circle around to the front of the mansion then request
her carriage be sent. She cursed the delay that would entail, but
intending to ask Christine and Henry to escort her home, she’d
dismissed her driver. At least she’d escaped the ballroom
undetected. And once ensconced inside her vehicle, with the velvet
curtains drawn, she’d be safe.

She turned. And froze at the sight of the
snowy cravat mere inches from her nose.

“
Going somewhere, Sophia?”
Ian’s husky voice, rich with the flavor of Scotland, filled the
darkness between them.

And with a sinking heart Sophia knew, that
with those three simple words, everything she’d tried to escape had
found her.

Chapter 2

Ian stared at the woman who, for the past
six months he’d moved heaven and earth to find and two words
pounded through his head, in perfect time to his thundering
heart.

At last
.

She looked at him through those huge, golden
brown eyes that had grabbed him by the throat the first moment he’d
seen her. He’d been taking his customary solitary walk through the
cool forest that marked the border between the outskirts of Melrose
and the secluded, back acreage of Marlington Hall. As he’d neared
the forest’s end, where the shade melted into a gilded blaze of
late summer sunshine, he’d been so engrossed in his thoughts, he
hadn’t noticed her until a mere twenty feet separated them.

She’d stood in profile to him, framed in
sunlight, amidst an explosion of colorful wildflowers, holding a
bouquet of pink roses obviously picked from the abundance
surrounding her. He’d halted, surprised at the unexpected sight of
her, and irritated at the disruption of his solitude. A visitor to
the area, he decided, as the locals all knew and respected
Marlington Hall’s property boundaries.

In no mood for company, he was about to
withdraw without making his presence known when she reached up and
slowly pulled the pins from her hair. Suddenly transfixed, he
watched a curtain of glossy sable curls unfurl down her back. After
shaking her head, she closed her eyes and tipped back her head. A
slow smile spread across her sun-kissed features, and with a
delighted laugh, she spread her arms wide and spun around in
circles, her glorious hair and plain brown gown flying around
her.

The sight had enchanted him. When was the
last time he’d felt such pure joy? He couldn’t recall. Couldn’t
tear his gaze from her. Couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to be
alone. Then, with her cheeks flushed and lips still curved in a
smile framed by a pair of beguiling dimples, she’d stopped and
caught sight of him.

His first look into those warm, golden brown
eyes had walloped him right in the heart. Heat that had nothing to
do with the bright sunshine raced through him and in the space of a
single heartbeat, he’d found himself...something. Smitten?
Bewitched? Neither word seemed adequate to describe the struck by
lightning sensation that had rendered him incapable of doing
anything more than staring and drinking her in. All he knew was
that catching her in that unguarded, carefree moment had touched a
place deep inside him, one that had felt dead for so damn long. And
that for the first time in a year he’d felt something other than
bleak numbness--his constant companion since the accident that had
irrevocably changed his life.

She’d raised her hand to shade those
Scottish whiskey eyes then moistened her lips, a gesture that
riveted his gaze on her lush mouth. For several seconds she stared
at him as if she too had been struck, but then her smile faded, and
uncertainty, along with a flash of fear flickered in her gaze,
rousing him from his stupor. Of course she’d be wary of a stranger
in such an isolated spot, and God knows he hadn’t wanted to scare
her off.