Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (42 page)

“Get Brandywine to release me! I won’t bother you
again, I swear. I’m sorry the baby makes an annulment
impossible, but you can get a bill of divorcement.
Hell, you’re rich enough to get anything you bloody well
please.
I won’t fight
it. You’ll be free.
”

“I can’t just let you go, Gil. Surely you know that?”

In answer he dropped his head into his hands and shook. Helene wrapped her arms about him and held on as
his sobs tore through both of them.

“Gillian.... Lovely, tender Gillian. I didn’t know.”

“Go to hell.”  The words were muffled against his sleeve.

“Uh…no. I’ve been there. It’s not pleasant.”

“And this is? Get away from me, Helene. Please? Allow me
something. I’ll concede to anything you wish, just get the hell
away from me!”

He swiveled and pushed at her, and only by strength of will
did she manage to hang onto his neck. But he wouldn’t raise his head and look at her. And that scared her.

“Gillian, look at me.”

He shook his head.

“Well, you’re going to have to look at me sooner or later, because I’m not giving you freedom that easily. I’ve
heard how much the marriageable misses pine for you! It’ll be
a cold day in hell before I give you a divorcement. Think of your
mother, for pity’s sake, and the scandal! Think, Sir, of your son
growing up with that cloud over his head.”

“What do you want of me, Helene? You’ve brought me to my
knees, and now you tease?”  He gave a heavy sigh and continued looking at the floor. “I suppose I deserve that, too, don’t I?
Go ahead. Tease. Pick. Cut. Slice. Finish off whatever is left of my male pride, and then let me up. I’ll leave. Trust me. You won’t have to ever see Gillian Tremayne again.
I doubt I can face the bastard in the mirror, and I have little
choice.”

“Oh, Gillian, surely you’ve mistaken the part of your anatomy
I’ve brought you to. You, most definitely, are not on your knees.”

“Is that supposed to be amusing?”

“Well…I admit I’m not quite as adept as you, Gil. I doubt anyone other than a Shakespearean actor could approach your dramatics,
but I am trying here.”

“All right! I mistook the emotion. You’re not trying to be
amusing, you’re rubbing salt into the wounds.”

“I’m trying to stay married to you, Gillian, and you’re not
making it easy with all this self-hatred. Sweet heaven, you rescued me
!”

“Come on, Helene. I put you in Napoleon’s clutches in the
first place. The least I could do was mount a rescue.”

‘”I’m not talking about Paris! I’m referring to the sanatorium
and my nightmares and the blank episodes I used to experience. Do you realize how much Chateau Montriart
affected my sleep? How often I relived the executions? How frightening it was to wake and not know what you said? What happened?”

“Oh…hell. Can’t you just get a sword and hack away with it, Helene? I wouldn’t fight it. Really. I’ll help you.”

His voice was hoarse. Weary. Helene reached for his chin to lift his head, but he turned his face, putting his nose right against his shoulder.

“Gillian, look at me.” 

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“What the hell do you want, Helene? What will it take? How much? And for how long?
”

“Very well, let’s summarize, shall we?”

She could’ve sworn he caught his breath. She didn’t know
if that was a good sign, but delay was for the faint of heart, and she had too much to lose.

“For starters,” she began, “I’d like you to quit abusing your
wardrobe. I’m a fairly rich woman, but at the rate you tear
clothing, my purse will soon be stressed. Secondly, I’d like to name
our firstborn son Gillian Montriart Tremayne. You may name our additional children.
Thirdly, I’ve designs on my devastating husband,
but he’s devilishly difficult to coax into my bed at the moment, and I’d appreciate
your help.

“Next, I’ve tired of these constant reminder
s of the past…although the gazebo was quite wonderful. Wonderful is the right word,
isn’t it? No
answer? Very well, I’ll continue. I love you. I’ve been in love with you
since...I believe Reginald informed me of my feelings at Almack’s. Yes. That was it. I’ve loved you at least that long.
I didn’t want to love you. I fought it. But I have to tell you. I failed.”

Bleary, light-blue eyes peeked at her, and she grinned.

“You’re wondering when my demands will cease? Oh. Sorry. I
t’s a rather long list. Where was I? Oh, yes. I don’t like the frost bitch moniker . You’re to discontinue using it. I prefer Brandywine, but, in
polite company, I’ll accept Helene, or…you can use any of your endearments. They will suffice quite well. Now what?”

“You’re a minx.”

“Glory! A smile!  I was beginning to think I’d have to call
you the ice warlord or some such nonsense.”

“You can call me anything you like, love.”

“Oh, yes. That endearment is my favorite. Do you realize
you’ve never said it, Gil?”

“Said what, pray tell?”

He turned toward her, and opened his arms, and the next moment she was wrapped in an embrace that trembled. And it wasn’t just his reaction.

“You never said you love me,” she said.

“You pout like that, and I won’t be responsible for my
actions, Brandy love.”

“Gillian!”

“I told you I loved you every time I touched your body.
Surely you could tell?”

“With my vast experience? Sadly, no. I’ll need you to tell
me occasionally, too. Add that to the list.”

“Now. Wait. I told you in the gazebo. I did. I remember.”

“I love you, Gillian. Immensely. Reginald was wrong. I’ve loved you probably since
I clapped eyes on you at the wedding. You’re a handsome devil, but
you know that. Now it’s your turn.”

He had to cheat again, but she couldn’t complain as
lips softened by emotion and warm with desire touched her, pulling on her heartstrings and moving worlds.

It was a good thing he hadn’t gotten dressed, because he
tore more of his clothing off than he removed easily, murmuring how lovely his Brandywine was and how he adored her, stopping
only to assure that his son wouldn’t be harmed.

She giggled at his foolishness. While the warmth of blue
eyes met hers, she reassured him that she wasn’t laughing at him
— the very idea! 

And if
she had to wait for him to say it, so be it. Meanwhile, she
added the appropriate use of floors to her list for future reference.

EPILOGUE

Bridget Helene Montriart Tremayne made her appearance amid a lot of screaming by her mother and a good deal of
masculine fretting by her father. Not that her namesake,
Great-aunt Bridget, let her father off easily. She continually reminded him it
was her matchmaking that brought the event about.

She was in luck he
didn’t banish her from the estate for giving
advice. Instead, he suggested she raid the kitchens and give her
tongue something constructive to do. All he remembered was that his little Brandywine was
suffering, and he was the cause, all for such a little red-faced bundle
that he almost fell over the cradle when he first saw her.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Gil?” Helene asked. “She looks
just like you.”

His Brandywine sounded exhausted but proud, and the bald infant did bear
a decided resemblance to him. It was enough to make any new father
’s heart warm even more.

Gillian toyed with a sarcastic rejoinder, and then he did what he
always did when his emotions became too much for him to bear —
he gave a piano concert.

About the Author

Jackie Ivie lives in Alaska with her husband and three pets. She started her writing career with hot Highland historical romances from Kensington. Her eleventh, LAIRD BALLANCLAIRE, is set for publication October 2013. Keeping her head in the clouds most of the time, Jackie spends most of her time researching, developing, and writing her paranormal series - Vampire Assassin League -because there's just something about a hot vampire with a mate fixation. Jackie loves to hear from fans at
http://www.jackieivie.com/