Lord Beast (23 page)

“Yes!”

She bolted into his arms, nearly
knocking him off his feet. Her arms wrapped around his neck and Rhys only had
an imperceptible moment to glimpse the tears shining in her eyes before she
buried her face against his shoulder. “Oh, God, yes!”

“Danielle,” Rhys murmured into
her hair. It was
everywhere.
“Are you crying?”

“No,” she mumbled with a sniff.

Rhys slid his arms around her
waist, revelling the way she fit against him. A wave of irrepressible desire
churned within him and he could not suppress the shudder that coursed through
his veins. Tenderly, he pulled back from her and brought the hand that held the
box between them. She stared down the ring encased securely atop a little
cushion. He removed it and slipped it on her finger, allowing his touch to
linger against her skin as he did so. Teary, beautiful eyes were raised to his
and she said, “I’ve never been given something so beautiful before.”

“Gabriel chose it,” Rhys told her
with a warm smile.

“No.” She shook her head. “I
wasn’t talking about the ring.”

“What were you talking about?”

A small, soft smile touched her
lips. “You.”

His body tautened with the need
that raged through him and his arms reflexively clamped her tighter to him.
Groaning, he dipped his head to her neck. “Jesus, Danielle,” he rasped, “you
can’t… you can’t possibly know what you do when you say things like that.”

“Mustn’t I?” she asked curiously
before she gasped, Rhys’s hand having grasped her hip and jerking her into
vivid contact with his hard thighs.

“Not,” he growled, dragging his
teeth along the curve of her neck, “until
after
the wedding.”

She pulled away from him slightly
and he smiled arrogantly at her flustered expression. “Why?” she asked
curiously.

“Because our wedding night might
be sooner than the wedding if you do.”

“Oh.” Her lips pursed and that
inquisitive gleam remained in her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

Oh, dear God. Rhys had to firmly
extricate himself from the warmth of her body and set her at arm’s length, all
too aware that an inviting bed was but a few feet away. “I’ll not deny you your
wedding night,” he told her huskily. He meant it, too. By marrying him, Dani
would not be granted what most girls claimed when they married an earl. He was
already denying her so much. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, deny her that. He looked at
her and his gut clenched with desire at the slightly disappointed look on her
face.

He was going to die.

Dani pressed an ear against the
shut door of her uncle’s study.

“Danielle, I
can
see you,
you know?” Fiona admonished from the bench she sat on, her fingers busily
working through her knitting.

Guiltily, she started away from
the door and turned to her aunt with a nervous look. “I can’t help it,” she
whined,
anxious
ly biting her thumb.
“They’ve been in there for a
long
time.”

Fiona, poised and calm, hardly
glanced up from her wool and needles whereas Dani was a riotous mass of nerv
es
and anxiety. Her
uncle George was a strict man, resolute with what was right and proper, and she
could not begin to predict what he might be telling, or doing, to poor Rhys.
Unable to remain still for an extended period of time, she began to pace the
length of the narrow door.

“Do stop,” Fiona chided calmly.
“You’ll make yourself ill.”

Dani halted and turned to her
with a look of anguish. “What’s taking so long?” she complained, throwing her
hands up in the air beseechingly. “It’s not like England’s security is
under threat
.”

“Mmm.” Fiona continued to knit,
blithely unaware of her ward’s distress. “You know George, dear. He can be
quite thorough.” She looked at Dani sternly over her pair of wire-rimmed
spectacles. “This did come as quite a surprise to the both of us, you know.”

Dani blushed, recalling how she
had only an hour this morning to break the news to both her aunt and uncle
about her engagement to the Earl of Falmouth before her fiancé arrived for an
interview with George Smith. Fiona and George had been duly shocked at the news
and Dani had been thoroughly honest with them, omitting only the most
scandalous of details but inserting enough truth to imply that a hasty marriage
was imperative.

Dani sighed and settled for
hugging her waist, tapping her foot agitatedly. Almost immediately, she began
leaning closer to the wood of the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was
transpiring from within.

“Danielle!”

“Sorry.” Pouting, she moved away
and slumped down next to her aunt. “I
can’t
help it.”

“I know,” she said, her voice
injected with more sympathy this time. “You must just be patient. You’ll find
that it’ll turn out alright.”

“How can you be sure?” Dani asked
hopefully, eager eyes turned on her aunt as if Fiona had been issued some sort
of hint that clued her in on the exact proceedings from within the study.

“Danielle, really, you are quite
preposterous. Patience is, after all, a virtue. All will turn out for the best,
you’ll see.”

Dani snorted disbelievingly.
Honestly, that was probably the worst thing one could say to a person whose
fate was being decided by two of the most ornery men she’d ever had the
misfortune to come across.

Within seconds, Dani was on her
feet again, pacing in front of the door of the study. She just couldn’t sit
still. There was every possibility George would find fault with Rhys and throw
him out the cottage. Then what? Would Rhys be willing to elope? Dani didn’t
think he’d resort to such drastic measures. The scandal would be so
disgraceful… God, she wouldn’t be able to face Fiona again.

The previous night seemed an
entire year ago. She’d been so happy, so deliriously content, and Rhys had been
wonderful. Now… she hated the seesawing of emotions. It was surely aging her
prematurely. Between the infuriating man she was intending to marry and her
uncle, whose decision would dictate the outcome of Dani’s very happiness, she
was unlikely to have a day of emotional stability ever again.

Discreetly, Dani leaned close to
the door of the study and received the fright of her life when the door was
yanked open a few inches from her face.

Rhys gave her dry look, his
expression very clearly telling her that he had expected nothing less.

Blushing, she stepped back and
allowed both men to exit, George coming out last and ponderously. He was of
average size and proportion but there just seemed to be an air of authority
that emanated from around him. It could have been the years George Smith had
practised law, but the man simply oozed of strictness and clout, so much so
that one feared ever being caught doing something
wrong
in his presence.
He was a
man of stout principles and had honed his intellectual skills academically. As
such, he was an incredibly intelligent human being and could usually detangle a
situation to its baser fundamentals within a few seconds. Good at assessing the
human psyche, it was
very
hard to keep a secret from George Smith.

George looked at his wife
thoughtfully before saying, “Perhaps we should call for some tea.”

Fiona nodded and quietly got up
from her seat to ring for some.

George turned Rhys and Dani.
“Sit.”

Dani did so immediately while
Rhys
completely
the task idly, crafting an impression that stated it had been his intention to
do so all along.
A
n expression of cool
indifference on his face
,
Rhys reclined with masculine grace and sensuality that was formidably
contrasted with the small feminine chair he had chosen.
How he managed to remain so
composed was beyond her, but she found it quite irritating.

Fiona returned with the tea.

“I suppose you’ll want to know
what I’ve decided,” George informed the room at large but only Dani concurred
with a vigorous nodding of her head. “Danielle, I’m sure that you are aware
that your behaviour has been shameful. Your actions jeopardised the
good-standing of both your aunt and I, not excluding yourself. I trust that you
are aware of this?”

George Smith had the uncanny
ability to make one feel like the vilest fiend. Dani could only nod, fearing
she might choke on the shame.

“And you, Lord Ashcroft,” George
continued with a stern look at the large man reclining nonchalantly in a dainty
chair beside Dani, “should have not encouraged such insurgent behaviours from a
young girl.”

At that, Rhys’s lips twitched
. Dani threw him a
quelling look.

“But it is to my understanding,
and if I know anything about Danielle at all, that she probably coordinated the
whole debacle in the first place.”

Dani gasped. Why was everyone
assuming everything was
her
fault of late? How absurd and unfair. There
was a smug look on Rhys’s face. Her fingers itched to slap it off.

“However, despite all this, you
were both right to assume marriage the best solution,” George pontificated as
his wife dutifully handed him his tea. “Under the circumstances, I think it
best that a hasty marriage be advisable. Of course, there will be some talk
about your mourning period, Danielle, but we will have to bear through it. I
trust a month from now is suitable.”

An overpowering surge of
happiness swept through Dani at his words and the smile that swept across her
lips she did not endeavour to conceal.

“One week,” Rhys stated
implacably.

“That is unacceptable. The scandal
would be devastating to Danielle. Surely you must consider her reputation in
all of this?” George objected reproachfully.

Rhys consented with an incline of
his chin. “You’re right, of course. Two weeks.”

George rubbed the bridge of his
nose with his index finger and thumb, squeezing his eyes shut.
The poor man had
probably experienced enough palaver to tide him through for the rest of his
life.
“Three weeks, Ashcroft. You’d be ill-advised to marry in less.”

“Fine.”

“That settles that then,” George
concluded. He turned to Dani meaningfully. “I trust that for the duration of
those weeks you will adhere to etiquette and propriety, conforming to the
dictates of society as any other young lady of your standing would comport
herself.”

“Why are you looking at me like
that?” Dani protested unhappily.

George didn’t say anything. He
merely looked at her in that way that made her squirm; that made her feel like
a horrible person. It was no wonder Dani went out of her way to avoid her
uncle. He was a good man though and despite his strict preferences for utmost
propriety, George had never once been unnecessarily short or ill-tempered
towards his ward. He had just made her very aware of what she did wrong.

Dani felt very aware at this
moment just how wrongly she had actually behaved and folded her arms
defensively. The
one
time in her life she had been remotely rebellious
and had thrown caution to the wind… Damn. She couldn’t regret it even if she
wanted to. It was just too darn fun. Just because George Smith thought she was
a shameful little harlot, didn’t mean that she was. The next time she looked at
her uncle, however, he was smiling quietly at her and she knew then that George
Smith didn’t have, and never would have, a bad thought about her in his head.

The very next day, their
forthcoming nuptials were printed in the morning newspaper and by
mid-afternoon, all of London had heard of the Earl of Falmouth’s betrothal to a
Miss Danielle Carmichael, whom many had heard of, of course, but whom none had
paid much attention to.

For Dani, the first week flew by
in waves of exhaustion and frustration. Exhaustion due to the countless trips
to Truro made by carriage in order to confirm milliner appointments for both
herself, her aunt, and Victoria, who was to be her maid of honour (naturally).
The carriage rides were not agreeable to her back and each night Dani suffered
the agony quietly, relieved only by the thought of when she would next see Rhys
again.

The frustrating parts of the
whole ordeal were the visitors. Suddenly, Danielle Carmichael was the
only
topic of conversation of the ton and people who had never even bothered with a
cursory glance in her direction were flocking to Falmouth and calling upon the
Smiths’ cottage. Worst of all were the sly speculations made about her directly
to her face, the implications and predisposed opinions many had already
formulated about her, and Dani abhorred those visits the most.

“Oh, you must think you’re so
lucky
to have snatched an earl-”

“Quite a catch, I must say.
However did you manage to accomplish trapping him into marriage?”

“You’ve risen quite above your
expectations, Miss Carmichael.”