Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman (21 page)

Following the ceremony, they retired to the residence, where a late breakfast awaited them. Mercy had never seen so much food in her life as had been set on the sideboard. Succulent aromas wafted through the residence. Her mouth watered. Guiltily, she thought of how little food had been available for the men in the hospital, and it seemed wrong to have such abundance here.

“Is something amiss?”

She looked up at Stephen. Until that moment, she hadn’t truly understood exactly what his loss of memory meant. He didn’t remember being hungry or cold. She’d been so focused on the fact that he didn’t remember her that she hadn’t considered that without his memories a great deal of what they had in common was gone as well. Like smoke blown away in the dark.

“Not at all. It’s just so overwhelming that it’s difficult to believe it’s really happened.” She touched the ring. “I don’t know why it surprised me that you had a ring.”

“It’s rather plain, but it was my grandmother’s.”

“I don’t require anything fancy, and it has great sentimental value. Thank you for entrusting it to me.”

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, just below the ring. “I entrusted my son to you. What is a bit of jewelry?”

He held her gaze as she’d imagined a hundred times that he would, the blue of his eyes darkening like a storm on the horizon. She shivered with the realization that while it was only late morning, he was already contemplating the evening. When she’d truly become his wife.

“Come along, you two, you’ll want to eat before you begin your journey,” Claire said, touching Stephen’s cheek with a familiarity that caused a sharp pang in Mercy’s chest. She wondered if they’d once been intimate. Surely not.

It didn’t help the spark of jealousy to realize that Claire knew something that Mercy didn’t. “What journey?”

Stephen gave her a crooked grin. “It was to be my surprise. Ainsley has some property he’s been neglecting. He’s offered to let us live there, as long as we’ll care for it. Roseglenn Manor. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Because he would be there.

Chapter 12

T
hey arrived at Roseglenn Manor when it was too dark to get a good look at anything. Still, Mercy squinted, attempting to see what she could of things. This would be her new home, the beginning of a new life.

The journey had been long and wearisome, and to her consternation, incredibly silent. Stephen sat across from her, while Jeanette sat beside her. For the most part, Mercy held John, knowing he would be relegated to Jeanette’s care for the night once they arrived at the manor. They stopped when John required a feeding, so Stephen could leap out of the carriage and give them all privacy.

She would watch as he paced along the side of the road. His limp was barely noticeable. His leg had recovered well. She wondered if his mind might. She knew it bothered him greatly not to have those memories. But if he regained them, how might things for her change?

She shoved the doubts aside. She would be a loving and exemplary wife. He would come to care for her deeply, and then none of the falsehoods that had brought them to this moment would matter.

Flickering torches appeared and just beyond was the manor.

“It’s not as large as Grantwood,” Stephen said, and she flinched. It was the first time he’d spoken in hours. She’d seldom felt his gaze leave her. She wondered what he’d been thinking during this entire journey. No doubt his mind had been on tonight.

“It’s perfect,” she said softly.

“You haven’t seen it clearly yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll be a family. That’s far more important.”

“Were you this easy to please in Scutari?”

“Witnessing all that I did gave me a different perspective on things, I suppose.”

His gaze darted to Jeanette, and he merely nodded. She suspected had Jeanette not been in the carriage he’d have said that his perspective might be different as well if he remembered anything. The experiences that had brought them together, that they’d shared, now served to keep a distance between them. How did she convince him that it didn’t matter?

It was over, it was done, it was time to live in the present.

The carriage rolled to a stop. He was the first to disembark, opening the door himself, as though he couldn’t stand the confinement any longer. Then he was reaching back for her. Holding John close in one arm, she placed her other hand in Stephen’s, felt the strength in his fingers as they closed around hers and he lifted her down.

For a heartbeat they simply stood there, gazing at each other, their breaths visible in the cold night air. The momentousness of this moment was not lost on her. They were connected, the three of them, in different ways. Love and blood. Desire and obligation. Truth and deception.

“Welcome to Roseglenn, Mrs. Lyons,” he said finally, his voice rough, as though he’d had difficulty forcing out the words but had been determined to do so for her benefit.

Mrs. Lyons.

Lord, she thought her knees might buckle. Those two words delivered from his lips hit her with a force she’d not anticipated. The world reeled around her. The momentousness of exactly what had transpired today, the irrevocableness of it, slammed into her with the intensity of cannon fodder.

What the hell had she done?

Oddly, her worries increased as they entered the residence. It was gorgeous. Paintings and decorations artfully arranged. Everything was clean and tidy. The wooden floor was polished to such a sheen that she could almost see her reflection. It was fully staffed; all of the servants were gathered in the entry hallway to greet the new lord and lady of the manor, even if they weren’t a true lord and lady.

The butler stepped forward and bowed. “Major. Madam. I’m Spencer. The duke sent word that you would be taking up residence here. The servants shall gladly see to all your needs. A light repast has been prepared and will be served in the small dining room unless you would prefer it served elsewhere.”

“The small dining room will suffice,” Stephen said. “Then I’d like baths prepared for my wife and myself.”

“I shall see to it immediately.”

“Very good.” Stephen turned to her. “Is that satisfactory for you?”

“Yes, of course.” They seemed more awkward strangers now than ever and she realized the consummation of their marriage loomed over them both. “I’d like to settle John into the nursery.”

One of the younger serving girls escorted them upstairs to the room that would serve as the nursery. It had everything that was needed: a small crib, a rocking chair, even a rocking horse. One area was prepared for the nurse, with a bed, dresser, and chair.

“I see my brother has not lost his flair for attending to details.”

She glanced over at Stephen, who was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. By his stance, she could see he was favoring his injured leg, and she realized the journey had been hard on it. “You think this room was prepared especially for our arrival?”

“As he has no children of his own, I cannot believe otherwise.”

“Perhaps he is simply anticipating their arrival.”

“I think what he anticipated was that I’d accept his offer. He probably began planning this the moment you arrived at Grantwood.”

“But he couldn’t have known that we’d wed.”

“Mercy, my family would have accepted no less of me. And if I’d not seen to my responsibilities, Ainsley would have. He always does. I expect he planned to offer you sanctuary here.”

“You say that as though you resent it.”

He rubbed the scar on his face. “I want what’s best for you, Mercy. If accepting my brother’s generosity provides it, so be it. I’ll be waiting for you in the small dining room.”

No sooner had he left than Jeanette ambled into the room. She’d no doubt been waiting in the hallway, not wishing to intrude on Mercy and her husband.

“It’s a very fine residence,” Jeanette said, wandering around the room. “I think we shall be very happy here.”

“I do hope so.”

S
tanding at the window in the small dining room, Stephen downed his second glass of wine while he awaited Mercy’s arrival. Obviously, Stephen and Ainsley had a differing opinion regarding the meaning of the term
neglected
. For his wife’s sake, he was grateful. For the sake of his pride, however, he would have liked to have seen some evidence that
something
required his attention.

He shouldn’t allow his brother’s machinations to put him in a foul mood. Not when he would once again know what it was like to lie completely and absolutely with Mercy, to be surrounded by her heat, to match the rhythm of his body to hers.

He couldn’t recall ever having anticipated the bedding of a woman so much. If they hadn’t been sharing the carriage with the nursemaid and John, he suspected Mercy’s marriage bed would have been the bench upon which she’d been sitting. It had been the longest journey he’d ever taken in such a short span of time. Or at least the longest he recalled.

He poured more wine and drank it as though it could wash away all his doubts. The past made a man, and he was missing two years of his. He had to let it go. He wasn’t going to regain it. He had a wife, a son, responsibilities. He’d done the right thing by Mercy. Marrying her. He would tend his brother’s estate that needed no tending, while he determined how to best provide for his family in his own way.

He turned at the soft footfalls. She appeared nervous, her hands clasped in front of her. It bothered him immensely that she seemed so uncomfortable with what was to come, as though she’d never truly experienced it. Had he been so in need of release that he’d taken her swiftly, without thought to her pleasure? It had never been his way before. Surely, when it came to women, he’d not changed so very much while at war.

He was certain other aspects of his character might have shifted, hopefully for the better. But where women were concerned, as arrogant as it was, he knew he had little room for improvement.

Because he knew it would please her, he asked, “Did John get settled in all right?”

She smiled. Mentioning their son always had the ability to bring a smile to her face, to put her at ease. “Based upon how rapidly his greedy little mouth worked, I would say yes.”

“Good. Shall we?” He indicated the cloth-covered round table, where candles flickered and their food awaited their appetite.

Blushing, she nodded and walked over to a chair. He pulled it out for her. Once she was seated, he bent and pressed a kiss to her nape. “Relax, Mercy. It’s not as though we’ve not done this before.”

“But it was so long ago.”

“And apparently, I was not at my best. If I didn’t make it pleasantly memorable for you, then I owe you an apology. I assure you that won’t be the case tonight.” He heard her sharp intake of breath, watched as her blood rose to the surface, a blush that spread far beyond her face. Taking his chair, he tried to read the answer in her eyes. Was before less than she’d expected?

Reaching over, he poured wine into her glass. “I instructed the servants to leave us in peace. It seems I’ve hardly had a moment with my own thoughts during the past week.”

“If you wish solitude, I could leave.”

“On the contrary, being alone with you is all I want.” He tapped his glass to hers. “To my wife. May you never regret being forced into this arrangement.”

The glass trembled as she carried it to her lips. “I would never regret it. I hope the same can be said of you.”

If he’d had his druthers, he’d have never married. A bachelor was forgiven indiscretions much more easily. He was even expected to have them. But a husband—as such, he would have to curtail his sinful exploits. It was a dilemma he would consider when faced with it.

For tonight, he could truly say there was no other woman he wished to be with more.

H
er bath had been quick, because she’d continually expected Stephen to saunter in as he had that first night when he’d witnessed her nightmares. She slipped on the nightdress the duchess had given her, then ruined its allure by wrapping a blanket around herself and curling up on a corner of the sofa in front of the fireplace.

She knew she had nothing to fear from him. But tonight she would know the full measure of his coupling. As much as she desired it, she couldn’t help but fear she’d be fumbling and disappoint him. He expected her to know what he liked, to know how to receive him.

God help her. She was going to make a mess of this.

Her virginity had been brutally taken from her. It had hurt and it had been quick.

Stephen had shown her passion, he had shown her the wondrous sensations that a woman should find with a man. But when it was time for him to push inside her—

She didn’t know if she would be able to bear it. Nor could she bear to tell him why. If he knew she’d been with another man, he might doubt John. Even if he didn’t, surely he would look upon her with disgust. It was better if he thought he were the only one.

Her heart leaped in her chest when she heard the door that joined her bedchamber to his opening. She stared intently at the flames. What if he was naked? What if he was already fully aroused?

Would he expect her to leap on him? To be demure? Even if he didn’t remember their night together, he must have expectations.

His hands came to rest heavily on her shoulders. Such large hands. So strong.

“You’re trembling,” he said quietly.

“A bride’s nerves. I didn’t think I’d have them, considering . . . but here they are.” She dared to glance back at him. He’d bathed as well. He smelled clean and spicy. His hair was curling more than usual, as though he’d left it to do as it would. The ends that were still damp were darker. He wore trousers and a deep blue velvet dressing gown.

Lowering his head, he took her mouth, slowly, luxuriously, as though they had all night. Which she supposed they did. His hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. He was like a fine liqueur, pouring through her veins, warming her limbs. So simple an action, so great a response. She could hardly believe it as she found herself wanting to melt against him. Why did he not move around so they could press their bodies together?

Drawing back, he smiled at her. “You see? Nothing to be nervous about.”

He did move around then, to a corner table where wine waited. His movements were unhurried, relaxed. Confident. He might not remember two years of his life, but he remembered all that had come before, and if legends were in fact based on truth, he’d conquered half the boudoirs in London. Sarah had certainly known tales of his exploits, which may have been the reason she’d sought him out as soon as he began regaining his strength. One of the nurses had pursed her lips and called him “notorious.” Then she’d refused to go anywhere near him, as though she would catch something from him.