Reckless (27 page)

They had left to go back to Hensley Court, where everyone would most likely retire to bed. Everyone but Lina, who'd waited in the shadows until they'd left. The last thing she wanted was a tête-à-tête with Monty's disapproving brother. She'd always known Monty had a malicious sense of humor, but she'd never realized that Simon might share it. Then again, everyone had failed to mention that they were half brothers.

She'd seen him climb into the carriage that held his frail brother, and she'd ducked back into the shadows. There was one small chaise left, and she moved out into the moonlight. She could sneak back into Hensley Court and no one would ever see her.

“I wondered when you were going to emerge.” His voice came from out of the shadows, and she whirled around.

“It's been a long day,” she said, trying to hide her unaccustomed nervousness. “Don't start with me now.”

Simon Pagett looked at her with wise, knowing eyes. “I believe we started weeks ago, whether you realized it or not.” He took her hand. She knew she should snatch it back, but he wasn't wearing gloves,
and neither was she, and the night was cold and his hand was strong and warm.

“Lady Whitmore,” he said in his rich, minister's voice, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“A vicar's wife? Me?” she said in a sarcastic voice. “I believe you've taken leave of your senses. The parishioners will rise up in outrage.”

“The good thing about being the heir as well as the vicar is that I don't have to listen, and if the parishioners have a problem I'll give sermons about redemption and casting the first stone.”

“Even though you're marrying Mary Magdalene?”

His smile was warm. “Am I? I'm so glad you're being more sensible than your cousin. But I'm afraid you've got a long way to go before you can equal Mary Magdalene. She ended up a saint, you know.”

His thumb was rubbing back and forth against her fingers, a small caress that felt strangely erotic. Arousing. Why
this
man? she thought. Why did this man have to be the only man to move her?

“I don't want to get married again,” she said in a small voice, trying to avoid temptation. Something she'd never been very good at.

“And why not?”

“Because I don't enjoy the marriage bed.” There, the awful truth was out.

He looked confused. “Then why have you been so, shall we say, experimental?”

“Because I was hoping I was wrong. But I'm not. A man's touch leaves me cold. So unless you're thinking of a celibate marriage, you definitely don't want me.”

“My dear Lina, celibate marriages are a dead bore. And if you think you don't like making love then you simply have to trust me. My many years of practice are good for one thing after all. I can make you change your mind.”

She looked at him, long and hard. It was foolishness beyond hope. But then, she was a fool. “You can try,” she said.

“Does that mean you'll marry me?”

She took a deep breath, and said the one thing she thought she'd never say again. “Yes. I'll marry you.”

 

Adrian sat in the pew, Charlotte tucked close beside him. It was three weeks later and they were here again, watching Lina marry her vicar, and a glow of contentment, that unlikely condition that now seemed permanent, washed over him. Charlotte was healing well, even though she did have a distressing tendency to cast up her accounts at inopportune moments, but he didn't care. They'd been able to enjoy wickedly vigorous sex despite her injury and pregnancy, and he had to admit that it would take two hundred years
for them to tire of each other. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, drawing her even closer.

“Do you think they'll be as happy as we are?” she whispered.

“No one will be as happy as we are, not even my parents,” he said gravely, glancing over at his mother's cheerful, tear-streaked face. His mother always cried at weddings—she'd been practically sobbing at theirs.

“Still… Lina looks really happy, doesn't she? For the last three weeks she's been in a panic and then suddenly this morning she's positively glowing. I'm not sure why. I thought I was going to have to drag her to the altar.”

He let his fingers trail along the side of her neck surreptitiously, delighting in the softness of her skin. “Oh, I can explain that. I saw her leaving Pagett's room very early this morning, a ridiculously happy smile on her face. I think she must have convinced him to anticipate the marriage vows by a day. The vicar must not be as strong-minded as he thought he was,” he said with a soft laugh, leaning over to placing his lips against her temple.

“Who would be when faced with Lina's charms?”

“Not even tempted, my precious,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers. Why his darling wife needed reassurance was beyond him, but he was
happy to give it. She was exquisite, even in the most wretched of circumstances, and he loved her.

There was an ominous throat-clearing. His father was giving him a disapproving look for whispering in church. Adrian simply smiled at him, undaunted, and his mother reached out and caught her husband's hand, drawing his attention away. For the first time he really began to understand what lay between his parents.

But for once in his life his formidable father was wrong.

He and Charlotte were going to be just as happy, just as besotted with each other, for the rest of their lives.

And, in fact, they were.