Reese's Bride (18 page)

“You’re the one doing all the work.”

Reese blotted his forehead with his elbow, wiping away the wetness on the sleeve of his shirt. “Warrior’s saddled and ready?”

“He’s ready. You sure about this, Major?”

“No, but I have to try it sometime.” Timothy left to fetch Reese’s big black gelding and returned a few minutes later. The horse had an easy disposition and though Reese hadn’t ridden since his injury, the animal was accustomed to the feel of him in the saddle. It was just a matter of getting his leg to cooperate enough to keep him there.

Since mounting from the left was impossible with his injury, he walked over to the mounting block and climbed the steps to the platform. Timothy led the black
up to the block and the animal whinnied when he saw Reese waiting.

“We’ve been through some tough times together, eh, boy?” Reese scratched the horse’s ears and the gelding nickered softly. Collecting the reins, Reese swung his good leg over the horse’s back and settled himself on the flat leather seat.

Damn, it felt good to be there.

“How’re you doing?” Timothy asked.

Reese looked over at the brawny redhead. “There was a time, I felt more comfortable in the saddle than on the ground.”

“Not today, I guess.”

“Not yet, at any rate.” Though he had been able to bend his knee enough to fit his boot into the stirrup, he felt awkward and uneasy. Reaching down, he adjusted his foot until his leg felt more secure.

The problem was his grip. A horseman used his knees and thighs to grip and control the animal and maintain his seat, but the muscles in his injured leg were weak.

“Lead him into the ring,” he instructed, giving Warrior time to get the feel of him again, fighting to keep his balance as the horse walked off behind Timothy.

They made their way into the small arena and Warrior began to prance, eager for the exercise. Reese nodded to Timmy. “All right, let’s give this a try.”

Timothy backed away as Reese set the horse into a walk. They made their way twice around the ring before he nudged Warrior into a trot.

Posting tortured his leg. He forced the muscles up and down in rhythm to the animal’s gait, gritting his teeth against the pain. He made two passes round the ring
before his knee forced him to kick the animal into a canter. The pain instantly eased.

Slowly, he began to feel a little more relaxed, a little more comfortable in the saddle, though he hadn’t nearly the control he’d when he had ridden with the cavalry.

Warrior patiently kept up a steady pace and Reese’s leg relaxed even more, allowing him a slightly better seat. He was riding passably well until the stable cat, a big yellow-striped tabby, ran into the arena and darted between Warrior’s legs. The horse shied only a little but it was enough to set Reese off balance.

The next thing he knew he was flying through the air, landing in a pile of dirt in the middle of the arena.

“Papa!” Jared’s high-pitched, frightened voice reached him from behind the fence, where he and his protector, Mr. Gillespie, had apparently been watching. As Reese pushed to his feet and began to dust off his clothes, he caught sight of the little boy racing through the gate. An instant later, Jared’s small body hurled against him, nearly knocking him back in the dirt.

“Hey! Hold on there!” The child was shaking all over, clinging to him fiercely.

“I don’t want you to die. Please don’t die.”

Reese’s chest squeezed. He smoothed a hand over the child’s tousled hair. “I’m not going to die. I’m fine. It was just a little fall, nothing to worry about.” Reese looked down at the boy and smiled. “You called me Papa.”

Jared stared up at him, his dark eyes shiny. “Yesterday you said I was your son. I thought…I—I thought…”

Emotion swelled in Reese’s heart. “You thought that made me your father and you were right.” He had used the expression but it never occurred to him the boy would
take it literally. He took a calming breath. “I am your papa now. I think it’s past time you called me that.”

Jared eased back to look at him. “Are you all right, truly? Warrior didn’t hurt you?”

Reese managed to smile. “Only my pride, lad.” Warrior stood a few feet away, Timothy holding the reins. Turning, Reese swung the little boy up on the saddle and Jared’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“All right?” Reese asked, careful to keep a hand on the boy to steady him, Timothy doing the same on the opposite side.

Jared just nodded.

“How does it feel?” Reese asked.

The little boy grinned ear to ear. “I’m sitting on a real live horse.”

“That’s right.”

Jared leaned down and patted Warrior’s sleek black neck. “He’s really big.”

“Yes, he is. You need a horse more your size. In the meantime, hang on real tight and Corporal Daniels will give you a turn round the ring.”

Jared gripped the front of the saddle, the grin even bigger on his face. Timothy took his cue and led Warrior at a slow pace around the arena.

“Again?” Reese asked when they returned, and Jared nodded enthusiastically.

The ride continued and they reached the starting spot once more. “Can we do it again?” the little boy asked.

“Not today. Soon, though, I promise. Both of us will ride again.” Silently, Reese vowed to work on building the muscles on the inside of his thighs—and find a suitable pony for the boy who had just become his son.

“D
o you think you’re ready to face them?” Reese asked Elizabeth as she descended the wide marble stairs into the magnificent entry of Holiday House.

“I have to—sooner or later. It might as well be now.” But the gossip would be brutal. A woman was supposed to wait at least the three-year period of mourning before she took another husband. Some women wore black for the rest of their lives and never remarried.

“We won’t stay long. But Lady Annabelle was willing to help by giving this ball and she has managed to get the Holloways to attend. I’d like to make sure they understand we’re not going to let them hold us hostage.”

Elizabeth adjusted the long blue gloves that matched her sapphire taffeta gown, one of those Reese had ordered with the low-cut bodice.

She cast him an assessing glance. “Lady Annabelle is a friend, is she not? I’ve never met her, but I hear she is quite a beautiful woman.”

Eyes the same brilliant blue as her gown studied her
closely. “She is a friend of my family’s, a good friend to Royal and Lily. She is also a friend of Travis’s, which is why she agreed to hold this ball.”

Elizabeth glanced away. “I see.”

Reese caught her chin and turned her to face him. “She has never been more than a friend to me, if that is what you are thinking.”

Relief trickled through her. She had been wondering that very thing, wondering if perhaps the lovely widow had known Reese as a lover, the way Elizabeth was beginning to know him.

A little thrill went through her. Last night, Reese had made love to her on the thick Persian carpet in front of a blazing fire in his newly refurbished study. The surroundings were so unlike anything she had experienced that memories of Edmund had never entered her mind.

“I believe the carriage is waiting,” he said. “We had better be on our way.”

She glanced toward the rooms upstairs. “Are you certain Jared will be all right?”

Reese’s gaze followed hers and his jaw clenched. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Gillespie and Montague are here and a couple of extra guards are outside. But Jared will never be truly safe until we expose the Holloways and make all of this come to an end.”

He was right, of course. After the abduction attempt, they could no longer sit back and do nothing. They had to take action. Reese had already spoken to his brother, who had asked for the help of his friends. Perhaps with all of them working together…

Forcing her thoughts in a more pleasant direction, Elizabeth made her way to the door, down the wide porch
steps, and Reese handed her into the carriage. She ignored a little twinge of disappointment when he took the seat across from her instead of sitting beside her.

The coach lurched into motion, the driver urging the four-horse team along the circular gravel drive. All the while, Elizabeth’s thoughts remained on Reese and what had happened between them in the study. What she hoped would happen again.

“Keep looking at me the way you are and I shall come over there and do exactly what you are thinking about.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

Reese’s mouth edged up. “Yes, you were, and I don’t mind in the least. You may look forward to exactly that happenstance on our journey back to the house.”

Her insides softened. He meant it. He would take her there in the carriage on their journey back home. He was determined to erase any lingering memories of Edmund’s crude attempts at lovemaking and he was doing a very thorough job.

“Until then,” he drawled, “I suggest you pull your wrap over those luscious breasts or I shall be forced to take you right now. I imagine we would look quite a sight by the time we arrived at the ball.”

“You are outrageous,” she said, her cheeks burning brighter. But she loved his fierce masculinity and she was coming to crave his incredible lovemaking. She was a woman of surprising passion, she had begun to discover. Something she never would have guessed.

She settled back on the seat, fluffing her skirts out around her just to have something to do, trying not to look at him, to think how handsome he was. Trying to ignore
the anticipation that made her breasts swell inside the cups of her corset.

They spoke little on the journey, their thoughts on the upcoming ball and the difficult evening they faced ahead. It wouldn’t be easy, but Reese was the son of a duke and Elizabeth a countess. Along with that, Royal and Lily would be there to lend their support, as well as a number of the duke’s influential friends.

And there was the promise of what would happen once the ball was over and they were returning home.

She bit her lip. The two of them were growing closer every day. If only she could tell him the awful secret she kept from him.

But if she did, she would lose him.

Elizabeth forced down the unbearable thought.

The ball, a well-attended affair, was being given at the elegant home of Lady Annabelle Townsend. Annabelle, a widow whose husband had died five years ago, was the daughter of the Earl of Leighton. Quentin Garret, Viscount March, was her brother, Lord Leighton’s heir and one of Royal’s best friends.

Elizabeth had never met the woman, thanks to Edmund’s strict dictates and her rare trips to London. But as she entered the receiving line, she saw that Lady Annabelle was younger than she had imagined, no more than four-and-twenty, and lovely in the extreme. With her honey-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, and slender figure, she drew the eye of a dozen different men. At her warm, welcoming smile, Elizabeth liked her immediately.

And Lady Annabelle seemed to like her.

After their initial introduction and a few brief words,
Annabelle had insisted on personally escorting them into the ballroom.

“Come along,” she ordered. “His Grace and the rest of his party are awaiting your arrival. They are eager to see you both.”

She was lending her support, Elizabeth realized, ignoring the low mutters of disapproval and whispers of speculation as they all walked into the ballroom.

A group of men and women, some of whom Elizabeth recognized, stood waiting to greet them. Among them were the Duke and Duchess of Bransford.

“Good evening, my lady.” Tall and golden, Reese’s older brother bowed gallantly over her hand.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she replied. “It’s good to see you.”

Elizabeth and Lily spoke briefly. Lily asked about her son then reached over to squeeze her hand.

“All will be well with your boy,” the duchess promised. “Royal and the others will not let you down.”

Elizabeth felt the quick sting of tears. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the friendship of another woman. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Please, it’s just Lily. We are family, after all. I thought we were agreed.”

Elizabeth smiled brightly. “Family, yes…Thank you so much, Lily.”

Elizabeth greeted Sheridan Knowles, Viscount Wellesley, as well as Benjamin Wyndam, Lord Nightingale, and his little wife, Maryann. Other of Royal’s friends were scattered around the room, sniffing about for various and sundry bits of gossip that might help Travis Greer.

Annabelle departed to return to her duties as hostess, and Elizabeth turned to greet the latest arrival in the group. Her stomach tightened as Agatha Edgewood, Lady Tavistock, Reese’s elderly aunt walked up beside her.

“Good evening, Elizabeth.” The frail old woman cast her a glance so piercing she felt light-headed.

“My lady.”

The dowager knew her terrible secret. And also that Elizabeth had not yet told Reese the truth about his son. The old woman must have read the fear in her eyes or noticed the sudden pallor of her face.

“Be at ease, my dear,” the dowager said. “Your son’s life is yet in danger. You must say nothing that would distract Reese from trying to see the threat to Jared ended.”

Her eyes filled. “You are very wise, my lady.”

“For heaven’s sake, girl, don’t cry. You must keep your head tonight at all costs.”

She blinked rapidly, fighting to regain her composure. “Of course, my lady.”

Aunt Agatha patted her arm. “Everything will be all right. Reese will see to it.”

But of course there was no way to know for sure.

Reese warmly greeted his aunt, then leaned down and spoke to Elizabeth softly. “Stay here with our friends. There is something I need to do.”

Elizabeth nodded as he walked away, his limp barely perceptible. His leg was growing stronger, his determination paying off a little at a time. She followed his progress as he moved across the ballroom toward the door and realized he had spotted his quarry. Mason Holloway was there and heading for the gaming room. She spotted Frances in conversation with a group of women
on the opposite side of the ballroom, and fear trickled through her.

Elizabeth suppressed a shiver.

Reese caught up with Holloway just as he started for the door of the gaming room. Reese stepped in front of him, blocking his entrance.

“I think it’s time we had a word.”

Holloway pushed him away. “I have nothing to say to you, Dewar.”

“Unfortunately, I have something to say to you. I can say it here in the hallway where word will spread over half of London by morning or you can open the door on your right and step inside and I can say it in private.”

Holloway glanced around, saw several of the guests had begun to watch them. Swearing softly, he opened the door and Reese followed him into an intimate, rarely used drawing room.

“What do you want?” Holloway demanded.

“I think you know exactly what I want. I’m here to warn you, Holloway. I want you to know I’ve reported each of your attempts against my family to the authorities.”

“What attempts? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no proof whatsoever that I’ve done anything to anyone.”

“The authorities need proof,” Reese said. “I don’t. You come near my wife or the boy, you harm either of them in any way—you’re a dead man.”

Mason’s thick shoulders tightened. His mustache pulled tight as his lips thinned. “You’re threatening me?”

“As I said, I’m warning you. Harm the boy or his mother and you die.”

“You think it would be that simple? Even if you succeeded in killing me, you would hang.”

“Some things are worth dying for. That’s what I believe. How about you? Are you willing to die so your wife can get rich? Because you won’t be around to enjoy the money yourself.”

Mason said nothing.

“Think it over, Holloway.” As Reese left the room, his tension did not ease. He had meant every word, but dispatching justice after Jared was dead wasn’t the answer. He had to find a way to end the threat Holloway posed.

And there was Frances to consider.

Perhaps tonight, Royal and the others would uncover something that would help put an end to the problem.

Two days later, the small group of friends met in a private room at the Horn and Hoof Tavern on Kentish Town Road. Reese had tried to persuade Elizabeth to stay home but she had refused.

“Jared is my son. The men may have learned something that will help protect him. I want to hear what they have to say.”

“They may only have information dealing with Greer.”

“And they may have more.”

“Dammit, Beth!”

She only smiled. She liked it when he called her that, the way he used to in the days when they were to marry. It didn’t happen often. Reese guarded his emotions even more than she guarded her own. Neither of them wanted to suffer the pain they had endured before.

They protected their hearts but not their passions.

In the carriage that night after the ball, Reese had kept
his word. He had taken her twice, leaving her sated and limp, then held her while she slept in his arms until they reached home.

The tavern loomed ahead, a squat, slate-roofed stone structure with a stable at the rear. In a simple gray wool gown trimmed with forest green velvet, Elizabeth held onto Reese’s arm as he escorted her past the taproom into a small private chamber at the back of the tavern.

The men all rose as Elizabeth walked in: the duke; Sheridan Knowles; Lord Nightingale; Lord March, and Jonathan Savage. Those she hadn’t known already she had met at Lady Annabelle’s ball. Elizabeth was surprised to see Reese’s brother, Rule, among those seated round the table.

Apparently, Reese was also surprised. “What brings you here, little brother? I wasn’t sure you were still in London. I didn’t see you at Annabelle’s ball.”

“Unfortunately, I had a previous engagement. I stopped by the next day to see Royal. He brought me up to snuff on what’s been going on. I get round a bit. I thought I might be able to learn something that could be useful.”

From what Elizabeth had heard, Reese’s younger brother
got round
a very good bit. He was a lady’s man, an unabashed rogue. Women threw themselves at him, though his reputation was not as black as that of Jonathan Savage, the son of an earl who was barely tolerated by society.

“We appreciate anything you can do,” Reese said.

The balance of the greetings were brief and they all took their seats at the wooden table. Mugs of ale sat in front of each man and a serving maid appeared with ale for Reese and a cup of tea for Elizabeth.

“Since Royal called this meeting,” Reese said as
soon as the serving maid left, “I assume there is something to report.”

“Several somethings,” Royal said. “Quent, why don’t you begin?”

Lord March, a dark-eyed man with handsome, well-defined features, set his mug of ale on the table. “The ball was a good idea. I picked up a few interesting tidbits during the course of the evening.” Since his title was merely a courtesy until he inherited the Leighton earldom, he preferred his friends call him Quent.

“So what did you learn?” Reese asked.

“Turns out Greer’s nemesis, Lord Sandhurst, had met the captain through a mutual friend several years ago. Sandhurst knew Greer’s background, knew he was half-Russian. And the earl and Greer had a run-in over Lady Sandhurst once before.”

“Interesting,” Reese said.

Royal turned to another of his friends. “Nightingale, I believe you had something to add.”