Taming Wilde (13 page)

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Authors: Rachel Van Dyken

BOOK: Taming Wilde
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"Oh, Colin! They have promised me to a duke! A horrid old man! Even now he is coming
to make arrangements."

"A horrid old duke, you say?" Colin asked. A hint of mocking amusement tinged his
voice.

"This is no time for jocularity, my love! We might be caught at any moment!" She cast
a glance over her shoulder toward the door to emphasize her words. "Colin, please!
Take me away right now! We can ride for Gretna Green tonight!"

He shook his head, holding her hands in his. "Sweet, your brother would only give
chase. He would hunt me down and shoot me."

"We could hide! Let's sail for America!" Why was he refusing her? He seemed hesitant
now. Could it be he didn't truly love her as she did him?

"America? Now, Gemma, be reasonable." He slid his hands up her arms and rested them
on her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Listen, my love. I know it
is difficult for you, but I believe you should be ruled by your brother."

His dark eyes bore into hers. Gemma couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"What!" she demanded, stepping out of his grasp in shock. "Have you gone mad? Do you
hear yourself? Be ruled by my brother?"

Colin reached for her again, but she evaded his hands. "What did he do to you? Are
you yet suffering from a hard knock to the head?" The man was unhinged, Gemma was
certain.

"You are not in your right mind, sir. Else you do not fully understand — I am to be
married… to another. You must take me away from here! At once!"

"Forgive me, dear Gemma," Colin said, snatching her hand and pressing a firm kiss
to her wrist. "I shall not. Be ruled by your brother. It is best."

Gemma jerked her hand back as though his lips had scorched her. Indignation boiled
to the surface. What was he doing to her? To them? Sealing her fate as an unhappy
duchess?

She would not be ruled. She was done being ruled.

"No!" she screamed. "No!" She balled her hands into tight fists and slammed them into
his chest in desperation. Again and again she pounded at him, but he did not budge.
He only stood there smiling like an addlepated lunatic.

Fury overwhelmed all her senses, and she felt as though she were viewing herself from
a distance. She didn't hear the door open. She didn't see the three gentlemen enter.
She didn't feel the hands grappling with her flailing fists. She knew only the fog
of indignant passion that consumed her.

****

Colin looked into her beautiful eyes and sighed. “I am so very glad you love me enough
to sacrifice yourself, but it is not necessary.”

“Colin, don’t let them win! I cannot marry that man!”

“What if he were me?”

Her eyes widened. “Do not toy with me. I am—”

Colin cupped her cheek and sighed. “Do you know how much I love you? How much I care
for you? Do you think for one second I would be able to let you go for a second time?”

Gemma shook her head. “But how—”

“I am Bridgewater.”

Gemma gasped and raised her hand as if to slap him. Was she truly going to hit him
after such an admission?

And then she laughed. “You horrid man! If you ever do anything to me like that again,
I shall strike you!”

“Bravo, sister. You have come to your senses at last,” came the marquess’s voice from
behind them.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” Colin addressed Rutledge and Van Burge’s solicitor. “I was
otherwise occupied.”

“Are you well?” Rutledge pointed to Colin’s swollen eye.

“Of course.” Colin laughed. “I was dealing with an unruly animal earlier. I’m afraid
he got the better of me and kicked me in the face. All is well now.”

Van Burge turned crimson. “Is there a reason for your intrusion, Wilde? I thought
we had an understanding. You were to stay away from my sister once and for all. Have
some dignity.”

Colin smiled and turned to Rutledge. “Is everything settled?”

“Now, see here!” Van Burge roared. “I am to be meeting the Duke of Bridgewater, a
very important man, a man worthy of my sister, a man worthy of this family!”

Rutledge opened his mouth to say something, but Colin cut him off. “No, no, let him
finish. He’s doing quite well.”

“You should be so lucky as to be standing in the same room with such a man. In fact,
I insist that you stay. I shall enjoy signing over my sister’s life while you watch!”

Without a word, Rutledge held out the contracts, and the other solicitor handed Van
Burge a quill. “There.”

The contracts were signed. “It is all taken care of.” Rutledge smiled and turned to
Colin. “By the by, did you know that upon your marriage, you shall receive a healthy
dowry from Miss Reynolds? Are you sure you still mean to allow the marquess to keep
it?”

“Of course.” Colin nodded. “After all, he has his… future wife to look after. Amongst
other things.”

“You truly did not need to do that,” Gemma interjected, cupping Colin’s face.

“Gemma, not now. He is not your betrothed!” Van Burge snapped. “This is a conversation
between gentlemen, and—”

“Pardon me, did you just speak to my future wife as if she were nothing more than
a fixture in your house?”

“Yes!” Van Burge yelled and then took a step back. “What did you just say?”

Rutledge chuckled. “My lord, allow me to introduce you to his grace, the Duke of Bridgewater.”

Van Burge’s face turned a brilliant shade of purple before he bellowed, “How dare
you deceive me! I shall cut you from limb to limb! I shall—”

“You shall do no such thing, Hawke!” Gemma interrupted.

“Gemma, know your place!” He pointed his finger at Colin. “I will not be silent about
this! I do not care who you are or how much money you possess, nor—”

Colin’s fist sailed into the marquess’s face, sending him to the ground in a heap.

Van Burge’s solicitor smiled. “Do you know, I’ve been itching to do that for ten years?”

“Get in line.” Gemma huffed.

Rutledge cleared his throat. “It seems we are finished here. Pleasure doing business
with you, your grace.” The men bowed their heads briefly and walked out of the room.

“Your grace?” Gemma repeated. “Your grace. I love the sound of that.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Duchess.” Colin dipped her back and kissed her neck.

“And now will you tell me how this all came to be?”

Hawke stirred from the
floor. Colin kissed Gemma’s mouth again and led her out of the room. The minute they
were in the hall, he pressed her against the wall. “I will explain it all later, but
for now…”

“For now?” She sighed. “For now, what?”

“I want to kiss you,” Colin said against her lips. “I want to kiss my future wife,
my future duchess. I’ve always wanted to kiss a duchess.”

“That can be arranged.” Gemma giggled.

 

Epilogue

 

Ambrose grinned as he watched his twin dance with Bridget, his wife.

“What are you smiling about?” Cordelia asked, grabbing her husband’s hand and bestowing
a kiss upon it.

“Wallflowers.”

“Pardon?” She laughed.

“They are… not always as they seem.” He gazed down at his beautiful wife, with her
easy smile and warm laugh.

“Nobody truly is.” She laid her head against his shoulder. “Where are Colin and Gemma?”

Just then Colin appeared with Gemma on his arm. They had been married four weeks ago
and were just back from their honeymoon.

“Over here!” Cordelia called them.

Gemma walked briskly towards Cordelia and embraced her. Soon Anthony and Bridget joined
them.

“A toast!” Anthony called, grabbing goblets of champagne from a passing servant.

“To what?” Gemma asked.

Just then a gasp was heard from the crowd, and then some cursing as Lady Van Burge,
the marquess’s new wife, pulled him by his cravat through the hall. Poor fellow was
digging his heels into the floor.

“Must have gotten caught with another maid.” Gemma sighed. “You were saying?”

“I believe that man is getting exactly what he deserves.” Anthony cleared his throat.
“A toast to rakes and the women who reform them.”

“Hear, hear!” They lifted their glasses and cheered.

 

About the Authors

 

Leah Sanders
is the middle child in a family of seven children. As a true middle child she went
from high school in Alaska to college in Florida, where she earned a Bachelor's degree
in secondary education from Southeastern University. She also holds a Master's degree
in educational technology from Boise State University.

She makes her home in Idaho with her husband and three children. By day she teaches
English in a middle school. But after the kids are in bed, she will most likely be
typing away on her laptop while sitting in her favorite spot on the couch.

Rachel Van Dyken
is a Graduate of Northwest Nazarene University, with a degree in Social Sciences
with an emphasis in industrial psychology and a minor in Spanish. She is also a Post
Graduate of California Coast University receiving a MBA with an emphasis in Human
Resource Management. She resides in Nampa, Idaho where she writes full time. Starbucks
is a daily must, spiders make her scream, and she loves chocolate but is allergic,
of course. Nate, her husband, makes her laugh so hard she cries, and they share their
Pacific Northwest home with a very loud snoring boxer named Sir Winston Churchill.

Rachel loves to read almost as much as she loves to write. Although she loves to write
contemporary romance, her heart will always be with historical and regency romances.
Glittering balls and dangerous rakes hold her captivated like chocolate and Starbucks.

 

Also from Astraea Press:

 

 

Prologue

 

Samuel wrapped his arm around the slim waist of his latest conquest. He licked his
lips in anticipation of what was to come next, when he took her to the nearest bed.
He was so foxed her name escaped him. Carlotta? Celina? He shrugged as he leaned in
to nuzzle her soft neck. No matter. His memory faded soon after he tired of each woman
he bedded, but there was always another waiting in line. Oftentimes, he brought them
here, to one of his favorite inns.

The woman giggled when Samuel closed his eyes, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth.
Pulling her closer still, he took possession of her ripe lips, not caring who stood
nearby to watch them.

He'd done this before. Many, many times.

As quickly as Samuel placed his lips on the woman's, she was gone, leaving him to
pucker up only to the stale air. His eyes popped open. "What the…?"

Another man, dressed in expensive breeches and coat, now had his arms around Samuel's
woman. Samuel gritted his teeth, the very teeth that had only moments ago been clasped
on soft feminine skin. Now, they bit down hard. On his tongue.

Cursing loudly, Samuel lunged at the other man, pushing the woman aside in the process.
"Get your filthy hands off of her. She's mine!"

The man narrowed his eyes, knocking Samuel's hands away from his person. "You are
of no consequence to me." He glanced at the woman, his eyes roving over every voluptuous
inch. "I like what I see. She is now mine."

Samuel's blood boiled. Heat flooded his face. Vision now blurred from anger and ale,
he lowered his head and raced forward, intent upon knocking the other man senseless.

Strong hands once again pushed Samuel away, hard. Staring up at the dirty ceiling,
Samuel shook his head, trying to force the room to stop spinning.

Clump. Clump. Clump.
Footsteps… that last quite close to his ear. Turning his head, Samuel gasped. How
easy it would be for the other man to kick him in the face! He forced himself to a
sitting position. Perhaps his swirling vision would calm. Surely he could stand. He
must. There was no way he was letting his woman walk away with someone else. And away
from him. Yes, there had always been another waiting for his favor, but suddenly it
was important he possess this woman, on this night. It was a matter of pride that
he not let her be taken away.

Samuel braced his hands on the floor until he had steadied enough to get his feet
under him. Silence in the room had replaced the bawdy laughter of but a few moments
ago. Of course, that would be the case. The patrons loved nothing better than to bet
on a fight.

The sound of coins being exchanged all about him couldn't peel his eyes from the man
standing in front of him. It was now or never. Any show of fear on his part might
diminish future chances with other women if word got out that he'd acted the coward.
A quick glance to his right showed the woman smiling, eyes gleaming, excited to be
the object of such a feud.

Bone smashed bone as a fist knocked his head back, once again setting the room to
a twirl. Samuel shook his head, blood now pouring from his nose. More blood ran down
his throat. He coughed and spat. Red now colored the dirty floor.

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