The Geek Girl and the Scandalous Earl (28 page)

She missed her earl so much.

***

Jamie walked into the vet clinic, waiting while a couple passed by with a long-haired tortoiseshell cat. When they’d gone, she talked to the receptionist.

“Hey, I’m Jamie Marten. I’m here to see Baron?”

The woman wrinkled her forehead, typing on her computer. “Marten…Marten…and you said the dog’s name is Baron?”

Jamie nodded, nerves clogging her throat.

“Hm. Having a hard time finding you in here. I’m kind of new here, so it’s probably just me. Hold on…Sheila?”

A whispered conference at the other end of the counter gave Jamie the shakes. Was Baron okay? Had his injuries been more severe than Dr. Vann thought?

A green-scrub-wearing vet tech came through the doors of the back room. “Miss Marten? You can follow me.”

Her smile reassured Jamie somewhat, and she followed the tech through to the back of the clinic.

“Baron!” Jamie knelt by the cage the girl had swung open. His back leg was a swath of white bandages, and he had one of those giant lampshade cones around his neck.

“He did fine, but he keeps chewing at the bandages.”

Jamie laughed, rubbing the long nose as he thumped his tail against the side of the metal crate. “It’s a good look for you, bud.” He licked her hand, and she could swear she felt it all the way down in her heart.

Jamie leaned down, touching his cold nose to her warm one. “I love you, stupid dog.”

He lapped her right on the lips, and she sputtered, laughing. “Guess I deserved that.”

Dr. Vann met with Jamie, explained the different medicines she was to give Baron for the next couple of weeks, and after paying a bill that made her Visa wince, they headed back home to meet Leah. Jamie knew Mike wouldn’t be showing up, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the bureau alone, just in case.

Leah met them at the door, shaking her flame-colored hair at Jamie.

“Not a peep. Sorry, lady. If you need to go anywhere else, let me know, and I’ll stay here with it, okay?”

“Thanks, Leah.”

She gave Jamie a quick hug, patted Baron, and left.

Jamie spent the rest of that day sitting on the floor next to Baron’s giant pile of blankets, rubbing his ears and staring at the bureau. Every now and then, she’d stand up and press her palm against the glass, hoping it would give. Nope. Cold, solid mirror every time.

She gave up and ate dinner, then resumed her vigil.

Her computer dinged again, but she didn’t even touch it. It wasn’t important to her anymore. She couldn’t enjoy herself in a fantasyland when reality was kicking her ass.

She slept on the couch that night, facing Mike’s bureau the whole time.

He’d planned to spend the rest of the day making social calls, visiting his solicitors’ offices, and perhaps purchasing a shiny bauble for his new fiancée. Instead, Micah moped around the park, remembering riding through it with Jamie. How she’d laughed with him, how she’d kissed him, how she’d shared her life with him in little glimpses over the past month. He’d seen her only hours ago, in the music room, but the gaping hole in his life was there just the same.

There was no peace to be found in the park, especially once the
ton
began riding there, making use of the unusually fine weather to see and be seen. Word of his engagement to Miss Lyons was already spreading, despite that it hadn’t been announced in the
Gazette
yet, and he accepted congratulations from several well-meaning couples before he bolted for home. Surely Jamie knew by now. He’d made sure to loudly announce his intentions to Thornton with Muriel in earshot. The maid would have told Jamie quickly, of that he was quite sure.

When Micah mounted the steps of the townhouse, heart heavy and feet leaden, the frantic shouts within were the only thing that could pierce his malaise.

“What do you mean by that, Thornton? Come out, say what you’re implying!”

“They went upstairs with you, and then they were gone. I may be old, Mrs. Knightsbridge, but I am not daft. What have you done with the young lady and Baron?”

“You daft old tosser, I have told you, I have not done a thing with Miss Jamie nor the dog!”

“You must have. I demand that you confess!”

“I shall not!”

“
Silence
,” Micah roared as he came through the door. The housekeeper and the butler, who had been facing off in the foyer, fell silent. “Whatever has happened?”

Thornton stepped toward Mrs. Knightsbridge, who brandished a candelabrum to ward the old butler off. Micah stepped between them before motioning to the butler to speak.

“My lord, Miss Marten came running into your home with Baron in her arms. The hound was gravely injured. She dashed up the stairs, and Mrs. Knightsbridge”—Thornton gestured at the housekeeper accusingly—“followed her. For several moments there were loud voices, and then silence. Moments later, Mrs. Knightsbridge came down the stairs alone. She has done something with the maid and the dog, your lordship, but she refuses to confess as to what.”

Micah turned to his housekeeper. She’d set the candelabrum down and stood with her hands fisted by her sides. Brownish-red streaks of blood marred her apron.

“He is right up to a point. Yes, Miss Marten and Baron have gone. She will take care of him, my lord, you needn’t worry for that.”

“Your, your apron,” Micah choked. “Is that…”

Mrs. Knightsbridge moved toward him and grasped the hand that shakily pointed at her apron. “Do not worry, my lord. I promise that all will be well. Come now. Sit in your estate room, and Thornton will bring you some tea, won’t you, Thornton?” Mrs. Knightsbridge eyed the butler meaningfully as she steered the numb earl forward.

They’d made it as far as the doorway when Micah’s brain returned to him. “Wait,” he said, digging in his heels and turning to Mrs. Knightsbridge. “Thornton is right. What has happened? I want the truth.”

“They are both safe, Micah.” The old woman seemed to stand tall, much taller than Micah himself was. “Trust me. I shan’t say another word about it.”

He started to protest, but he blinked, and she was gone.

***

The night of his betrothal ball was clear and lovely, the early summer breeze bearing scents of rose and jasmine. Micah had done all he was expected to do. He’d appeared at his betrothed’s side when requested, danced the requisite number of dances, and generally done as he was bidden.
Like
a
trained
dog,
he mused as he relinquished Felicity’s arm to Lord Geraldton for a dance. Of course, Baron hadn’t obeyed him as well since Jamie had been in residence.

The thought twisted his heart with poignant memory, and he excused himself from his hostess’s side to get some air. The crush of the ball attendees faded behind him as he slipped onto the balcony.

Gripping the railing, he looked up into the night. Was the sky the same where she was? Were the stars just as bright? Whispers of cloud still there? Did she think of him now that he’d broken her heart?

A rustle in the bushes below startled him from his reverie.

“Hello?” he said into the blackness. “Show yourself.”

Soft steps sounded on the marble, and his housekeeper appeared. Mrs. Knightsbridge, dressed in a long black cloak with a hood over her graying hair, revealing just enough of the round face for him to be sure it was her, beckoned to him. He glanced over his shoulder. The laughing, gay throng was still dancing merrily, without a care in the world. No one looked his way. The betrothal toast was set to occur at midnight, just moments away. But Mrs. Knightsbridge must have a reason to be there, and he would discover it.

He crossed the balcony to her. When he started to speak, to ask her what she was about, she shushed him with a finger in the air. He watched in awe as she drew a gleaming silver bowl from beneath her cloak. She set it there, on the top step of the balcony. Drawing a flask from its strap on her belt, she dripped silvery, clear water into the bowl. The shine was almost painful, and he turned his head away.

“Watch,” she whispered.

Strange words met his ears as he turned back to where she knelt by the bowl. A sharp scent filled his nostrils as she spoke and waved her hands over the bowl. Not unpleasant, it reminded him of lemons and a deep-green lawn. Her voice never changed in pitch or volume, but the intensity of the words toward the end punched him in his gut. He rocked back on his heels, an odd sweat breaking out on his brow. He’d had enough. He’d demand that she stop this odd behavior, stop whatever she was doing that caused his discomfiture…

Before he could say another word, Jamie appeared in the bowl.

Micah dropped to his knees, his gaze locked on the one woman he’d ever loved. Within the shining sides of the bowl, his beautiful, odd girl was wearing a drab taupe gown, cheeks streaked with tears. She held Baron’s leather lead. She knelt by his side, then turned as they were run down by a white horse.

“Collette,” Micah growled low in his chest. The damned bitch. The runner had sworn Collette had nothing to do with the attacks on Jamie’s life. Micah gritted his teeth and dug his hands into the marble on either side of the bowl. He should have known that Collette would seduce his spy.

Jamie wasted no time. Micah watched as she scooped up the injured hound and ran back to his home. He watched as his housekeeper followed her into his bedchamber. He lost his breath when he saw her disappear with Baron through the mirror.

“You,” Micah said, looking into Mrs. Knightsbridge’s eyes for the first time. “You.”

She nodded but pointed to the bowl once more.

It was Collette again. She was paying a thin, cruel-looking man with silver from her ample bosom. The man gave her a wink and a nod, and then he disappeared. When he returned, he was sprinkling a fine powder into some beautiful glasses. In Sir Frederick Lyons’ home. A footman was carrying those glasses to Sir Frederick. They were for Micah and Felicity. The toast of their betrothal.

Micah’s voice was dismayed as he asked, “Is that occurring now?”

Mrs. Knightsbridge nodded. “You must go and stop it. Then return to see me. I will set things right.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Micah’s suddenly cold cheek. “Go.”

He entered the ballroom at a dead run.

The next three months went the same way for Jamie. Leah popped in to keep watch and mind Baron while Jamie went grocery shopping, but even that stopped after two months. The sweltering summer gave way to brisk fall. Baron’s stitches came out, and he lost the lampshade. He ran around her backyard, chasing squirrels and the odd rabbit. He acted happy.

Jamie still waited, afraid to leave that stupid bureau alone.

She wrote music, all of it depressing, horrible crap. Nobody bought it. Her bills mounted higher. She was going to lose the house soon. She let her subscription to the game lapse. She wasn’t interested in playing anymore. She wasn’t interested in anything but Baron, and the love she’d lost nearly two hundred years ago. She didn’t blame Leah for not coming around much. She couldn’t stand to be around herself either.

Jamie sat on the floor, rubbing Baron’s ears one September night, staring at the bureau and talking to the hound while he licked her bare foot.

“Did I screw this whole thing up, do you think? Should I have done something different? How could I have convinced him that it wasn’t his fault, Baron? Should I have ratted out Mrs. K? I should have, shouldn’t I?”

Baron didn’t say a word, just continued nibbling at her toes.

“Cut it out, that tickles. Anyway, if I wasn’t such a stupid, girly, emotional wreck, then we wouldn’t have gone out walking and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’m really sorry for that, I hope you know.”

A gentle lick on her hand made her smile.

“You’re the best dog ever. If your daddy were here, he’d say the same thing. Mike loved you more than anything in this world, you know.” Jamie ruffled his ears, wishing the endless tears would freaking stop.

“Except for you, my Jamie. I love Baron more than anything except for you.”

Her heart turned into an anatomically correct still-life at the sound of that voice. She kept her eyes locked on Baron, afraid to turn her head. She was sure she wouldn’t see anything. There would be nothing there but a ridiculously expensive piece of antique furniture that she had no chance of completely paying for before she hit Social Security age.

“Jamie?”

When he said her name again, she swallowed hard and turned her head without opening her eyes.

“Is it you, Mike? Or do I need to start taking antipsychotics?”

“I am not sure what you mean by that, but it is me. And I love you.”

When Jamie opened her eyes, her heart restarted with a vengeance. Mike stood there, in the flesh, his perfectly tailored tan jacket molding against his shoulders, his cravat perfect, and his boots so shiny they gleamed like the mirror he’d apparently traveled through to get to her.

“Mike!” she screamed, and threw herself into his arms, sobbing like a baby. “Oh my God, I’m so glad, I can’t believe, it was an awful misunderstanding, all of it, and I never expected, and then Baron, but he’s going to be okay, and I can’t believe you’re here and I missed you and I love you and mmmmmph!”

Mike shut her up by kissing her senseless. Several passionate moments later, a wiggling, bony body wedged its way between them, bringing them back to the present, which happened to be the present she was used to. Only this time, her stunning earl was in it too.

“Baron, lad.” Mike kneeled beside his dog, his beautiful eyes glinting suspiciously as the hound attacked his face with a long pink tongue. “What have you done? Mrs. Knightsbridge told me you had been hurt, but you are looking well enough, are you not?” He rubbed the silky ears and let the hound kiss his cheeks.

Jamie smiled so hard she thought her face would break, hiccupping through her tears.

The doorbell rang.

“Hey, don’t move,” she said to Mike, hugging his shoulders hard as he knelt by the dog. “I’ll be right back.”

Leah stood at the door with pizza and some DVDs. “Hey, thought you might be hungry. Feel like a movie?”

Jamie grinned like an idiot. “Leah, he’s here.”

Her eyes went wide as dinner plates. “Here? The earl? Now?”

Jamie nodded, biting her lip to keep from squealing.

“Move over. I need to kick his ass for letting you get hurt.”

“Don’t you dare! I’ll call you tomorrow.” Jamie shoved the door shut. Leah banged on it.

“Jamie? Jamie! Open this door!”

Jamie yanked open the door, grabbed the pizza, and slammed it again. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“You owe me twelve bucks!”

She walked away, grinning like an idiot.

When she rounded the corner, her heart stopped. The living room was empty.

“Mike?” she called, dropping the pizza onto the coffee table. “Mike?” She ran over to the bureau, tapping on the glass. Solid. “Mike, where are you?”

“I am here, dearling. I am sorry. Baron walked into this room, and I followed to see…oof!” His breath exited in a whoosh as Jamie threw herself at his middle, arms wrapping tightly around him. They stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, Baron leaning against both of their legs.

“Sorry,” she said to his jacket buttons. “I was afraid you’d left me.”

He held her tight. “Never, my love. Never again.”

She pulled back enough to look up at his face.

“What made you come here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond thrilled that you’re here, but I thought you couldn’t leave. What happened?”

He sighed and shoved a dark hank of hair from his forehead. “It is a long tale.”

She looked up at him with a crooked brow. “I got nothing but time.”

They curled up on her couch together like they’d done almost two hundred years earlier, with a pizza and two beers in front of them. After commenting on how different pizza was in this time compared to Jean Philippe’s prototype, Mike set down his beer, held her hands, and told her the whole story. He finished by telling her about Collette’s man poisoning the champagne for Felicity.

Jamie clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, is she…”

He rubbed her shoulders, chafing the suddenly goose-bumped skin. “She is fine. I warned her in plenty of time.”

“Oh good,” she said, feeling guilty that she’d ever wished ill on the stupid blond girl. Nobody deserved that kind of pain.

“Collette was confronted about her crimes. She proved to be quite mad, I’m afraid.”

Jamie had always thought she was sort of a peace-loving girl, but she couldn’t pretend to be upset that Collette was going to get her just desserts. “What happened?”

He gave a not-quite-guilty smile. “She was shipped to Australia with a number of other convicts.”

“I guess I shouldn’t wish they hanged her, huh?”

He shook his head. “Those ships are not very nice, I’m afraid.”

“Good. I hope rats gnawed her to death…” She trailed off, her thoughts intruding into what should have been a perfect homecoming. She cleared her throat. She had to ask him.

“Mike, it’s been months since I’ve seen you. How much time passed back there for you?”

He looked away and worry sprouted wings to beat against her stomach’s inner walls. Had it been longer for him? Even years? She searched his face for new wrinkles, his hair for stray threads of gray.

“It was June of the year of our Lord…” He trailed off, cupping her cheek and looking deep into her eyes. She took a shuddering breath before he continued, “1816.”

She expelled the breath in a rush and walloped him gently on the arm. He winced good-naturedly.

“You jerk. You shouldn’t have worried me like that.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“You are right, my love. My apologies.” He smiled at her but then looked more serious. “I did what I must to protect you, to keep you safe, but I despised myself for the lies I told you.”

“When did you lie to me?”

“I let you believe I no longer loved you.”

Jamie rested her head on his shoulder. “You did a shit job. I knew you loved me.”

He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “You did?”

She nodded, lifting and kissing his fingers. “Yeah. If not for Baron, I’d have probably stayed to piss you off more.”

He chuckled deeply. “Well, despite my failure, I intended to deceive you for your own safety.”

He stood up to remove his jacket, and she let her eyes take in the body she’d missed so much over the past few months. He stretched his neck as he loosened his cravat, laying the wrinkled length of white cloth over his coat. He removed his waistcoat and sank back down on the couch next to her, looking as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. She tucked her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she stared at him.
He’s here. He’s really, really here with me
.

“So what happened with Mrs. K? I know she was really worried about telling you the truth.”

He looked down, a shadow suddenly falling over his eyes. “She is well.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, leaning closer to her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as her body responded to his nearness.

His hand slid to the nape of her neck, drawing her close to him.

“Jamie,” he whispered, before taking her lips with a kiss.

His touch was as familiar as it was intoxicating. She reveled in the sensations, winding her arms around his neck, rubbing the firm muscles of his shoulders which flexed as he stood and scooped her into his arms.

“Where is your bedchamber?” he asked between kisses.

“Upstairs.” She gasped as he passionately attacked her neck with lips and tongue.

He reluctantly allowed her to stand on her own, and she wasted no time grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs to her bedroom.

They fell together on the bed, clothes being discarded like dandelion tufts in the wind. When they were naked together, she sighed in both relief and delicious feeling.

Mike stopped kissing her breasts to ask, “What is it, dearling?”

Jamie ran her fingers through his dark hair and smiled down at him. Her earl. Her love. “My heart is so full right now.”

He smiled and rose on his knees to kiss her lips again. His tongue plundered her, passionately plumbing her depths, and her belly curled and warmed in response. She rubbed her bare leg against his, moaning softly when she hitched it on his hip and brought his erection into contact with her hot, damp core.

“Oh, Jamie love, you feel incredible.” Mike fondled her breast, rubbing his way down her belly with one hand, dipping a finger between her damp folds. She cried out as he flicked the hard, tingling nub of her clit. She pressed her hips against his hand, seeking his filling, hard heat.

“Don’t make me wait, please,” she begged, pressing soft, nipping kisses against his strong collarbone. She ran her fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest, delighting in the feel of the pebbled, masculine nipples against her palms. He tilted his head back, baring his strong neck to her as her kisses moved higher. She could not stop her hands from traveling lower, gripping his velvet heat at the base. His groan of pleasure wrenched her, her body screaming out for completion that only he could give.

She brought the slick, damp, silken tip of his manhood close to her, rubbing it against her folds. “Please,” she begged again. “It’s been too damn long.”

He had mercy on her. On both of them. When she brought the head of him to the entrance of her body, he wasted no time thrusting home.

Their gasping breaths mingled as their bodies moved, straining against one another for that mutual peak. He looked into her eyes as he moved, passion mixed with tenderness and love. He grew hotter and harder within her, her body pulsing and welcoming him with each of his thrusts. She wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing him deeper into her. He took her hands, twining their fingers together as he pressed them into the pillow beside her head.

Their movements quickened, their breathing grew ragged, and soft moans became frantic cries. When her hips twisted wildly against him and she started cresting the wave of her orgasm, he took her cries into his mouth, releasing his own pleasure deep within her body. He kissed her when it was over, whispering soft words of love, tenderly brushing strands of hair from her forehead.

She fell asleep with their bodies still connected, hugging him to her tightly.

He woke her later as he moved beside her to draw a blanket over them, shielding her skin from the cool air in the room. She yawned and snuggled close to his side.

So,” she said, drawing circles in the tufts of springy hair on his chest, “are you staying?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Really?” She sat bolt upright, happiness shooting through her like a rocket, eliminating any trace of drowsiness. “You’re going to stay here, in my time?”

He smiled. “The
ton
believe that I have run off to the colonies. I quite successfully spread a rumor that my coffers were empty as the result of a wager gone awry. Felicity cried off, as I knew she would. Her father is much too greedy to have accepted a son-in-law with no coin.” He drew a lazy circle on her wrist. “My heir is already making plans to step into my suddenly vacant place. Also, I would like to experience the things you have told me of—the computers and cars and things. I have not come empty-handed,” he said, a trace of the old autocratic pride tingeing his voice. He reached off the edge of the bed and shook his jacket. A curious jingling noise filled the air. “I have brought the Axelby family jewels and some other precious stones. My countess shall want for nothing.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said teasingly. “I wouldn’t want you if you weren’t filthy rich.” She winked so he’d know she was kidding.

He brushed a soft kiss on her lips with a smile. “Also”—he reached off the edge of the bed once more—“there is the small matter of a marriage to attend to.”

In his palm lay a gold ring with a huge ruby mounted in the center. “Holy shit,” she whispered.

“Miss Marten,” he said in his earl voice, the one that was proud, haughty, and a little bit unsure at the very back, “would you do me the very great honor of becoming my bride?”

She thought about waiting. She thought about letting him stew for an hour or two, maybe taking a week or so to think about it…

“
Yes
,” she squealed and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed, squeezing her back. He lifted her and reached for her hand, pushing the ring on her third finger.