The Kidnapped Bride (Redcakes Book 4) (9 page)

And she was right. Her wits had scarcely returned when his body was over hers, anchoring her to this earth, this bed, something hard and hot pressing into her. She couldn’t get a proper breath. She couldn’t find one perfect place for her hands to grip as they roved down his back, still too shy to descend farther.

Then tight, hot pain took a bite from her pleasure. He stopped moving and pushed up on his elbows.

“You’re so tight,” he panted. “It has been some time?”

She stared at him, unable to speak. Had she just been breached?

“Should I give you a moment?”

She could see a droplet of sweat on his forehead, knew what speech cost him. It didn’t hurt much now that the initial sting was gone. “No.”

He grinned again, making her nipples clench. “I’ll make ye die again, treasure. Just let it come.”

She let her head drop back, tried to relax as he pushed his enormous manhood into her. Momentarily, she felt his hips settle against hers. Slowly, she bent her legs, anchoring him with her thighs, making room for him.

“That’s the way, bonny lass.” He reached to one knee and pulled it up, holding her tightly with his hand. Then he nuzzled her neck and began to slide in and out of her.

At first the sensation was surpassingly strange, but then he did something to change the angle of contact. His body pressed against that place he’d made sing before, and her hips began to move a little too, almost separate from her consciousness. Her fingers clutched his shoulders before she quite knew she’d lifted them, then moved down lower to cradle his lower back. Pressure began to build. Heat turned to flame. She dug her nails into his bottom, feeling the muscles work, wantonly delighted. He slid long and slow against that special place.

She cried out her pleasure.

“Good?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she managed.

Between them, it was all slick, drugging heat. His skin was on fire, and he began to speak, saying words she could scarcely hear through passion-stopped ears. He moved faster, thrusting in and out. Unbelievably, she met him with every stroke, feeling more alive, more in her right place, than she ever had before.

He gasped. “I’m dying, lass.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, not quite sure what he meant, but then he shuddered against her and pushed in, hard. A warm sensation filled her and she arched into him, her body throbbing, before sliding into a wonderful, liquid perfection.

Very slowly, some eons later, he pulled himself out of her, lifted himself, and tenderly kissed her mouth. “I would repeat everything I’ve done over the past few days to have ye again, my treasure.”

She closed her eyes. “I am still a little dead.”

He laughed and gathered her close, then turned on his side and pulled her against him. “Sleep. We must make sure you get enough rest or that illness may descend on you again.”

 

Dougal woke groggily to the sounds of booted feet nearby. He turned, knuckling his eyes, and his leg brushed soft warmth. His eyelids flew open and he turned his head to see Lady Elizabeth—Beth—fast asleep beside him. How had he fallen asleep in the bed and not across the doorway as he’d promised? And where were the guns? He had a terrible feeling at least one brace of pistols was in the front room. This lack of vigilance told him how exhausted he had been.

Boots moved through the outer room. At least the inner door was locked. He dropped silently out of bed, reaching for his trousers as he crept across the floor, felt for the knife in his overturned boot. When he reached the door, he peered through the doorway.

He saw fine trousers, hand-cobbled shoes. Not ruffians, then. Slowly, he pulled his greatcoat to him. At least one pistol was buried in a pocket.

“Do you think anyone is here?” a man asked.

Lord Judah Shield
. Damnation; how had the man arrived in Edinburgh so quickly?

Dougal dropped the knife back into its boot holster and shoved his legs into his trousers, then pulled his wrinkled shirt over his head. Slowly, quietly, he turned the key in the lock, opened the door scant inches, and entered the main room.

Two sets of aristocratic eyes landed upon him. Lord Judah, his curious brown and amber eyes nothing like those of his brother’s, and the marquess, whose gaze was so similar to his sister’s. Both looking accusing, startled, exhausted.

“Ye flew here with the dawn,” Dougal said, glad his voice sounded calm and confident.

“Left London as soon as we received your brother’s call,” the marquess said. “Telephones come in handy.”

“On the train?”

“No, a motorized conveyance.”

Now it was Dougal’s turn to be confused, but then, he hadn’t had his morning tea. And he smelled like their sister. How very awkward. He hoped mightily that the lady stayed in bed. “We have a little food left. And there is most of a chair.”

“We’re fine,” Lord Judah said. “Where is my sister?”

Dougal winced as the door creaked open behind him. He turned, to warn her to dress, and saw one of his pistols pointed right at him.

“Lady Elizabeth,” he said. “Your brothers have come.”

The pistol wavered.

“Put the pistol down, my lady.” His tone came out sharp, but this time, the gun disappeared from the doorway.

The men all waited, scarcely seeming to breathe, as rustling sounds came from behind the door. He fervently hoped she was figuring out how to clothe herself respectably, and that she’d found pins for her hair among the pile of scattered, damaged belongings that John had piled into a corner the previous day.

A lifetime ago. How could he have let a green girl seduce him so? Obviously, he had lost his mind.

Her kisses, though artless, were incredible. She hadn’t really known how to take off his clothes, but she’d managed it. And she’d welcomed him into her body with a lusty excitement that couldn’t be matched by any practiced gyration.

“Forgive her; she’s had a fever and a cold,” he said.

As they waited for her to emerge, he wondered if he’d taken her maidenhood. He could feel the blood drain from his face as memories of the previous night drifted through his brain. Her moment of stiffening, of pain even, when he’d entered her, even though he’d prepared her as thoroughly as a man could.

Confound it! She had hoodwinked him into taking her virginity. He was certain of it now, as certain as he was faced with her brothers now, and as certain as he’d needed the money they had paid him to find her over these last months.

He breathed as hard as if he’d been chasing a bank robber through the hilly streets of Edinburgh. Making a fervent attempt to calm himself, he went toward the door. “I’ll just hurry her along, shall I?”

“Did you arrive here early this morning?” the marquess asked in an icy tone, stopping him.

“This morning?”

“Yes. Though I suspect you didn’t, given your state of undress.”

Lord Judah’s predator’s eyes fixed on his shirt, which Dougal now realized had been buttoned wrong.

“I’d like to marry your sister,” he blurted out.

The marquess’s sandy brows rose.

“Yes. I know she is far above me, my lord, but I’ll take good care of her. And she’ll always have a good home. My family has land. Land and money. I’m a second son, but I’ve chosen tae make my own way. The family would always provide, however. I have the use of our properties.”

The door flew open. Dougal saw Beth in the doorway, dressed, but her hair was a nimbus of sweaty waves, drifting over her shoulders, haloed around her pretty face.

“I’d rather convert to Catholicism and become a nun!” she shouted. “You blackguard. You trickster! You fortune hunter!” She whirled around and slammed the door behind her.

Silence reigned in the outer room. All three men stood, transfixed in confusion.

“Have you been keeping her all along?” Lord Judah asked after the pause.

“No,” Dougal assured him. “The first time I saw her was a little over a month ago, and it wasn’t until I came down tae London that I realized how much Cross’s maid looked like the pair of ye. We’ve been through hell and back these past few days. That is my only excuse for the liberties I took.”

“It’s not much of one,” Lord Judah observed.

“I am sorry, but as I say, I’ll marry her. No dowry necessary. I’m no fortune hunter.”

“She’s not interested,” the marquess said in a monotone.

“She’s very independent,” Dougal said. “And there is something ye don’t know. Something that she’s afraid will change everything.”

A knock came at the open door. Dougal glanced up, wishing for a weapon, but then he saw Mrs. Shaw, red-faced and puffing, holding Hester at her hip.

“Mr. Alexander?” she asked. “Can I leave Hester with you now? I’d like to get down to the market. The weather is fine for the moment an’ the money you provided is fair burning a hole in my pocket.”

He walked to her like a man in a dream, held out his arms. The baby went to him willingly, focused on sucking her two fingers.

He nodded to Mrs. Shaw, then saw the marquess staring. “This is Hester. She’s the orphan of a woman who had a flat on this floor.” He couldn’t help thinking how her fine blond blow-away hair looked like Lady Elizabeth’s just had. But he also knew the lady had been telling the truth. Of all men, he knew she had not had a child.

The marquess smiled woodenly at the baby. “You are her nursemaid?”

“I’ve taken her in.” Lady Elizabeth strode back into the room, her hair braided now, though the ends were loose, and snatched Hester from Dougal’s arms. Her chin rose as she stared down the head of her family. “She’s mine. I’m responsible for her now, a responsibility I accept willingly.”

“How does Mr. Alexander feel about that? People will talk.”

“It’s none of his business,” she snapped.

“When he marries you, he’d have to take the child on too,” the marquess said.

She matched him, gaze to gaze. “I’m not going to marry him.”

“Then pack up your things so we can return to London.” Hatbrook gestured at the nearly empty room. “You couldn’t live like this, even if there wasn’t a child. We’ll put her in the nursery with Mary Ellen.”

She stared at her brother, but Dougal knew her just well enough to see a wild ray of hope in her eyes. If her brother was willing to take the child into a nursery with his own infant, then perhaps Lady Elizabeth’s life would not be so barren after all. Maybe she didn’t even need
him
.

Her back stiffened. “I cannot leave until I know the fate of the other unfortunates who were kidnapped as I was. It is my duty to provide aid to them if I can.”

“Oh?” Hatbrook said. “You formed ties with them?”

“Of course not. I was unconscious, but they don’t deserve this fate.”

“You aren’t in a position to bargain.”

“I admit all my money was stolen. I believe Dougal found some of Freddie’s hidden funds, but I am unsure if I can lay claim. Until then, if you could see fit to lend me a few pounds, Michael? Because I’m not leaving Edinburgh.”

Hatbrook swallowed hard, as if forcing his pride into a small corner of his being. “I have a better idea, Beth. Let’s let Mr. Alexander keep the money and use it to fund his search for the unfortunates. If there is any left when he finds them, he can portion it out to them.”

“That leaves me penniless.” She kissed the top of Hester’s head. “It’s not wise for me to accept that with a ward to protect.”

“Come home, Beth,” Lord Judah urged. “Remember when I first returned from India, how you all but forced me to be a part of your family again? Let me do the same for you. You need to come home. You could live with me, if you like.”

“Her home is with me,” Hatbrook said.

Beth turned from one to the other. Dougal wished he could tell her that her place was with him, but she didn’t want him, even though it was becoming increasingly apparent to him that he wanted her.

The thought of that sweet, eager body in his bed every night was enough to render him dumb with longing. At least he could find out the fate of the other women for her. It might take him another year to follow that ship to its destination, but he would do it in thanks for the night she had given him. And then, somehow, he would find a way to take her as his own.

Beth glanced at both brothers again. She squared her shoulders. “I think Alys is more likely to accept me than Magdalene.”

Lord Judah protested. “Beth!”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “She had a different upbringing, Judah. Alys already has a sister with an illegitimate child. My ward won’t be such a shock, even if people do whisper about her true parentage. In fact, if I come with you, I’d like to think of a better story than the truth.”

“Of course,” Lord Judah said. “And I have the perfect solution. Let us say she is Mark Cross’s child.”

Hatbrook’s eyebrows went nearly to his hairline. He looked so like Beth that Dougal had to suppress a smile. “You must be joking.”

Dougal tried to remember who Mark Cross was. He knew Lady Judah was a Cross, as was Manfred.

Lord Judah held out his hands palms up. “He isn’t here, and I’m sure his family would be happy to claim a child in his name.”

“I have no idea who Mark Cross is,” Beth said.

“Magdalene’s brother. I served with him in India.”

Hatbrook approached Beth. Hester pulled her fingers from her mouth and held the damp digits out to the marquess. “Don’t you remember, Beth? Cross was the man who supposedly died with Judah in 1887.”

“How did the child come from India?” Beth paced toward the fireplace.

Lord Judah snorted. “With an ayah, on a boat. Right to Edinburgh. We’ll say Beth was caring for her these past couple of months. Makes Manfred look better too. That would make Hester his own niece.”

“Oh,” Beth said, as Hatbrook shook the baby’s hand. “Yes, I can see that. Hester Cross. Would we say Mark was married and his wife died?”