The Next Best Bride (4 page)

His deep voice startled a shiver out of her when he asked, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable in my bed?"

She shook her head and refused to look at him. "We should wait until after the marriage to share a bed." She thought of William and could not help letting some of her bitterness leak out. "Best to do this furtively, as if we are afraid someone will discover us. Like lovers."

The sofa shifted under her hands as he rose. She caught the scent of him, but did not hear his approach. He moved as silently as a cat. For a long moment he did not touch her. The tension drew tighter and tighter inside her, but she refused to open her eyes. Refused to do more to encourage him than she already had done.

At last he moved close behind her and bent to press a gentle, tentative kiss against her neck. He was not like William, she thought as she suppressed a sob of frustration when he did nothing more than stand there behind her, their bodies almost, but not quite, touching. She had expected him to move surely, swiftly, to seal the bargain between them. What was he waiting for?

On the verge of losing her nerve, Helena remembered what had seemed to release the primitive male in William. Holding her breath, she pushed her bottom against him, wiggling as much as she dared.

His arms came around her, tightened. He held her hips to his and answered her movements with his own. She wanted to sob with relief. Now it would be done quickly.

And then, as quickly as he had responded, he became still. His arms continued to hold her tight against him, but quietly, without passion. "Who was he?" he asked softly in her ear.

"Who?" She knew what he wanted. She also knew she would never tell him.

"Your lover. The man who showed you this." He ground his hips against her roughly and then stopped when she said nothing. "Your stallion. Who was he?" He was furious. But why? She had not lied to him.

She closed her eyes, seeing her last hope for respectability fleeing. "I will not tell you. Not even if you will not marry me without knowing his name."

His arms loosened around her, so that she could breathe freely again. She braced herself for his rejection, but he said only, "You are a loyal little fool, aren't you? Just like your sister." He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder and held her loosely within the circle of his arms, saying no more.

Had he changed his mind? "Do you find the idea of my lover more distressing than you had thought?"

"No." The tension drained from him and his grip loosened. "Keep your secrets, Helena. I do not need to know them. I have enough of my own."

Still, he did not continue with his lovemaking.

The feel of him behind her, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, was unnerving. She steeled herself to whisper stiffly, "Is it too difficult with me wearing men's trousers instead of skirts?"

His laughter was a soft exhalation that tickled her ear. His hands caressed her hips restlessly for a moment. "No, it would be easily enough managed, I assure you." Without warning, he moved away from her and returned to the sofa.

She opened her eyes and stared down at him. "What are you doing?" His expression gave away nothing of his feelings.

He smiled at her. His famously wicked grin.

"Nothing." She did notice his earlobes were pinker than she thought they had been earlier. Whether it was a clue to his feelings she could not say.

"But—"

"I've changed my mind."

Disappointment jolted through her. He didn't want to marry her. He was refusing Rosaline's suggestion out of hand, now that he had met her.

"I see no reason to muddy matters before we marry." His words took a moment to become clear to her as he continued on in a rational tone. "A wife should be able to take a husband's word about certain things. And I give you mine that I will not treat any child of yours, now or in the future, as a bastard."

In the future. He spoke so casually of a future together. Husband. Wife. She frowned. "Do you imply that I would be unfaithful?"

"If you take a dozen lovers it will be no matter to me. I give my word upon that matter as well."

She could not help a shudder of distaste at the thought. "I do not want a dozen lovers."

"That will be your choice."

"So, then, you are agreed that I shall take Rosaline's place at the wedding?" She wanted it clear. "If you need more time to decide—"

He shook his head sharply. "I need no more time. You are perfect for what I need."

"Even though—"

He sighed. "I do not want to hurt your delicate sensibilities, Miss Fenster. Let me be blunt. I am overjoyed that you are not a virgin. I have never had a virgin. It has always been a matter of pride with me, if you must know. Experienced women only. Certainly, I had been prepared to make an exception for a wife, but I am relieved that I shall not have to do so."

Perhaps his honest words should have reassured her. No doubt he thought they would. No doubt Ros would have found them soothing enough were she sitting here with him. "How can I trust you?"

"I will not lie to you, Helena. No doubt sometimes you will wish I did. I have no intention of giving up my vices for marriage. But it is of no consequence to me who fathers the brat that will provide me the freedom from my grandfather's tyranny that I desire."

"But ..."

He shifted restlessly, turning away to stir the fire so that she could not see his face. "Those are my terms. Make no mistake. I need a wife, but I will not have one who does not understand what I offer. You — and any child you bear — will have my title, my name, and my protection, such as it is. But do not expect my company, my love, or my reform."

He turned back to her, his expression as revealing as if he were a stone. "Do you accept those terms?"

She wanted to refuse. Her instincts screamed that she was making a mistake she would live to regret. Not because he would humiliate her or call her child a bastard. No. She was certain he had told the truth in that.

What made her heart heavy was the ease with which he could speak of bastards and lovers. The ease with which he accepted her as a substitute for Ros. And most of all, the way her heart still beat fast at the thought of marrying the wicked earl, even though she knew he would break her heart if she were ever fool enough to give it to him.

After a few moments mastering her temper, she dropped her gaze to the carpet and said quietly, "I accept those terms, my lord."

"Excellent." Rand found himself slowly releasing his breath. Now, if only he could keep his skittish second best bride from running away, all would be well. "I will see you home, now."

"I can see myself home, my lord." Her expression suggested that he had offered to throw her to the floor and ravish her.

"I would rather not risk it, if you please." He closed his eyes and sighed at the thought of surviving the next two weeks.

* * * * *

Rand had hardly returned from seeing the very unmasculine Helena home when he found himself again with a visitor. This time he made certain the "gentleman" was Ros before he welcomed her. "I thought you might be home bracing your sister."

"What did you say to her?" Ros did not waste time with pleasantries. "She looks as though she has just agreed to marry the devil himself?"

"Hasn't she?"

Ros stared at him. "I won't have her hurt."

"Then you should not have convinced her to marry a man who will not care who fathers her children."

"Oh." She poured herself a generous helping of his brandy and sprawled easily across from him. "She will come to appreciate having her freedom. So, you are both agreed?"

"Yes. I'll apply for the license tomorrow. I suppose I should speak to the duke, as well."

"No." Ros shook her head.

"We must—"

"Let them enjoy themselves thinking that the family has pulled off a less-than-scandalous match for once. Time enough to tell them after the marriage."

"Surely—" He did not like deceiving the duke.

"Do you wish to risk them forbidding it?"

He subsided. She was right. The duke was one of the most upright figures in the whole of England. His wife was fond of fairytales. Either one could prevent the marriage — or convince Helena to rethink her bargain. "Will your sister change her mind?"

"A dozen times until her wedding day, no doubt."

"Will I be jilted again?"

As usual, Ros did not go out of her way to offer reassurance. "She is as desperate as you are. Will you change your mind at the last minute?"

"No."

Ros's eyes trained on him sharply at his quick answer. He wondered if she guessed at his reaction to her sister. He thought of the unsettling strength of his desire for Helena as she stood, tense and stiff behind the sofa, grinding herself against him with all the seductive skill of a skittish virgin.

Her neck had smelled sweet and warm, like a hot cross bun fresh from the oven. He had not known how to begin with her. Not until she pushed her bottom against him and he understood with a flash of desire that was quickly wiped away by a firestorm of fury. Her lover had treated her with none of the care she had deserved. He appeared to have taken advantage of a fleeting moment of privacy with an untried girl whose heart was vulnerable to his entreaties.

"Two weeks and you will both have what you want, then," Ros said, rising easily to her feet. He watched, trying to see her without the familiarity of the last two years. To his mind she looked the part of a man, even upon close scrutiny. Not just the sideburns, but the walk, the way she looked as if she commanded the room.

Not at all like Helena in the same getup. Watching Helena, he had had the urge to divest her of the foolish men's clothing she wore and demonstrate how a man made proper love to a woman. Only the sense that he must be cautious with her after her experience had made him return to the sofa, careful to keep his expression neutral despite his natural anger. "Who was her lover?"

Ros shook her head at him as she slipped out the door. "That is a question you must ask Helena."

"She won't tell me," he said to the empty room.

Lover. He snorted. She had not had a lover; she had been the victim of a libertine of the worst order. Her lover no doubt had considered himself a stallion mounting a mare. He wondered if there were tales being told about her somewhere. He had heard none as of yet. And once she was his wife ...

He sat up with an uneasy exclamation that brought Griggson in with a concerned, "Yes, my lord?"

"Nothing," he said, dismissing the man. Nothing except that he had already started thinking about Helena as someone to protect and defend. A wife. He needed one, there was no doubt. He would simply have to avoid becoming too involved in her life.

Helena had watched Ros take care of herself all her life. She would just have to learn how to follow her sister's example. How difficult could it be? He was giving her what most married women wanted, after all. She had agreed to his bargain. Now he just had to make certain he kept to it as well.

* * * * *

The dressing room was filled with steam and excited voices. Helena lay immersed in hot scented bathwater and watched her sisters maneuver about in the small room, each one eager to offer a piece of advice — even Kate who knew little of men or marriage.

Miranda, the eldest of them all, a regal duchess who looked nothing like one, with her hair flying wildly about her head and her silk dressing gown buttoned crookedly, sat on the edge of the tub. "Rosaline, you always professed that you would stay unmarried. And now here you are, the morning of your wedding day."

Helena responded as she knew Ros would have.

"The earl will let me have my head. How many men will I find who'll do that? I had to snap him up quickly."

"You do not love him?"

"I respect him." Helena knew that Ros would have jeered at love, but she could not bring herself to do so, even playacting as Ros.

"That is enough, I suppose. You have always been clearheaded enough — and of all people, you are the one marrying properly — courtship, engagement, a proper three-month lapse before the ceremony. After all our scandals, Simon has said he hoped the tide has turned and we'll have no more hasty, havey-cavey marriages in the family."

Miranda looked so sincere. What would she say when she found out what had been done? What would the duke say when he found out he had another havey-cavey marriage to deal with? The deception of what they were doing was all too clear, even in the misty air of the bathroom. For a moment Helena felt as if she might cry.

Fortunately, Ros stepped in to say briskly, "I need a moment alone with my twin, please."

Everyone left to attend to dressing themselves, and they were alone together. The last time. Helena sank into the water until it touched her chin. "I can't believe no one noticed that we switched places."

Ros glared down at her. "They won't as long as you don't do something silly, like weep."

Helena had changed her mind about the switch several times over the last two weeks. Each time, Ros had reminded her that with each day her menses had not arrived, she was more and more surely carrying a child. Every morning she had awakened hoping to find there was no need to go through with her bargain. Now here she was, an hour away from marrying the earl, with her family addressing her by her sister's name. "I didn't realize how difficult it was going to be — if only everyone would stop fussing so."

Ros wiggled her fingers idly in the bathwater.

"You make a more patient me, I must admit. I'd have thrown them all out an hour ago so I could enjoy a hot bath in private."

Helena caught her hand and squeezed. "Ros, don't you realize that we are saying good-bye to them? I will be off to live the life of a countess, not too far away. But you — you will be in another country across the sea."

"America." Ros's eyes shone with excitement. "You can't imagine how difficult I find it to pretend to be peaceful Helena when I know I'll be aboard ship by the end of the day."

"Will you miss no one?"

Ros flushed guiltily as she answered hastily. "You, of course. But you will be busy making your mark as countess. You will hardly notice I am gone."