The Perfect Bride (33 page)

Never,
in all the dangers he had braved, had he risked  handing another person his
need, his hopes, his dreams — all that made him human, and vulnerable. Yet he
found that he could not give Amanda his body without also giving her those
things. She drew all from him but gave them back, uninhibited and unafraid.

No
barriers, no hesitation. The worn little pallet on which he spread his waistcoat
and worshipped her with his longing became the center of his existence. Awed by
a vulnerability that matched his own, yet with a strength of passion he could
not have imagined, Simon offered her all that he had.

Afterward,
he lay with his arms around her, lacking words. So new, so fragile was this fullness
within him, that he was loath to speak for fear of breaking the spell. But
Amanda had no such reticence.

"I
was right," she said. "You are a beast."

Guilt
shattered him. In unleashing his uncivilized nature, he had gone too far and
too fast for a woman of gentle sensibility. No matter how willingly she had met
his passion, she could not have been prepared for the full force of it. He
ought to have reined himself in. He should never have loosed his unbridled lust
on a delicate female.

"Forgive
me," he said hoarsely, for the first time ashamed of his physical prowess.
He had always known his own strength, always known it was the ultimate weapon
he possessed. But he had always had himself under control. Until now.

"I
will not." Her deliciously swollen mouth curved  upward. "Nor will I
allow you to leave this cave without showing me that beast again."

His
spirit soared, only to come crashing down again when a solitary tear rolled
down her cheek.

"Amanda?
Did I injure you?" he demanded roughly.

"Nay.
`Tis but a tear of wonder. Love is more beautiful than I dreamed. I did not
think I had those dreams, the kind that Felicity has. Thank you for showing me
the truth."

Love
.
Simon froze. She had spoken the word and had a right to expect that he would
speak it, too. Yet it stuck in his throat, and something else, something wholly
unexpected, came out.

"My
father died in war," he said. "I fully expected to die in the same
manner. When I inherited this cursed title, I swore that even if battle claimed
me, there would be children to continue the line and help my widow carry on.
Not one child, you understand, but many.”

She
nodded.

“A
family, you see. I was twelve when my father died, and I was all that stood
between my mother and poverty and degradation. It was not enough."

"I
see." Her eyes filled with sympathy.

"No,"
he said bleakly, "you do not. The truth is that I failed to protect
her."

She
shook her head. "You were just a boy."

"And
she was just a woman. Beauty was the only asset she possessed besides the small
boarding house. The boarders she took in were an unruly lot. One day I came
home from selling her pies on the street to find her lying in a pool of blood,
her skirts up around her waist."

Amanda
gasped.

"She
had been raped and beaten." The image was as vivid to him today as it was
then. "She never recovered. The next winter she died from
consumption."

"It
was not your fault." She wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in
her healing warmth.

For
a moment Simon accepted the solace she offered, allowed himself to savor her
touch. Then he pulled away.

"I
failed her," he growled. "Hell, I could not even protect her in her
own house."

"Simon..."

"I
was good at war. Wellington used me to help draw up battle plans, to sneak
behind the lines and learn what I could about the Corsican's movements. And the
fighting, of course. I did that very well."

Despair
forced him to continue, even though he knew it would hurt her. "The
military provided what my early years could not — stability, order. Everything
centered around the mission, around duty. It was how I lived.”

“Of
course.”

“Like
a damned fool, I thought I could arrange the matter of my marriage in the same
way I formulated battle plans. I went about the process methodically. I chose a
well-bred young lady who could preside over a home in which our offspring would
flourish and I could keep them safe.”

He
met her gaze. "And who seemed likely to give me many children."

She
had no trouble following his thoughts. "With her large family, Felicity was
the perfect bride."

"Amanda,"
he murmured. “Forgive my stupidity.”

She
managed a weak smile. "I have no brothers or sisters. And I am twenty-eight,
no longer young. I am not a very good bet as a breeder. You must be practical,
my lord. If Felicity will not marry you, you must find another young lady with
the same qualifications."

No."
He nearly shouted his denial. "I thought to avoid failing those who needed
me by ensuring their survival long into the future. But war also taught me that
even the most thorough planning can bring death, destruction, failure. There
are no guarantees for anything in life."

She
lowered her gaze. "I suppose not."

Simon
touched her chin, gently bringing it up so she had to look at him. "Don’t
you see? I thought to control my fate, when it was not mine to control. I did
not know that I had dreams. You made me see that I did. And that you are everything
I have dreamed of."

"But
Simon — "

He
saw she was trembling and enfolded her in his arms. “Whether we have children
or no,” he said softly, “we will have each other."

She
searched his face. "I will not force you into marriage."

"That
is where we are different. For I fully intend to force you."

Suddenly,
the words were there. Perhaps they had been all along, waiting for her.

"I
love you, Amanda."

Tears
streamed down her face. Tears of joy — he was certain now. Then she smiled at
him.

"Felicity
was right," she said.

"That
we are meant for each other?"

She
appeared to consider the matter gravely. "That even practical sorts like
us are capable of great sentiment."

Simon
cleared his throat. "Does that mean that you return my, ah, regard?"

She
frowned. "Did I neglect to say so?"

"Is
it your intent to torment me?"

"No,"
she assured him. "`Tis just that I love two men, my lord."

"
Two
?"
A fierce, animal-like force rose in him. "I will not share you with Claridge.
If it takes another duel or ten duels, I will force him to relinquish his
claim."

She
eyed him thoughtfully.  "So you admit it was a duel after all?"

"Amanda,"
he growled.

"`Tis
not Julian but another gentleman," she said softly. "I believe you
know him. And I do not think you could best him in any duel."

“Say
his name,” he ordered. “I will have him at pistols at dawn.”

Her
gentle laughter took him aback. "I am terribly sorry for teasing you. I
only referred to Mr. Thornton."

"Thornton!"
Relief warred with embarrassment. Simon was not accustomed to this new
intensity, this raw feeling that had him ready in an instant to fight to the
death for her. He cleared his throat. "Rather a somber sort, Thornton."

She
nodded. "But he kisses quite as nicely as you."

"Now
that is a challenge no soldier can resist," he growled, bringing his lips
to hers.

"Beast,"
she declared.

***

"God's
teeth, Mortimer, these humans are impossible!"

"My
sentiments precisely."

"Love
is to blame. Were our humans consumed only by lust, we would have had a chance.
Who could have guessed that our tenant was capable of such feelings?"

"Or
such strength, curse it all."

"It
is so unfair, Mortimer. I have never felt so defeated in my life. I could not
worm myself into so much as an earlobe of that chaperon. In another life, I
think she must have been one of those warring Amazons."

"I
had equal difficulty with our tenant, dear."

"I
was prepared to settle for the Biddles — indeed, they do seem a lusty sort. But
that was no good, either, for they are just as besotted."

"With
Edward gone, perhaps this would be a good time to follow your plan and leave
this castle to seek our pleasure elsewhere. There are many humans in the world
concerned only with lust."

"I
suppose. But I was rather fond of our tenant."

"A
little too fond, if you ask me, Isabella."

An
unearthly groan swept through the tower.

"What
is that ungodly sound?"

"Mortimer,
no! Could it be? It cannot!"

"Edward!"

"It
seems the prodigal has returned."

"Now
we are trapped here forever!"

"It
is not the end of the world, love."

"Speak
for yourself, Mortimer."

***

Amanda
stared at her aunt. "Mr. Frakes has returned?"

Lady
Biddle beamed. "That nice young man traveled on foot for two days to seek
his father's permission to wed Felicity. Do you not think that romantic?"

Stunned,
Amanda could only nod in agreement.

"They
are in the parlor now with Sir Thomas," Lady Biddle said with a pleased
smile. "I believe Thomas is satisfied with Stephen's ability to provide
for Felicity. It seems that he is the seventh son of an earl, and while he
possesses no great fortune, his father has given him a small vicarage. Felicity
is delighted, of course."

"And
you have no objection?" Amanda ventured.

"Her
sisters married brilliantly, and I confess that a vicar’s wife is not exactly
what I had in mind for her. But after seeing how happy she is, I cannot bring
myself to object. Love will win in the end, you know," she added,
pointedly eyeing Amanda and the earl.

And
they were quite an eyeful, for by the time Felicity had remembered to unlock
the back of the wardrobe, they had passed all night and much of the next
morning in each other's arms. It had been rather daunting to find Sir Thomas
and Lady Biddle waiting in Amanda's room as they emerged from the wardrobe with
wrinkled clothing and telltale blushes. Sir Thomas had eyed them sternly and
said he trusted that the earl had a special license in his pocket. Now, she and
Simon stood with her aunt studying the Great Hall as a possible site for their
wedding ceremony.

"I
am sorry Julian has left," Amanda said.

"Forgive
me if I do not share your disappointment,” Simon growled.

"I
would like to thank him for his letter.” Amanda withdrew a piece of paper from
her skirt pocket. “I found it under a corner of the rug in my room. He must
have slipped it under the door when he left, only it caught under the carpet
and I did not see it until today.”

Over
her shoulder, Simon regarded Julian’s large black scrawl with suspicion. “Would
you care to share the contents?” But his tone was more order than request.

“If
that is jealously I hear in your voice, my lord, I hope this will soothe it.”
She handed him the note. Warily, Simon began to read it.

Dear
Amanda. Allow me to wish you happy, for I can see that it is only a matter of
time before Simon discovers his feelings for you. I only hope he does not allow
his rectitude to stand in the way, for if I do not miss my guess, Miss Biddle
has other fish to fry. (I trust you have not, in fact, learned to master your
passions as you insisted that day in the meadow.)

Amanda
blushed, but Simon’s expression darkened at the memory of finding her in
Julian’s arms that day.

I
have taken myself off
.
The immediate resolution of my
lineage is somehow less important than the silencing of the demons that have
long plagued me, and which somehow grew louder at Sommersby. And thought you
will not believe it, I hold you in great affection. I regret giving you offense
— recently and in the past — not with my lustful behavior so much as the fact
that you did not enjoy it. Undoubtedly Simon will succeed where I could not.
Yours, Julian LeFevre.

Simon
glowered. “If you are even contemplating inviting this man to our wedding,
Amanda — ”

“Actually,”
she put in, flushing, “I was at that very moment thinking of our time in the
cave and how you had, er, ‘succeeded’ when Claridge had not.”

His
smile — that dimple unabashedly showed itself at last — warmed her to the tips
of her toes.

Lady
Biddle arched a brow. "I believe I shall go look for Sir Thomas.” A faint
blush stole over her cheeks. "He has pestered the children long
enough."