Undressed by the Earl (36 page)

In silent thanks, she raised a small bundle, which contained the jewels and banknotes Amelia had given her earlier, as part of the blackmail payment. Sarah had tried to return it to her yesterday, but Amelia knew that she would need it more than ever, now that her brother was dead.

David came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. He said nothing, but offered the quiet comfort of his presence. Amelia watched as the coach drove away, feeling as if a burden had been lifted from her. The Earl of Strathland would never trouble her family again.

Turning back to her husband, she asked, “Are you in pain?”

David’s shoulder had been bound up in linen after Dr. Fraser had treated the wound. Although it would heal, she worried about the danger of a fever.

“A little.” His hands slid down to her waist, and he pressed a kiss against her throat.

“You should be in bed,” Amelia reminded him. “You were shot.”

“Good idea.” He caught her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “I’ll let you take care of me.”

She led him back to the bed, and he leaned back against the pillows. “Come and lie beside me so I’ll feel better.”

Amelia obeyed. For a moment, he lay on his uninjured side, watching her. She grew self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“I would take another bullet for you without question, Amelia.” He reached out to touch her face. She heard the truth in his voice and saw the honesty in his eyes.

His palm moved down to join with hers. “And you can’t leave me now, can you?”

“No,” she whispered. “I won’t leave you. I never really wanted to.” She raised his hand to her lips, so thankful that he was alive. If anything had happened to David, she didn’t know how she could go on.

She understood, now, why he had grieved for his first wife for so long. It would be like ripping her spirit in half.

“And you won’t leave me, either, unless you take me along,” she insisted.

David threaded one hand in her hair. “I love you, Amelia.” The warmth in his voice washed over her, pressing back her fear of losing him. “And even if I’m not the kind of husband you imagined marrying, that will always be true.”

She leaned in and touched her mouth to his. “It’s true, that you aren’t the man I dreamed of.” With a smile, she added, “You’re so much more.”

Epilogue

T
WO
W
EEKS
L
ATER

H
old your shoulders back,” Amelia instructed Christine. “Curtsy and hold up your hand as we go in a circle.”

David stood back, watching his wife and daughter dance together. Christine was wearing a gown that he didn’t entirely approve of. While Amelia reassured him that lilac was perfectly acceptable for her to wear, it struck him to see his little girl growing up. It felt as if a dozen more years had slipped away in a single moment.

“When can we go to London, Amelia? Next spring?” Christine’s voice held the excitement of a girl eager for her first Season.

“Yes, we will.” His wife shot her an amused look. “You must endure the hardships I endured when I had to watch my sisters while they danced and enjoyed themselves. I was escorted away, just as all the fun was beginning.”

David couldn’t help but smile. “Or you could wait a few more years, Christine. There’s no harm in that.”

“Margaret would agree with you on that point,” Amelia said. At the mention of her sister, David didn’t miss the relieved look in her eyes. The young woman had returned unharmed, and all of them were grateful for it.

“I had to learn proper manners at a young age,” Amelia continued. “Our mother taught us how to walk, how to behave, and how to dance. Just as Christine will learn what she needs to know, to manage an earl of her own.”

He reached to take her by the waist, and Amelia tapped him lightly with her fan. “If a rogue tries to accost you, Christine, be sure to strike him with your fan.”

He leaned in to her ear. “You like it when I accost you.”

“Sometimes.” She beamed up at him, and he took her through the steps of the country dance she’d been trying to teach their daughter.

“I’ve received some news,” he said, turning serious. “Cain Sinclair’s younger brother was arrested for the murder of Lord Strathland.”

Amelia paled. “He’s just a boy. I can’t believe he could have done such a thing.”

“He didn’t, so Sinclair claims. Margaret and he are trying to find who really did kill the earl.” He spun her in a circle before taking her hand to walk forward.

“I’m glad Strathland is dead,” Amelia admitted. “And I’m thankful that your wound is nearly healed.”

He leaned in again. “You only say that because you want to accost me later.”

“You’re right.” Amelia stole a swift kiss, and he ended the dance. To his daughter, he signaled for her to go and bring the gift he’d arranged earlier.

“I have something for you,” he said. “It’s for your birthday.”

“But my birthday isn’t until December,” Amelia teased.

He knew when her birthday was, but he’d invented a reason to give it. “Then it’s a very early birthday present.”

Amelia rose up on tiptoe to whisper into his ear. “Is it from Aphrodite’s Unmentionables? A gift that both of us will enjoy?”

His wife had been more than enthusiastic in bed, and there were times when her inventiveness astounded him. “No, it’s not that. But perhaps I’ll buy you unmentionables later.” He sent her a dark smile, and Christine brought over the paper-wrapped package. “Here it is.”

Amelia took the gift and remarked, “It’s very light.” She opened it and revealed a set of three embroidered handkerchiefs.

“How boring,” Christine said, rolling her eyes. “Papa, you should have bought her diamonds. When I have a beau of my own, he ought to know that a girl wants beautiful jewelry that sparkles.”

But Amelia’s face had softened at the sight of the handkerchiefs, as he’d hoped. She unfolded one and saw their initials embroidered together on each. Then she threw herself into his arms. “I love you, David. And I never should have said you had the personality of a handkerchief before I had the chance to know you.”

He breathed in the scent of her hair, so grateful that she’d come to be a part of his life. “Do you like them?”

She pulled back from the embrace, and in her green eyes, he saw love. “Handkerchiefs are something I can’t live without. And I never want to.” She kissed him deeply, while he overheard his daughter muttering about how his gift made no sense at all.

David ignored her, and as he continued to kiss his wife, he imagined what Katherine would say if she could see the way his life had transformed. He could only believe that she would be happy for him, though Amelia could not be more different. He would never forget Katherine, but the pain of losing her had faded. Perhaps she had sent Amelia to him, knowing that she was the light he needed to overcome the darkness.

“I hope you never have to use these for grief,” he said, touching a handkerchief. “Both of us have had enough sadness to endure.”

“They would only be for tears of joy,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I promise you that.” Then she held his palm and walked with him in a circle, as if they were dancing.

He reached down and lifted her into his arms. Amelia let out a shriek of laughter but held on tightly. “David, that isn’t part of the country dance.”

“It isn’t?” He nuzzled her neck, thankful that Christine had already left them alone.

“No.” But her laughter stilled while she wrapped her arms around his neck. “But I don’t mind.”

“I thought you wanted a man who was delicious and dangerous,” he reminded her.

“Not anymore.” Her eyes softened with love. “All I want is you.”

E
XCERPT FROM
U
NLACED
BY AN
O
UTLAW
,
BOOK FOUR IN THE
S
ECRETS IN
S
ILK
S
ERIES

L
ONDON, 1815

H
er sister had gone missing.

Most older sisters would have left such a terrible problem in the hands of their parents. Or possibly alerted the authorities. Margaret Andrews did neither.

For one, she knew exactly who had kidnapped Amelia. Second, she knew that the blackguard intended to force her sister to wed him. And third, Margaret had suffered untold humiliation when that same awful man had abandoned her on their wedding day three years ago. Lord Lisford might have shattered her girlish dreams, humiliating her in the face of society, but Margaret would never let the same thing happen to her baby sister. This was more than a dangerous situation—this was her opportunity for vengeance.

It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night or that she was the daughter of a baron. The man who had wronged her was about to destroy Amelia’s life, and Margaret was
not
about to stand aside and let it happen. She’d beg the devil himself, if she thought he could help her.

Cain Sinclair was the next-best thing.

A flutter of nerves caught her stomach as her coach pulled to a stop in front of the inn where he was staying. It was nearly midnight, and she’d left Lady Rumford’s ball the moment she’d heard about Amelia’s disappearance. She still wore the sage green silk gown with white gloves, for she’d not taken the time to change.

This was a very bad idea. What was she thinking, venturing into a public inn while wearing a ball gown?

But it couldn’t be helped.
Please let him be there
, she prayed. The Highlander was a man she’d known for nine years. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d known that he was the sort of man her mother had warned her about.

Taller than most men, he had broad shoulders and lean muscles. His piercing blue eyes and black hair gave him the look of a fallen angel. He wasn’t a gentleman, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him.

Ruthless was the best word to describe him. And when he wanted something, he never stopped until he got it.

Unfortunately, what he wanted was
her
.

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the coach. Her footman eyed the inn and shook his head. “Miss Andrews, I think you should wait inside the carriage. I’ll go and find Mr. Sinclair on your behalf.”

That was the sensible thing to do. It was what her mother would want. But she knew, without a single doubt, that Sinclair would ignore the footman and do whatever he wanted to.

With every moment she sat in this coach, Lord Lisford was taking her sister farther north, toward Scotland. Time was critical, and what did she care if it was not an establishment a lady would dare to enter? She was already ruined. After five Seasons, Margaret knew what the ton thought of her. They believed she was to blame for the viscount abandoning her on her wedding day.

Instead, she ignored her servant and marched straight toward the door. The haze of tobacco cloaked the room, while the scent of ale filled the space. Men were playing cards in one corner, while others busied themselves with getting drunk as soon as possible.

She stared at each of the men until at last she saw Sinclair. He didn’t move, but his mouth tightened when she stepped closer. Her presence was as out of place as a pig in a ballroom, and every male eye fastened upon her.

Her conscience was already screeching at the idea.
Get out of here! Ladies do not associate with men in a public inn. You cannot be here.

“You don’t belong here, lass,” Sinclair said. His icy-blue eyes regarded her as if she’d lost her mind. And perhaps she had, since she’d gone to such lengths to seek his help.

“Amelia’s been taken. You have to help me find her.” Margaret crossed her arms, staring coolly at a drunkard whose attention was fixed upon her bosom.

How did you think these men would react to your presence?
her conscience chided.
They’re nothing but rogues and vagrants. Any one of them would attack you, and then where would you be?

Sinclair leaned back in his chair, his long black hair falling past his shoulders. He wore a brown-and-green tartan, and his white shirtsleeves were rolled against his forearms. A faint scar edged his lower arm, a reminder that he’d been in many fights. Somehow, it made her feel somewhat safer, knowing that the Highlander could protect her far better than the elderly footman who had accompanied her.

“Come with me, and I’ll tell you more about what happened,” Margaret urged. The sooner she left this place, the better she would feel. The question was whether or not he would help her.

“Do your parents know?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “I didn’t tell them. I want to find Amelia before any harm is done.”

They would find out soon enough. But more than that, she felt a sense of responsibility.
She
was supposed to chaperone Amelia at the ball. If she’d remained at her sister’s side at every moment, this wouldn’t have happened.

Her guilt was a hair shirt against her conscience. This was her fault, without question. And she had to atone for it, no matter the cost to her own reputation.

Sinclair took a slow drink of his ale, studying her. She couldn’t guess what he was thinking, but he needed to hurry up.

“Why did you come to me, lass, instead of a constable?” His lazy tone held a hint of wickedness, and she faltered.

“Because I—”

Because I know you’ll find her. I know you won’t let any harm come to her, and I trust you more than any man.

She drew closer and reached for his hand. It felt as if she’d thrown out every shred of decent behavior. A wildness thrummed in her blood as her fingers laced in his.

“Because I need your help,” she whispered.

His thumb brushed the edge of her palm in a silent caress that echoed deep inside. His rough hands were callused, but his touch was light enough to set her senses on fire. What did that say about her, that she would be so attracted to a man so inappropriate?

She was a good girl. She obeyed the rules, listened to her parents, and never wore a gown with a daring neckline. All her life, she’d been a model of proper behavior.

And yet, right now, she realized that she was asking this man to come with her. To be alone with her in a carriage for hours on end.

Don’t do this
, her sense of propriety begged.
You cannot behave in this way. It’s not right.

But she met his gaze steadily and said, “Please.”