A fitting punishment, especially if she had given them information that would aid in thwarting their quarry. Not quite harsh enough considering two men had died, but then again, she had set the series of events into motion but had not directly orchestrated the murders.
“I am sure they will have a lovely journey.” Alicia would have poured him tea, but she knew he was much too restless to sit. “What did she tell you?”
“Eve? No name, but maybe enough.” Her tall husband strolled to the window and stood looking out. “We shall see, shan’t we?”
Lowe said, “What exactly do you have in mind, Heathton? Anything I have is at your disposal.”
Ben turned, his face wearing a faintly sardonic expression. “I might accept that offer once I know exactly what I am dealing with. Do you know anyone who has any need for a new solicitor?”
The baron looked puzzled. “No, not that I am aware.”
“Think hard and let me know. There is one who I am sure is on his guard if either you or I make inquiries, but he might be willing to talk to someone else. Before now I would have sent Sharpe, but now I worry they might have his description.”
“I’ve a cousin.” Lowe said it slowly. “Trustworthy and smart. He’d play along.”
“Might be dangerous.”
“That will tempt him, I’m sure.”
Men,
Alicia thought, a
re impossible
. “Are we going back to London then as well?”
Hazel eyes gleamed as her husband turned to look at her. “To engage the enemy? Absolutely. He’s failed three times already. First by searching my study, second when he set fire to our house, and third when he tried to have Lord Lowe killed. I think our foe will be infuriated and there is never a better time to cross swords with your opponent. Now he knows Lady Eve has talked to me and no doubt confessed. If ever he is going to be in the mood for battle, it is now.”
It was Angelina who said quietly, “This particular foe believes in his divine power. We are dealing with someone so demented, he has little regard for human life and no regret in taking it. I know I was the one to approach you, but be careful what you set in motion, my lord.”
“I think,” Alicia said emphatically before Ben could respond, “that the person we seek knows exactly what he’s doing, but fortunately, I sense my husband has a plan.”
Chapter 27
C
hristopher had to admit he felt every single bump in the road, but as he had been the one to insist he was fit enough for the journey, he just stifled a wince as the carriage rolled over a particularly rough patch.
However, sitting across from him, Angelina was not fooled at all. “I told you another few days would be prudent.”
“Ah, I see I am going to be a husband at the mercy of his wife’s constant criticism.”
Her silver eyes reflected reproof along with sympathy. “I’m afraid if you want a meek, subservient female, you have picked the wrong one.” She adjusted the skirt of her dark blue traveling gown in a graceful movement. “The physician advised you to wait also, did he not?”
“The physician said I was recovering with remarkable speed and the wound is clean of infection.” All true. No, he hadn’t approved the idea of taking a journey this soon after the injury, but he didn’t say it would set back Christopher’s convalescence, just that he might find it painful.
He did, but it would be worth it to get back to London. He added, “May I remind you that whoever it is that fired that gun knows full well where we were. I would just as soon be back in London in that case with my own staff that I trust, and help available should it be needed. Besides, I have every intention of obtaining a special license with all due speed and marrying you as quickly as possible. We are already going to have a seventh-month child.”
Angelina shook her head. “I’m hardly worried about scandal. Already I am notorious, and even if Lord Heathton manages to catch the true culprit and prove that not only did he do this to me, but to other young women as well, the trial will be what people remember. Acquitted or not, I will always be an accused murderess.”
For someone with such slender shoulders, she had certainly borne a great deal of weight on them. Perhaps now was the right time to bestow what he hoped was a wedding present she wished to accept.
He cleared his throat. “I have spoken with your father.”
After a moment, she said coolly, “I am sure that was a pleasant experience. Please do not tell me it was to ask permission to marry me, for I am my own woman. The moment I realized he would have let me hang, I ceased to need his permission for anything that affects my life.”
“Angelina,” Christopher said quietly, “who do you think made sure you received a fair and decent magistrate to oversee the proceedings? He used his considerable influence to see that the facts were scrutinized by someone who would not let gossip and the accusations of a man who was vindictive toward you influence his decision. During the trial, he distanced himself so no one would think his position in Parliament had any impact on the verdict, and as I understand, in all the time since its end, you continuously refused to see him?”
“Continuously is a bit of an exaggeration. He wrote me two letters.”
The words were said defiantly, but Christopher could tell she was shaken. Her eyes were luminous suddenly.
“What did they say?” he asked, knowing that Eve’s betrayal had cost her dearly and wanting to give her something back if it was possible.
She swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t know. I burned them.”
“I realize it is a private matter between you and your father, but may I ask why?” Christopher braced his booted feet on the floor as they rocked over yet another rut and an involuntary grunt of pain escaped. He was thankful that his shoulder, though sore, wasn’t throbbing; the physician had informed him throbbing would be a bad sign.
She briefly closed her eyes and there were crystalline drops on her lashes. “You won’t understand this because you are a titled, wealthy, independent male able to make his own decisions without interference from anyone else. Not all of us are quite so lucky.”
“You are now,” he said mildly. “I am not going to dictate your life, my love.”
Her smile trembled a fraction, her lissome body swaying in motion with the vehicle. “I know you won’t. That is not all of why I love you by any means, but it is part of it.”
He had never been a great supporter of the notion that men were superior to women. It wasn’t so much freethinking as common sense to him; the human race could not continue on without both genders. Both were equally necessary, and in many ways, women had more strength than their male counterparts in his opinion, childbirth being one of them. That he would contribute nothing to the process except that moment of pleasure that had resulted in conception was a bit humbling. However, to the best of his ability he would protect and provide for his child once it arrived in this world.
All in all, though he didn’t necessarily approve of his heavy-handed methods, after speaking with the man, Christopher was fairly sure Angelina’s father had been trying to do what he thought best for her, even if it was misguided.
“Would you like to know what it was he wanted to say to you?”
* * *
Angelina gazed at the man sitting across from her, her emotions in flux. She understood his intentions, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about his interference.
“I don’t know. Do I?” Her hands were very tightly clasped in her lap and she had to consciously relax them.
“He wished to explain himself.”
“Christopher, I know your actions were based on a desire to rectify a situation that I am not sure can be salvaged, but—”
“What if I told you he acknowledges William was a mistake? That is why he let you choose Thomas. He very much desires to apologize to you, but somehow you both seem to have the same kind of unbending pride. I think it might be a familial trait. Two letters that he tells me he brooded over for days went unanswered. He received your message, my dear, when you gave him no response.”
A tear she never meant to shed ran down her cheek. “He never came to see me. Not once. It was such a horrible time and . . . I . . . well . . .”
Christopher looked immediately contrite. “I did not mean to make you cry.” He extended his good hand. “Come sit next to me. I’ve wanted that the entire journey anyway. I wish to make you happy, not sadden you in any way.”
He hadn’t. Actually, he had brightened her world immeasurably.
She went, settling on his good side, one palm cupping his cheek as she looked at him. “Just kiss me.”
“I vow in our lifetime together you will never have to ask me that twice.” He did so, his mouth warm and firm and infinitely tender. She melted into his embrace, her arm sliding around his waist, relishing every single nuance of the comfort of his embrace.
“Did I overstep?” he asked, his breath warm against her temple. “If so, I apologize, but I was trying—”
“I know what you were trying to do,” she interrupted, immeasurably grateful he was in her life. “And you know what is so ironic about all of this, yet seems so fitting?”
“No.” Christopher drew back a little to peer down into her face. “But I am more than willing to hear it.”
“Whatever Eve’s motivations might have been and what she has taken from me, she gave me you.”
* * *
Her father attended the wedding.
It was simple, of course, since who could possibly arrange anything else on such short notice and Christopher didn’t want to wait—he insisted they not wait.
His shoulder did hurt a bit, but the return was . . . without price.
Angelina was gloriously beautiful, but even disheveled in the morning light, her hair in disarray, her eyes sleepy, she was beautiful to him, so that was no surprise. This day she was radiant in a silvery gown that reflected the beauty of her eyes, her creamy skin set off by her raven hair, dressed simply with lustrous pearls.
Lord and Lady Heathton were in attendance as witnesses, and Christopher’s family consisted of his cousin Neville and an elderly uncle. Entering the cathedral with the aid of a cane, the uncle took one look at Angelina, and murmured, “Well done, my boy.”
A few simple words, vows Christopher meant with every fiber of his being, and it was done.
She was his.
When he kissed her it was different, reverent, a meeting not just in a physical sense but a spiritual one, he thought, clasping her hands—and though he wasn’t usually a particularly religious man, he believed that a divine power had brought this woman to him.
“I am taking you somewhere special this evening,” he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “We’ll be alone, secluded, together.”
However, in the meantime, she needed to speak with her father; no conversation had yet happened. He wanted it for her sake, not for the sake of her parent, and once the congratulations had been given and the very small party started to disperse, he told his bride, “I need to speak with Neville. Can you excuse me for a moment?”
Her father, at least, didn’t miss the unspoken invitation when Christopher walked away to catch his cousin before he departed. He might now be her husband, and he would protect her with his life, but this was between Angelina and her father, and besides, he really did need a word.
He caught Neville in the vestibule, getting ready to depart. “A moment of your time, please, Cousin? I have a small favor to ask.”
Chapter 28
T
he inn was modest, but dinner had been delicious, if simple, and the room was comfortable and . . . safe. There was a tester bed and she saw the coverlet had been turned down, no doubt by the innkeeper’s wife who thought it was very romantic they were a newly married couple.
This was her third wedding night but completely different; she knew it would be neither the disillusionment of her first one, or the slight disappointment of her second, for she was happier than she’d ever been in her life.
Her husband discarded his coat with only a slight stiffness of movement. He looked gloriously attractive with his blond hair a little tousled from the carriage ride and his charming smile. “While this has been a very satisfying day so far, I anticipate for it to improve, which seems almost impossible.”
“You are still recovering,” Angelina objected, but considering the way he’d been looking at her all through dinner, the protest was no doubt futile. “It is too soon.”
“That part of me is uninjured.”
“Christopher,” she said in remonstration.
“There are ways around that, my love. It is quite possible for you to take the lead, and do I need to even say I am at your disposal? I am more than happy to let
you
make love to
me
.” His cravat landed on the floor.
A singular, wayward warmth spiraled through her. He’d taught her about pleasure in several inventive ways, but the heat in his eyes at the moment promised a very wicked lesson indeed. “I take it there is something specific you have mind, my lord?”
“Indeed, my lady.”
“Let me help you undress,” she said, her voice unconsciously dropping to a slightly husky tone. “I know your arm is paining you.”
“A beautiful woman is offering to take off my clothes?” His brows went up a fraction. “I am not fool enough to refuse that. By all means.”
“Not just any woman, I hope.” Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt.
“Aren’t you the only woman on this earth?” His voice held a sensual drawl, low and soft. “If there are any others, I haven’t noticed them since the day I met you.”
“Such flattery, Lord Lowe.” She slipped the last button free and dropped her hands to his breeches. His erection made undoing the fastenings a bit difficult and he groaned when she playfully flattened her hand against the hard length of it.
“I think you now understand it is hardly empty flattery.”
Even without his obvious arousal, the searing sincerity in his blue eyes would be enough. Angelina found she couldn’t speak; the moment was simply too much.
He shrugged out of his shirt, using his good hand to ease the cloth over the bandages on his shoulder. “Undress for me. I can manage the rest myself. I’ll wait for you in bed.”
She’d changed out of the attire she’d chosen for the wedding at home after the ceremony, donning a simple gown of pale rose with no ribbons or lace, following his request to stay as informal as possible. Aware of his interested observation, she first toed off her slippers, then bent to lift her skirt and unfasten her garters and stockings.
“I love your legs, long and so perfectly made to wrap around me. Don’t stop.”
“I won’t, but . . .” She undid the buttons on the bodice and eased the garment over her shoulders very slowly, exposing the upper curves of her breasts and then turning at the last moment to let it drop to the floor. Making sure with exaggerated movement he understood she was undoing the ribbon on her chemise, she kept her back to him, aware from the creak of the mattress he had settled on the bed.
“Minx,” he said thickly. “Was I unclear? I want to
watch
.”
“It is hardly anything you haven’t seen.” She glanced over her shoulder, slipping the cloth downward enough to bare her body to the waist but not removing her shift completely.
“I’ve never seen my wife naked and ready for me before,” he countered, reclining against the pillows, his tall body nude except for the damning swaths of cloth over his shoulder. A lock of fair hair hung over his brow. “You can certainly see your husband is ready for you.”
His indication of his arousal was unnecessary, for certainly it was obvious, high and rigid against his stomach.
She turned then, revealing her bared breasts, her smile deliberately provocative. She cupped the pliant flesh in her hands, letting her chemise slide off. “I need your word you will not exert yourself, my lord, or I won’t allow you to touch these.”
“My word as a gentleman, a member of the House of Lords, a devoted husband, and former choirboy. Come here.”
Angelina felt a bubble of laughter escape. “A choirboy?”
“My father thought a bit of pious servitude to the church might reform me. Angelina, come here or I swear I will get off this bed and come get you.”
“You just gave me your word.”
His gaze was searing. “Then don’t make me break it. Perhaps I should mention I don’t care much about my seat in Parliament, I think being a gentleman can be a bore, and the choirboy approach had no effect at all.”
She walked toward the bed. “Don’t you dare move, Lord Lowe.”
* * *
He’d married a siren.
What more could a man want?
Her breasts swayed with each step, the movement inherently sensual, her approach made more erotic by the sight of every inch of her delectable body. He was so painfully aroused, his shoulder had ceased to even compare.
“I like this.” She shimmied up on the bed and touched his hard cock, which was very daring for her.
His eyes drifted closed. “Do that again and I swear I will follow your every command.”
“How tempting.” His fingers brushed him again, grazing the sensitive tip.
“Angelina . . .”
She crawled up his body carefully, avoiding his shoulder, kissing him softly, shaking her head when he went to put his arms around her and pull her closer. “No. Lie still. Let me do everything. Though it might sound odd, I want to. I was once a frightened virgin, and the second time a resigned bride who steeled herself to disappointment. This time is different. This time, I am a woman very much in love who wants to pleasure her husband.”
And be pleasured
. It was a silent promise, but he thought he understood what she was saying. Their marriage, and maybe even this afternoon, when she’d finally seen her father again, had loosened the iron shackles that had tied her to the past. All she’d told him was that they had spoken and it went well enough.
A start. He’d be more curious later, but for right now . . .
This was their wedding night.
Angelina kissed him again and rubbed her sex against his, and it was her turn to shut her eyes, long dark lashes lowering. “Oh . . . mmm.”
Christopher lay utterly still except for running his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder, then to the curve of her breast. “Bring this closer,” he suggested, his voice hoarse with need. “I need to taste you.”
She complied, inching up a little so she could lower her breast to his lips and letting out a small moan when he took the rosy nipple into his mouth. He suckled gently, then with a little more force, and her thighs tightened around his waist, the hot dampness of her cleft telling him she was ready.
So was he, and when she rose up, took him in her hand and guided him to her entrance, he had to take in a deep breath and fight for control as she slowly sank down, taking his rigid cock slowly until he was fully inside her, the pleasure so acute he could hardly breathe.
“Make love with me,” he said, holding her gaze and stroking her hip. “For you are my love, my wife,
my life
.”
“Christopher,” she whispered, and she didn’t need to say more because he saw it there in her eyes, felt it in how she kissed him before she began to move. Their bodies were so attuned to each other that as they climbed upward, even each gasp, every small sound of enjoyment was in sync.
When he knew he couldn’t wait, he reached between them and touched her intimately, and in moments she quivered and cried out, and the tightening of her inner muscles snapped his control.
Even in the haze of passion, she was mindful of his injury and was careful to collapse to his good side, nestled in the curve of his arm, their ragged respiration gradually slowing.
He had to admit he was fatigued beyond what he might usually be—pleasantly so though now, even if part of it might be due to his injury.
Smiling, he slid into the most restful sleep of his life.