Chapter 43
Mackenzie was watching Kiri with a mixture of hope and wariness that would have amused her if she hadn’t felt tied in knots. “You should sit down,” she said tartly, “before you fall down.”
“Can’t sit when there’s a lady standing,” he said with a crooked smile.
Damn that charming smile. She sat in the prince’s throne chair and drummed her fingers on the carved walnut arm. “How embarrassing to have your sovereign prod you into making an indirect offer for me. And in front of such an audience!”
Mackenzie dragged the princess’s chair so that it faced her and sat down with a speed that barely missed being a collapse. “I certainly hadn’t planned on proposing in the midst of chaos, but doing so did produce a surprising amount of support. Your family, my family, the prince regent, and Princess Charlotte. Probably even Black Rod.” He frowned. “The only exception seems to be you.”
“Our time-out-of-time is over, Mackenzie. You can go back to your club, I can return to my family, and it’s like the last weeks never happened.” She stared down at her hands.
There was still blood under her nails from bandaging Mackenzie’s head. “Isn’t that what we both want?”
He took her hand between his and said gently, “It’s not what
I
want, Kiri. How about telling me what
you
want?”
She stared at their joined hands. Her tan half-Hindu skin, his bruised and powder-blackened fingers. So different. Too different, apparently.
Her usual confidence had splintered away in slow, agonized pieces when he expressed stuffy admiration for her to the prince regent, then followed up with all the reasons a marriage shouldn’t happen. She had thought what was between them was rare and special, but that belief disintegrated as he spoke. She was a mixed-blood slut with too few morals, and he was a dashing gambler with no desire to wed.
She smiled mirthlessly at her self-deception. She had told herself that it would be enough to have him for a little while. Now that the time had come for them to go their separate ways, she felt as if her heart was weeping tears of blood.
“Kiri? What’s wrong? Please?” When her hand clenched hard on his, he said coaxingly, “Maybe you could give a hint of what you want from me?”
Saying the words aloud would make her pain even worse, but for her own self-respect, she must be honest to the end. “I want to be loved,” she whispered, knowing how weak and foolish this would sound. “I wanted you to . . . to tear down the social barriers and be deliriously romantic and willing to change your life. I didn’t want the barriers to tumble and then see you scramble to find a way out.”
After a startled moment, he said, “That’s easy, then.”
Before she could react, Mackenzie scooped her onto his lap with her head on his shoulder. “Damn, every muscle in my body is sore,” he muttered as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head.
“I love you truly, madly, and deeply, my sweet and indomitable lady,” he said softly. “I fought that knowledge because I couldn’t see how it would be possible to be with you for always. But when the waves were crashing around my knees and rising face, I recognized that you are the most important person in my life. The only woman I’ve ever felt I could trust completely.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “There hasn’t been much chance since then to tell you.”
She tilted her head up and stared at him with tear-filled emerald eyes as she searched his face. What she saw caused her face to relax into a crooked smile. “I . . . I’m sorry for my foolishness, Damian, but I needed to hear the words. When you spoke to the prince regent, you were so detached and worldly that I thought you . . . didn’t want me.”
He’d never seen her look younger or more vulnerable. Loving her even more, he said, “I had trouble adjusting my thinking to believe that marriage is possible. Not to mention the difficulty of speaking the most private things in my heart in front of the most terrifying audience imaginable.” He thought a moment as he caressed her glossy hair. “No, it would have been worse if General Stillwell was here, too.”
She gave a hiccup of laughter, then buried her face against his shoulder and began sobbing. “I
never
cry,” she said in a choked voice, and wept even harder.
He was surprised and moved to realize how love made everyone vulnerable. Even this magnificently strong and independent girl needed him as much as he needed her. He’d have to start believing in miracles.
She had made herself vulnerable, and he could do no less. When her sobs abated, he swallowed hard, then tore away every shred of frivolity to say with painful honesty, “I need to hear the words, too, my warrior queen. I need to hear that you love me. I need to hear that a beautiful, well-born lady with the blood of queens in her veins can love an unrespectable bastard gambler whose own mother told him his birth was a mistake.” His mouth twisted. “I need to know that . . . that I’m not just your rebellion and that one day you’ll regret choosing a man so far from your station.”
“Oh, my foolish beloved, haven’t you noticed that I’m not terribly respectable myself?” She cupped his unshaven chin and caught his gaze, concealing nothing. “I love you, Damian Mackenzie. Love your wit and good nature and wickedly attractive body. I love that you claim not to be respectable, but I’ve never met a truer gentleman.” She smiled provocatively. “Did I mention the wickedly attractive body? And your wonderful, unique, and utterly male scent drives me
mad!
” She leaned in for a sizzling kiss.
Her kiss melted any lingering doubts. Though they would have a formal wedding and much rejoicing, this was their true marriage. Their vows and commitment were being made now, through word and touch and emotions too powerful to fit into mere words.
“Kiri, my darling,” he said huskily, “I never thought I would marry, because I could never imagine a woman as unique and wonderful as you.”
“I always assumed I would marry, but I never imagined that I’d be so
happy
about it!” Her brow furrowed. “I hope you won’t mind that I’m a considerable heiress. Some men get all prickly about the possibility that the world might think them fortune hunters.”
He grinned. “Owning a luxury gaming club may not be respectable, but it’s insanely profitable. I’ve made enough money in the past few years that even high sticklers would be willing to overlook the source.” He considered. “Shall I buy us a fine country manor so Sir Damian and Lady Kiri Mackenzie can become country gentry?”
She slanted a glance through her thick lashes. “Actually, I own a fine country manor. As part of my inheritance, Adam signed over a property that marches with his.”
Mac groaned. “I am impressed by Ashton’s generosity, and terrified that we will be neighbors forevermore.”
“I predict you and he will be excellent friends within the year,” Kiri said. “After all, you are removing my alarming self from the list of his responsibilities.”
“The fact that he countenances our marriage has earned my undying gratitude.” Mac considered. “I’m becoming part of a rather large family, aren’t I?”
Kiri nodded apologetically. “My parents, two brothers, a sister, Adam’s wife, Mariah, and her family, the general’s family. The Stillwells are mostly vicars, but not the painfully staid sort. I think they’ll all adore you. How could they not?”
“You’d be amazed how many people don’t adore me,” he said earnestly.
She laughed. “I hope you don’t find so many new relatives overwhelming. We don’t have to live in my family’s pockets, but you were right that it would devastate me to be estranged from them.” She looked grave. “I’m very, very glad I don’t have to choose between you and them.”
He was equally glad that he wouldn’t have to see what that choice would be. “I’m delighted that you have so many relatives whom you actually like,” he said seriously. “I have very few blood relations. Mostly just Will, along with a few Masterson cousins who find me something of an embarrassment. Will has been my anchor, the best thing in my life until I met you. So the more family, the better.”
“They will definitely adore you once you meet, but they’ll sometimes drive you mad,” she warned.
“From what I’ve seen, that’s part of the fun of family. People who care about you enough to make you miserable.” Mac caressed her from shoulder to thigh, slowing on the curves. “I look forward to spending less time at Damian’s and more time with you.”
“And I look forward to spending more time at the club. I think I might create a perfume boutique for your customers,” she said mischievously.
“What a splendid idea,” he said enthusiastically. “As long as you don’t sniff any of your male clients.”
“None of them could possibly smell half as irresistible as you.” She nuzzled his throat, which led to another kiss.
“You smell irresistible, too.” He slid a hand between her thighs. “Your blasted divided skirts are useful for riding and adventure, but not so good for seduction.”
She made a rueful face. “Alas, this isn’t a very good time for seduction. When the opening is over, Adam is going to whisk me back to Ashton House. I expect he and my parents will keep me under guard until you and I are safely wed.”
Mac grinned, happier than he’d ever been in his life. “Then we’ll just have to get married soon, won’t we?”
Chapter 44
Kirkland managed to stay upright during the State Opening. The prince regent’s speech was extremely well done. When the man was good, he was very, very good.
After, his profoundest desire was to return to his own home and his own bed and sleep like a stunned ox, but duty led him to stop at his office first. He needed to see if there were any other crises that required his attention. He prayed there wouldn’t be.
He also had to tie up the last ends of this conspiracy. Descending to the cells, he first visited Ollie Brown. “Mr. Brown, you are free to go. I’ve instructed my assistant to purchase a coach ticket to Newcastle for you. He’ll give you enough money that you can eat along the way.”
The young boxer rolled from his cot, eyes alight with happiness. “I can go home? Tomorrow?”
“Indeed you can. If you wish to spend the night here where it’s warm, feel free, but your door will be unlocked. In the morning one of my men will take you to the inn where you can catch your coach north.”
“Thank you, sir!” The boy said shyly, “I’ll be more careful in the future so I won’t fall into trouble again, sir. I swear it.”
“Stay close to those who love you, and accept their guidance.” Oliver Brown’s mind might never fully recover from the damage received in the ring, but with a family to look out for him, he should live a good life far from the dangers of London. Kirkland offered his hand. “Safe journey, Mr. Brown.”
Ollie pumped his hand. “If I ever have a son, I’ll name him after you.”
“Do you know my name?” Kirkland inquired.
Ollie’s face fell. “No, sir, I don’t. But I can call him ‘Sir.’”
Kirkland smiled. “Call him James.”
Wearily he moved to the cell next door, where Paul Clement lay on his cot, his gaze fixed on nothingness. When Kirkland entered, the Frenchman sat up.
“Something has happened. I see it in your face.” His eyes narrowed. “Have you come to commend me to the British justice system as a spy?”
“On the contrary,” Kirkland said. “Your warning about the State Opening of Parliament was invaluable. Through the efforts of my agents, we prevented a bomb from going off that would have killed the prince regent, Princess Charlotte, the prime minister, and half the British peerage.”
Clement’s brows arched. “So that was the plan. I’m glad you were able to prevent such a disaster. Killing the innocent has no place in our work.” He cocked his head. “And the fate of the conspirators?”
Clement still wouldn’t name names, so Kirkland did. “Lord Fendall and Rupert Swinnerton are dead.”
The Frenchman gave a nod of satisfaction. “A fitting end. Have I earned a comfortable imprisonment until the end of the war? If I am truly fortunate, the lovely Parisian widow I was courting might wait for me.”
Kirkland leaned tiredly against the door frame. He wasn’t just physically exhausted, but weary of destroying lives. Drained to the soul by playing God.
But God could be benevolent, and in this case, perhaps Kirkland could be also. “I have a proposition for you, Monsieur Clement. If you’ll give me your word of honor to do no more spying against Britain, I will release you. You can return to your tailor shop and your friends and your Parisian lady. Just promise me that you will never work against my country again.”
The Frenchman caught his breath, hope and disbelief in his eyes. “You would free me in return for my word? You’ll
accept
my word if I offer it?”
“We settled that when you were first captured, I believe. Are you prepared to go forth and spy no more?”
Clement gave a shaky laugh. “Indeed I will, my lord. And gladly. Spying withers the soul. Will . . . will you take my hand?”
“Indeed I shall, sir.” As they shook hands, a thought struck Kirkland. “I never got around to asking this, but a close friend of mine named Wyndham was captured in France when the Peace of Amiens ended. Nothing has been heard from him since. I suppose he’s long since dead, but . . . I have to ask.”
Clement’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact,” he said slowly, “I may know where the gentleman is. . . .”