I Kissed an Earl (and I Liked It) (That Wicked O'Shea Family Book 1)

by Merry Farmer

  All of those thoughts happened in a split second. Christian twisted as soon as he hit solid ground beside the collapsed section of boards and grass, scrambling to the dank chasm that had been uncovered.

  “Marie!” he shouted louder, desperate to find any trace of her. There was no telling how deep the spring was at that point or what sort of debris might be trapping Marie underwater.

  “Kilrea, is that you?” Ned’s voice boomed inside the springhouse.

  Christian barely registered his question. “Marie’s fallen into the spring,” he called out, tearing away whatever boards he could get his hands on in an effort to reach her. The boards were so rotted that they crumbled in his hands rather than giving him splinters.

  Banging sounded from inside the springhouse, but Christian hardly heard it.

  “Christian!” Marie’s watery, strangled cry came from somewhere far below.

  “I’ve got you, Marie,” he called to her, doubling his efforts to move boards and rend the earth to reach her.

  “Christian, I can’t hold on,” Marie cried back. The fear in her voice had the hair on the back of Christian’s neck standing up.

  “I’ve got you,” he repeated, though his heart trembled with uncertainty.

  He tried to think fast, tried to remember what he knew of the springhouse and what he’d seen just minutes before. If Marie let go of whatever she was holding onto, would she sail right underneath the structure and come out the other side, or were there gratings or other obstructions that would trap her underwater?

  A loud crack split the air, and a moment later, Ned and Lady Aoife dashed around the corner of the springhouse. Ned leapt right over the gaping hold left by the broken boards and dropped to a crouch on the other side.

  “What happened? Did she fall through?” Ned asked.

  Christian nodded, giving Ned only a cursory look. “The boards gave out,” he said, pulling more away.

  “Can I help?” Lady Aoife asked, moving forward and heading toward a section of the grass that Christian expected hid more unstable boards.

  “Stand back, love,” Ned warned her sharply, then bent to tear at the old boards with Christian.

  “I’m slipping,” Marie gasped below them. “It’s all wet and slippery, and—oh!”

  Christian tore aside just the right board and spotted her in the nick of time. He lunged for her, closing a hand around her wrist and pulling for all he was worth.

  A moment later, Ned managed to grab hold of Marie’s other wrist. Between the two of them, they yanked her free of the cold spring water, the mud, and the dark. Ned let go once Marie’s head and shoulders were above ground, and Christian tugged her the rest of the way out of the hole and into his arms. The two of them tumbled back onto the grass together. Marie’s skirts were sodden and thick with mud, and she shook violently as Christian closed his arms around her.

  “It’s all right,” Christian panted, stroking his hands over her back, arms, shoulders, and finally her face, both to make certain she was truly all right and to comfort her. “I’ve got you. Nothing is going to hurt you now.”

  “Christian.”

  His name was the only word she was able to get out before he kissed her. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so ardent with Ned and the woman who was technically still his fiancée looking on, but he couldn’t help himself. He kissed Marie with all the passion and relief he could manage, sighing and stroking every part of her that he could as the pure joy of having her alive washed over him. He was so overcome that he rolled her to her back and covered her, continuing to kiss her lips, her cheek, her neck and any part of her he could, even though she was muddy and musty.

  “Marie, I love you,” he said between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

  Marie laughed wildly, but didn’t manage to form whatever wicked thoughts she had into words before he captured her mouth in another kiss.

  It was only after Christian had nearly exhausted himself with relief that he became aware of Ned and Lady Aoife standing together, only a few yards away. The impropriety of their situation hit him then, and he shifted off of Marie, struggling to stand. He offered Marie his hand and helped her to stand as well.

  “Are you well, Lady Marie?” Ned asked, a curious look on his face. The man’s mouth twitched, almost as if he were trying not to smile.

  “I….” Marie ran a hand through her wet, mud-streaked hair, then patted her arms and body, as if trying to determine the answer. “Miraculously, I think I’m well after all that,” she said with a weak laugh.

  A moment later, her face pinched with guilt.

  “I’m so sorry, Lord Garvagh, Lady Aoife,” she blurted. “Christian and I trapped you in the springhouse deliberately in an effort to get you to admit your feelings for each other. I knew you couldn’t possibly marry Christian,” she told Lady Aoife, her words fast and breathless. It was as if Marie suddenly needed to confess absolutely everything as penance after her brush with death. “I know you love Lord Garvagh, and I love Christian.” She leaned into Christian, grasping his hand. “None of us would have been happy if we’d gone through with what the idiots who arranged our betrothals wanted.”

  “But…but how did you know?” Lady Aoife blinked rapidly, blushing harder than Christian had ever seen a woman blush.

  “I saw you with Lord Garvagh right here the other day,” Marie confessed. “But I’d noticed the way the two of you look at each other before that.”

  “You are observant, Lady Marie,” Ned said, continuing to look as though he might want to smile, but didn’t dare to.

  Lady Aoife gasped suddenly, clasping a hand to her chest. “Dear God, you heard me confess to…to….” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if doing so could block out everything they’d heard her say to Ned in the springhouse.

  “You’re not the only one,” Christian told Ned, hoping the man would catch which way the wind was blowing so that further explanations weren’t necessary.

  “That was the reason my brother was so adamant about engaging me to whatever gentleman he could,” Lady Aoife said. “He knew I’d sinned, and he feared the consequences. He…he demanded I reveal my lover’s name, and when I refused to incriminate Ned, he arranged a marriage he believed would be suitable. But Ned is the man I love.”

  “Lord Kilrea,” Ned said with exaggerated formality, standing straighter. “I would humbly request that you break your engagement to Lady Aoife.” He stepped closer to the woman’s side, slipping an arm around her waist. “I believe Lady Marie is correct in that we would all be happier if we were able to follow our hearts and not our misguided senses of duty.”

  “I agree,” Christian said. The spark of a thought kept him from shaking hands on everything yet, though. “I agree on one condition,” he went on.

  “Condition?” Marie gaped at him, looking ready to browbeat him if she didn’t like what he said next.

  A grin pulled at the corner of Christian’s mouth. “As I understand it, in medieval times, brides were traded for land.” He peeked at Marie. “A wise scholar suggested that the practice could be renewed.”

  Ned’s back stiffened, and he narrowed his eyes at Christian. “Are you saying you’ll only release Lady Aoife to marry me if I give over this disputed property to you?”

  Christian could see at once that driving that hard of a bargain would hurt him in the long run instead of helping. “No,” he said with a laugh. “I was just teasing. But I do think the two of us should be able to come out to some sort of agreement that will allow for shared rights to the spring and its benefits. Are you willing to compromise for a deal that will benefit all?”

  Ned smiled, extending his hand. “I am,” he said. When Christian shook the offered hand, Ned went on with, “You’re a far better negotiator than your father ever was. I have a feeling we’ve entered a new era of cooperation between our estates.”

  His words were meant as a compliment, but they squeezed Christian’s heart with
almost unimaginable sorrow. “My father,” he said, glancing off into the distance. The grief that had held him in its grip threatened to drag him under again, like the flow of the stream had almost dragged Marie to a watery death.

  Before those thoughts could truly take hold, though, he spotted one of his footmen racing down the hill toward them. “My lord!” the young man called, his voice as urgent as his running. “My lord, you must come now. Your mother!”

  Christian didn’t wait to ask what the man meant by his words. He shot into motion. Marie ran with him, in spite of her sodden clothes. Even Ned and Lady Aoife raced up the hillside toward the house with him.

  “My lord, she’s awake,” the footman gasped as Christian and Marie reached him.

  “Awake?” Marie panted.

  “Yes, my lady.” The footman glanced briefly to Marie as they all dashed for the house. He went on with, “And she’s asking for you, my lord.”

  Christian was wet from his thighs down, caked with mud, and smelled of sweat and stagnant water, but he didn’t care. He tore through the house—Marie keeping close to his side, even though she was more of a sloppy, dripping mess than he was—and up the stairs to his mother’s bedchamber.

  A cry of joy nearly ripped from his lungs as he burst into her doorway, only to find his mother sitting up in bed. The sling encasing her broken left arm was more visible with her sitting up. Dozens of pillows were propped behind her, and she still looked as weak as a baby bird as a nurse fed her broth, but she was clearly awake.

  “Christian,” she choked out, raising her shaky hands to him.

  The nurse pulled away as Christian charged to his mother’s side.

  “Mama,” he groaned, practically throwing himself into her arms, as though he were still a lad of five. She was and always would be his mother, and he needed her right then more than he’d ever needed anyone. “Oh, Mama, you’re back.” He wept against her shoulder, not caring who saw him so unmanned.

  “There, there, dear,” she said in a wisp of a voice. “You’re all right, my darling.”

  Christian poured his heart out in weeping for a few more seconds before the fullness of the situation hit him. He jerked straight, grasping his mother’s thin, cool hands, and looked guiltily into her eyes. “Mama, did they tell you what happened?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  His mother nodded, her face pinching and tears forming in her eyes. The way her soft lips quivered and grief filled her face was too much for Christian to bear. But he had to bear it. Responsibility wasn’t only about solving property disputes and marrying the right woman, it was about being the rock that the people he loved needed in their darkest moments. Marie had taught him that.

  “I’m so sorry, Mama,” he said, trying to be strong. Tears streamed across his cheeks all the same. “It was my fault. The accident was all my fault. I…I killed them.”

  His mother’s eyes widened, and her mouth quivered for a moment before she could ask, “What do you mean?”

  Christian shook his head, sniffing wetly and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was angry at Father for engaging me to Lady Aoife without my consent. Marie is the woman I love, and I was determined to do whatever it took to get out of one marriage so that I could marry her.”

  “That did not kill your father, a carriage wreck did,” his mother said. With a supreme effort of will, she raised her good hand to pat his head.

  “But the wreck was my fault.” Christian forced himself to go on. “I thought that if Father was unable to reach the engagement party, it would buy me more time to get out of the betrothal. So I…I loosened the bolts on the axel of Father’s favorite carriage so that it would break down on the way to Dunegard Castle.” He lowered his head in absolute shame.

  “Oh, my dear, sweet, foolish boy. We discovered the problem with the bolts before we got into your father’s preferred carriage,” his mother said. Christian snapped his head up at her revelation. “Morris knew something was wrong with that one and had already determined we should use the other carriage. And so we did.”

  “You were riding in another carriage that day?” The idea had never crossed Christian’s mind. Nor had he thought to visit the carriage house to see whether the carriage he’d tampered with was still there. He felt like the biggest fool imaginable. But he also felt free.

  “It was a hare,” his mother said, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut. “I saw it dart across the road and was in the middle of noting its speed to your father when the horses reared. Seconds later, it happened. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  “Spooked horses could cause that kind of an accident,” Marie said in a gentle voice, stepping closer to Christian. She had hope in her eyes, as though something she had known all along had finally been proven true. Christian loved her more than ever for it.

  “Good heavens, Lady Marie?” his mother said, sagging back against her pillows. She was losing strength. Christian wanted to leave her to sleep and recover, but his mother’s gaze was fixed on Marie. “Oh, my dear, I have done you such a great disservice.”

  “You’ve done nothing of the sort, Lady Kilrea,” Marie said, coming forward, but stopping short of sitting on the bed or reaching out in her current state.

  His mother shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “I should have stood up to my husband when he suggested you marry Miles and dear Lady Aoife marry Christian. I could see as clear as day from the moment I first saw the two of you together that you were meant for each other and no one else.”

  “You could?” Christian blinked, his heart feeling lighter and lighter with each new revelation.

  “A blind beggar could see that the two of you are best suited for each other,” his mother went on, her voice growing softer as her strength waned. “Who else would be able to keep the two of you rapscallions in line but each other?”

  Marie laughed, then clapped her hands to her face. Her eyes grew glassy with tears.

  “I should have forced your father to renege on the marriage arrangements,” his mother said.

  “There’s no need to worry, Mama.” Christian stood, leaning close to kiss his mother’s forehead. “Everything has worked out well in the end. I’m no longer engaged to Lady Aoife.” And Marie clearly wasn’t betrothed to Miles any longer. “You need to rest and build up your strength.”

  “Yes, yes I must be strong for the wedding,” his mother said, her eyes closed.

  “Mama, I just said there would be no wedding. Lady Aoife and I have agreed to end our engagement.”

  “Not that one,” his mother said, managing to sound humorously scolding in spite of her exhaustion. “You and Lady Marie.”

  Christian smiled with his whole heart. He glanced over his shoulder at Marie, and his smile grew. “You’re right, Mama,” he said. “You need to regain your strength for the wedding.”

  A few more soft words were exchanged as Christian supervised the nurse tucking his mother in for a nap. He gave the order for the doctor to be called, only to find out a footman had already been sent to fetch him. There was nothing to do after that but to retreat downstairs.

  “Do you need any other assistance here?” Ned asked, thumping Christian’s shoulder in a brotherly manner.

  “No,” Christian breathed. He reached for Marie’s hand, drawing her closer to his side. “I think we’ll be all right.”

  Ned nodded, then exchanged a smile with Lady Aoife.

  “Please do call on us if there is anything we can do,” Lady Aoife said.

  “We will,” Marie answered for both herself and Christian.

  A few more pleasantries were exchanged before Ned and Lady Aoife left. Once they were gone, Christian walked into the afternoon parlor with Marie. He wanted to flop into one of the chairs and let go of every ounce of tension he’d been holding for weeks. No, he wanted to go up to his bedroom and take Marie with him. Even if he didn’t have the energy to make love to her, he would have been content just to hold her and sleep. Provided they were b
oth naked, of course.

  “I should go home, seeing as I’m such a mess,” Marie said, attempting to pull her hand out of his.

  He wouldn’t let her go. Not only that, he tugged her closer, closing his arms around her and resting his forehead against hers.

  “I love you and I want you, whether you’re a mess or perfectly presentable,” he said, then kissed her lips lightly. “I want you, whether you’re wicked and scandalous or whether you’re a saint. I want you in my life, in my arms, in my heart, and in my bed, from now until the end of time and beyond.”

  “You’re in luck,” she said, looping her arms over his shoulders and smiling. The heat in her eyes was enough to warm him for good. “Because I want you even more than you want me.”

  “Doubtful,” he said, his heart swelling with affection and with peace.

  “I could argue the point with you,” Marie said, stealing a kiss. “And I probably will at some point.”

  “You won’t win an argument about who loves who more,” he said, laughing.

  “Are you certain of that?” She arched one eyebrow.

  “I’m certain that we’ll have the rest of our lives to figure it out,” he answered, then tightened his arms around her and kissed her until they were both breathless.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Labor was easily the most miserable experience of Marie’s life.

  “I can’t go on,” she panted, then grunted as the urge to push overwhelmed her yet again.

  “It won’t be long now, my lady,” the midwife said in a voice that was infuriatingly calm. “I can already see the head.”

  Marie wanted to tell the woman to hurry things along, but the best she could manage was a soul-shattering growl of pain as she pushed for all she was worth.