by Meara Platt
Marcus found himself in the thick of the action. The small uprising in Marseilles that he quickly put down turned into a city-wide battle once news of Napoleon’s escape reached the citizens. He had been given less than a thousand men.
The French army quickly swelled to a hundred thousand men.
He could do nothing but attack and retreat, hoping to stall Napoleon’s progress until Wellington’s troops could arrive in force to wage war. To engage the French in open combat without sufficient men to make a decent fight of it would have led to unacceptably high casualties.
But once Wellington and the allied forces were once again mustered and battle ready, the war campaigns began in earnest. Marcus spent the next one hundred days on the field of battle and was in the thick of it at Waterloo along with Wellington, Hartford, and the Prussian field commander Blucher. His brother, Caleb, had been made a field general. Marcus was quite proud of the way his little brother had commended himself.
But they’d had no chance to reunite immediately after the battle.
Marcus left him a note, telling him about Lara. There was so much turmoil and confusion immediately after Waterloo, he did not think Caleb would ever receive his missive. No matter, he’d catch up with his brother once they were home.
When Marcus finally returned to England in August of that year, his first stop upon arriving in London was the Le Brecque townhouse. The sun was shining and the day was blistering hot. He was exhausted and unwashed, still in his uniform that probably stank of herring and sea spray.
He knew Lara wouldn’t care, for his heart ached to see her and know she was well.
He’d hardly stepped through the gate when a tawny-haired whirlwind flew at him and flung her arms around his neck. “Marcus! Is it really you? Can it be?”
He laughed as she began to rain kisses on him.
She hadn’t changed, still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Still a bubble of delight. Exuberant, spirited…happy. He wanted to think her happiness was because of his return, but he knew it had to be something more. The shadows of sorrow were gone from her eyes.
She sparkled brighter than any diamond.
He lowered his lips to hers to kiss her long and hard, not caring who on the street saw them. “We’re announcing our betrothal this very evening,” he said, kissing her again. “No more delays, Lara.”
“No delays, my love.” She lifted her gaze to his, waiting for another kiss.
He obliged. “Shall we go in? Tell me all that’s happened during my absence. How is your father?”
“Doing well.” She took his arm as they walked inside. “He has been cleared of all charges and is no longer under house arrest. I was beginning to despair. It took so long for the House of Lords to act. It happened only last month. I don’t suppose my letter ever reached you.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“I wrote to you every week. Did any reach you?”
“One or two. I was constantly on the move. I’ll probably receive an entire box of them in a month or two delivered to my townhouse.”
“Well, I don’t suppose it matters. You’re home now and I can tell you all that’s happened in person. Dunning is in prison now and all his trials are under review.”
He nodded. “That is excellent. What of Hugh?”
“I must say, Lord Westbrook at the Exchequer was brilliant. Queen Charlotte did not fail us either.” She looked up at him, gracing him with a wondrous smile. “This is all your doing. I don’t know how my family will ever be able to thank you enough. Montvey’s been dismissed as Lord Governor and will be taken into custody by the admiral of the Pacific fleet. Hugh’s conviction has been overturned. Mr. Barrow was brilliant as well. He did not stop until he’d tracked down all of Montvey’s lackeys. All but four were rounded up that day we were attacked. These last villains were caught one week later.”
She led him into the parlor and rang for her butler to bring refreshments. “Tea may be tame for you, Marcus. Would you care for a brandy?”
“No, love.” He took a seat on the divan and nudged her down beside him. “It does my heart good to see you. Just let me look at you. Lord, I missed you.”
“I missed you so much as well. I thought of you every day, every moment of every day. The newspapers are filled with accounts of Napoleon’s defeat. I have so many questions to ask you, but I won’t press you now or ever. War is a horror. Despite the reports in the papers of our stunning victories, I know how harrowing it must have been for our soldiers. We need never speak of it, if you do not wish to.”
He took her hands in his. “I’ve had my fill of war. But the administrative part of restoring normalcy now begins. For the next few months, I’ll be riding from one end of England to another at Lord Castlereagh’s behest. I’m sure I’ll be making trips to Scotland as well. The highland clans fought bravely and suffered much in casualties. Since I’m now Earl of Kinross, Castlereagh desires me to personally meet with the Scottish clan leaders. There’ll be no glittering balls or elegant soirees for me just yet.”
“Oh, Marcus. Will it never end?”
He nodded. “It will. Soon. This time Napoleon is properly in exile. He’ll never get off the island of St. Helena. And Castlereagh’s done me the favor of keeping me in England. Others will be sent to Vienna or Paris. Some of our forces will stay in France for another year or two. The Royal Scots Greys and other light dragoon regiments.”
He paused as the tea cart was rolled in.
“Thank you, Rollins,” Lara said, smiling at the older gentleman who was obviously the new butler. She turned to Marcus as soon as Rollins walked out. “He’s so much nicer than that despicable scoundrel, Sykes.” She shuddered. “It all seems like a distant dream now. A bad dream.”
“It’s over, Lara. All that’s left is for Hugh to return home.”
She nodded. “And for you to kiss me under the mistletoe on Christmas eve.”
He laughed. “I hope to kiss you quite thoroughly long before that. Where is your father? I’d like to properly ask for your hand in marriage. Set the wedding date, Lara. Make your plans.”
She rolled her eyes. “My father is at an afternoon poetry recital at your aunt’s home. He, your mother, and Miranda have been thick as thieves. As for our wedding, it’s been quite taken out of my hands by those three. They’ve been planning it since the day you sailed for France. Do you recall those meaningful glances your mother and aunt were tossing your way when you told us you were returning to France?”
“I do.” He grinned. “I had no idea what they were trying to tell me.”
“What they hoped to convey was that they approved of me and were not going to let you marry anyone else. I tried to tell them it was nonsense and they had no right to dictate what was in your heart.”
He took her hand in his. “You’re the only one who’s ever been in my heart. Surely you know this.”
“I do. I wasn’t afraid you’d find someone else.” Her smile faltered. “My worry was about my family disgracing you if our troubles were not resolved. But they have been and all is well now. I’ve said nothing while they’ve run about town planning our wedding. The only thing I voiced an opinion on is the date it is to happen. That was important to me.”
“And when is that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “It’s something the bridegroom ought to know, don’t you think?”
CHAPTER TEN
London, England
Christmas Eve
December, 1815
LARA STOOD BESIDE Marcus in front of the altar at St. Mary’s Church, breathless with anticipation as they were about to exchange their wedding vows. The chapel bell was now chiming ten o’clock in the morning. The day could not have been more perfect, the sky as blue as a robin’s egg and the breeze warmer than usual for this time of year. Sunlight filtered in through the stained glass windows, casting the pews in red, blue, and yellow light.
Lara wore a gown of cream silk and had woven in her hair a simple circlet of blue cor
nflowers.
Marcus took her hand when the ceremony began and held it until they’d received the final blessing. “Breathe, love.”
She smiled. “I can’t.” She was too excited. There were moments she thought this day would never come. But it had finally arrived and everything was perfect. Marcus, who was still a general in the king’s army, looked as powerful and daunting as ever in his uniform that was covered in medals.
He never spoke of his years fighting Napoleon.
She never pressed him about it, but the medals spoke volumes of his valor.
Her brother had returned to England with Emma Langdon, the young lady with whom he’d fallen in love at first sight all those years ago. They were now married and so blissfully happy, Lara could not wait to share a similar intimacy with Marcus. “I love you, Lara,” he said, kissing her to mark the official start of their marriage. “I think your brother is crying. I hear him sniffling.”
She stifled a laugh.
Hugh was as fierce as Marcus, one of the Crown’s best privateers. He’d endured months in a rat-infested prison, beatings, storms at sea, pirate attacks, and more months fighting their detestable cousin, Edward Montvey.
After all his travails, she could not imagine him in tears.
But as she turned to march down the aisle, now as Lady Kinross, she was stunned to see Hugh and her father with tears streaming down their cheeks. She had been the one to blubber last night when they’d put up their holiday decorations as a family now reunited and cherishing their good fortune.
She ran to hug them both. “Be happy for me,” she whispered, throwing her arms around Hugh’s neck to embrace him. “I’ll always be your little sister. My marriage won’t change that.”
The ceremony had been a private affair, only their families in attendance, although the Brayden family was large and getting larger as James, Tynan, and even Marcus’s younger brother, Caleb, had gotten married within the last few months.
Everyone went from the church to gather at the Le Brecque townhouse for the wedding breakfast. It felt so odd to Lara that the very place once serving as their prison was now restored to the loving family home it had once been and would be again this Christmas.
She looked upon the work she, Hugh, Emma, and their father had accomplished last night in putting up their decorations. The house looked just as she’d hoped, as festive and merry as she felt in her heart.
The scents of hickory wood, roasted chestnuts, nutmeg, and yuletide holly filled the air. They were going to have a lovely breakfast with their families, and Marcus was going to kiss her under the mistletoe.
The crystal was gleaming, the silver trays laden with meats and a plump Christmas goose. The silverware was polished to a bright shine, and wassail bowls were set out at one end of the buffet in the dining room. Cakes and puddings were placed at the other end.
Her heart gave a flutter every time she gazed at Marcus. He looked strikingly handsome in his uniform, the fit of his jacket enhancing his powerfully muscled form.
When they’d finished eating, Marcus’s cousins still looked hungry enough to eat a moose. “Give me that,” Romulus said, grabbing a joint of mutton from Tynan, who was ever patient with their younger cousins.
Not that they were so young, for most were in university now.
“They’ll eat you out of house and home if you let them,” Marcus remarked to his aunt Miranda when she came to sit beside them. “Just look at Romulus. He looks like a wild beast devouring his first meal after coming out of winter hibernation.”
“They’re growing boys,” Miranda said, walking over to give Lara a kiss to welcome her into the Brayden family.
Marcus’s mother did the same. “They’re wildebeests. But who knew the older boys would be so easily tamed? It’s good to have more women in this family.”
“Don’t let them give you a pet name,” Miranda warned. “We call our boys wildebeests, but they have their own pet names for themselves. Marcus, Tynan, and James, refer to Romulus and my sons as tadpoles. Caleb is called squid, although I don’t know how they came up with that name for him.”
Lara laughed. “I can’t imagine. Goodness, they all look like fearsome giants to me.”
As night descended, she and Marcus slipped out of the dining room and into the entry hall to the spot where she and Hugh had put up the mistletoe. Hugh, being the overly protective brother, would not have helped her if he knew why she’d wanted it put up. But she was now married and he was being ridiculous. As grateful as Hugh was to Marcus for saving him and his family, he had also been ready to kill him for taking Lara to bed outside of marriage.
No one had told him.
He’d just looked at her and immediately knew the truth.
It was only his wife’s scolding, calling him a hypocrite since he’d done the same with her – extremely brave of Emma to admit it – that had calmed him down.
Marcus took her out of her thoughts by wrapping his arms around her. “Lara, my love. The time has come.”
She smiled from ear to ear. “At long last. For my Christmas eve kiss?”
He nodded. “Close your eyes.”
She did as he asked, her heart pounding as she felt his lips descend on hers. His mouth felt soft, but possessive. Perhaps he intended to be gentle. A sweet Christmas kiss.
That’s what she’d intended as well.
But a powerful feeling she could not put a name to welled within her chest, the pressure building up inside of her, squeezing her heart as it sought release from the strain and toll of all these desperate years. Suddenly, everything spilled out, as though a dam had burst and formed a giant wall of feelings coming at her all at once. Her head began to spin and her body reeled out of kilter so that she would have fallen if Marcus had not been holding on to her.
She sobbed and clung to him as a flood of emotion washed over her.
He’d saved her and her family.
He’d loved her when no one else had.
He’d fought for her and rescued her at the most difficult moment of her life.
“Lara,” he said with exquisite tenderness, caressing her as she struggled to regain her composure. “It’s over, my love. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. You’re my wife now. I will always honor and protect you.” She felt the warmth of his lips on hers and the fiery touch of his hands on her body.
She nodded. “And I’ll do the same for you. For our children. I’ll always protect them.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “I know.” He glanced over her head before returning his gaze to hers. “No one will miss us if we slip away now. Let’s go.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Go where?”
“Back to my townhouse. It’s ours now. Your things were to be moved into my bedchamber today. Our bedchamber.” He studied her a long moment, and then a slow, sensual smile crossed his lips. “But that won’t do, will it? We’ll go wherever you wish.”
“Really?”
He nodded, still smiling. “Where, Lara? I think I know, but I may be wrong.”
Her tears had now stopped and she was smiling back at him. “You are never wrong. You are perfect. Which is why you’ll take me to the Wicked Earls’ Club and make wildly passionate love to me in that ridiculously enormous bed that could comfortably fit an elephant.”
So he did, and as they stripped off their clothes and stood before each other, their bodies illuminated by the golden glow of flames in the fireplace hearth, it was as though their hearts were also stripped bare. The feelings that had overwhelmed Lara earlier now threatened to overwhelm Marcus, but his were of hope and joy and purpose.
Lara represented the beautiful life they would now share. She gave meaning to all he had been fighting for and would hold dear to the end of his days. He carried her to bed and spent the next hours pleasuring her, holding her in his arms, exploring her body, and being pleasured by her.
When they were hot and sated, their damp bodies wrapped around each other, Lar
a looked up at him, perplexed. “What is it, love?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown.
“It is still a puzzle to me. We’ve taken up less than a quarter of this bed. Why would anyone build a bed this big? It seems so wasteful.”
“Aye, most wasted. Certainly on me.” The fire crackled in the hearth and a wintery wind rattled the windows. He shifted their positions so that she was now nestled in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder and her warm, silken body tucked against his. Should he tell her why this bed was built to accommodate more than two? She was curious and he did not wish to hide anything from her.
But he loved her innocence, although it broke his heart that she’d been forced to endure hardships enough to turn a lesser soul bitter. After several minutes, he decided to tell her the sordid reason. “Lara…”
His whisper was met with silence.
“Lara?”
She snored in response.
He considered shaking her lightly, but she was curled up against him like a kitten and so much at peace, he didn’t have the heart to wake her.
He laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. “Happy Christmas, my love.”
THE END
Dear Readers,
If you enjoyed Marcus Brayden and Lara Le Brecque’s story, I invite you to read her brother, Hugh Le Brecque’s adventure, Pearls of Fire. Hugh is on the trail of the man seeking to destroy his family. Emma Langdon is seeking her father who has run off in search of a stolen family heirloom known as the Pearls of Fire. For Emma and Hugh, will their search be a second chance at love? Or will these priceless pearls keep them apart forever?
As you may have guessed from Marcus and Lara’s story, these Brayden men are big, military, and not easily tamed. But they know what they want when they see it, and when they fall in love, it’s forever. I welcome you to read James Brayden’s story, A Match Made In Duty. He’s the Earl of Exmoor and Society’s golden boy, the handsomest of these very attractive Brayden men. But he returns from war badly scarred inside and out. It is only when he marries the sister of one of his friends, a deathbed promise made to his friend on the battlefield, that he realizes this marriage made in duty may also prove to be his salvation.
