“I am sorry you have been burdened with the details of my life, sir.”
“No. Please.” Against his better judgment, he reached for her cheek and caressed her with pure emotion, the need to protect her from everything dark and damning.
Her reaction was priceless, for she did not recoil from his touch but pressed her cheek into his hand, her eyes growing wider.
“I-I am overwhelmed by everything.”
Richard lowered his hand. “Let me help ease your suffering, Rose.” He said her name with such tenderness, such familiarity because he felt he had known her for so long, so intimately.
“Sir…”
“Richard,” he urged gently. “We are to be married.”
She gazed up at him, unsure what to do. “Richard.”
“If you will accept our betrothal, of course,” he said.
“I believe if I don’t, my holdings will be dissolved. At least that is my understanding from Lady Whitmore.”
“Yes,” he admitted, praying her only reason to accept him was not to keep her assets. “Your mother was a pragmatic woman, determined to make your life the best it could be.”
“You knew my mother?”
“My father and I had the pleasure of her company several times.”
She smiled. “I still do not understand why she resorted to such elaborate and secretive means to secure an advantageous marriage for me. It seems so surreal.”
“The answer is quite simple,” Richard offered. She seemed to prefer direct and honest, which he liked, for he was the same.
“Is it?”
“Yes. She loved you.”
Chapter Four
Rose’s heart nearly burst from what he said about her mother and the way in which he said it—with such conviction. If she possessed just one-tenth of the confidence this handsome man exuded, her life might have turned out so differently. But the past could not be changed, could it? And the future, well, was he not staring into her eyes right now?
“Your mother believed wholeheartedly in what Lady Whitmore does here. So much so, over the years, she recommended no less than twenty young ladies to come here and change the courses of their destinies.”
“Destinies?” This played into her silly notion that Lady Whitmore was her fairy godmother instead of just a simple godmother. Why hadn’t her mother shared this part of her life with Rose? It pained her, confused her, and perhaps angered her just a little. “Why would these women need to change their destinies?”
“But of course, you have not been here long enough for our hostess to explain everything.”
Rose gazed across the room, where she found her brother surrounded by Lady Whitmore and her guests, laughing and conversing.
“Your brother will never suffer humiliation again. That I promise you, Rose.”
Her watery gaze met his—so caring, so strong. So masculine! He smelled like leather and wine. “Timothy is everything to me.”
“Dexter is a surgeon.”
“Excuse me?”
“My best friend, Sir Dexter, he is a famous surgeon. A doctor known to help patients with unusual medical conditions.”
“You think he can help Timothy?”
“I believe your brother’s condition inoperable, but perhaps Dexter can deal with his condition therapeutically. There is more than one way to heal a patient.”
Rose’s mouth dropped open. All of the specialists in London had turned him away after initial examinations. He will be lame all his life. Keep him in the country so as not to shame your family. Be grateful for having a healthy daughter. Her parents had suffered through every sort of advice doctors could give—logical, but often cruel, opinions about Timothy.
“My brother has grown into the sort of young man anyone would be proud of. He accepts his condition and has overcome much of the shame he grew up with.”
Richard nodded. “He is an energetic lad.”
“Yes, obsessed with history, and likes to write.”
“An imaginative and active mind is the best medicine for a boy such as him.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, growing more intrigued with Richard. Not only handsome, but intuitive and generous, too.
“I would very much like Sir Dexter to examine my brother.”
He bowed slightly. “It will be done.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Before he could reply, the butler announced dinner was served.
After dinner, the ladies gathered in drawing room. Lady Whitmore once again walked with Rose alone. “Tell me, after speaking with the earl, how do you feel about your betrothal? Will you honor your mother’s wishes?”
Rose took a deep breath; there was so much to consider. Richard had been a wonderful dinner companion, making her laugh so much, her stomach hurt a little. And his sister would be a formidable ally. But mostly, she thought about Timmy and how having an honorable man like the earl in his life would benefit him greatly. She would be protected, perhaps even loved one day. The prospect of love, of having her own home and possibly children appealed to her senses. Like her mother, Rose was a nurturer, always wanting to help the less fortunate and pick up every stray animal she could find.
“He is one of the most sought after bachelors in England,” her hostess said.
“Then, our betrothal is secret?”
“It is known to the people who require such information.”
“I see.”
“Do not be offended, my dear. This was done to protect you and the earl if one of you was opposed to the marriage after meeting each other.”
“And is he opposed?” Rose asked nervously.
Lady Whitmore gave her a gentle smile. “Even more determined after speaking with you. But I will leave that to Richard to explain—then you must make your choice, Rose, for time is of the essence.”
And then as quickly as the invitation to dinner had arrived, Rose and Timothy were taken back to their cottage where Jen had tea waiting for them and all of their possessions unpacked and put away.
After Timothy retired to his chamber and Rose had changed into a comfortable dress, Jen, as she often did whenever no one else was about, sat with her mistress. “How grand is the castle?” she asked.
Rose grinned. “More beautiful than any home I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. And Lady Whitmore is gracious and warm, much like Mother.” Then she explained everything, her betrothal and how much she liked the earl.
“Ye are drawn to him like a moth to a flame,” the maid teased.
Rose felt her cheeks heat and looked away. “He is very handsome.”
“And very wealthy?”
“Jen, you are shameful,” she jested. “The subject never came up, and I would never ask. But his estate is very close to here, and from what he and his sister described, it is even larger than Lady Whitmore’s holdings.”
“What will ye do, m’lady?”
“I must think it over carefully, for this is not just about my future, is it? You and Timothy are important to me.”
The maid embraced her, then kissed the top of her head before she stood. “Do you want me to stay up with ye?”
“No. Go to sleep, it has been a long day. I am going for a stroll.”
“Alone?”
“Of course.”
Jen shook her head, looking scandalized. “What if ye get lost? What about pirates?”
“You are the silliest creature and must stop reading those adventure novels. There are no pirates in Whitmore, I am sure of it.” Especially just out the front door of the cottage. She simply wanted to sit on the shore and listen to the waves, gaze at the nighttime sky, and pretend just for a little while that her mother and father were staring down at her from the heavens.
Properly wrapped up in a heavy wool cloak, gloves, and sturdy boots, she grabbed a blanket to spread on the sand so she could sit down comfortably. Rose was not disappointed. A full moon illuminated the water with silvery light. And she did not shy away from the waves, but bent ov
er and wiggled her fingers in the cold water. It delighted her to no end, and she was tempted to strip off her boots and stockings and soak her bare feet in it.
Then she found a spot near the water’s edge and cast the blanket out like a fisherman would a net. She lowered herself onto it, laying on her back, and watched for shooting stars or any other celestial sign that might help her make up her mind.
Compared to the London sky… there was no comparing the two. Out here, she couldn’t tell where the sea and sky separated.
“Rose?” the soft voice came but did not startle her, for she knew Richard’s sound already.
She did not move from her spot, though her heart thundered. “I did not expect anyone to be out here.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said as she caught his intense gaze. “And when I am in Whitmore, I prefer spending time on the shore.”
Rose stared at him in silence for a long moment before she spoke again. “Then, we have another thing in common.”
“It would appear so.” He shuffled his feet. “May I join you?”
“Of course.” She sat up then, making room for him to sit down on the blanket.
“I am afraid I must confess something to you, Rose.”
“Is it a happy confession, or something I will never forgive you for?”
He chuckled. “I like you immensely.”
“Is that the confession?”
“Of course not.” He laughed again, shifting into a comfortable position on the blanket, very close to her.
He was broad-shouldered and tall, strong, she could tell by the way he moved. Richard had been raised in the country, and like the farmers that lived out here, she was sure he labored alongside them as a boy, learning to manage his father’s estate, which was now his.
“Tonight is not the first time I have seen you.”
Those words caught her off guard. How? When? Where? “I do not understand. I have never come out, not one Season.”
“I am aware,” he said. “And perhaps that is one of the things I like most about you. You are not an empty-minded debutante and have never been exposed to the shallow natures those young ladies often have, or their scheming mamas.”
“But you have.”
“Yes, much to my disappointment.”
“And now we are here together, for whatever reason our parents chose us for each other,” she said.
“I am glad they did, for every time I observed you when I was in London, I knew you were meant for me.”
His passionate words warmed her heart, and she leaned closer to him, gazing up at him. “When did you see me last?”
“Six months ago, walking with your maid. Of course, you were still in mourning for your mother.”
“And before that?”
“More than a year ago. You were in Hyde Park riding. I followed you with Dexter, but you never noticed me or anyone around you. You were dedicated to mastering your riding technique, for I overheard you speaking with your brother.”
“You know him?”
“Yes, unfortunately, I do.”
She felt her throat constricting, fear seeping into her veins. “Does—does he know about our betrothal?”
“No. If he did, I am sure he would try and stop it.”
“But why?”
“We are not friends, Rose. In fact, we are rivals. We both own competing shipping companies.”
“He would try and ruin our happiness out of spite,” she commented.
“Is that what we share, happiness?” He scooped her hand up and held it tight, waiting for her next words.
Instead of speaking, she dared to touch one of his golden curls, twisting it around her fingers. “Your hair must be the envy of every woman you meet.”
“And every man will envy me for taking you as my wife.”
His warmth and strength wrapped around her, and suddenly she knew there was nothing more she wanted than to be his wife. Her beloved mother had given her the rarest of gifts, a chance at love.
“Tell me if your heart feels the same things your eyes express when you look at me, Rose.”
She could not withhold the truth from him and nodded.
“Rose…” He squeezed her hand and drew her closer, kissing her lips softly, like a whisper across her mouth. Then, with a shaky hand, he reached inside his greatcoat and pulled something out.
She did not know what to expect, really, for she had never spent time alone with a gentleman—only her father and brothers, and this was so different.
Richard shifted to his knees and placed his fingers under her chin, gently coaxing her to look at him. “Lady Rose Bennett, will you marry me? Make me the happiest of men? Give me the chance to show what love can do, how it can unite two people in happiness?”
Love. Happiness. A second chance at life. All in time for Christmas.
“What of Timothy?” She had to ask, for whatever Richard said would determine her answer.
“He will live with us, of course. He will have a brother and second sister to adore him.”
Unfettered joy unleashed inside her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. But what about…”
“Jen?” He laughed. “She will live with us, too.”
“You know about Jen?”
“I know everything,” he said. “Including how much I love you already. From the first time I laid eyes on you, from the first letters your mother and Lady Whitmore wrote to me about you, I knew you’d be the only woman for me.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as he placed a diamond and ruby ring on her finger, sealing their commitment to each other. And then, Richard tugged her into his arms and kissed her with all the passion she knew he had been holding back. His hands wandered up her back and down her arms, and she explored the expanse of his muscled back and shoulders, loving his strength and masculinity.
She was safe. She was loved. And she was home.
“Merry Christmas, Richard,” she said, leaning her forehead against his, gazing into his green eyes.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, we will tell Lady Whitmore the good news. And once we help decorate the castle, we will take our vows under the mistletoe, and I will give you a proper kiss—the kind a husband gives his wife.”
They watched the sunrise, happy and content, their new life together blessed by the holy season.
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Violetta Rand
The Husband Dilemma Series
How to Fool a Duke
Highlands Forever Series
Unbreakable
Undeniable
Unyielding
Lords of Hedonism
Duke of Decadence
Viking’s Fury Series
Love’s Fury
Desire’s Fury
Passion’s Fury
Also from Violetta Rand
Viking Hearts
Raven
About the Author
Raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, Violetta Rand spent her childhood reading, writing, and playing soccer. After meeting her husband in New England, they moved to Alaska where she studied environmental science. Violetta spent a decade working as a scientist before quitting her day job to pursue her dream as a full time writer.
Violetta still lives in Anchorage, Alaska, and spends her days writing evocative contemporary and historical romance. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, she enjoys time with her husband, pets, and friends.
Website:
www.violettarandromance.com
Yuletide at Gillingham
Alexa Aston
Chapter One
Gillingham—December 1811
Ashlyn Baker, Duchess of Gilford, awoke nestled in the arms of her husband, Reid. She could tell he was still asleep from his even breathing. His arms held her close, though, possessive of her even as he slumbered. For Ashlyn, it was the safest place in the world. Reid had become her world in such a short time. He was loyal, generous, and fiercely protective of those he loved.
Espe
cially the child she carried.
They had wed in May and both had been pleased when her courses ceased during the summer. She had welcomed her students back to Dunwood Academy, housed within a wing of Gillingham, just as the nausea struck. She had tried her best to hide her condition but Reid’s half-brother, Arthur, had figured it out. He and his younger brother, Harry, were pupils at the academy she had founded and quite a bit younger than her husband, who was thirty. Arthur had pulled Ashlyn aside and told her what he suspected. She had confirmed it and Arthur told her she needed to let all the boys know because they would want to take care of her.
Ashlyn did as Arthur suggested and, ever since, every student at Dunwood Academy had been especially watchful, carrying things for her and insisting she sit whenever possible. She took pride in their gentlemanly actions and solicitous behavior and knew her child would have so many who would love him or her. If she had a boy, she wanted him to attend Dunwood Academy when he became of school age. Of course, it was possible she could give birth to a girl. Because of that, she had thought of creating a companion school to Dunwood Academy, one for females. She and her husband had discussed the idea at length. Reid had been very encouraging and because of his support, both financial and emotional, plans were in the works to open it the following September. By then, she would be a mother. The thought filled her with love.
Reid’s close friends had become the same to her, along with their wives. Ashlyn had traded numerous letters with Gemma, Countess of Weston, who had delivered a healthy boy this past June, and Charlotte, who already had a three-year-old son and was also due next April, the same month Ashlyn would give birth. As her body changed, she had numerous questions for her two friends. Letters between the three had flown fast and furiously over the past few months.
She didn’t mind the weight gain, though her growing belly had changed her center of gravity, leaving her feeling a bit imbalanced at times. Recently, her skin had begun to itch as it stretched, which Charlotte assured her was perfectly normal. Reid had certainly enjoyed her fuller breasts and paid them ample attention as he made love to her.
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 28
