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Improperly Wed

Page 15

by Anna DePalo


  How could she castigate Uncle Hugh for his bad judgments, she thought, when she’d made worse decisions?

  And yet, she found herself drinking in the sight of Colin. His hair was mussed, when it ordinarily looked smooth, and his jaw was shadowed, when he was normally groomed.

  “May I come in?” he asked, his manner steady.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Sawyer has graciously lent me his apartment, too, while I’m in London.”

  “How kind of him.” She lifted her chin. “One wonders at the need for it, considering just how many properties you have acquired lately.”

  “The Mayfair town house is rented out.”

  “Oh, yes, how can I forget? Your act of noblesse oblige. Uncle Hugh sends his regards.”

  Colin bit off a helpless laugh. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “Surely your mother and sister would offer you a sofa to sleep on in London.”

  “Perhaps Sawyer thought my home was here with you.”

  Belinda felt suddenly flush with emotion.

  “With so many properties at your disposal?” she forced herself to scoff.

  Colin looked at her steadily. “As a matter of fact, those properties are the reason I’m here.”

  She tensed. “I thought you would have let your attorney do the talking.”

  He grimaced. “Do we have to have this discussion on the doorstep?”

  Reluctantly, she moved out of the way.

  He stepped inside and removed his overcoat. It was an overcast day, typical of London but not rainy—yet. Under his coat, he wore a white open-collar shirt over dark trousers.

  Belinda was glad she was presentable herself, though she’d had to use cucumber patches for her puffy eyes this morning. She had, however, showered and dressed. She’d donned a blue belted shirtdress, tights and flats shortly before Colin’s arrival.

  After Colin folded his coat and placed it on a nearby chair, she turned and walked farther into the flat, leaving him to follow her.

  She stopped in the parlor and turned back to face him.

  Despite appearing a bit careworn, he was still imposing—tall, broad and ruthless. And yet she remembered his achingly soft caresses and his whispered words of promise.

  Like a bad angel, she thought with a twist of the heart.

  “The Elmer Street property is not being sold,” he announced.

  She blinked.

  It had not been the announcement that she’d expected from him. She had thought he was here to negotiate with her about their future.

  “I thought it was a done deal,” she finally said.

  “The sale was in contract, but the parties had yet to sign.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “What made you change your mind?”

  He searched her eyes. “I decided it would be better to sell the property to you—”

  She frowned.

  “—for one pound sterling. Have you got it in your purse?”

  Her heart skittered. “Is this some attempt to modify our postnuptial agreement?”

  “Yes, for forever.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  Colin stepped toward her, and she caught her breath.

  He acted like his usual commanding self, but his face told a different story. It spoke of stark need and naked emotion.

  “What are the terms?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

  “Name them.” He searched her face. “In fact, my plan is to sign over all the Wentworth property to you today for a nominal amount…and for accepting me back, if you’ll have me.”

  Belinda felt emotion clog her throat. Still, she managed to say, “Of course, you would never be caught without a plan.”

  Colin lifted his mouth in an uneven grin. “A gambler always has a strategy, and I believe this is one of my better ones.”

  “Oh?” she asked, matching his tone. “Then far be it for me to stand in the way of its execution.”

  “Excellent.” He went down on bended knee and took hold of her hand. “Belinda, would you do me the great honor of remaining my wife?”

  She blinked back tears. “Even better.”

  “I love you passionately.”

  “Best. Definitely the best plan you’ve ever had.” She smoothed away an errant tear. “I love you, too, so I suppose there’s nothing for it but to remain married to you.”

  It was hard to say who moved first, but in the next moment, they were in each others’ arms and kissing passionately.

  It was a long moment before they came up for air.

  “You know we’ll scandalize both our families by staying married to each other,” she remarked.

  “Who cares? We withstood their attempts to pull us apart.”

  She nodded. “It’s the awful interfamily feud.”

  Colin smiled, his eyes twinkling. “We’re putting it to rest. In fact, I suggest we make love not war right now.”

  “We’re in Sawyer’s flat.”

  Colin looked around them. “Looks good to me. Can you think of something better to do on a wet and overcast day?”

  “Colin…”

  Belinda laughed as he tugged her down with him to the deep rug before the fireplace, pulling a blanket off the sofa as he did so.

  It wasn’t long before the weather was forgotten for more interesting pursuits…?.

  Later, Belinda snuggled with Colin on the sofa, watching the rain beat against the windows of Sawyer’s London flat.

  Colin cleared his throat. “I let revenge take over for three years. It was convenient not to look beyond that overruling motivation.”

  “Because I walked away.” She said the words without rancor, as merely a statement of fact.

  Colin lifted the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t just walk. You ran.”

  “What?” she joked. “In three-inch platform heels and a red sequin minidress?”

  “The minute I saw you, I wanted to strip you out of them.”

  She gazed at him through her lashes. “And you did.”

  “You couldn’t have chosen a better seduction ensemble if you had tried,” Colin teased. “What were you thinking?”

  Belinda heated. “I was thinking that I was in Vegas and I was going to have a good time.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding with understanding. “You were already starting to do things your way without knowing it.”

  “And maybe, just maybe, when I saw you, I made sure to stay put until you spotted me in the hotel.”

  “Ah.” Colin nodded with satisfaction. “Finally, a confession. Here’s mine—I knew you were staying at the Bellagio.”

  Belinda’s eyes widened. “No doubt your ego was in full bloom.”

  He placed her hand on his chest. “But my heart shriveled on the vine for the next three years.”

  She turned her head to look up at him. “Did you ever discover how our annulment was never finalized in Nevada?”

  “The biggest confession of all,” Colin admitted. “I did not authorize my attorney to file the annulment papers.”

  Belinda gasped and then laughed in disbelief. “I always suspected as much!”

  “I tried to find every which way to get you back. I even pursued the end of the Wentworth-Granville feud in order to get you back. Why do you think I became a collector of impressionist art?”

  Belinda’s eyes shone. “Me?”

  Colin nodded.

  Belinda swallowed against the well of emotion. “Oh, Colin, how sweet and romantic.”

  He brushed her lips with his.

  “I’m sorry for running out on you in Vegas.” When he made to speak, she pressed a finger to his lips. “In the morning, I was afraid of the floodgates that you opened in me, and I didn’t know how to deal with the situation. You were willing to take risks that I wasn’t. You were more than I expected, and more than I could handle at the time.”

  When she lowered her hand, he stole another quick kiss.

  “You handled me fine.” His eyes glinted. “And I’d say
you took a big risk by eloping with me. You just needed me to get used to jumping into the deep end once in a while in your life.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll give me plenty more chances to do it.”

  “I was a lord who was missing his heart, and didn’t know it.”

  “The majority of Wentworths would agree that you were heartless,” she allowed.

  “Only because you’d stolen my heart.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “And you absconded to New York with it.”

  Belinda’s lips twitched. “Uncle Hugh would claim you’re the thief who stole the Wentworth family patrimony—the London town house, the Berkshire country estate…”

  “But what you didn’t understand is that you always had the more valuable property in your possession, and I was just trying to get my heart back.”

  “You took the family jewel, the Berkshire estate.”

  “The only jewel I stole was you.”

  “I guess I’ll have to change my name to Granville, then.”

  Colin gave a small smile. “I guess you’ll have to, if you want to.”

  “What? And risk giving people, including your mother, conniptions at being styled Belinda Wentworth, Marchioness of Easterbridge?”

  “I wouldn’t mind as long as you remained the lady of my heart.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you like to renew our vows?”

  Belinda swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’ve been a disaster at weddings, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  He gave her a swift kiss. “What matters is that you’re a winner at marriage.”

  “It’s nice of you to think so.”

  He gave her an intimate smile. “I’m betting on it.”

  Belinda smiled. “Then, yes, I’ll marry you again.”

  “The local parish church would do nicely. The locals will love the show.”

  “Even if I’m not dressed in red sequins?” she joked.

  “Especially if I avoid a white Elvis suit.”

  She laughed.

  “I started out trying to put the Wentworth-Granville feud to rest by vanquishing the Wentworths. Instead, by falling in love, we’ll be the means together to end the feud in a far more satisfactory way.”

  Belinda couldn’t agree more. “I can’t wait to get started together on your next strategy.”

  Epilogue

  It was the Christmas season in snowy Berkshire, and Belinda was surrounded by those who loved her and whom she loved in return.

  What else could a woman ask for?

  She surveyed the scene in the sitting room at Halstead Hall. A huge tree hugged one corner of the room, a bright star at the very top and foil ribbon gracing the boughs.

  Colin was speaking with Hawk near the tree, but in the next moment, his eyes connected with hers.

  A look ripe with emotion and understanding passed between them. Colin’s face said that he adored her—and he couldn’t wait to get her alone.

  Then he winked, and Belinda’s smile widened.

  She was six months pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl—and this time next year, they would be parents like their friends. It was nice to get a reminder that even in her current state, her husband still, well, lusted, for her.

  On the floor in front of one of the sofas, Pia played with her son, William, the seven-month-old Earl of Eastchester—the courtesy title used by the eldest son of the Duke of Hawkshire. She laughed along with Tamara when William snagged a ball that had been rolled his way by Tamara’s fifteen-month-old son, Elliott Langsford, Viscount Averil.

  Off to one side, Tamara’s husband, Sawyer, stood with a toddler’s juice box in hand, surveying the action.

  This time next year, two children would become four, Belinda thought. She’d be playing on the floor along with Pia and Tamara, though it was hard to believe these days since her view of her feet had already disappeared.

  She and Colin hoped to make this Christmastime gathering an annual event with the two couples whom they considered the best of friends.

  And fortunately, they both continued to mend fences with their families. She and Colin had had a lovely, formal wedding at the local parish church in Berkshire and a reception at Halstead Hall. She’d worn a designer sleeveless gown with white gloves that had drawn a gratifyingly stunned response from Colin. For his part, Colin had exuded a quiet male authority in a morning jacket and red cummerbund.

  They had even invited Mrs. Hollings to the wedding. She had turned out to be a sixty-something woman who was a British subject by birth but had lived in New York for years. She also had impeccable sources.

  For Belinda, the third time had been the charm, because though both Wentworths and Granvilles had attended, there had been no hiccup in the proceedings. Of course, it had helped that the two families had followed tradition and occupied opposite sides of the church aisle.

  Now, however, that Belinda was pregnant with Wentworth-Granville offspring, even the fact that she’d legally changed her name to Belinda Granville had apparently faded into the background. Even Colin’s mother had become reconciled, though, of course, to her, the expected grandchildren were simply Granvilles.

  Hawk bent down to help his son, and Colin came over to her and slipped his arm around her back.

  “Happy?” Colin asked her.

  “Of course,” Belinda said. “And it’s wonderful to have our friends here with us.”

  Colin smiled. “Even though both our families are set to arrive the day after Christmas for Boxing Day?”

  “They’ll behave, or else,” she threatened with mock humor.

  “If Uncle Hugh bests my mother at chess again, there may be blood on the Persian rug.”

  Belinda laughed. “Who knew they’d have something in common?”

  Uncle Hugh continued to reside at the Mayfair town house and the estates nearby in Berkshire. Eventually the property would pass to Belinda’s children, as was always intended.

  The Elmer Street property had been sold—Belinda herself had pushed for it—and the proceeds used to upgrade the Berkshire estates and the Mayfair town house.

  Belinda knew she was lucky.

  She had asked for and gotten a transfer to the London office of Lansing’s. She had worked there for several months and given notice only two weeks ago. She hoped, though, to keep her hand in the art world somehow. There were many priceless works of art at Halstead Hall to give her inspiration.

  For the moment, however, she had her hands full with the babies’ impending arrival, her work with the staff at Colin’s various properties and her charitable and other endeavors as the Marchioness of Easterbridge.

  “Life is good,” she announced.

  “But not like a dappled impressionist painting,” Colin teased. “It’s more like a work of modern art. It’s what you make of it. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.”

  “Kiss me,” she said, “and I’ll tell you what I make of it.”

  Colin’s eyes twinkled. “I’d love to.”

  And they sealed their future with a kiss.

  ISBN: 978-14592-1559-7

  IMPROPERLY WED

  Copyright © 2011 by Anna DePalo

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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