Regency Romance: The Rake's Fake Marriage (Historical Arranged Marriage Romance) (19th Century Victorian Romance)

by Sarah Thorn

  I wondered how she knew, and my open mouth and gasps did nothing but prove her point.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “You know I was your father’s wife,” she said, “There’s a reason there weren’t any other motorcycle clubs around when you were growing up. And, I was there for most of them. Why aren’t you with Buck right now?”

  “He sent me home, he didn’t want me there,” I said honestly.

  “He didn’t want you there because he couldn’t stand the possibility of you getting’ hurt, Tara.”

  I knew what she was saying was the truth. Buck really did love me, and I just seemed to slap him in the face every time he showed it.

  “I gotta go, Momma,” I said as I ran to the closet and threw on my jacket.

  “Take the shotgun with you,” she said, “I won’t need it.”

  I did as I was told, and lumbered out with the shotgun in tow. My heart raced as I knew that was I had planned on doing was incredibly crazy. I also was scared of what Buck would do if we actually survived this.

  I rode as fast as I could; I didn’t really know where. But, the place that was most famous for settling disputes was the old quarry. I wondered what I would do when I got there. Sometimes it’s best not to know.

  7.

  I was still half a mile out, and I could hear engines in the distance. The roaring thunder of motorcycles gathered in mass. It was impossible to make that sound any other way.

  Rounding the corner, I saw Buck and the gang standing in a stalemate on the north side, while Connor and his gang were lined up on the south side. I could see the two men yelling at each other, but couldn’t make out what they were saying over all the noise.

  I cut a path through the bikers, heading straight for Buck, coming to a screeching halt just in front of him.

  He looked at me with rage.

  “What the hell are you doing here,” he shouted.

  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be here,” I shouted in response.

  “Because I need to know you’ll be okay, get the hell home, now!”

  “I’m not leaving your side, not until this is all through,” I said.

  I took my place next to him, lifting the shotgun under my arm. Connor looked over at the two of us and laughed.

  “I guess you guys really do love each other,” he said.

  I looked up at Buck who didn’t change his expression in the slightest.

  “I won’t ever leave my man,” I shouted.

  Buck leaned over and pulled me in for a hug. I forgot how strong he was; it felt like he would break me in half with the force of it. I didn’t want him to stop, and I don’t think he wanted to either.

  “Buck, I thought you loved me,” I heard a screeching woman’s voice say.

  Looking over, I saw that Gracie had decided to come. I wanted to put her in her place, but I didn’t want to be the person pulling the trigger first.

  “Gracie, you better crawl back into whatever hole you just crawled out of,” I shouted, only for Buck to throw his hand over my mouth.

  “I can speak for myself, Tara,” he said.

  He took a couple of steps forward. The lights of the other cycles were near blinding, and I couldn’t make out anyone’s face behind Connor and Gracie.

  “Gracie, you know what we did. We weren’t nothin’ more than a good afternoon. Just tell your brother you’re done, and this whole feud can come to an end.”

  Gracie started laughing.

  “You think we were just some afternoon fun? I thought we were something more than that. My brother is going to kick your ass,” she said.

  “Connor, can you control that woman? I don’t think she speaks for you,” Buck said.

  Connor rubbed his forehead and clenched his teeth.

  “Gracie, shut the hell up. We’re tryin’ to hash this out without people getting’ killed and you’re just makin’ things worse,” Connor said.

  “You’re takin’ his side, instead of your own sister,” Gracie said, “what the hell is wrong with you, Connor?”

  Connor turned and gave her a good smack across the cheek.

  “You heard me, Gracie. Stop talking,” he said.

  Gracie panicked. She started pounding her fists into Connor’s chest, but he didn’t budge. She cried and wailed, then collapsed to her knees a crying mess.

  “Connor, I got no beef with you or your gang. I just want us all to walk out of here and forget any of this happened,” Buck said.

  Connor thought for a moment, looking to his sister crying on the ground. I could see his embarrassment at having her by his side.

  “Gracie, get up,” Connor said.

  He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her from the loose gravel. She didn’t resist, and just seemed to have lost all interest in what was happening.

  Connor pulled her back and sat her on his motorcycle. She sat without a sound, motionless. Then Connor turned back to Buck and me.

  “Buck, I got nothing against you. I was just tryin’ to do right by my sister. When you said you were gettin’ married to Tara, I thought you were joking. I had a feeling you were just saying that ‘cause you didn’t want to end up with Gracie. I don’t blame you; if she weren’t family, things would have been different.

  “Get outta here, Buck,” Connor said.

  He backed up and eased back on his cycle, and kicked it started.

  “You got a hell of a girl there,” Connor Added.

  “I really do,” Buck said.

  Buck turned and started walking back towards me. I was glad things ended so easily and without a fight. Then again, I did miss watching Buck get ornery.

  “I’m the only one you should ever love,” shouted Gracie, then she turned her gaze toward me, “he would love me if you were dead!”

  Gracie held up a revolver, taking aim straight at me. I started to duck, and I felt everything start to move incredibly slowly. I looked at Buck, who had a horrified expression.

  I could remember the first time I saw him. He wasn’t as big then, but he was scrappy. I wondered if he ever thought about me when we were younger. There are worse ways to die; I wouldn’t be able to dodge at this distance.

  I closed my eyes as I heard the shot, and I waited for the pain that would follow, but it never came.

  I opened my eyes a second later to see Buck hovering over me. Blood poured from an open wound in his shoulder. I stared into his big eyes and he in mine.

  “I love you,” Buck said.

  “Don’t die,” I squeaked out.

  “Ugh, it’s just a shoulder shot,” he replied, “I didn’t like that tattoo anyway.”

  He collapsed on top of me. I didn’t realize how much he really weighed until then.

  8.

  Everything was a blur for the rest of that night. We ended up at a hospital where he got his shoulder sewn shut. I stayed with him the whole time, and we exchanged knowing glances.

  He wasn’t the man I remembered at all. I wanted to hold him and never let him go. I knew he would always be there to protect me, and that was a feeling I never wanted to lose.

  Connor turned in his own sister for what she’d done. I think he knew that if Buck decided to come after her, she wouldn’t have made it far. Connor even visited him in the hospital to make amends.

  The next morning the hospital released Buck. He was built like a tank, and it would’ve taken a lot more to do him in.

  I met him out front with his motorcycle, the old hand me down he received from father. With his arm still in a sling, he hopped on the cycle.

  “I think I’ll take the lead on this one, Buck. You can’t brake with only one arm,” I said.

  “This is my bike; I’m the only one in this saddle,” he said.

  I cocked and eye, the same look my mother gave me a million times. It always worked on my father when he was alive, and it looked like it might just work with Buck.

  He let out a drawn out sigh and scooted to the back seat of the bike. I hopped into the driver seat
, and he threw his arm around my stomach.

  I finally felt like I was home.

  *****

  THE END

  BWWM ROMANCE COLLECTION

  The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Tyra’s Story

  A BWWM Billionaire Pregnancy Romance

  ''It's okay, Tyra, hold on to me,'' Natalie said as Tyra collapsed into her arms.

  Father Smith had told me it would be like this, Tyra thought. But which of the emotions had he meant? The Grief or the guilt? Tyra was experiencing both. Two of the most powerful human emotions were wracking through her at will.

  ''Tyra, we're so sorry for your loss.'' Tyra lifted her head from Natalie's shoulder. It was Mr. and Mrs. Radley Samuels, Tyra's boss and his wife.

  ''Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.'' Tyra didn't think she could speak, but the words came out somehow. Natalie handed her another tissue and for a moment, Tyra could see clearly again. She looked to her left and saw a line of mourners waiting to express their condolences to her.

  ''If only I hadn't been so selfish,'' Tyra said to Natalie as they walked up the cemetery path. It had taken an eternity to work through the line of those seeking to express their condolences and Tyra was exhausted. ''It was foggy, and I knew dad didn't want to drive that day. It was me. Me moaning that they hadn't been to see me in my new home in the city. Lord knows, I think I even suggested they weren't interested in me anymore.'' She held onto Natalie again as another insufferable wave of guilt rammed at her. ''No, I killed them. Dad would never have taken mom out in the car on a day like normally.'' Natalie didn't know how to comfort her friend. They were both just twenty-three and beginning to make their way in the world. Losing parents wasn't supposed to happen until later in life.

  *****

  Three weeks after the funeral, Tyra stood outside the jewelry store on West 47th Street and looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time. I've been working here for seven months, and this is the first time I've properly taken the place in, she thought. Grief-stricken and riddled with guilt; she felt her senses had become sharper since the passing of her parents. It was as if someone was making her take notice of the world. Making her appreciate what can so easily be torn away from you, in an instant.

  West 47th Street was full of jewelry shops, but none as grand as J.P Samuels. They might as well have called it, 'Jewelers to the rich and famous,' she thought. For that's what it was. A place where the rich came to gorge on expensive stones. The front of the store was imposing. Between the cleanest store windows in New York, there were columns of polished black granite. The entrance was in the middle of the store and it too was surrounded by shiny black stone. The door itself was made of bulletproof, reinforced glass. What Tyra liked best about the facade was the sign. It was made of copper and ran the length of the store. The background was dark and the letters that had been forged onto it were polished and stood out better than any other letters on the street.

  ''Welcome back Tyra. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom and dad,'' Leon said. ''Thanks, Leon. It's very brave of you to say so.'' She'd found that most people just turned away from her, not knowing what to say. Not Leon. It was his job to stand inside the door and keep out the undesirables. He was perfectly equipped to do so at six feet seven and two hundred and fifty pounds, but it involved hours standing in the same place, day after day.

  ''Tyra, my girl,'' Radley Samuel's said. He'd been waiting for her. Normally, he didn't stand in the shop.

  He had others to do that for him. His job was managing the business that his grandfather had started. ''Come with me.''

  Tyra followed him through the store. They walked past glass cabinets filled with beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, and watches. At the back of the store, they went through a door and down a corridor. The first door on the right led to a security room. Tyra had never been in the room, but she had seen inside once when the door had been open. It was full of monitors and the latest lock down systems. It was all hi-tech, and she had no idea about any of it.

  Radley pushed open the first door on the left and showed her into his office. How can anyone spend hours in an office with no daylight? she wondered. There were pictures of his ancestors on one wall and a giant flora vase in the corner. What she liked most about his office was the carpet. It was deep red with the company crest woven into it.

  ''Tyra, please sit down.'' He pointed to a button backed armchair that stood in front of his mahogany desk. ''I want you to tell me how you are feeling. You've been through a lot, and I want to make sure you’re feeling up to working again.'' I wish I had a daughter like her, she's so graceful and kind, yet determined and motivated, he thought.

  ''Well, honestly speaking, I'm still feeling awful.'' You can tell him everything; he cares for you, she told herself as a moment of doubt crept into her mind. ''I weep a lot, especially in the evening and I feel guilty. So guilty.'' She noticed how closely he was listening to her. The furrows on his forehead were deep with concern for her, and his eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking any sign that a return to work may be too early.

  ''There is nothing I can say to you that will make you feel better. All I can do is tell you what happened to me when my son was killed.'' Killed? I didn't know he'd had a son, she thought. The thought that someone close to her had also suffered such a loss made her feel better.

  ''My son was only nineteen. He was studying business at New York University and working here at the weekends.'' He stopped talking for a moment, took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. Tyra knew him to be fifty-nine. He was quite tall and very thin. It was as if he was so involved in his business he forgot to eat.

  He looked at her with a pained expression as he continued. ''One morning, he left home to go to college, and he never came back again. A man who had been drinking all night decided to get into his car and drive to the girlfriend he had left for dead in her apartment the previous evening. When he fell asleep at the wheel, it was my son he hit.'' Tyra noticed a crack in his voice. ''Walking down the street minding his own business.'' He took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

  ''Oh my God, that's awful,'' Tyra put her hand to her mouth.

  He nodded. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened her with this, he thought. ''At first, everything was a blur. It was only after the funeral had taken place that it really hit me. After the funeral, everyone seems to disappear. All the kind words and supporting arms are no longer there. You are suddenly alone.'' He ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and looked towards a photo on his desk. Tyra couldn't see who it was. She assumed his son.

  ''The Undertaker had warned me about it. A deep hole, he'd called it, and I fell into it.'' When he paused, Tyra thought about where she was mentally and recognized what he was describing. ''The Undertaker also explained that there is something called the cycle of grief. You go through stages of grief, and if you are lucky, eventually come out the other end. The last stage is called the acceptance stage. You stop all the blaming and come to terms with what's happened. Of course, you're still sad, but it gets easier.''

  ''It's very kind of you to tell me this. I had no idea. I was afraid I would have this level of pain for the rest of my life.'' Tyra looked at her hands. Her nails used to be so manicured, she thought.

  ''When I employed you, Tyra, I saw something in you. You are one of life's good people. I can see you care about people. When you talk to clients, you are patient, and most importantly, you listen to them. Did you know I have no relatives?''

  Tyra shook her head.

  ''No.''

  ''Well, I don't. Not one, and no friends. There's only my wife and me.'' He looked at her, and wondered what he was about to say, would do to her. ''I am going to leave the business to you.'' He stared at her, not wanting to miss her reaction.

  ''Pardon?' Tyra said. She wasn't really in the mood for jokes.

  ''I am going to leave the business to you,'' he repeated.

  What the hell is h
e playing at? This isn't funny, doesn't he know I've just buried my parents. She went to stand up, but he put up his hand and stopped her.

  ''For the last time, Tyra. You will inherit this business.'' Someone knocked on the door; it was his wife. ''Tell her Eliana, she doesn't believe me.''

  ''How are you, Tyra? We are very worried about you?'' she said ignoring her husband's plea for help.

  ''I've been better.'' What are they playing at, surely Jewish people don't give things away like this, she thought?

  ''My husband, as you know, isn't given to pranks. We have decided to leave it to you. Of course, you are young, and you have only just started in the business, but we see you have got what it takes.'' She put her hand on Tyra's shoulder and looked her into her eyes. ''You are intelligent, and you have an enormous appetite for the business. We have never seen anyone with your enthusiasm. We are both sixty next year and all we have done with our lives is sit in this store.'' She looked at her husband and gave him an assertive nod. ''In five years time, we will retire and travel. You will take over as manager, and when we die, it will all be yours. Take the time between now and then to learn all you can about the business.''

  ''Are you okay to come back to work?'' Radley asked. Tyra looked at him and burst into tears. It was a gesture so great that her emotions overflowed.

  Eliana sat on the chair arm and put her arm around her. ''You have been through a lot, but you have us, and we will help you all we can.''

  *****

  Tyra started up Google and typed in: 'The Hope Diamond' She read: Value $350 million dollars, 45 karats, 9.1 grams. ''Three hundred and fifty million dollars,'' she whispered under her breath.

  She and Radley had agreed that she would work in the shop four days a week and spend the other two days shadowing him. He' made a list of things he had to teach her. He hadn't realized how long the list would prove to be. One thing he couldn't teach her was diamond cutting. While he was an expert at grading and valuing gems, he'd never enjoyed using tools. Tyra had told him that she'd go to college in her own time and learn.