Redeeming Lord Ryder

by Robinson, Maggie

  “Calm down, love. The bowl will be fine tonight. In the future, who knows where those peaches will find themselves?” He wasn’t at all hungry, but dutifully downed a few slices as Nicola watched him with an anxious expression on her face. He held out the spoon, and she took a bite of her own.

  “I warn you, I may not be at my absolute best. But I hope I have time to improve. A future, with or without peaches. Nicola, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “What?”

  Her shock was evident—he caught the spoon before it stained the bedcovers. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve made me think. It’s time I looked ahead, and I want you to be there with me.”

  It was also time for him to kiss the confusion from her face. She tasted of peaches and smelled of lily of the valley. Jack was transported to high summer, far from Puddling’s frost. He would bask in her delicious warmth for the rest of his days.

  Nicola would keep him steady. Steer him in the right direction. In turn, he’d never let any harm befall her if he could help it. Love her, because she was so very lovable. Diamond-bright in his firmament, the only star. He’d forgotten to give her the ring, but it was now in his jacket pocket on the floor, along with the other items of clothing that Nicola was so efficiently helping him to remove.

  Her nightgown fluttered through the air, and Jack’s breathing stilled. My God, she was lovely. And his.

  He proceeded to kiss every smooth surface available—her shoulders, her breasts, her throat, even her chin. She still looked adorably dazed, her blue eyes half-shut. But she was touching him too, almost as if he would break. Each fingertip seared his soul and stiffened his already rampant cock.

  He wanted more, but he reined himself in. Nicola was a virgin—for all her charming recent forwardness, she was an innocent. True, a little less innocent since he’d met her. He kissed her mouth deeply, moving his hand to the juncture of her thighs. His finger slid between her folds, and a slow swipe told him she was wet already.

  But not enough. His mouth followed the path of his hand, licking her skin. She didn’t skitter away, but thrust up toward him, offering herself for his delight. She was pure woman, and Jack felt as if he was discovering her body—and his own—for the first time. Blood spiked and swirled inside him, his heart racing, her taste on his tongue. All symptoms of his illness vanished, and he’d never been surer of anything.

  He loved. He loved Nicola. There were no doubts. Why was he hesitating to make her his in the most elemental way? Time-honored. Traditional. He was more than ready, but he had to hear her assent from her own lips.

  “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice rough. “There’s no going back on this seduction business once we get started.”

  She nodded, her eyes filled with tears. Happy ones, he hoped.

  “You must do better than nodding. I want you to tell me.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. So many yesses.”

  “I love you.” Jack centered his body and guided himself a fraction inside her. Her hiss made him pause, but she shook her head and squeezed his forearms.

  “Don’t stop now.”

  He probably could have, but was glad he didn’t have to test his discipline. In seconds he was seated within her, her exquisite heat and moisture surrounding him. Jack took a moment to release the breath he’d been holding in. Nicola gazed up at him, her expression unreadable.

  “Are you…all right?”

  “Be quiet, Jack. No more talking. I just want to feel.” Her eyes fluttered shut.

  Her permission was all he needed. It had been such a long time since his last sexual encounter, he’d wondered to himself if he still knew how it was done.

  It appeared he did.

  He remembered to kiss lips and earlobes and eyelids. Cup her soft cheek. Nibble on her neck. Slip his hand between them. Press down so successfully upon her womanhood, she cried out and lifted off the bed. Flush with success, he rubbed her again and again until she was forced to speak, though he couldn’t understand a thing she said. Lose himself so far inside her it was only sheer luck he was able to withdraw in time and spend against her.

  Jack drew Nicola to him, their hearts hammering in a staccato duet.

  “Words truly fail.”

  She nodded, but said nothing.

  “You don’t mind if I talk now, do you? I love you, Nicola. You’ve made me happy for the first time in months.” He brushed a strand of her taffy hair behind her ear. “I have a confession—I’m a baron. Lord Jonathan Haskell Ryder. Isn’t it absurd to do what we just did and not even know each other’s surnames? You’re going to be a baroness. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Nicola pulled away and sat up. To Jack’s disappointment, she held an embroidered pillow over most of her body.

  “I—I can’t marry you, Jack.”

  Her words clubbed him in the gut. “Why not?”

  “You don’t know who I am, and when you find out—I’m so sorry. It just won’t work.”

  He elbowed his way up the bed. Nicola looked miserable. Not like a woman who’d been in the throes of ecstasy not five minutes before. “What in hell do you mean?”

  “I didn’t expect you to propose. I only wanted to…to have carnal relations with you.”

  Nicola might as well have been using fractured sign language—he couldn’t understand a bloody thing.

  She had been a virgin, he would swear by it. Why would she gift him with her body and then toss him away? “What do you have against marriage?”

  “Nothing, per se. I cannot marry you.”

  “Well, that’s clear as mud. Is it because of my black moods? Because since I met you, I’m better—I know I am! I said I loved you, Nicola, and I meant it—I’ve never said those words to another woman in my life. You’d never want for anything!” Jack broke off in disgust. He was not going to beg.

  She blinked back tears, which Jack was sure he’d had no part in. “You’ve told me your name, so I will tell you mine. It’s Mary Nicola Mayfield. Now do you see?”

  Chapter 37

  January 13, 1883

  After a troubled night, she had the dream again. Heard the screams. And she knew.

  The revelation was sudden and startling. It told her everything she’d blocked away for all these months. Now, if only she could explain to Jack. Make him understand.

  Nicola dressed in haste, unmindful of the crimp of her fringe or lack of jewelry. Ignoring the sore sensation between her legs. She bolted down breakfast only because Mrs. Grace was not to be trifled with.

  “I am going to Tulip Cottage to check on Jack’s progress,” she announced, her voice wavering only a little. If he would let her in. She’d never seen a human being dress so quickly as Jack had last night. The look he’d given her froze her to her toes, and his words were like arrows to her heart.

  “Do you think that’s wise, Miss Nicola? You’ve spent too much time with the man as it is. I’ll never understand why the governors allowed it.”

  “I was helping.”

  “That is Betty Feather’s job,” Mrs. Grace sniffed.

  “But Mr. Ross doesn’t like her now, does he? It was only for a few days, and I really had nothing better to do.”

  “There is your knitting,” the housekeeper reminded her.

  “No one will miss wearing one of my creations,” Nicola said ruefully. “Even a helpless baby would reject my caps if it knew what was good for it.”

  Mrs. Grace almost smiled. “I suppose a brief visit would be all right. Betty will be there to chaperone.”

  Nicola threw on her coat and made her way down the hill to Jack’s cottage. The sky was a piercing blue, as if there were no troubles in the world. As if there had been no horrific confession a few hours ago. No recanting of a proposal. No hate.

  She stood at the door, working up her courage. Her hand raised to ring the bell, she heard a
bellow inside, and a crash.

  “I’m done with all your damned rules. With this goddamned slop. All of you in this nest of vipers. I don’t care what Oakley says—I’m going home!”

  Nicola opened the door. At the end of the hall, Mrs. Feather was cowering, dabbing her eyes with her apron. A disheveled Jack was shaking a bowl at her, its contents spattering the wall. A tray with broken crockery was at his feet.

  “Jack! What are you doing?” Nicola asked, aghast.

  “You! What the hell are you doing here? Come to tell me more lies? Get out. You too, Mrs. Feather—I can’t stand the sight of you.”

  The woman scurried into the kitchen, and the slam of the back door confirmed she’d not waited to be told to leave again.

  “I mean it, Nicola. I’ll not be responsible.”

  She stepped forward, undeterred. “You won’t hurt me.”

  “Won’t I? It seems I already have.”

  He didn’t look well. It was obvious he’d passed as bad a night as she had. She worried he’d have a relapse, but had to get this settled.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “No, you don’t. I’ll never believe a word you say.”

  “That’s unfair, Jack. I didn’t lie. I just never told you the truth.” It sounded idiotic to her own ears, so what must Jack be thinking?

  His mouth curled in disdain. “What’s the difference? You’ve made a complete fool out of me.”

  “I didn’t mean to, truly.” Courage. Her heart was mostly pure. She unhooked her coat.

  “You are not staying. Go home.”

  “I’m not leaving until we can talk like civilized adults.” She glanced at the oatmeal dripping down the wallpaper. “You should clean that up before it leaves a stain.”

  “I don’t give a toss about stains!”

  “Don’t take your anger out on Mrs. Feather—you can’t blame her for what happened between us. No one knew all about you, did they? Not even the doctor or the vicar. You were never honest about exactly why you were here. No one knew about the train accident but me.”

  He opened his mouth to say something cutting, but at just that moment the doorbell rang.

  “My God, does it ever end? Go away!” Jack growled.

  “I’ll get it. Perhaps it’s Reverend Fitzmartin. You should speak to him and calm down.”

  “I don’t want to speak to any bloody vicar. Or any bloody doctor. I’m getting out of this hellhole as soon as I can make the arrangements.”

  But he didn’t move from the hallway. Nicola opened the door.

  The very last person she ever expected to see was Richard Crosby, dressed for town and not for country, holding his beaver hat in gloved hands. His ginger beard was neatly trimmed, his hair pomaded to within an inch of its life.

  It took a moment for her to recognize him. He was so…unfamiliar. Slick. My word, she’d actually forgotten what he looked like! Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. It was as if she was stricken with mutism all over again.

  “There you are, darling!” Richard smiled at her fondly but made no effort to embrace her. “I’ve had a devil of a time finding you. First they wouldn’t let me through the village gates, although I had correspondence from your papa designating me as a family representative. Then I had to deal with that jumped-up Sykes fellow. Just because he’s married a duke’s daughter doesn’t make him God. And you weren’t in your own cottage—I’d just missed you, according to your housekeeper. I say, however did you stand that poky little place all those months? This one is even worse! Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  Nicola looked back down the hall, where Jack rested against the ruined wall, every bit as angry now as he’d been before the bell jangled. More so. He glared, then headed up the twisty staircase without a word.

  “It-it’s not my cottage,” she stuttered. She took a step backward and Richard interpreted it as an invitation to enter.

  “Who is that grim fellow? A local laborer?”

  “Another Guest. Jack. Lor—” She almost gave his full name and title now that she knew it, catching herself just in time.

  “What’s his problem? He looks dangerous. I don’t think it’s proper you being here alone with him. Something untoward could happen.”

  It already had. “His housekeeper just stepped out for a minute,” Nicola said faintly, remembering Jack’s blistering tirade at the poor woman. She’d probably never return.

  She led him into Jack’s chilly parlor. She should leave and take Richard with her, but she had to speak with Jack. Explain. Explain everything. Throw herself on his mercy.

  If he had any.

  “What a funny little village this is,” Richard sniffed, glancing out the window of the plainly furnished room. “But I suppose one must give it credit. You’re speaking again, and that is most welcome. Your father has sent me to escort you home. His gout is troubling him in this weather, poor man, or he would have come himself.”

  “What? No! I’m not ready!”

  “Nonsense. Listen to yourself. Every word clear as a bell. Your mother misses you dreadfully. And, ah, I do as well.”

  Nicola watched in horror as Richard put his hat on a chair and got down on one knee on Jack’s shabby Turkish carpet.

  “You can’t stay here forever avoiding me. I know I’ve been a fool, Nic. You have every right to hold me in aversion. All those years you supported me in my advancement up the political ranks, and what did I do when you had your trouble? I abandoned you. I’ve been miserable ever since. Haven’t been able to sleep a wink. Please say you forgive me. Agree to marry me again and we can put all this unpleasantness behind us.”

  Unpleasantness? Was he insane?

  And there were no circles underneath his hazel eyes, belying his confession. He looked as healthy and gleaming as a roan racehorse.

  “Please get up, Richard. We can’t talk about this here.”

  “I agree this cottage is not the most romantic of places, and I know you ladies like romance. Hearts and flowers, what?” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small leather box. “I got you a ring this time. I know we said that engagement rings were unnecessary and frivolous before, when half the world is starving, but you’ve had an ordeal and deserve a special treat.”

  He’d said that rings were unnecessary and frivolous, not she. He opened the box with a flourish. Within was a cluster of tiny diamonds and garnets. At least Nicola assumed they were garnets—the Richard she knew would never spend money on rubies.

  “Put it on, darling. And please say yes. I’m getting a bit stiff down here.”

  Two proposals in two days from two men—that must be some sort of record.

  “Get up!” she snapped.

  A look of hurt crossed his face. “I admit it’s not much, not what you deserve. What is that scripture quote? Something about rubies and virtuous women? These are just carnelians, but someday I’ll buy you rubies, Nic.”

  “I don’t want rubies, Richard. I—I don’t want to get married right now either.” At least not to him. And if she couldn’t marry Jack, she’d rather be an old maid with a whiskery chin and a houseful of cats.

  He pushed himself up with the aid of a chair. “We’ve lost so much time. Ten months. Don’t be capricious.”

  “Capricious?”

  He ignored the ice in her voice. “Well, you decided not to speak, even though there was nothing medically wrong. That was very inconvenient for all of us.”

  “I didn’t decide, Richard. I assure you it was not a conscious thing.” The epiphany had come last night in her dream, after the argument with Jack. She had to tell him, if only Richard would go away.

  “I can forgive and forget about it, now that you’ve come to your senses.”

  Involuntarily, Nicola’s hands flew into the air. F—U—C—

  That was as far as she could g
et, still not remembering the configuration of the letter K.

  Richard lifted a rusty eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Are you having fits now?”

  Nicola nodded. “Yes. I believe I am. They’ve overtaken me quite suddenly. Perhaps you should go.” She wanted to go cross-eyed and stick her tongue out in the worst way, but didn’t want to overdo.

  “Isn’t there a doctor here? I was under the impression Puddling is a sort of health spa.”

  “That’s what they want you to believe.” She tapped her right temple, feeling deliciously evil. “This is what they care about—what’s up here. I’m afraid my brain is very disordered. I may be speaking, but there are ever so many more things wrong with me. Please don’t tell Mama and Papa. I wouldn’t want them to be alarmed.”

  “B-but your father!” Richard sputtered, looking pale. “He told me to bring you home. The fees here are outrageous!”

  “That may be, but with the accident settlement, I have more than enough to cover my expenses. I am perfectly able to take care of myself.”

  “But—but you’re a woman!”

  “How nice of you to notice after all this time.” The words tumbled out without forethought. “Tell me, Richard—did you ever love me? Want to kiss me until you didn’t know which tongue was whose? Unpin my hair, unbutton my dress, unroll my stockings?”

  “I never wanted to un-anything, Nicola. It wouldn’t have been proper until we were wed. What has happened to you in this godforsaken place? You are not yourself!”

  Nicola grinned. “No, I’m not. I think I’ve improved a great deal. My horizons have…expanded.”

  He grabbed her elbow. “I’m removing you from this den of iniquity right this minute!”

  She shook him off. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’ll get that grim fellow upstairs to come down and show you just how grim he can be.” At least Nicola hoped Jack would come down to help her, even if he loathed her at the moment.

  Richard looked satisfactorily appalled. “I do not know what’s come over you.”

  “Jack has come over me, if you must know. Just last night.”

  She really thought Richard might faint—his face, from what she could see above his beard, was a very unhealthy color. If she had any smelling salts handy, she’d waft them under his nose, which was nowhere near as attractive as Jack’s. Noses were such funny things, weren’t they? Flaring nostrils and odd bumps, occasional mucous, pointy hairs—