by Sue Barr
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“No secrets, Catherine. I want nothing between us that will cause regret or confusion down the road. No one has any power over us if they cannot threaten to expose what is known.”
“But why?” she persisted.
“So that you will stop all this nonsense about not being a chaste maiden and marry me.”
“I thought you only wished to court me.”
“I have gone way past that and moved straight to marriage. I will take no risks when it comes to securing your affections.”
Her heart soared, then plummeted like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. He may know her secret, but in reality, she wasn’t worthy of being his wife. He needed someone he could be proud of.
***
“Oh George, it is not only being unchaste. There are numerous reasons why I cannot marry you.”
His chest tightened at her third refusal while at the same time his heart soared that she’d called him by his given name, not by his honorific.
“Yes, you can, and before you begin arguing,” he said, holding up his hand to stop her protest, “let me say with unequivocal honesty, I know why we should not be married.”
He suppressed a satisfied grin when her mouth, which had parted slightly to bring forth another argument, snapped shut. He loved when she did that. He rose to his feet and with hands clasped behind his back, more to keep himself from pulling her into an embrace than to present an imposing façade, he began laying out his reasons.
“I know our two social spheres are worlds apart and everyone expects me to marry someone from my tight circle of equals. I should scour the ballrooms of London and find a woman of my own class, someone who knows how my world works.” He paused and took one of her hands in his. “But, why would I live in a world without you? My greatest desire is to be where you are. We shall create our very own world. The island of Kerr, and you shall be its queen.”
“Even knowing my past, you truly wish to still marry me?”
“Yes. There is no one else with whom I want to spend the rest of my days. Besides, Mother told me I would be a fool to let you slip out of my grasp.” Her small hand trembled within his and he dropped to one knee. “Catherine Eleanor Bennet, would you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife?”
She stared down at their clasped hands, one lone tear streaking down her cheek and nodded yes. George gave her hand a tug so that she had to lean toward him.
“I did not hear what you said, sweetheart. Remember my one bad ear?”
“Yes,” she finally whispered. “I will marry you.”
He stood, bringing her up with him and crushed her against his chest, capturing her mouth with his before she became illogical and changed her mind. He almost patted his pocket to ensure the Special License remained safe, but decided he needed to kiss her one more time and it could wait.
“What would Mama say if she saw us now?” she managed to say between kisses.
“I am definitely not thinking of your mother at this very moment,” he growled and tried to draw her close.
She resolutely pushed at his chest and he looked down, pleased to see her cheeks so rosy.
“Are you embarrassed, Miss Catherine?”
Eyes downcast, a small smile tipping up the corners of her lips, she replied, “Yes. You truly are a Rogue.”
“I never was a rogue, my love.” He kissed her forehead. “And if I had been, I would have given up everything for you.”
“How can I deny you anything when you say charming things like that,” she sighed out, lifting her face to his.
Not wanting to miss an opportunity to kiss her, he claimed her mouth. After a few delightful minutes he gently set her away from him. Eyes cloudy with desire, she blinked a few times.
“Before we get carried away, I must ask you a question. And seeing as you once stated you can deny me nothing when I am so utterly charming, I do not want to waste another second.” He reached into his coat pocket and brought out the ring he’d purchased so many months ago. He took her hand in his, locked eyes with her and asked, “Will you marry me tomorrow?”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and he thought she would deny him, again.
“Yes.”
Prepared to hear a familiar ‘No’, he paused and opened his mouth to plead his well-rehearsed reasons of why they should marry tomorrow. Then, her soft answer filtered into his brain. She said…
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
The ring was pushed onto her finger and her hand quickly enveloped in his. He tugged her down the path toward Longbourn.
“What are you doing?” Catherine asked, trailing behind, her arm extended.
“I am going to speak with your father before you change your mind.”
“I will not change my mind,” she said with a light laugh.
Abruptly he stopped and she bumped into his back.
“I cannot take that chance. I love you too much to let anything, or anyone come between us again.”
With a quick pivot on his heel he started toward Longbourn, but this time slowed his pace and looped her arm through his. He didn’t care who saw them because from now on this was her rightful place, next to his heart.
He looked down at his beautiful love, her cheeks rosy and a smile on her face. Lady George Kerr. He liked the sound of that. He liked it very much.
THE END
I hope you enjoyed reading George and Catherine’s story as much as I did writing it.
For more information about my books, or to sign up for my Reader’s Club Newsletter,
visit my Facebook page
www.facebook.com/author/suebarr
I’m active on Facebook and Twitter.
Like or Follow to stay abreast of all things new and mundane,
about cats, about my grandkids, cooking shows,
reality TV (don’t judge) and my bi-annual vacation
The next installment of Pride & Prejudice continued is
GEORGIANA
Turn the page for more….
GEORGIANA
PROLOGUE
March 21, 1813
The soft light from the inn ahead was a welcome sight. After nearly four hours in the saddle, Maxwell Kerr, the fourth Duke of Adborough wanted only a warm bed and good food. He indicated to one of his armed outriders to go ahead and secure rooms for them at the inn.
“Almost there, Pericles.” He soothed his mount and the proud beast tossed back his head in reply. “I’ll make certain there are enough oats to fill your belly, my lad.”
He’d spent the last week visiting his brother Nathan who was still Darcy’s vicar in Kympton for the next few weeks before settling into his estate he inherited from their Uncle Moreland. His wife, Caroline had gone there a few weeks prior to put the feminine touches on their new home.
However, visiting Nathan hadn’t been his only reason. Early this morning, he’d stopped at Pemberley to relay some disturbing rumors floating around London which could directly impact Miss Darcy’s debut this coming spring.
With that unpleasantness behind him, he’d begun the last leg of his trip to Adborough Hall. Unfortunately, he’d spent more time at Pemberley than he should and would have to spend one night at one of the many posting inns found along the route. What should have been a leisurely one-day ride from Pemberley to his estate now stretched into two.
He urged Pericles forward to meet his outrider, James.
“There’s plenty of room, Your Grace,” his man said. “I didn’t tell him who you were; only that you were a gentleman of means needing a room for the night. He’s also has rooms above the stables for the men.”
“Excellent, James. Let’s get on then.”
Within minutes, he and his men dismounted in a warm spacious barn. Even though he was a Duke, he still stripped off Pericles’ saddle and brushed him down. His horse cared not one jot that he was a nobleman and Max enjoyed taking care of the ornery beast. Assured there were enough oats f
or all the horses, he turned to leave the barn.
After confirming their departure time with James, he entered the Waddling Duck, greeted by a portly man with the largest moustache he’d ever seen. Brown eyes that looked like berries twinkled at him.
“We’re honored to have you here, sir.” He gave Max a small bow. “I’m the owner, Mr. Barrows.”
“I won’t require much beyond a room for the night, unless your cook has anything left over for a small meal for me and my men.”
“Aye, she made up a large pot just his evening. Told her we’d have to throw it all out, she made so much.” He chuckled as he fetched a room key. “Then my Betsy said – and if you’re married you’d know the tone – ‘The good Lord told me to make this stew,’ and that was the end of the argument. There’s enough for you and your men.”
“Excellent.” Max had to smile as the older man chattered about his wife. “I’ll have my meal now.”
Mr. Barrows hurried off and Max made his way to the private dining room. In a few minutes, a young girl, looking a lot like the rotund inn keeper entered the room carrying a huge bowl of aromatic stew and a small loaf of bread. She set them in down and returned with a mug of ale.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No, this is quite enough.”
“Yes, sir.” She curtsied and hurried from the room.
After thanking the Lord for his meal and safe journey, he dug into the stew, grateful it tasted as good as it smelled. A half hour later, pleasantly sated, he made his way to his room on the second floor and almost groaned at the sight of the bed. He’d ignored his tired muscles all day, and knowing he’d soon relax and drift off to sleep reminded him how sore they were.
Having sent his valet ahead to Adborough Hall, he began undressing himself. He’d removed his cravat and pulled his shirt from his breeches when he thought he heard a woman cry out. He was sure the sound came from the room below. He waited a few seconds and hearing nothing more, started to remove his shirt. A scream pierced the air.
Without thought that his shirt was undone and loose about his hips, he strode from the room and in less than a minute stood outside the door to the room below his. Sounds of a struggle, although muffled, filtered through the door.
Anger rose up in his chest. He had no idea who occupied the room, or whether it was the man’s wife or a woman from the village in the room with him, but by the sound of it, she wasn’t a willing companion. The thought of any man forcing himself upon a woman, married or not, made his stomach turn and with one well-placed kick, he booted open the door.
The sight before him was chaotic. All the bedclothes were scattered about the room, as though someone had jumped on the bed, or scrambled across it to evade. A young girl cowered on the floor beside the bed and a man, wearing only his shirt, held her ankle in his left hand. In his right he clutched a thin leather strap, raised above his head as though to strike. The girl’s chemise lay twisted around her slender thighs, deep red welts visible on her creamy skin, and she cowered against the wall, desperately kicking at him with her free leg.
“Unhand that woman!” Max bellowed.
The man turned and Max was stunned to see it was none other than Sir Reginald Slade. Slade whirled around and slashed the strap toward Max’s face. Max feinted to the right, then ducked and ran at Slade, tackling him at the waist. Years of wrestling with two younger brothers gave him a decided edge.
The momentum of their collision carried them onto the bed, which collapsed beneath their combined weight. A brief struggle ensued, ending when Max managed to punch Sir Reginald solidly on his chin, who fell to the mattress, his body limp.
Assured Slade would not come around any time soon, Max turned to the girl and kneeled beside her. He could not see her face as a tangled curtain of golden curls obscured her features.
“Hush. You will not be harmed.” Hesitantly he touched her shoulder, not wanting to frighten her further. “Lend me your hand; I will take you to safety.”
The girl finally raised her tear stained face and his heart stuttered to a stop. She was none other than Miss Georgiana Darcy.
suebarrauthor.blogspot.ca
