Finally, with her eyes swollen, hiccuping as her sobs faded, Haddon produced a handkerchief which Marissa gratefully accepted.
“I love you,” she said to the heart beating beneath her cheek.
“I know.” His fingers slid through her hair, destroying her coiffure.
The last thing Marissa cared about at the moment was her hair. “I didn’t,” she said in a quiet voice. “Why do you smell like spices? Ginger?”
“Didn’t what, my love?” He pushed a loose tendril from her forehead, pressing a kiss to the spot. “And you adore ginger cookies. I have it on good authority.”
He’d found that out from Adelia too. “Ruin Miss Higgins. I wasn’t giving Nighter instructions for the evening, I was telling him to stop.”
“I see.” Haddon’s lips brushed her temple again.
“I know you think I’m terribly . . . bloodthirsty.”
He said nothing for a moment, only stroked her hair. “Yes. You would have made a good pirate or highwayman.”
Another sob left her. “But—”
“Pendleton told me what his parents did to Reggie. What they stole from Morwick. I wanted to kill him myself.”
“He confessed?” At Haddon’s nod, she said, “Reggie was a kind and thoughtful man. He would never have approved of my methods. Nor would he have sought revenge. I could never have lived with myself had I harmed Miss Higgins.” She plucked at his coat. “And I could not hurt you. Doing so would have destroyed me. I love you.” Marissa looked up at Haddon, tears still clouding her eyes as she thought of the dream of Reggie leaving Haddon on her pillow. “Even if you are only a dalliance.”
Amusement rumbled low in his chest. “Are you done with revenge then, my love?”
She was. Her father may not have approved of leaving Pendleton still standing, but Marissa was not the ‘Old Spider’. Only his daughter.
“Yes. And you won’t be impoverished, Haddon.” Marissa curled into him, as close as the mountain of silk of her gown would allow. Safe and comforted by the steady beat of his heart. This was where she always wished to be. With Haddon.
A deep, resigned sigh moved his chest. “It’s just as well I won’t be poor because I’ve finally decided to take your suggestion.”
Marissa turned her head to look up at him. “You have?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to take a wife.”
29
“Now tell me why you helped Pendleton. You don’t even like him. Not really.”
“No. I don’t.”
She and Haddon lay in Marissa’s bed, Haddon’s long legs entwined with hers and the sheets tangled around their bodies.
After becoming a watering pot for the better part of an hour, they’d finally been interrupted by Adelia, who immediately rolled her eyes at them and left, muttering she had the wrong room. There was no telling how many assignations Adelia had interrupted during Lady Ralston’s ball in her pursuit of Nighter.
After concluding they couldn’t very well spend the night in an obscure parlor of Lady Ralston’s, primarily because there was no whisky to be had, Haddon had taken her hand and led her through the gardens and up the street to her carriage. Cradling her close to his chest, he had stroked her head, his fingers sifting through her hair. “I won’t leave you, Marissa.”
Marissa had clung to him, blinking back tears.
Greenhouse, lips thinning at their arrival, had given a small sound of disapproval as Marissa took Haddon’s hand and led him up the stairs, but nonetheless recovered himself. “Shall I fetch your son’s robe for Lord Haddon?”
“No,” Haddon had answered before she could. “I don’t think I’ll need it tonight. Perhaps you can bring the robe to me in the morning?”
The butler had turned an alarming shade of purple. It had been very gratifying.
“I would like an answer first to my earlier inquiry.” Haddon’s dark hair fanned over her breasts as his tongue tasted the tip of her nipple.
“Mmm.” Her back arched, bringing her breast closer to his mouth. “I didn’t realize you’d asked me a question. Only stated what you planned to do, Haddon. Which is very like you. Why did you help Pendleton?”
“Correct on both counts. In regard to Pendleton and myself, we’re related by marriage. Distantly. Through my late wife.”
Marissa sat up abruptly, shocked at his words, the sheet falling from her breasts before she grabbed at the linen.
Haddon growled in frustration. “My mouth has been on every inch of you.” His gaze fell to her breasts. “Especially your magnificent bosom. I thought we had dispensed with your need to constantly cover yourself.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because I’m an admirer of your breasts. I started on one side and—”
“No.” She swatted at him but dropped the sheet, drawing his gaze. “I mean, how can you possibly be related to Pendleton?”
“Well, I’m not, exactly. My wife was the late Lord Pendleton’s great-niece. They weren’t close. Lydia barely acknowledged the connection when Anne was alive.”
Marissa mulled over the information in her mind. “But when I bankrupted her son, she did.”
Haddon traced the outline of her ribs, sending flutters back down between her legs. “It was Lydia who sent Pendleton to me, demanding my help and reminding me of the favor I owed his father.”
“A favor? And I’m not surprised at all. Lydia never forgets any small kindness she might have bestowed. She enjoys having we lesser mortals in her debt.”
“The year I turned twenty-four there was a terrible accident at the quarry. I won’t go into details but suffice it to say without a large infusion of funds, I couldn’t save the quarry or the village, which depended on the quarry’s employment, let alone my small family. My sister was about to be married. My younger brother had just gone back to Harrow—”
“Wait. You have a brother? You’ve never mentioned him.”
Haddon’s brows drew together, and his fingers stopped their movement across her skin. “I’m certain I have. Perhaps you weren’t listening? Your mind does wander.”
Marissa tugged at his hair. “Haddon,” she warned.
“His name is Randall.” His fingers were gliding back and forth over her thigh. “His eldest son, also Randall, is my heir.”
Haddon already had an heir. No wonder he was so nonchalant about the need to procure one. “You could have told me about him sooner.”
His fingers dipped lower between her thighs, chuckling softly when she gasped. “I did. You weren’t listening. Money was tight. I had a sickly wife. One child, another on the way. A hundred or so villagers depending on me as well as my brother and sister.”
Marissa was losing her focus. Haddon’s fingers were incredibly wicked, just like the rest of him. His thumb did the most amazing things. “That murdering bastard John,” her breath hitched as he found a sensitive spot, “gave you the money, didn’t he?”
“As a gift to Anne. If I’d known he’d gotten rich by murder I never would have taken his money. I would have found another way.”
Very sweet of Haddon to say so, though impractical.
His thumb pressed against her. “Just return the favor one day, John said. When Pendleton came begging and reminding me of my honor, I couldn’t refuse though I dearly wished to.”
Haddon would never have refused, something Lydia had counted on. He was far too honorable.
“Now I must have your answer.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach.
“I feel compelled to remind you again, Lord Haddon, that you did not ask me a question. Only told me what you’ve decided.” She toyed with the swirls of hair on his chest thinking how determined Haddon always was. Marissa loved that about him. “I can’t believe you’re serious, Trent.”
His eyes softened at the sound of his given name. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. It is a lot to ask—”
“I must point out again you haven’t actually asked me anything.”
He i
gnored her. “I know I come with four bits of baggage—”
“You do. All in dire need of mothering, guidance, and encouragement. Fortunately, I excel at all three.”
A smile hovered at his lips. “You do. Jordana already loves you, and she is the second most difficult daughter. And do not dare bring up your age.”
“No. The ton will do so enough for both of us. And who is the most difficult?” Marissa couldn’t imagine another girl more stubborn than Jordana, save Arabella.
“Poppy.” His lips brushed hers.
“Trent, are you sure?” The last word dissolved into a moan as his mouth moved lower. “I am . . . terribly unlucky in marital affairs, as you know. What if I’m cursed? If anything were to happen to you—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing will happen. Don’t you love me?”
“So much.” Marissa looked down, her eyes running over his beloved face. “I just never thought I would find love again.” Her voice broke. “So late in life.”
Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. “Not so late.”
The challenge of four daughters would be daunting, but Marissa was no stranger to adversity when dealing with young girls. Her work with Arabella and Jordana spoke for itself.
Her finger traced the line of his cheek. “Are you descended from Vikings, Haddon?”
“Possibly. Stop stalling.” He rolled on top of her. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I love you, Trent.” Her fingers trailed down his jaw. “Desperately. I agree.”
“Then it is settled.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Lady Haddon.”
30
Marissa snuggled deeper beneath the covers, seeking out Haddon’s warmth. He’d been sleeping at her house most nights since sending Jordana to his sister. Marissa and Haddon meant to fetch all the girls back to London in time for the holidays. After Marissa became acquainted with Martie, Poppy, and Delphine, Haddon meant to tell them he and Marissa were getting married.
Another group of ducklings to mother.
Adelia thought Marissa had lost her mind.
“Why must you wed him?” Adelia had said in a horrified voice. “I grant you, Haddon is delicious. But you could just have an understanding. Some couples do so for years and never marry.”
Marissa tried to explain to Adelia that it was important to Haddon he be able to call her his wife. And truthfully, she wanted to be Lady Haddon. Her friend’s dramatics over Marissa’s future were probably due more to the fact that Nighter had left London and Adelia after Lady Ralston’s ball.
Spencer and Brendan didn’t know yet that Marissa and Haddon planned to marry. Nor did her nephew, Nick. Only Arabella had been apprised of her plans with Haddon. And her niece had been sworn to secrecy. She hoped they would all be happy for her.
A loud snore came from the man next to her. He lay atop the sheets, completely naked. As he often did. Marissa poked him with a finger, and Haddon turned over and ceased making noise. She settled back against him with a contented sigh.
Miss Higgins and Simon had been married quietly a week ago. Haddon’s money would be repaid in time, but he need not ever worry over losing the quarries. Rowan had seen to the loan repayment on Marissa’s behalf. She didn’t trust Pendleton to honor the terms of the agreement he’d made with Haddon despite the official documents Pendleton’s solicitor had drawn up.
She hadn’t yet informed Haddon. He was bound to be both relieved, but also annoyed. The news could wait.
Lydia was back at Brushbriar, her once fine home now stripped of the precious Blue John she’d loved. She’d lost everything. Now that she was no longer busy ruining Simon, Marissa had instructed her solicitors to settle the case. The court declared the survey to be valid and the mine the property of the Earl of Morwick. Simon had chosen not to contest the decision further. Very wise on his part.
A door slammed below, followed by the murmur of voices.
Greenhouse sounded confused and then deferential. But he often did.
Good Lord. Who could be calling on her at this hour? Well, Greenhouse could just explain she wasn’t receiving callers so early.
“Mother! We’re here!” A curse sounded. “I don’t care if she’s indisposed.” The deep baritone growled in irritation at Greenhouse. “I’m her son. She’ll want to see me.” A heavy tread thumped up the stairs.
Marissa sat straight up in bed, eyes popping open. He was at least a week early and bounding up the stairs like an overgrown toddler. A tiny squeeze of her heart followed. She’d missed Brendan so much.
Haddon rolled over with a grunt.
Oh dear.
“Haddon.” Marissa placed a hand on his shoulder. “Trent. Wake up this instant.” When he didn’t move, she shook him harder.
He turned his head, and one eye opened a slit. “For the love of God, Marissa, let me sleep. You’re insatiable for an elderly widow. I’m exhausted.” The eye shut again.
The heavy footfalls stomped down the hall in the direction of her room. Had she locked the door? She couldn’t remember. Her servants would never enter her rooms without permission.
Brendan had no such boundary.
Oh, this is very bad. I meant to break the news to him gently.
“Trent,” she whispered again in a panicked voice, throwing the coverlet over his naked body. “You must get up.”
He turned and tossed the heavy damask back off. “I know you’re always cold, Marissa. But I’m not.” His armed snaked out, fingers grabbing at her hip. “Come here. I’ll warm you.”
“No.” She slapped his hand away. The coverlet was flung over his naked body again. “Brendan is here. Now. Climbing up the stairs. You must get up and . . . put a robe on or something.”
“I don’t have a robe. And I will stop you now,” both eyes opened to regard her, “from suggesting I hide under the bed. I suppose I could conceal myself behind those draperies, but I don’t have the inclination to do so. Besides, haven’t we already—”
The door swung open. “Mother! Where did you find such a stuffy butler? Says you’re still abed. Are you ill? You never—” A vile curse erupted from Brendan’s lips as he caught sight of Haddon, who thankfully, had the lower part of his body covered.
“You’ve got to be joking.”
Marissa gave Brendan a weak smile. “Hello, dearest.” She looked to the lovely blonde standing behind her son. “Petra, I’m so happy to see you.”
Haddon smiled. At least he didn’t kick off the blanket. “Morning, Morwick.”
I hope you enjoyed Wicked Again. I think everyone deserves a happy ending especially a thrice-married widow like Marissa. If you liked the book I hope you’ll consider leaving a review.
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Notes from the Author
I’ve taken some artistic liberties (as my readers in the U.K. will probably notice).
Blue John, the source of the Pendleton wealth is a semi-precious mineral and a form of fluorite discovered by the Romans. In Britain, it can be found in one of only two places; Blue John Cavern and Treak Cliff Cavern, both outside of Castleton in Derbyshire.
The Blue John mine which is the cause of Reggie’s death is purely fictional.
Also by Kathleen Ayers
The Wickeds
Wicked’s Scandal
Devil of a Duke
My Wicked Earl
Wickedly Yours
Tall Dark & Wicked
Still Wicked
* * *
The Beautiful Barringtons
The Study of a Rake (Prequel - coming soon)
The Theory of Earls
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Kathleen Ayers, Wicked Again (The Wickeds Book 7)
Wicked Again (The Wickeds Book 7) Page 24
