by Gayle Eden
Lord Dangerous
Gayle Eden
****
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Copyright © 2007-2012 Gayle Eden
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The right of Gayle Eden to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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LORD DANGEROUS
GAYLE EDEN
Chapter 1
The black caped figure astride a massive stallion thundered down the stretch of road toward the dreary cottage. Standing in the doorway, Lady Alina Emberton saw a flash of lightening joined next by thunder, and thought the weather most apt, since their lives had nothing but chaos and drama for years.
Why not announce the coming of England’s most dangerous Lord—and her future husband, with God’s wrath?
Feeling her sister, Audra, clinging to the back of her gown obviously trying to get a look but not brave enough to go out in the yard, Alina observed the sky opening whilst he turned off the road to the dead patch of lawn. Sheets of rain formed a gray curtain.
Audra hissed, “Come inside and Pray, Alina. Mama is still holding the crucifix and doing so.”
Alina snorted and muttered, watching that stallion halt, its great hooves sliding in mud and then rear on hind legs, “It’s too late for prayers, and God forgive me if I’m skeptical about our mother’s doing any good. She’s the one who insisted on marrying that scoundrel Jack Matherly.”
Audra let go and Alina assumed it was to cross herself, since Jack was likely still swinging from a gibbet for smuggling.
There was a creak of a saddle under the rain when that massive male swung down, leaving the steaming beast to stand obediently still. His strides were purposeful, boots splashing in the already filling puddles—however; it was his face she attempted to see, for anyone over the age of ten knew that Trevon Lambert pronounced Tray-von, Lam-bur, Earl of Rotherham, was the devil incarnate.
His beaver hat pulled a bit low, coat collar high; the high hollow cheekbones and harsh lines of face, made him appear sinister. He reached the door—a great looming shadow. She doubted he could duck under the door from his height. Bringing the smell of wet wool and some heated male soap, he came so close she had to arch her head back and look upwards to meet his gaze. Being over six feet tall, it was not just the cape that made the breadth of his shoulders wide—
Alina’s stomach cinched.
Between sooty lashes, sherry brown eyes seemed to bore into hers. He had a blade of a nose. His mouth set in grim lines. His chin was as hard as the rest of him. She had heard and read in the papers for many years that his appearance, aside from his dark rep, was enough to send people scurrying. She found that was probably true.
His voice came like a whiplash under the pour of rain. “Which one of you is it?”
Alina opened her mouth.
“Her,” Audra croaked, causing Alina to nearly laugh at her sister’s not yearning to be mistaken for the intended. Not—that she could blame her.
“Is that all you own?”
Alina followed his gaze to the bag at her feet and supplied. “It is, my lord.”
He grunted and looked over her head, squinting, as if peering into the gloom.
Alina, used to her mother’s pulling these dramatic moments after she’d brought the worst on herself and Audra; knew he could hear the chanting. Which, she’d wager her mother was doing with one eye cocked toward the door, to make sure he did not escape.
She braved, “I’d like to take my sister, Audra, with me.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. She could imagine her sister cringing back as she felt that harder pull on her dress.
Alina offered, “She has no place to go. Mama has received enough to book passage, only for herself. Not that she would see to my sister—”
His sharp stare came at the same time her mother’s prayers stopped abruptly, as Mary called out, “I’ll be sending my address, as I’ll have need of a bit of coin now and then, my lord.”
Hearing Audra groan, Alina merely held those sherry eyes, having no defense for her mother’s remarks. Mary Embleton Matherly had brought their family to ruin after their father’s death. Her gambling and low brow lovers, the cheats and thieves, helped wipe out the purse their father left, as well as any dowry either of them were to receive. Having a love of gin and possessing not a nurturing bone in her body, Mary had come to live with Alina when she had been wed young—more to escape, than for any great romance. Shed dragged poor Audra with her. Having tried to do governess work, her sister, younger by two years, discovered that Mary’s male friends were breaking into the houses where she worked—robbing them. When they were caught and the connection was uncovered, she was let go.
It only left for Alina’s husband to get himself shot by one of Mary’s thieving lovers. He had hung, but that was small comfort when they had lost the house and everything else and found themselves on the streets.
Many years ago, Alina had a different life, with different dreams, now she rarely dreamed at all.
“Gather your things.” The man ordered.
Alina turned her head to speak to the hesitating Audra, “Do as he says.”
When her sister pulled away to do so, Lord Rotherham took that bag and tied it behind his saddle. Ignoring the rain, he looked around at the sorry state of the place. He returned to the doorway, in time to take the bundle that contained only two dull brown dresses.
Pulling her shawl over her head, Alina stepped out into the yard.
“Aren’t you going to say goodbye, my dears?”
Audra, having followed Alina, turned and regarded the frumpy looking woman, her white hair straggling, and dress stained. Only a shadow of the woman she had been, and having no handsomeness left thanks to her vices, Mary’s faux endearment would have ordinarily made her angry.
She felt only a dull pity.
“Send your address. I will see you have money—though nothing more. I mean that. The Magistrate made it clear you’ll go to prison if you do not leave these shores. If you are wise, mother, you will forget Audra and I exist. My father would roll in his grave, if he knew the depth you have dragged us to.”
Mary’s lip curled. She planted her hands on her hips. “Well, aren’t you just the high and mighty one.” She sneered and waved a hand in the direction of Rotherham. “Though that’s the only one I could get to answer my summons. He won’t bring you any better. A roof and food mayhap—but everyone he’s the devil’s own spa—”
“Madam!” that deep voice whipped across the yard. “I suggest you cease whilst I am in a tolerant mood.”
Mary swallowed whatever she would have said and stepped back. She turned, slamming the warped cottage door and cursing loud
and most foully, screeching enough to be heard through it.
Alina put her arm around Audra. Her sister was fuller figured, taller by four inches, but was still traumatized from their near escape from the goal. They had been implicated in Mary and Jack’s life of crime. It was only because of their manners, education, and ability to beg for mercy—that either were standing there.
“You’ll ride double,” his lordship's voice, sounded even more black, thanks to Mary’s insults.
Alina nudged Audra up first. The both of them would be astride. The beast was tall, well-muscled, and Alina had difficulty reaching the saddle before two gloved hands lifted her off her feet and set her on it.
Afterwards, he gathered the reins and began to lead, saying abrupt, “There’s a church in the village. My man has been sent ahead, as well as a witness.”
Alina clutched the horse’s mane and eyed that broad back, noting his long stride wasting no time eating up the short mile.
“It could be worse,” she whispered to Audra who was trembling. “We could be in the goal.”
Arms around Alina’s waist, Audra muttered, “That’s yet to be seen, isn’t it? The worst? I am sorry that I could not help. Mother did all of this without my knowledge and—”
“Don’t fret,” Alina cut her off, afraid, his lordship could hear. “We’ve survived thus far, dear Audra. We’ll make the most of whatever comes.”
* * * *
The small church was dreary with only a few candles lit inside. Wet and muddy from the pools of water in the kirk yard, Alina managed a curtsy for the “witness” as Audra did the same, before huddling in a pew.
The witness had unfolded a long graceful frame before bowing and introducing himself. “Rane Crawford, Viscount Maybry.” Dressed in brown riding ware, under a long ankle-length coat, he was a handsome figure, with lion looks, and a feline grace, having topaz eyes and longish red/gold hair. Night and day from Rotherham. Yet obviously something of a friend.
Speaking of that dark Earl, he uttered curtly to the preacher, “Get it said.” Afterwards, though the poor man looked as if he would strangle—the vows were done in what seemed like seconds to Alina.
Both Maybry and Audra signed the register. Then they walked to the rear of the church.
Trevon detained her with a hand on her arm, nodding for Maybry to see her sister out.
Looking up at him, feeling the weight of a ring on her finger she had scarcely glanced at, Alina’s head was spinning. She had just begun to realize—she belonged to this dark man.
His sherry eyes narrowed, as if he could see into her mind. They flickered over her wet gown and hair. her locks, a mixture of butter and brown, whereas Audra’s was dark blond, more caramel and sleek straight—easy to braid in a bun as her sister wore it. Alina’s was short, and tended to have a will of its own.
“By the time society lays eyes on you—as my wife, you will have been completely transformed. I have arranged for us to sail to France. There all that a fashionable woman needs will be at your fingertips.” His gaze pierced her “However, I approve everything first. Is that understood?”
“Yes.” She wondered if he had any other tone, besides harsh.
“Your sister, will likewise be outfitted. I trust Maybry explicitly to advise and to escort her in doing so.”
Alina winced. “She’s…she’s not comfortable around—uh—”
“She’s sister to a Countess. She will either overcome her fears, backwardness or whatever the problem is—or else. At the moment, I am informing you of the way your life will be. I am not offering alternatives.”
She stiffened but nodded, endeavoring to mask her trepidation. Alina had read of his duels and gambling, his black rep for years. He frightened most people. He intimidated her too. But from somewhere, she had to find the guts, to get through this arrangement. She did not have choices on that either. Now, she was his wife.
He continued, “You’ll have the best of everything, because I can afford the best. Nothing matters, not your mother, your past marriage, nothing, to the people you will mingle with. Nothing but how you carry and conduct yourself. They will put you under a magnifying glass—because you are wed to me. I expect you to observe, to learn, to become sophisticated in the world. And you will be exposed to the best in taste and style, to teach you that.”
She nodded again, having nothing really to dispute
He scanned downwards, then up her form with a glance that was detached and assessing. Alina was neat figured, not overly anything—but the plain gown was much washed, and did not flatter her.
He lingered on her face again, meeting her green eyes whilst saying low, “There’s no point in debating if you know of me, or anything of my rep. It has never been a secret. And I make no apologies for it. Nor do I care a bloody damn. Nor shall you defend it.” He glanced at the door and then waved her toward it. “When you became my wife you changed your fate and altered mine, Lady Alina. Don’t make either of us regret it.”
Alina exited. She discovered his words would ring in her ears for hours, and days. Throughout the travelling across the channel, and through the days in the rented chateau as her husband brought everything to her—every sort of stylist and groomer and dressmaker, boot maker—also a gent from the best perfumery.
She had scarcely gotten to talk to Audra before they arrived. Her sister was given her own apartments. She suspected for all her sister’s nervousness around the sophisticated Maybry, Audra was a bit dazzled by the endless shopping and luxuriant grooming each of them received. It was a bit surreal as yet, to Alina also.
Having made up her mind to give the Dangerous Lord no quarrel, Alina had to bite her tongue several times however, since he managed to be present, even when the dressmakers were stripping her down and doing their penning. He chose every fabric, color, and had his choice of the unique styles he felt suitable for her—often correcting the drawings and fashion plates—shaking his head no, no, no, until they grasped exactly what he wanted.
Her hair was clipped, and made shiny with pomade, styled hugging her head and nape in waves. Her brows were plucked. Cosmetics were applied for the first time under his watching eyes. The perfume he leaned down to smell on the delicate skin of her inner arm before he accepted her choice. Gossamer gowns, or rich ones, draped her body, always low cut and having high-heeled pumps to match. There were slippers, chemises—a staggering amount of jewels he plucked from to match everything selected. The capes, wraps, bandus and crownlets—gloves, stockings and the like.
He lounged his tall figure on the sofa, in the sitting room normally—usually clothed in black boots, snug trousers, and white ruffled shirt. His sherry eyes never left her—save to interject his desires with whoever was there. He watched her choose lotions, oils, and creams. And when two ladies showed up to wax her legs and underarms, he was in the other room as they explained to her how it was done—managing at last to shock her out of her obedient stupor by applying it to her mons, so that very little hair remained.
It was that same day, sitting in a short robe, and a pair of white stockings, eating a bit between the endless stream of merchants, shopkeepers, and such, that Alina peered over to where he sat, just lifting the coffee served him, to his mouth.
A wave of his longish raven hair slid over his brow.
He met her gaze, as if sensing it, while sipping. Placing the cup down without breaking gazes. Around were maids and seamstress, people in corners, by tables, skimming through sketchpads, examining bolts, measuring ribbon, and cording.
Alina was fully aware that he had seen her stripped to the skin. He’d seen every inch of her compact five-foot body, came close enough, at several points, to slip out a pin and suggest a lower back or more daring neckline—touching the fabric, moving it to have the material hug her body or lay in certain folds in the front. He had chosen silk corsets in deep green, yellow, ivory, and the endless array of stockings. There was nothing clothed or unclothed the man did not now know about her.
I
t was some consolation knowing that Audra was likely dressing and undressing behind a screen. However, this man took the greatest care in choosing every layer that touched her—right down to the perfume, she wore.
Since they had separate chambers, she scarcely saw him outside the sitting room. Not that she had been outside it frequently. Still, it made her curious. And it was in her eyes meeting his. He was good at masking the answers though, and aside from his sherry gaze allowing her to hold his stare, to probe it even, he gave nothing away really.
Curiosity was not satisfied—until after her first gowns were completed. Even then, it was only a glimpse; she felt, a mere scratch on the surface of his enigmatic exterior.
Alina stood in her chamber, in green silk pumps, wearing a jade gown with pearls on the low bodice. Her hair done in chic waves, lashes darkened, and her lips shimmered.
He walked into her chambers after the maid departed and sat himself on the arm of a chair, watching Alina as she latched on a pearl necklace and earrings.
“Do you approve?”
“Of what?” She turned when finished.
He waved his hand, as if to say, all of it.
“What is not to approve?” Alina met his gaze. “Everything is—stunning.”
He nodded as if expecting her to say nothing less. Those eyes held hers, and he murmured, “You shall have only the best. Everything you desire will be provided.”
Her brow arched. “Why?”
“Because—it’s in my power to do so.”
Alina walked over to collect the fringed silk wrap in a vanilla hue. She picked it up, for a moment simply touching the cool fabric with her fingers. No woman could quarrel at having a one of a kind wardrobe fashioned by the best dressmakers. Clothing that flattered her petite figure and coloring and felt like heaven next to her skin. She did not doubt now that everything given her would be the same.
Alina had known he was reputed to be rich beyond measure.
