His Contract Bride (Banks Brothers Brides 1)

by Rose Gordon

  He steered her past the door of the conservatory, and she sighed in relief as they rounded the conservatory.

  “Is that water I hear?”

  “Yes. There's a creek just past that line of trees.”

  “And we're going to the creek?” Regina ventured.

  Edward didn't say anything, just nodded.

  A moment later, they cleared the trees.

  “What the devil is that?” Regina burst out, stealing her husband's favorite phrase.

  Edward roared with laughter, creating an uneasy sensation in her stomach. She loved it when he laughed—especially if she was the one who'd caused it. “That, my darling wife, is a boat.”

  “Yes, I assumed that.” She eyed the odd looking wooden structure, which was only about eight feet long and four feet wide with two wooden planks, one extending from both the front and the back of the boat. “And what, pray tell, did you plan to do with it?”

  “Go for a trip down the creek.”

  She looked at the narrow creek and then to her husband. “I'm not an expert in maritime matters, but is that even possible?”

  “Not to worry, m'dear, the creek both widens and deepens just after that turn.” He pointed to a bend in the creek. “I just asked that it be placed here so we'd be less likely to get wet while getting in.” He rolled up his shirtsleeves then put a picnic hamper that had been left under a nearby tree into the boat. “Are you ready?”

  “Why are you taking me for a trip down the creek?” she blurted before she knew what she was saying.

  Edward turned to face her. He brought his large hands up and put one on either side of her face, setting her blood to simmer. “Regina, you said that you'd always wanted an adventure and that is exactly what I intend to give you.”

  Her heart swelled and her already simmering blood began to boil. Keeping her entertained with an afternoon at Covent Garden or a few hours at a museum paled in comparison to this. This was far different than an attempt to keep her pacified. He'd expended far too much effort for it to be something so trivial.

  “Now, are you going to get into that boat so we can start our adventure, or do I have to put you in there?” he asked, breaking her thoughts.

  She could have kissed the grin right off his face. But doubted he'd want to be kissed by his wife in a public setting. “I think you should put me in.”

  “As you like,” he said, sweeping her feet off the ground and placing her on the front bench of the boat where she was turned to face the back. “Be sure to hold still while I untie the rope.”

  Regina instinctively put her hands on the wooden edges of the boat to steady its rocking while Edward untied the rope.

  Her grip tightened when Edward stepped inside and used the edge of the long paddle he held to move them down the creek.

  As Edward had promised, as soon as they rounded the bend hidden by the copse of trees, the creek was wider.

  He sat down and the boat rocked, scaring the wits out of Regina.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, still wiggling like a trout.

  Regina's hands tightened on the frame of the boat until she was certain her knuckles had gone white under her gloves.

  “We won't tip,” he assured her.

  That did nothing to calm her nerves. “What makes you so confident?”

  He snorted. “I spent nearly every afternoon of my summers in this boat as a boy.”

  “I sure hope that speaks for the boat's craftsmanship,” she murmured.

  “It does.” He took the wooden paddle and knocked it twice against the side of the boat. “You would not believe the number of adventures Gallant has been on between us seven boys. If it hasn't sprung a leak yet—” He shrugged. “I think we'll survive.”

  She loosened her tight grip on the sides of the boat and folded her hands in her lap. “I thought you said there were six of you?”

  “There were.” He shifted on his seat and stretched his legs out as far as he could, considering the small space that separated them. “When I was fourteen, the former Lord Sinclair died, and Joseph came to stay with us for the summers.”

  “What of his brothers and Sophie?”

  A shadow crossed his face at the mention of Sophie. He likely had the same last memory of her that she did. “They went to stay with one of his maternal aunts. Joseph would have gone except it was all the way up in Yorkshire. He wanted to be as close to Ridge Water as possible.”

  “He couldn't stay there?”

  “He could have, but his uncle was still legally responsible for the earldom until Joseph's majority; For as much respect as I have for Joseph, I will admit that Joseph's biggest fault is not standing up for himself. Not that I could blame him at fourteen, but, even now, the man cows to the demands of others faster than John can find himself in trouble.” He lifted his hand to block the sun from his eyes and looked down the creek. “Do you remember when Miss Sinclair started attending your school?”

  “Yes. Only a month or two before...”

  “Right,” he clipped. “That's when Joseph had finally located his bullocks and asked his uncle to leave Ridge Water. I don't know all the details, but somehow Miss Sinclair had an unsavory suitor and Joseph's uncle wasn't doing anything to keep them separated.”

  “Rupert Griffin,” Regina breathed, the image of the dark-haired man who'd tried to pay calls on Sophie at school under the guise of being her brother appeared in her mind.

  “That might be him. I don't know. What I do know is Joseph isn't the fastest learner. It was his father's death by way of the pox that turned him into a holy willie. But that's all his father's death did. It wasn't until I urged him on that he demanded his rightful due from his uncle. Even then, it took Sophie's unfortunate circumstances for him to realize his responsibilities.”

  That explained why Lord Sinclair had married at such an unusually young age. It was understandable that Edward would wish to marry her before she reached spinsterhood and lost her beauty. But other lords usually put it off as long as they could.

  Suddenly, he stopped rowing. “Look there.” He pulled the paddle out of the water and pointed toward the shore.

  She followed the imaginary line coming from the end of his wooden paddle to where a frog was sitting in wait for a fly, perched on a partially waterlogged log.

  “Has one of your pets escaped?”

  “No. I never was that fond of keeping frogs. They're too noisy.”

  “Let me guess, they kept you up at night.”

  “Not me, my brother Jarred.” He paused to watch the frog jump off the log into the water. “He complained to Mother that he could hear my frogs through the wall and she made me release them.”

  “Is that when you started keeping turtles?”

  “Not quite. That came later.” A slow smile spread his lips, and he resumed his paddling. “I'm glad you remember that though. Actually, after the frogs, came spiders, much to my mother's dismay.”

  “Spiders? What on earth for?”

  “To torture Jarred for convincing Mother to make me get rid of the frogs.” He glanced up at the sun then turned his attention back to her. “Care to know my deepest secret?”

  She leaned forward. “Of course.”

  “The only reason the frogs didn't keep me awake at night was because after everyone would go to sleep, I'd sneak out and sleep in an empty bedchamber. Annoying things, they were.”

  “Do you know where this leads?” Regina asked him a short while later for no other reason than to make conversation.

  “I sure don't.” He flashed her a smile. “It depends on which way we go.”

  “Didn't you already decide that when you placed the boat in the water.”

  Edward shook his head. “Have I ever told you that you have the best sense of humor of anyone I've ever met?”

  “I shall take that as a compliment and
offer you my advice.”

  He pulled the paddle out of the water and moved it to the other side, dropping a row of tiny drips along her lap. “And what is that?”

  “If I have the best sense of humor of anyone you know, then you are certainly in need of more friends.”

  He shook his head. “No. I believe I have all the friends a man needs.”

  “One friend is all a man needs?” she teased.

  “Sometimes,” he said with a shrug; the muscles of his forearms flexing with each stroke he made. “There are two types of people in this life. One who has scores of 'sometimes' friends. These are the friends who are there when it's convenient for them.” He stopped paddling for a moment and withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Then, there are the 'always' friends. These are the people who may not always say what you want to hear, but are always there when you need them.”

  Edward stopped talking just long enough to navigate them around a cluster of rocks then continued. “I'm unusual, I suppose, as I'd rather have one always friend rather than a thousand sometimes friends.” He moved his paddle to the other side of the boat, but didn't move it, just held it there, slowing down the movement of the boat. “Somehow, I managed to be blessed with an unusual amount of good fortune and was granted two such friends.”

  “I see,” she said, forcing a smile. Did he consider her to be a friend equal to Lord Sinclair? Or worse, did he think her the kind who would desert him when he needed her?

  Edward pushed down on the paddle in his hand, digging the end into the soft mud at the bottom of the creek bed, leading the boat to come to a stop so abruptly that Regina jolted forward and lost her seat.

  Edward's strong hands closed around her arms just above her elbows, stilling her before her knees hit the floor of the boat. “Do you care to know which category you fall into?”

  “Yes.” Her word a broken whisper.

  Eyes locking, he pulled her so close to him she could all but feel his lips on hers. “Neither,” he whispered before taking her lips in a kiss that made her heart pound and her toes curl.

  ~Chapter Twenty-Two~

  What the devil was wrong with him? He forced himself to release her. The sight of her flushed face only confused him more. Had she actually enjoyed his kiss or was she embarrassed?

  He pushed away the thought. “We'll stop here.” What had come over him that had transformed him into some sort of ill-mannered heathen who barked curt orders? He stood, taking care not to rock the boat as he did so. He extended his hand to Regina and helped her out of the boat. “Remember when I told you that it would depend on which way we went?”

  “Yes.”

  He joined her on the shore then stood beside her and pointed to where the creek formed a Y about twenty-five feet away.

  “Oh.”

  “Indeed,” he said, grabbing the picnic hamper from the boat.

  She took the hamper from him so he could tie the boat to a log near the edge of the water. “Which way will we go?”

  He took the hamper back from her. “That depends on you, m'dear.” He led her to a little patch of short grass and took the folded blanket from the top of the basket. “Could you help me spread this?”

  Regina took an edge of the blanket, then took a step backwards.

  They each gripped their respective ends and shook out the blanket until it was free of folds. “We could go to the right and spend the afternoon moving at a leisurely pace surrounded by tall shade trees.”

  Regina lowered her end to the ground and held it until he put his end down. “Or?”

  “Or—” he picked up the picnic hamper and set it down on the corner of the blanket closest to him— “we could go to the left and spend the afternoon moving at a leisurely pace surrounded by tall shade trees.”

  “Hmm.” Regina tapped her index finger against her cheek. “That is a hard decision.”

  “I know.” He sat down and patted the area next to him. “How about if you contemplate the importance of which path to take while we're here.”

  The way she smiled as she took her place next to him took his breath away. “I wonder what Cook sent,” she said, reaching for the hamper.

  “I've never been a spy for the Crown, so my detective skills might be lacking, but I think you'll know if you open the lid.”

  She drummed her fingers along the top. “My, aren't you dripping sarcasm today.”

  “I'm just trying to match wits with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You're incorrigible.” Her fingers stopped their tapping, and she lifted the lid then quickly shut it. “I'm not about to be greeted by a bowl of gruel, am I?”

  “Why should you say that?”

  Regina wagged a finger at him. “I know all about you, Lord Watson. John had to learn his tricks from someone.”

  His lips twitched.

  “Ha,” she said, playfully jabbing a finger into his shoulder. “I do believe something is afoot, and you, my lord, are the culprit.”

  “Open it and you'll see what's in there,” he encouraged, no longer able to contain his grin. She was a skeptical one, she was.

  Slowly, she lifted the wicker lid of the picnic hamper and peered inside.

  “What do you see?”

  “Strawberry tarts,” she said excitedly.

  Edward lifted his eyebrows at her. What an unusual creature he'd married. “Have you a weakness for sweets?”

  “Yes, but not to worry, I'll be careful to eat them in moderation.”

  He waved her off. “You may eat them all, if you like.”

  Abandoning the hamper, Regina handed him one of the tarts. “Here.”

  He took it from her and held it between his fingers, waiting while she got herself one. “Mmm,” she said, sinking her teeth into it. A little of the strawberry filling oozed out the side of the tart and settled on the edge of her bottom lip. Pulling the tart away, her pink tongue darted out and licked away the filling.

  His mouth watered. The way she ate that confounded tart had to be the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. He shifted so not to alert her to his arousal.

  “Forgive me,” she murmured, when she was finished, her eyes wide and her cheeks slightly pink. “I didn't mean to make a spectacle of myself.”

  “You're not forgiven,” he said, doing his best not to grind his teeth at the phrase he most hated to hear from her lips. He set down the tart she'd given him and reached up to rest his hand against her cheek then released her lower lip from her teeth's brutal hold. “It was a spectacle I enjoyed.”

  She gasped; her pink cheeks growing red.

  Edward reached up and wrapped his finger around a fallen tendril of her silky hair, his other hand resting on the blanket next to hers. “I do believe I shall have to ask Cook to serve tarts at every meal.”

  “You do that and you'll have a wife who looks as if she's increasing, even if she's not.”

  He gave a lopsided shrug. “I don't care.” Then his eyes went to her abdomen. “Is there a chance?”

  A shadow crossed her face. “No.”

  Edward covered her hand with his and gently rubbed the pad of his thumb over her row of knuckles. “There's still plenty of time. We've only just begun.” Those final words were a promise. He forced himself to sit back up before he gave into his baser needs and gave her a demonstration of what he'd meant. She was a lady, after all. He couldn't ravish her outside. “I think we'd better eat and be on our way.”

  ***

  “Which way shall we go?”

  She rolled her eyes up toward the sky. “I think I should like to go the way that will have us move at a leisurely pace and be surrounded by tall shade trees.”

  “As the baroness wishes.” Edward used the edge of the paddle to push off. “You're right handed, are you not?”

  “Yes.” What had that to do
with anything?

  “Then we shall go to the left. My left, that is,” he said, steering the boat to his left, her right. “You might wish to hold onto the boat right here; it might get bumpy.”

  Regina needed no further warning and grasped onto both sides of the boat. “I thought you said it would be leisurely.”

  “It will in a moment,” he said with a grunt. “First, I have to get us there.” He gritted his teeth as he made two large paddle strokes, the muscles in his forearms flexing to quite an impressive size. He sighed with relief. “If you look out the side, you'll see that we now have a small current. Unfortunately, we're going against it now, but it'll help us when we come back. Where this side of the Y and the other drops into the other part of the creek is the most strenuous as the two smaller fingers of the creek are dumping into the main part. But now it'll be smooth.”

  Regina released her death grip on the boat and watched her husband paddle. She was quite a fortunate lady to have him.

  “Do you know how to swim?”

  Regina started. “Passably, I suppose. Why?”

  “Don't worry, I wasn't thinking of asking you to go for a swim. It'll be too late for that before long. I just wondered if you could.”

  “In that case, yes. My aunt had a pond at her cottage in Essex that I swam in when I was younger.”

  “As I'm sure you've guessed by now, my brothers and I used to swim in this part of the creek.” He ducked his head to avoid getting smacked in the face by a low lying branch. “It has the small current, but it's wider than the other parts.” He pointed to a cluster of tall rocks jutting from the shore. “That's the spot where Trouble gashed his forehead when he thought to be sneaky and send the boat downstream without us knowing.” He shook his head. “His plan would have worked had he not got his foot tangled in the rope.”

  “So then he's always had a little mischievous streak? It didn’t start when he first went to Eton or when your father died?”

  He shook his head. “Of course he’s always caused trouble. Every boy does. His just leads him into it more often than not.”