If He’s Wild

by Howell, Hannah

  “I was prepared for pain,” she said as she rested her cheek against his chest and idly circled her palm over his taut stomach, “but there was so little it barely made me blink.”

  “Your innocence was but lightly protected, love, and I am grateful for that. It allowed you to enjoy the full measure of pleasure.”

  Her heart skipped with joy when he called her love, but she ignored it, knowing what an empty endearment it could be, and sighed. “I should still leave. It is my duty to protect my family.”

  Hartley kissed the top of her head, regretting the fact that he could not stay with her longer, could not hold her through the night and make love to her again and again. “Trust me, Claudette’s threat is troublesome, but that trouble can be averted now that we know of it. We have men working all over the city, and they will be told the why of such rumors and ordered to smother them. To succeed, her voice needs to be the only one, or at least the loudest and clearest, and it will not be.”

  “I do trust you, Hartley. I shall try to put aside my fear for my family.”

  “Good, for I would rather do something other than lie here and talk of your family in the short time I have left. I would like nothing better than to spend the night, to wake at your side in the morning, but I will have to slip away soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “In an hour or two.”

  Alethea rubbed her body against his, watching as a flush of renewed desire touched his cheeks. “Why, however shall we pass the time until then?”

  Hartley laughed and turned until she was sprawled beneath him, more than ready for a second taste of the fire she shared with him.

  Chapter 10

  “I wish you would cease glaring at me, Iago. It is quite spoiling my appetite.”

  Iago looked at Alethea’s full plate and nearly snickered. He doubted she even realized how much she was eating. A night of illicit passion had obviously stirred up her appetite, he thought, and then glared at her some more. She looked disgustingly content, while he felt an utter failure as her uncle and protector.

  “Why did you leave the ball last night, aside from the need to rush home and take a lover to your bed?” He smirked when she glared at him, experiencing a hint of triumph over spoiling her good mood.

  Alethea considered pouring her porridge over her uncle’s head. Laden with honey and cream, it would make a satisfying mess. Then she sighed. He was undoubtedly all tangled up in some manly sense of failure. His niece had been seduced beneath his very roof, and he had done nothing to stop it or to challenge the man who had seduced her. Alethea was not sure how she could cure him of something she did not really understand. After all, she was a grown woman, a widow, and she had already explained to him that she wanted Hartley and would have him if he showed any interest. This start of an affair could be no great surprise to Iago.

  “Iago, I told you that—”

  “Yes, yes, I know what you told me.” He sighed. “I suppose I just never expected you to actually do it.”

  “Well, I did. I wanted him, he wanted me.” She shrugged.

  “Do not try to make it all sound so simple, as if it were no more than the act of a spoiled child—or children. You love him.”

  “I fear I do.” She slathered honey on a piece of toast and struggled not to reveal how much that worried her. “But I might be mistaking lust for love. Men do it all the time. I do not think so, but what do I know about it all? I went from an isolated childhood into an isolated marriage, which was no marriage at all.”

  “True, and I am sorry that your family did not investigate that fool more closely. You did not deserve to be locked into such an empty marriage. It would not have taken us long to discover the truth about the man. Your husband’s preferences had been whispered about and speculated upon for a long time.”

  “His preferences?” Alethea frowned as she tried to guess what Iago meant and then suddenly smiled as comprehension came to her. “Oh, you mean that he preferred men. No, I think not. I do not believe my husband ever preferred men to women. I think he had no preferences at all, actually. He had no passion in him at all, not for anything or anyone. What I had seen as a calm, even-tempered man was actually a man who was, well, dead inside. Something was missing in him, that something that makes us cry, laugh, hate, love, even fear and rage. Whether something happened to him to make him that way, we shall never know, but he may have even been born that way.”

  “Oh. The one time I met him, I thought him a pleasant, gentlemanly sort.”

  “Pleasant, gentlemanly, and empty. He was empty, Iago. He never even blinked when I had a vision. Nothing moved him, absolutely nothing. What I saw as kind was only good manners performed blindly. I had to accept that truth when a child was killed in the village, trampled by horses. Channing looked at that poor, mangled little body, and there was nothing in his eyes, not even revulsion at the sight of the body. But he did all that he should, from arranging for the body to be moved and properly buried to speaking to the grief-stricken parents. And then went on to have his lunch—always served at precisely the same time every day.”

  “I do not believe I have ever met anyone like that.”

  “Be thankful for it. It is chilling. And, mayhap, that is why I am so drawn to Hartley. He does not realize it, I think, but he is a man of very strong emotion. I confess, I soak it up, revel in it. In some ways, living with Channing smothered me, and now I can breathe.”

  Iago drummed his fingers on the table. “I nearly confronted you last night, but Kate stopped me.”

  Alethea blushed. “That could have been very embarrassing.”

  He grinned. “For all of us, I think.” Then he grew serious again. “It pricks at my pride that I am just standing back while Redgrave has an affair with my niece, but so be it. As you have said, you are a widow, a grown woman. But if he shames you, sullies your name, or treats you unkindly, I will not allow you to stop me from doing as I must.”

  “Fair enough,” she agreed, although she knew she would do everything in her power to stop her uncle and her lover from fighting.

  “Now, tell me, what was it that upset you so badly last night?”

  Alethea told him everything about the confrontation between her and Claudette, including her decision to leave. She waited patiently while her uncle muttered a long string of curses before saying, “Hartley assures me that, if she tries such a thing, it can be stopped before it goes too far.”

  “I suspect it can, but I will still send word to any of our family residing in the city.”

  “That is what Hartley told me to do, yet Claudette’s threat made my blood run cold. I immediately remembered every terrifying tale from our family’s past.” She took a bracing sip of tea. “I am still not certain I should stay, and wonder if I allowed him to convince me to do so just because I do not wish to leave him.”

  “That is probably some of it, but you cannot bow down to threats, and everyone in our family would agree with me on that. That woman will soon be gone. She is very diligently digging her own grave. I just worry that, once she fully realizes how much power she has lost, she will lash out at one of us, at Hartley, or at you. There is a cold madness in that woman.”

  “I know. I have felt it. ’Tis there to see in her eyes. When you see it, you have to wonder how she was able to seduce so many men.”

  “The men who sought her out, bedded her, were not particularly interested in her eyes.”

  “Wretch.”

  Alethea’s amusement faded quickly, however. Madame Claudette could not remain blissfully ignorant of the banishment rolling toward her for long. When the acceptance of society was finally, firmly pulled away, all her lethal games would come to an end. So, too, Alethea mused, would Claudette’s source of income and comfortable life, as well as whatever power she had managed to grasp. Alethea did not worry that the woman would strike out when that happened—she was sure of it. She knew it as well as she knew her own name.

  Hartley finished the last of his breakfast
, pushed his plate aside, and began to drink his tea. He would like to have shared a breakfast with Alethea but knew that would have been pushing Iago too hard up against the wall. It did not surprise him that he wanted to do something he had never done before—wake up beside a lover—either. He was becoming accustomed to acting unusually around Alethea. Since he had made the decision that he would make her his marchioness, wanting to share breakfast with her was just more proof that he had made the right decision.

  He watched the footmen clear the table and thought on the threat Claudette had made. Alethea had been terrified, and for that alone he wanted Claudette to pay dearly. He did not fully understand Alethea’s fear, however, and intended to gather as much information on her family’s history as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that some of her ancestors had paid dearly, horrifically, for their gifts. Iago and Alethea had made reference to that dark past and those troubled times, but he had shrugged their remarks aside. He would do so no longer. That deep fear Alethea revealed could be used against her, as Claudette had shown, and he needed facts if he was to ever be able to ease that fear in his wife.

  Wife. The word used to terrify him. Now he was eager to make Alethea his in all ways. He did not want to creep out of her bed again, slipping away in the dark of night like some thief. Hartley had thoroughly disliked waking up in his bed—alone. And that was yet another drastic change in his ways. He knew there would be more, yet felt no resentment over that fact. He was ready to be married, ready to be married to Alethea.

  The sound of men hurrying toward the door pulled Hartley from his thoughts. He stared at his friends in surprise as Aldus and Gifford rushed up to the table. For a moment he suffered the sharp stab of fear that something had happened to Alethea. Then he saw that their expressions were ones of excitement, not alarm.

  “What is it?” he asked, sitting up straight. “What has happened?”

  “They found them,” said Aldus, and he held out a crumpled, dirty piece of paper.

  “Them?” Hartley reluctantly took hold of the paper even though he did not understand his hesitation to do so.

  “The children. Germaine and Bayard. They found them alive and are bringing them home.” Aldus patted a stunned Hartley on the back and then moved to see what food was left on the sideboard, Gifford following suit.

  Hartley was not surprised to see his hands shaking as he held the message. For three long years he had searched and hoped for some sign that his sister’s children had not died on that beach. Alethea had renewed his waning hope, but years of failure and fear had taken their toll, and he had tried not to let his hopes rise too high. Now he held word that Germaine and Bayard had survived, that they would soon be home with him, and he found himself frozen in fear and indecision. It was almost laughable, as if now that the prize was within reach, he did not know what to do with it.

  “Are you all right, Hartley?” asked Aldus as he sat down on Hartley’s right, his plate heavy with food.

  “Yes, I think so.” Hartley shook his head as Gifford sat on his left. “It must be shock that it has happened so quickly. After three long years of nothing, Alethea has a vision, her cousins go to France with that information, and a week later I hold the news that my niece and nephew have been found and will soon be home. My mind is finding that hard to accept.” He read the message again. “Someone must have rushed this to the ship the moment the children were seen.”

  “Or near to. Leo does say that it took some time to convince your niece that he was who he said he was, and that they had tried to run at first. Seems that fellow Bened is a tracker, a very good one, and he soon caught them.”

  “It does trouble me that the couple who kept them hidden demanded some payment for all their trouble.”

  “You would have given them some anyway,” said Gifford.

  “I would have,” agreed Hartley, “but the fact that they demanded it leaves me wondering just what place my niece and nephew held at that farm.”

  “Ah, yes,” agreed Aldus. “Something to consider.”

  “And Leo says nothing about their health, just that they are alive, and he will make sure they get on the ship home. I had not realized that the baron and his cousin would join the hunt.”

  “He said they would be pleased to assist.”

  “It sounds like they did far more than that, yet they had other business to do in France, and, even though they implied it would not start the moment they landed, I doubt they had days to spare. Still, I am grateful beyond words.”

  “So, soon you will have the care of your sister’s children.”

  Hartley grimaced. “They are not truly children any more. Bayard is rapidly approaching manhood. Germaine is eighteen now, a young woman. If life had taken the route intended for her, she would be attending balls and hunting for a husband now. My sister would have enjoyed that,” he added softly and then shook away a faint pang of remembered grief. “I think I must push forward my plans to marry.”

  “What are you going to do? Go to Alethea and say that your niece and nephew are coming home and could she marry you now so that there is someone there to help care for them? I am sure that will make her heart beat faster.”

  “I will certainly not phrase it that way, but neither will I hide the fact that I wish her to help me with the children. They will need a woman’s guidance, her sympathy and understanding.”

  “I think you might want to say a few words about caring and passion and all,” said Gifford and then filled his mouth with sausage.

  “I am not without skill with the ladies, you know,” said Hartley, although their words began to make him uneasy about how Alethea might respond to his proposal.

  “With experienced women who look for lovers and like to be seduced,” said Aldus. “This is a gently born country lass. Not a London lady. I hate to tell you this, Hartley, but a practical proposal will probably gain you a hearty refusal. You need to dress it up with a few warm words.”

  What Hartley had no intention of telling his friends was that he and Alethea had already shared enough warmth to heat every Londoner’s home. He would remind her of that. It might be wise, however, to plan what he would say to her even as he got the special license he would need. What he would not do was claim an undying love for her; he would not start his marriage with a lie. He almost smiled. Considering the family he was marrying into, that could prove to be a huge mistake anyway.

  “Eat up,” he ordered his friends. “I need to secure a special license, and witnesses to the marriage will be needed.” He ignored the grumblings of his friends and turned his thoughts to the proposal he was about to make.

  Alethea looked up from her needlework and smiled as Hartley, Aldus, and Gifford were escorted into the family parlor. Hartley stepped over to her and kissed her on the lips right in front of his friends and her uncle. She blushed and wondered what he was up to. There was an air of excitement about him, but he asked Iago if he could talk to him for a moment, and the two of them left. She set aside her needlework and looked at Aldus and Gifford.

  Before she could begin to question them, Alfred and Ethelred arrived with food and drink. She sighed and began her role as hostess. The minute the servants left, however, she returned her full attention to the two men now seated across from her. They were acting as if all that interested them was the food on the table, but she was not fooled for a minute. There was a tension in the men that told her they knew what was going on.

  “What has happened?” she asked and frowned at the suspicious way the two men exchanged looks before meeting her gaze.

  “Germaine and Bayard have been found,” said Aldus.

  “Alive?” she asked in a voice that was close to a whisper, her heart beating hard with fear that there had been bad news.

  “Very much so.”

  Before Alethea could ask a single question, Aldus launched into a long, convoluted tale of meeting up with her cousins and how they had offered to help. She knew they were trying to keep her diverted so she wou
ld ask no more questions. Alethea inwardly sighed. Considering what work these men did for the government, it would undoubtedly have been a waste of time to try to pry information out of them. She turned her attention to the tale they told and decided to wait for Hartley.

  “What can I do for you?” asked Iago as he led Hartley into his private study and sat down at his desk.

  Hartley took the seat facing the desk and carefully weighed his words. He could sense a coolness in Iago and knew the man had found out about him and Alethea. Hartley hoped a marriage proposal would ease the sense of insult and anger the man felt, for he liked Iago.

  “My niece and nephew have been found alive and will soon come home,” he said.

  “Wonderful!” Iago reached over the desk and shook Hartley’s hand. “Damn, ’tis near a miracle after having been lost in France for three years.”

  “It certainly feels so. I had planned to woo your niece—”

  “I think you have done more than that,” muttered Iago.

  “I may have overstepped my bounds”—he ignored the way Iago raised one eyebrow and almost smirked—“but I had already decided that I wanted to make her my marchioness.”

  “You want to marry Alethea?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “I like her, I desire her, and I trust her. And, ere you ask, I have no trouble with her gift. My first hesitation concerning that was born of doubt—utter disbelief, in truth. This was not a sudden decision despite how little time we have really known each other. The word marriage started to slip into my mind almost from the beginning, however.”

  Iago grinned. “Pushed it out of there fast, I suspect.”

  “That I did, but it would not stay away.” Unable to sit still, Hartley stood up and began to pace the room. “I wanted her from the beginning, and that, too, got stronger. When she was injured, I was afraid as much as I was enraged by what had been done to her. I wanted to lock her up somewhere safe. When Claudette’s threats so upset her, all I could think of was comforting her, and when she spoke of leaving, I was adamant in refusing to let her do so.”