by Claudia Dain
“Naturally. You’ve proven yourself nicely, if a bit irregularly. I had thought the wedding to have been months ago now, got all prepared for it. Even talked to Hyde about it, got the papers in order and signed, the financial details worked out to everyone’s satisfaction; naturally you’ll want to look it over, but I suspect all will meet with your approval. Your father didn’t tell you, I see.”
Cranleigh was certain that he was as white as a sheet. He felt nearly light-headed.
“Tell me? ” he repeated stupidly. “You talked to Hyde? About me? Not Iveston?”
“Iveston? What does he have to do with my daughter? I don’t suppose she’s kissed him as well?”
“No, naturally not,” Cranleigh said. The less said the better. Sound policy. He saw no reason to change it now.
“I must confess, this was all far more complicated than I anticipated, likely due to the obvious fact that you’re both stubborn as stumps, but you clearly want to marry each other and that’s the most important thing, isn’t it?”
“The most important thing, yes,” Cranleigh said. “The most important thing. We do get on, don’t we?”
“Don’t you know?” Aldreth said.
“Yes, I do. I do know,” Cranleigh said, grinning like a fool. He didn’t care. Dignity be damned. What did he need with dignity if he had Amelia? “I should like to marry her at the earliest opportunity.”
“Tomorrow?” Aldreth said. “I arranged for a special license immediately after Amelia sought out Lady Dalby’s help. Things do seem to explode after Sophia gets her hand in, or that has been my experience. Would you agree?”
“Yes, sir,” Cranleigh said, very nearly laughing. “Yes to all.”
He hardly noticed that his blood was dripping on the carpet. Aldreth noticed, of course, and determined that the man had suffered just enough for the privilege of gaining possession of his daughter. Hawksworth, however, surprised himself by being undecided as to the matter.
“WHAT if he doesn’t say yes,” Amelia said, standing with Sophia. They were hardly alone, the crowd at Aldreth House having spilled into every part of the house save the dining room.
Sophia was facing the windows that lined the back of the room, overlooking the mews. She turned to look at Amelia, her expression serene. “Aldreth? He has little cause to deny Cranleigh’s suit, does he? That’s been most efficiently arranged. I do hope you want him, because he is most decidedly yours now.”
“Of course I want him!” Really, how ridiculous. Was there any reason to think otherwise?
“Then there is nothing wrong with letting him know it,” Sophia said. “Indeed, if more women let their wishes be known, there would be far less confusion on the part of poor, hapless men.”
“Certainly he must already know it,” Amelia said. “I’ve been, that is, I was quite intrigued by him from the start.” She was starting to flush just thinking of it.
“And when was that, darling? From first look or from first kiss?” Sophia asked.
“From first …”
She paused, thinking back to that day, that first meeting in that crowded saloon at Sandworth. She’d been nervous, eager for her come out, eager to impress Aldreth with her perfect manners and her perfect wardrobe and her perfect conversation. Aldreth had behaved typically, no matter her perfection; he had busied himself with his male guests, looked at his children in mild recognition when he happened to find himself in the same room with them, and neither confirmed nor denied the stellar quality of her perfect imitation of a perfect woman.
There had been no unmarried dukes about, no Lord Iveston, no one to pretend an interest upon. No one to be perfect for.
And then she had seen Cranleigh. He had walked into the saloon like a sailor walking a ship’s deck. He had walked through the room with barely a nod to the other guests, to the back wall of windows, and stood looking out at the gardens, his rough hands clasped behind his back. The room faced west, his golden hair had gleamed in the sunlight, his blue eyes had looked like shards of crystal, and he had captured her.
No, it hadn’t been that simple. It couldn’t possibly have been that simple.
But he had captured her attention, and held it.
When he kissed her in the picture gallery, he had held her heart, capturing her completely.
The problem was that he hadn’t acted upon it. What was she to have done? What was any woman to do? Pine, as Louisa had done over Dutton? Throw herself in Cranleigh’s path and hope for the best?
No.
She was Aldreth’s daughter and she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself over any man, especially a man who didn’t seem at all eager to marry her.
“From the first …” she said again.
“Be honest,” Sophia prompted.
“Look,” Amelia said with a rueful smile. Did it matter now? She and Cranleigh were to marry. It was a fact, nearly. Aldreth had approved, certainly. “I’m so relieved that he’s finally proposed.”
“And after just the right amount of applied force, too,” Sophia said brightly. “It’s very difficult to get a man to propose in the best of circumstances, and certainly with Cranleigh it has never been the best of circumstances. Why, he was planning to run to China to avoid you, darling. Very difficult indeed to get a man to do the proper thing when he’s half a world away, but of course you knew that, which was the entire point of the list, and of your decision to pursue that path. How else to drive a man to desperation but to be so obviously and relentlessly pursuing another man? As to that, an entire list of them.”
Amelia looked in horror at Sophia. Had she understood everything ? Every nuance of Amelia’s urgent plan to force Cranleigh to do the right thing, namely, claim her for his own?
“Why deny it, darling? It was a perfectly devious plan and quite cunning of you, and of me, of course. And didn’t it all end beautifully?” Sophia said with a deliciously amused smile.
Amelia smiled. And then she laughed. And it wasn’t at all proper, naturally not, but still laughing most indecorously, she gave Sophia a hug of pure feminine delight.
“There you are, Amy,” Cranleigh said, coming up behind her and laying his hand on her waist, scowling at Sophia. Poor Cranleigh. He would never understand; as he was a man, she did not expect him to. “Aldreth has agreed that we may marry. If that suits you.”
She was relieved, of course. Obviously. Naturally. But there was something in his tone, in the look in his amazing eyes that gnawed at her. If that suits you? Was that any way to phrase a proposal? Couldn’t he be slightly more relentless? After two years of being assaulted by Cranleigh, deliciously assaulted, this was how matters were to be resolved?
She wanted her tiger back, not this cool man with his cool blue eyes standing sedately at her side.
Amelia cast a glance at Sophia.
Sophia cast a very supportive glance back at her.
Relentless, that’s what she wanted and that’s what she would get. Perhaps even dangerous. Dangerous would be lovely.
“Don’t you want to carry me off, Cranleigh? ” she whispered, tugging on his arm. “Carry me off and ravage me, fight Chinese pirates for me, but carry me off and make me yours.”
Cranleigh looked at her askance. She looked normal, no fever, no glassy-eyed stare, no hysteria. Of course, her request indicated a complete collapse, which he did hope wasn’t permanent, mother of his children and all that, but he continued to study her, looking for signs of … something.
Carry her off? Ravage her? When he’d just now won her, finally and permanently from her father? Everything all legal and complete … which she didn’t yet know because he hadn’t told her that bit. The only thing left for them to do was to say their vows, a pretty formality, a social necessity.
She wanted to be carried off?
Very well. As to that, he’d imagined it himself more than once. The ravaging bit, too. Very much more than once.
“Where would you like to be carried, Amy?” he said, leaning down to her, speaking
into her ear.
“Someplace dangerous.”
“Someplace close?” he suggested with a grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like laughing, couldn’t remember ever feeling such nameless joy.
No, not nameless. Amy.
“If we keep talking about it, it’s not going to work,” she said.
“What, exactly?”
“Being ravaged,” she whispered against his coat. “Being taken by surprise. As you always do. Only more this time. Much more.”
“How much more?”
“As much as there is, Cranleigh,” she said, lifting her face to look up into his eyes, teasing him, provoking him, challenging him.
The look in her eyes, seductive and hesitant, married within him to drive him to distraction.
“Go to the vestibule,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll find you there, and take you.”
“You won’t carry me off from here?” she said, sounding almost disappointed.
“I would, but I don’t think Miss Prestwick would survive it. She’s seems a very conventional girl, very observant of every rule of decorum.”
“Of course she is, Cranleigh. How else is she to win herself a duke?” Amelia said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “In the stair hall, then. Hurry, will you?”
“Not to worry,” he said, bowing as he left her in the drawing room. He had to find Aldreth first and make certain that all the legal documents were signed before he touched her. Amy might be feeling reckless now, but this was just the sort of thing that a woman used against a man in the future. He had that on good authority, and he didn’t doubt it for a minute.
“I’M relieved that’s done,” Molly, Duchess of Hyde, said under her breath, watching as Amelia wandered past from the drawing room into the stair hall. Cranleigh, nearly on her heels, wandered with rather too much precision for actual wandering into the library. “You don’t think it’s possible for them to mangle it now, do you?”
“I can’t think how,” Hyde said. “The contracts have been agreed to and signed. Aldreth has nothing to kick about. Cranleigh should be delighted.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Molly said, sounding not entirely optimistic. “It has been a coil. I can’t think how we should have managed it without Sophia guiding things. That was a rare bit of luck, Amelia Caversham seeking her out, though it did raise quite a scandal. Still, once the first child comes, no one will remember a thing.”
“Oh, some people remember, Molly,” Hyde said with a rare smile.
Hyde was not given to outward displays, or indeed many inward ones. He was a restful man, something of a safe haven, which she did so like about him. In fact, that quality drew her to him immediately and resolutely.
“Hyde, you know perfectly well that Sophia would never breathe a word. She’s far too discreet.”
“I would have said she’s far too devious,” Hyde said mildly.
Molly laughed. “A woman may be both, dearest Hyde.”
“But not you, dearest Molly,” he said, taking a sip of tea to cover his nearly appalling sentimentality.
“Hyde, do I still turn your head?” she said, smiling up at him. Hyde was very tall and she was very petite; it was an arrangement she enjoyed for a multitude of reasons.
“Would I have ruined you if you did not?” he answered. “How else to make sure your father would agree to the match? I did what was necessary.”
“Being a duke and a general in His Majesty’s army wasn’t enough, you didn’t suppose?”
“I wasn’t going to take the chance, colonials being what they are.”
“And what they are is?”
“Unpredictable,” he answered stoutly.
“Hyde, what a lovely compliment.”
He grunted, grinning.
“After all these years, I can still surprise you?”
He grunted again and sipped his tea.
“Oh, there’s Cranleigh again. Whatever is he doing?” she said, laying her hand on Hyde’s arm and encouraging him to lead her to the doorway to the stair hall. Amelia was there, tucked into a shadow, looking quite animated.
Cranleigh came into the stair hall, saw Amelia, saw his parents, bowed to his father, shrugged, picked Amelia up and threw her over his shoulder, and then proceeded to carry her down the stairs. Her muffled giggles rose up from the shadows.
Hyde and Molly stood silently for a moment, staring down the stairs. Molly then said, “He is so like you, Hyde. It does take me back to that autumn day in Concord.”
“Tenth October, 1772,” Hyde said gruffly.
“Hyde! You romantic!” Molly said brightly.
The Duke of Hyde blushed pink.
Twenty-seven
CRANLEIGH carried her down the stairs to the ground floor, past the servants, past the grooms, and into the mews. Three stableboys stopped raking out the stalls to stare. Cranleigh barked an order and the stableboys, whom she could only identify by their dirty shoes, upside down as she was, were gone. Far gone, she hoped.
Cranleigh slapped her lightly on the arse, hoisted her over his shoulder as she was still squealing in outrage, and dumped her into a pile of fresh hay.
“You wanted danger? How’m I doing?” he said, staring down at her, his hands on his hips. He looked, dare she admit it, like a sailor.
“You didn’t have to strike me!” she said, pulling a piece of hay from her bodice, where it itched.
“Didn’t I? Sorry,” he said, sounding not the least bit sorry. “I was going for danger. I shall just have to keep trying, shan’t I?”
And with that, he knelt in the hay at her feet, lifted her skirts with both hands to her knees before she had a chance to artlessly kick him in the chest. Which she did. Which he ignored.
“Cranleigh! What are you doing?”
“Ravaging you, what did you suppose?” he said. “It goes rather quickly, this ravaging damsels bit. I thought you knew that.”
“Cranleigh, stop! Just … stop!” She was holding her hand out, as if to push him away, when of course he couldn’t be pushed, not if he didn’t want to be, and he clearly didn’t.
“No, Amy, I don’t think I will. This idea of yours to ravage you in dangerous fashion has definite appeal. Try to relax and enjoy it. There’s a good girl.”
And before she could say another word of protest, which she was completely certain she would have done, he lay on top of her and kissed her. Of course, none knew better than she that Cranleigh definitely knew how to kiss. He kissed her quite thoroughly, his tongue quite fully engaged in ravaging her mouth, his hands doing things they had never done before.
He seemed to have more hands than two.
He was tugging at her bodice, which collapsed.
He was lifting her skirts, which ripped.
He was holding her face and popping her breasts free and sliding down her garters.
All at once. All, impossibly, at once.
Why, she was helpless to stop him. She could not resist him. He was relentless. Ruthless. Dangerous. And very, very thorough.
This is what all those endless months of kissing had been leading toward, this destination, this explosion of sensation and want and throbbing necessity.
Why was she wearing so many clothes? Why was he? Mountains and mountains of clothing piled up between them.
Her skin tingled and she shivered beneath his touch. Her nipples ached and she arched her back to thrust them into his hands. He caught them, clever boy, and seemed to know exactly what to do with them.
“You seem very experienced at this, Cranleigh,” she said, gasping against his mouth.
“Do I?” he said, grinding his hips into hers, pressing her down into the hay, the scent of it rising in the air around them, golden sparkles in the last light of the day.
“Ravaged many women, have you?” she said.
“You’re my first wife,” he said, tracing a finger against her sex. She moaned and bucked against his hand.
“That sounds rather debauched.”
“Perfect then,” he said under his breath, his mouth at her breast, his hands … everywhere.
“Cranleigh,” she gasped, “wait … wait.”
“I’m done with waiting, Amy. You’re mine, and you’ll stay mine.”
It was a remark tinged with dangerous overtones. She nearly trembled with delight. In fact, she did tremble.
Cranleigh shifted his knee between her legs, moving upward, forcing her legs apart. His hands were at her breasts, at her belly, at the folds of her sex, at her lips, at her hips, at her … at her … and at her.
Remarkable bit of work.
She couldn’t think how he did it.
She couldn’t think at all.
“Ravaging,” he whispered, his lips at her breast, his tongue licking a path to whatever destination he chose. “What do you think of it?”
“I think,” she panted, clasping her hands around his shoulders, his muscles bunching beneath her hands, “I think it’s perfectly obvious why it’s such a popular pastime.”
“Thinking of taking it up, are you?” he said, a smile in his voice.
“I may. With you,” she said, reaching down to clasp him on the arse. “Hurry up and ravage me completely, Cranleigh, for then, knowing how, I shall ravage you.”
And with that, he lifted her knees high and wide and plunged into her without another word. Good thing, too, as she had nothing more to say.
Except scream, that is.
THE crowd at the drawing room windows overlooking the Aldreth mews heard a scream, a most feminine scream of a most specific type.
The Duke of Edenham sighed and said, “I didn’t think he had it in him. Twenty pounds, then. Monday next? I’ll send my man around with it.”
Sophia Dalby smiled and said, “I’m to wait more than a week? And then take your money off some grubby messenger? You bring it round yourself, Edenham, and tomorrow, if you please.”
Edenham laughed lightly. “And if I don’t please?”
