Desperate Bride

by A. S. Fenichel

  “I am afraid, but your character is not in question, Tom.” Against his chest, her voice vibrated into his soul.

  He ran his hand along her back. “You cannot question your own?”

  Pulling away, she turned to the window. “Can I not? I faced the ultimate test of our society and failed.”

  “Is that what you think?” He was at a loss for what to say to such utter bunk.

  “My father needed me to save him and I ran as far and as fast as I could. Now they will endure the scandal I created. Is that not failure?”

  He sat in the lone chair. “Here I thought you were afraid I was going to ravage you.”

  She spied over her shoulder. “Yes, there is that too.”

  She was magnificent and he couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I shall tell you what I think and you may listen or not. Your father put you in an untenable position. He created a debt too high to pay and was willing to sell you to clear what he owed. If you had married Hartly, not only would you be miserable, but your father was likely to continue his gross spending until another debt hovered over his head. What do you suppose he would sell then? I can only imagine. He is your father and I shall offer him my respect after we are married, but it is a mystery to me how you and your brother turned out with such fine characters with parents who are repulsive. Forgive me, but I wonder where on earth you came from.”

  She sighed. “I have often wondered the same thing. Mother is—difficult, and Father is a nightmare, but Markus is all that is good in the world.”

  “You are as well, Dory.”

  She blushed and the sight tightened his groin to the point of discomfort. He adjusted his seat. “As to your other worry, I will not touch you unless you permit it, my dear. I realize I am the means of escape for you, but to me, you are quite precious. I would never harm you in any way.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” Thomas said.

  The footmen carried in Dory’s trunk and Emily deposited a small harp next to the luggage. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  “No, Emily. Thank you. You may go eat then get some rest. It will be another long day tomorrow.”

  She looked at Dorothea, who nodded, and she left the room.

  The harp was a third the size of a standard one. He touched the arch of the wood. “A lap harp?”

  “I hope you do not mind my bringing it. It is my habit to play before bed and I do not know if I can sleep without it.” She bit her lip again.

  Warmth spread through him with a longing to hear her play each night. If this was the only benefit of their marriage, he would be lucky, wholly unsatisfied, but lucky none the less. “I do not mind. I look forward to hearing you play. Perhaps you might teach me at some point.”

  “You wish to learn to play the harp?” She pulled off her cape.

  Strumming the strings produced a lilting chord. “I think I would.”

  “I have never heard of a man playing the harp.”

  “Nor I, but I see no reason why I could not learn to be adequate at the task.”

  The first smile since he’d told her they were going to Kerburghe lit her face. “You know, I have never heard you play, Tom. Markus says you are quite good.”

  “Markus is far too kind.”

  She cocked her head. “I would like to hear you.”

  It would be an embarrassment to play in front of such an accomplished musician. “Then you shall hear it at the first opportunity.”

  Dory crossed and lifted the harp. She strummed out several melodious chords and looked him in the eye. “Will you always agree to everything I ask?”

  He stepped behind her and placed his hands over hers as they strummed. Between her heady scent, the music, and the way her bottom fitted against his thighs, he floated in a kind of euphoric state. “If I can, I always will.”

  She plucked out a sad melody and leaned deeper into his embrace. “Why are you so good to me? I have ruined your life, Tom.”

  Kissing the shell of her ear, he whispered, “I am quite taken with you, Dorothea Flammel. I have been for some time. A fact I am sure you knew before you made your decision to enlist my assistance.”

  The notes fell from her fingertips like tears on a pillow. Soft and encompassing. “If you knew I was manipulating you, why did you change your mind and run away with me?”

  “That is just it. I could not resist even though I was aware of your game.”

  Her long deep sigh pulled her even deeper against him, but then, she stepped away and put the harp down. “We should go to dinner before it gets too late.”

  As if a piece of him had been severed, he missed the feel of her in his arms. The person he wanted most was steps away, but he would wait for her to want him as well and pray that time would come before he died of longing. The table held a washbowl and pitcher. He poured some water in the bowl, took off his jacket and cravat, and tugged his blouse over his head.

  The bed creaked.

  She sat watching from the edge of the bed. Her eyes wide, she gnawed on that poor lip again.

  Longing to kiss that lip, Thomas washed his face. The cool water helped to douse the flame growing every time his gaze fell on her.

  She touched his back.

  He stilled, not realizing she had left the bed and crossed the room.

  She traced a path from his shoulder blade to almost the center of his back. “You were hurt?”

  “It is an old scar. When I served the crown, a French spy got the better of me.”

  Flattening her palm on his back, she skimmed to another war wound near the top of his breeches. “And this?”

  “An arrow.” He picked up the towel and dried his face and neck. “You know, when you touch me, Dory, I long to touch you.”

  She snatched her hand back. “I apologize. My curiosity got the better of my good sense.”

  Turning, he took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “I hope this will not be the last time.”

  Stained bright red, her creamy cheeks were delightful.

  It took all his strength to pull his clothes back on. “I will let you get cleaned up. Come down to the common room when you are ready.”

  The common room was still bustling with wedding celebration. Mr. Fine met him at the bottom of the stairs and escorted him to a corner table. It was out of the commotion, but no place was quiet with the wedding revelry. “I apologize, but this is the best I can do.”

  “This will be very good, sir. My wife and I are hungry and a good wedding is always enjoyable.”

  The food arrived just as Dorothea stepped into view. She’d changed into a dark green gown that made her look like the queen of the woodlands, regal and worthy of respect.

  Mr. Fine was at her service as well and led her to the table. She thanked him.

  Thomas stood and held her chair for her. “How is it you manage to still look grand even after all this travel and little rest?”

  “You are being too kind.” She sat.

  He offered her some crusty bread and honey, which she accepted.

  The mutton was overcooked, but the gravy exquisite. They ate and watched the party fun. It gave them an excuse to say little.

  Dory grinned as the crowd walked the bride and groom to the door of the inn. The partygoers followed into the yard. The door closed, and the room fell silent.

  “That was quite a party.” Thomas’s attempt at light conversation.

  “I love country weddings. I tried to get Mother to allow me to marry in the country, but she insisted on St. Georges, of course.” Realizing her mistake, she clamped her hand over her mouth. “I am sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize about. You and I both had lives before last night. We have been friends but not confidants throughout our lives, Dory. It will take time, but I want to know all there is about you.” Th
e truth of that gnawed at his gut.

  She shrugged. “There is little to know. I love music and didn’t want to marry an old codger.”

  “I am certain there is much more than that.”

  “My mother has been nagging me to marry for three years. I am notorious for chasing off perfectly acceptable offers from men of high standing and thus found myself at your doorstep begging you to marry me. What more is there to say?”

  Perhaps it was too soon to get her to open up to him with more than this attempt at levity. “How did you and Sophia meet?”

  At the mention of their common friend, Dory gave him a smile that lit her eyes and warmed his heart. “She rushed to Elinor’s rescue during that silly scandal with Michael. Sophia did not even know Elinor yet she rushed to her aid after reading the account of a kiss with Sir Michael in the paper. At first I was mistrustful, as I usually am, but then Sophia spouted a breathless argument about whether I was always mean and sarcastic or if I was protecting Elinor. After that, I could not resist her with all her American charm and missteps. She’s wonderful.”

  Sophia had once told him the story, but it was interesting to hear it from Dory’s point of view. Sophia had made Dory out to be the protector, and now he saw their friendship was equal in many ways. “I agree.”

  She popped a piece of bread in her mouth. “How did you meet her?”

  “At a picnic. She performed her mimicry and entertained the entire group.”

  Dory laughed. “You liked her because she can imitate people?”

  “No, it was not that. It was that the moment we were introduced, I could read on her horrified face she could not remember my name. She was so open and untainted by London and the ton.”

  Dory sighed. “Yes. Amazingly, she’s still like that.”

  Incredible, Dory had no idea how magnificent she was, or maybe she did and didn’t care. Whatever the case, it intrigued him beyond any other woman. “Why did you turn down all those other men who offered for you? I know quite a few of those hearts you broke. Some very eligible lords have fallen in love with you.”

  Putting down the bread she’d just torn off, she sighed. “I wanted to play.”

  “And you think marrying means you must stop?”

  “Mother has made it quite clear that once I am married my attention must refocus on my husband and not composing music.” Her voice took on that grating sound of a mother scolding her child.

  “Is that what she does?”

  The bridge of her nose scrunched up. “Who, my mother? What do you mean?”

  “Does your mother dote on your father? Is she very attentive? Does she run to do his bidding at every moment of every day?”

  “As you can imagine, my parents’ relationship is less than ideal. Father has his life and wants little to do with ours.”

  Thomas pushed his plate back. “Your father is a notorious philanderer. Please do not mistake anything I say for approval of abhorrent behavior. I cannot help but wonder what part your mother played in his behavior.”

  “You think his affairs are my mother’s fault?” Her cheeks turned bright red.

  “No. I think he would have taken lovers no matter the state of his marriage. I wonder about the way he goes about it. He intentionally flaunts his behavior and waves it in your mother’s face. It occurs to me there is a reason for it, which we are not aware of.”

  Her anger quelled, she cocked her head, popped another morsel of bread in her mouth and swallowed. “I see your point. I had not thought of that before.”

  “There are many mysteries to what happens in another person’s marriage. Perhaps it is as it should be.”

  She stared down at her half-eaten plate of food. “Indeed.”

  The wedding party sounds drifted away. Mr. and Mrs. Fine returned and cleaned tables with the help of two women and a young man.

  Thomas had so many questions he longed to ask her about her life and what she wanted out of it. Bombarding her with inquiries would only put her further on edge.

  Mrs. Fine arrived at their table. “Are you finished with your dinner, Madam?”

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Fine. Everything was delicious.” Dory beamed at her.

  “I am glad you liked it.” She picked up the plates and bowls from the table and carried them into the kitchen.

  “Shall we go up?” Thomas asked.

  She bit her lip, but nodded.

  Chapter 6

  Dory took his arm and walked up the steps to their room. She had made a complete mess of her life. No, her parents had a hand in it as well. Trying to lighten her spirits, she focused on Thomas’s profile. His lips turned up in a satisfied expression. Her gaze had the opposite effect. She shuddered at the thought of giving herself to him or anyone. Not that she didn’t like Tom, she did.

  He unlocked the door to their room and gestured for her to precede him inside. Once in, he locked the bolt.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She rushed to the opposite side of the room and sat on the chair.

  He cocked his head and tugged off his jacket. Placing his fingers between his cravat and throat, he pulled the cloth loose until it hung around his exposed neck. “Dory?”

  She met his gaze. “Yes?”

  “You know I will not touch you unless you want me to?”

  “Yes.” She did know. He was a gentleman and nothing like her father or Hartly. It was the reason she’d chosen him.

  “Then why do you look as if I am about to devour you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He crossed the room and crouched in front of her with his hands on her knees. “Perhaps it is your own desires and wishes you fear and not mine.”

  Once he backed away and sat on the bed she breathed again. “I wonder if you might give me a few moments to change?”

  He nodded. “I will send Emily to you.”

  “No need. I can manage this dress myself if you will release the hook at the top.” Standing, she pointed to the hook at the back of her gown.

  He closed the distance until the heat of him permeated her clothes and warmed her back, buttocks, and legs. She pointed again over her shoulder. “It’s just there.”

  “I see.” Light calluses brushed against her shoulder at the edge of the fabric and traced a path across her back. He rubbed her spine with his thumb before pushing her hair aside. His lips touched her neck where it met her shoulders.

  “Tom?”

  “Is that ‘Tom, stop’ or ‘Tom, that is quite nice’?”

  She had to swallow to clear the tightness in her throat. “I hardly know.”

  With a low chuckle, he unhooked her gown and stepped back. “Honesty is always best and I thank you for it. I will wait in the hallway until you have changed.”

  The moment he shut the door she was at once sorry for his loss and grateful to relax. It seemed like a lifetime since she had a proper bath. She stripped off the gown and washed at the basin. Perhaps she could have a real bath at Kerburghe. That would be wonderful. In the meantime, the soap and water would be a treat after a full day on the road. Once dry, she pulled her nightgown over her head and went to the door.

  Her heart pounded. No man had ever seen her in her nightgown. Even her father had not seen her in such a state of undress in ten years. Cracking the door open, she peeked out.

  Thomas leaned against the wall, one knee bent with the bottom of his booted foot on the wall. A bit of dark red hair shone through the open tie on his blouse. The cuffs were rolled up, exposing muscular forearms and tanned skin. It was no wonder the mothers of the ton made a fuss over him and were desperate to attach him to their daughters. He looked at his watch and then put it back in his pocket before seeing her at the door.

  “You may come back in now.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. He pushed off the wall and crossed the hall.

 
Dory backed away from the door, crossing her arms over her chest. Rather than gawk at him while he undressed, she went to her trunk and retrieved her hairbrush. Once seated at the table, she pulled pins from her hair until it fell in tangles down her back. Sleeping in the carriage had made a mess of it. There was no help for it, so she pulled the brush through, bearing the pain of pulling through knots.

  His hand covered hers and removed the brush before clasping her hand.

  Looking into his deep blue eyes, she lost her breath. “Is something wrong?”

  He’d tugged his blouse from his breeches and removed his boots. Shaking his head, he led her to the bed.

  Her heart was about to pound out of her chest. Should she scold him and pull away?

  He sat and she did too, facing him. He ran his finger along her jaw. Then he held her shoulders and turned her so that her back was to him. With utmost care, he pulled the brush through her hair from root to tip. When he encountered a snag, he eased the brush better than any lady’s maid.

  Heart steady and breathing back to normal, she relaxed and enjoyed the process of his pampering. “However did you learn to do this?”

  The brush stilled. His breath was warm on her ear. “This is the first time I have ever done such a thing. Am I adequate to the task?”

  Warmth infused her cheeks. “It’s lovely, Tom.”

  He resumed brushing in long, smooth strokes. “I love to hear my name on your lips. I hope you do not mind my saying so.”

  Goosebumps prickled her skin. “I think if we are to be married you must say what you think and not worry as much about my sensibilities being offended.”

  The brushing stopped, his arm wrapped around her waist, and he hauled her back against him. “I think that is where you are wrong, Dory. Your sensibilities, feelings, wants, and needs should be at the forefront of my worries. You have made this arrangement to escape a perilous marriage, but you will be my wife and I want you to be happy.”

  Everywhere his body touched hers sparked with fire. She wanted more of him, more of this. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she breathed him in. “I would like to make you happy as well if that is possible.”