by Meara Platt
AT CALEB’S SUGGESTION, they met with the parish minister first and signed the necessary allegations to obtain the license. Lord Boscombe recorded his consent for his niece to marry. Sir Phinneas happened to stop by the parish house and was present as the documents were signed. Caleb didn’t mind having the magistrate as a witness. He could prove quite useful if Hawley had more tricks in mind.
“I’m glad I found you all together,” the man said, shaking his head in dismay. “Lord Hawley is awake and causing trouble at the inn. He’s been ranting about his necklace, the one he gave Faith as a betrothal gift, demanding he and the marquis reclaim it at once.”
Faith removed it from her reticule and handed it to the magistrate. “I brought it along with me intending to do just that as soon as we’d obtained the license. But I’d much rather you return it to him. I hope never to see that odious knave again.”
Sir Phinneas raised the lid to study the gleaming sapphire. “It will be my pleasure. A beautiful piece of jewelry, Faith. Are you certain you don’t want it?” He gave a chortle. “I could impose a fine on him for disturbing the peace and claim this necklace as his forfeit.”
He’d just tucked it in his pocket when Hawley and the marquis burst into the parish house. “I want my pendant back! I’ll have you all arrested if it isn’t returned to me within the hour.”
“All of us? Arrested? I hardly think that’s possible since I’m the authority in Scarborough,” Sir Phinneas said with a harrumph. “Will you have me arrest the minister as well as myself?”
“I want the Boscombes and General Brayden charged with theft.” He took a step toward Faith, his face red with anger, and his nose and jaw a purplish bruise where Caleb had struck him.
Caleb stepped between them. “Don’t go near her.”
Hawley, obviously unwilling to receive another fist to the face, took a step back. “Where’s the necklace, Faith? Produce it for me. Can you? Or has your lover already stolen it? Shall we search his possessions?”
The marquis frowned at him. “What are you going on about? Why wouldn’t Lady Faith have it? I have no doubt she’ll return it to you in due course.”
Faith came to stand beside Caleb and the marquis. “Lord Crichton, I no longer have it. You see, I–”
“Brayden stole it. I knew it!” Hawley had his hackles raised once more. “I demand that he be searched. Look through his saddle pouch. Leave nothing unturned.”
Faith cleared her throat. “You see, Lord Crichton. I’ve just turned it over to our magistrate, Sir Phinneas Holbourne, and asked him to return it to Lord Hawley.”
The magistrate handed Lord Crichton the box.
He quickly opened it and shook his head, sighing.
“Lord Crichton, I have no quarrel with you,” Faith said, “but I demand that your nephew leave now and never show his face in Scarborough again.”
“It’s a trick! It’s–”
“Be quiet, Richard!” The marquis looked enraged. “Search his saddle bags? Why would you suggest such a thing or even believe this pendant had been taken from Lady Faith in the first place? What mischief is this? Get back to the inn and give me no further reason to disinherit you. I’m one stroke of the pen away from doing so. You’ll get my title, for that is the law. But I vow you’ll not get a shilling or a single unentailed estate from me to support it unless you start behaving yourself.”
He allowed the magistrate to haul his nephew out, then turned to Caleb and Faith. “The pendant is mine. I gave it to my dear wife for our betrothal. She passed away several years ago. I had always meant to give it to my nephew when he took a wife, but since I had yet to meet you and give my approval, he did not have my permission to gift it to you. Had I realized this was his bride token to you, I would have followed General Brayden’s example and darkened that bruise to his jaw.”
Faith looked quite pained. “I’m so sorry, Lord Crichton. Please know I would have made certain to return it to you last night had I been aware. I understand very well about sentiment and treasured tokens. I would never have deprived you of it.”
“And this is why I would have approved of your marriage to my nephew.” He nodded. “I’m sorry it is not to be, but I wish you and General Brayden every happiness.”
Caleb put his arm around her shoulders as the marquis left them to follow after the magistrate and Hawley.
No one said anything for a long moment, until the minister broke the silence. “Lady Faith, any other suitors we ought to be aware of?”
She groaned. “Good heavens, no.”
But the parish doors suddenly burst open again and two large figures darkened the threshold. “Lord, what now?” Caleb muttered, knowing these men were not his captains. But they hadn’t taken more than a step toward him before he let out a joyful whoop and ran toward them.
“Squid, what’s this I hear about a wedding?” his brother Marcus said, grabbing him in a brotherly headlock.
Caleb could have wrestled out of his brother’s grasp quite easily, but Marcus had been wounded in battle last year and had not yet fully recovered. Since he still wore his arm in a sling, Caleb endured his irritating greeting and did not retaliate as any younger brother usually would have done.
His cousin Tynan punched him lightly on the shoulder as soon as Marcus released him. “We had business in York and heard from General Larkin that you were here. It’s like old times, isn’t it? The fair is back in Scarborough. Have you seen the little girl with the dragon amulet?”
Caleb nodded. “Seen her. About to marry her.”
“You’re the one who’s getting married?” Marcus stared at him, obviously stunned.
They gaped at Faith, who had stepped forward to stand beside him.
“She’s far too pretty for you, squid,” Tynan teased. “How did you ever convince this angel to marry you?”
“We aren’t married yet,” she said, tipping her gaze upward to look at the two giants. “But I can think of nothing lovelier than to have Caleb’s family beside him as we exchange vows. We’re having a party this evening at my uncle’s home, Boscombe Manor. Please join us.”
Caleb introduced them to Lord Boscombe.
Within the hour, Caleb stood at the altar beside Faith, eager to pledge his heart and body to her.
His brother and cousin stood beside him, grinning like a pair of jackals.
Faith’s uncle and Sir Phinneas, who had hurried back after seeing Hawley and the marquis off, stood beside her with tears brimming in their eyes. “I made certain that knave checked out of the inn and left town in the custody of the marquis,” Sir Phinneas whispered to Caleb as the ceremony was about to get underway.
Captain Stark and Caleb’s other two captains were also present. Stark, the hard-bitten soldier who could fell a man without flinching, was wiping his eyes and sniffling. Good lord! Did love reduce all men to this?
To Caleb’s surprise, the church began to fill with women.
“They’re here because of Marcus and Tynan,” Faith whispered in his ear, “but the two of them seem used to the attention. They’d better be careful or they’ll find themselves in front of the minister before the week is out.”
Caleb chuckled. “They won’t be here long enough to get themselves into trouble. They plan to ride back to London tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Caleb. I know how much you love them. Can you convince them to stay a little while longer?”
He turned serious. “No. Our cousin James isn’t doing well and they don’t wish to be away from him too long. The tadpoles are looking after James for the moment.”
“The tadpoles?”
“My younger cousins. Romulus, who is James’ brother, and Tynan’s brothers Ronan, Finn, and Joshua.”
“Why are they called that? Because they’re shorter than you?”
He chuckled. “No, they’re as big as we are.”
“The size of gladiators?”
He nodded. “But they’re the younger cousins, only a few years behind me. So I
’m the squid and they’re the tadpoles.”
After the ceremony, they all walked out into the sunshine and were soon surrounded by the light breeze off the sea and the familiar scent of salty air. While Faith’s uncle took his carriage back home, Caleb lifted Faith onto Pharaoh. She looked like an enchanted faerie queen in a gown of shimmering ivory silk and a circlet of flowers atop her loose, flowing hair.
He climbed up behind her, wrapping her in his arms. “I love you, Mrs. Brayden,” he whispered, kissing her softly on the neck.
His brother and Tynan rode beside him, still grinning like jackals.
They spurred their mounts to a canter from the church toward Boscombe Manor, having to pass by the large meadow and the fair that was on its last day. Caleb noticed Faith craning her neck, no doubt searching for the fortune teller’s tent. To his surprise, it was gone. So was the decorated wagon that had been situated beside it.
“Where is she, Caleb?”
“I don’t know, my love. Perhaps she felt her business here was done.”
“Oh, what a shame. I wanted to invite her to our party. After all, she’s the one who brought us together.”
They returned to the manor.
Faith, still disappointed over Madame Zeta’s departure, left him with his family while she prepared for this evening’s festivities. He offered to help, but she shooed him away. “I have all the assistance I need from our capable staff.”
Caleb decided to take Marcus and Tynan on a tour of his encampment. When they arrived at the beach, he strode to his tent to review the documents delivered in the daily mail pouch from York while his brother and cousin completed their tour under Captain Stark’s guidance. He opened the letter from Lord Castlereagh last, sensing what its contents contained and wishing he could rip up the missive and toss the pieces into the North Sea.
Of course, he couldn’t. “Damn.”
“Something wrong, squid?” Marcus asked, catching him quickly rolling up the parchment and shoving it back into the pouch.
“No. Let’s take a walk through the fair.”
“Good idea,” Tynan said. “I’m eager to see the tents and stalls.”
Their stroll brought back memories for all of them, for little had changed. The tents were an eye-catching array of bright colors, of blues and greens, reds and golds, some striped and some in solid colors. The hawkers and tradesmen sold the same wares they’d sold at the last Scarborough fair they’d attended ten years ago.
Marcus suggested they stop by the ale tent.
Once served their pints of ale, Marcus and Tynan raised their mugs in toast to him and Faith.
Then Marcus asked him the question Caleb had been dreading ever since meeting Faith a few days ago. “What are you going to do, squid? You’re too good a general to remain unnoticed for long. And unlike me, you’re healthy. Castlereagh surely needs you. It’s only a matter of time before he ships you off to the next trouble spot. Let’s hope you have a few months before he gets around to assigning you new duties.”
Caleb drained his pint of ale.
Marcus stared at him and swore softly. “That’s what you received by messenger not an hour ago. Why didn’t you tell me? Where is Castlereagh sending you?”
“He didn’t say. I’m to report to him in London as soon as General Larkin recovers. Now Larkin will take my regiment and his up to Newcastle.” He ran a hand through his hair in dismay. “You can’t breathe a word of this to Faith. I’ll tell her tomorrow morning. But I sure as hell am not going to ruin tonight’s wedding party.”
Or his wedding night.
It mattered little that he’d taken Faith’s innocence last night. He’d done the deed outdoors, in haste amid the shadows. Still, their coupling had been spectacular. Tonight there would be no sneaking around or shame if caught.
Not that either of them had felt any shame in affirming their love. But it would feel good to share a bed as husband and wife, to hold Faith in his arms into the dawn hours and watch the play of morning light across her beautiful face.
Indeed, he could think of nothing better than to wake to her warm body curled against him and see the smile in her loving eyes.
Tynan slammed his mug against the sturdy wood table. “I’m Viscount Grayfell and am about to assume the title of Earl of Westcliff. James is Earl of Exmoor. What good are all these fancy titles if they don’t serve any useful purpose? I’ll see what I can do for you. I know James will do the same.”
Caleb shook his head and emitted a mirthless laugh. “Thank you, Ty. Your titles are quite impressive, but I don’t think Castlereagh gives a damn about them.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“FAITH? WHAT ARE you doing out here alone?”
Faith smiled at Caleb as he strode toward her well after their party had started and the reveling was underway. He reminded her of a magnificent warrior striding under the moon’s silver glow. “I needed a moment in the garden to watch the moon rise over the treetops. It’s so big and bright this evening, an enormous silvery-white ball. Has anyone missed me?”
“Everyone, especially me,” he teased. “It’s our wedding celebration and you’ve done a splendid job.”
“Ah, it meets with the general’s approval?”
“Yes, all the guests seem to be having a good time.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close so that her back rested against his solid chest. “It’s a night of revels worthy of a faerie queen.”
They were standing beside the sundial in the center of a circle of roses whose petals had now closed for the evening. But their delicate lemon scent clung to the moist air. The lively strains of a country reel drifted across the flower beds and carried into the park beyond, as did the thump, thump of booted feet hitting the wood floor in time to the music, and the merry shouts and laughter of the dancers. This was a rustic party, no elegant dancing slippers or stately waltzes here.
“Are you having second thoughts, Caleb?” She felt his body stiffen as she asked the question.
“Hell, no. Why would you think that?”
“You’ve hardly smiled all evening, and when you do it looks forced. Marcus and Tynan keep shooting you worried glances.” She gave a ragged sigh. “And I see pain in your eyes whenever you look at me.”
He turned her to face him and cupped her face in his hands. “Faith,” he said in a groaning whisper, “I love you. Always. Forever. Until…” He lifted her up against him and kissed her with a devouring hunger that curled her toes and turned her insides to molten liquid.
He kissed her again and again, the press of his lips possessive and at the same time desperate. Yes, that’s what she felt in his kisses. Desperation. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
“Don’t ask me, my love. Not now. I don’t want to ruin this evening for you.”
She was still clinging to him, molded to his body so that she was almost etched into him, just as he was already etched in her heart. “Now I’m truly worried. Caleb, I’ll burst into tears fretting unless you tell me what this is about.”
He sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “I received orders to return to London. I’ll have to leave as soon as General Larkin arrives in Scarborough to take command of both regiments. Those are the new orders. He’s to take them up to Newcastle, not me. I might have to leave as soon as tomorrow.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. “London? That isn’t so bad. You’ll still be in England and I’ll–”
“I’ll only be there long enough to receive my next orders. That I’ve been summoned back without my regiment can only mean I’ll be given a new command, hopefully somewhere on the Continent. France, if I’m lucky. Then I won’t be so far away. As Napoleon’s armies are dismantled, I can send for you to join me. It’s still too dangerous for you now. Europe remains in chaos. Hell, who knows if that’s where I’m to be sent? Who knows if the order isn’t changed tomorrow and we’ve worried for nothing?”
She hugged him fiercely. “Caleb, I’d hoped for more than a day with you.�
��
“I know, love.”
“May I go with you, at least to London? Or follow soon after? Uncle Winslow and I will gladly make the journey. We can meet the rest of your family, especially the tadpoles I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“I can’t give you answers yet. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. This is our wedding night. I want to think of nothing but making love to you and seeing starlight in your eyes as I dazzle you with my prowess.”
She laughed gently, but she was in quiet despair and unwilling to waste a single moment of their time together. “Take me to bed now,” she whispered as he held her close. “No one will miss us.”
He arched an eyebrow in amusement as he lifted her into his arms. “You are the bride. Everyone will miss you. But let’s leave no doubt in their minds about the purpose for your absence. Then they’ll know not to disturb us.”
Faith’s cheeks turned to flame as Caleb strode into the ballroom as soon as the dance had ended, making a grand show of carrying her in his arms and doing little to hide his intention. Their guests cheered. Men passed bawdy comments and the women muttered “lucky girl” and “enjoy the handsome brute” for which she needed no encouragement.
He carried her upstairs to her bedchamber which they now shared and kicked the door gently shut. “Caleb, I–”
He gave her no time to speak before his mouth covered hers and he stripped the gown off her with surprising skill for a man as eager as he appeared to be. Her own hands were shaking as she struggled to undo the buttons of his uniform. “I’ll do it, Faith.” His voice was a husky growl that sent shivers of delight up and down her body.
Then they were both naked and falling into bed, clutching and clinging with a ravenous hunger, desperate to touch and kiss and know every curve and arch of the other’s body. She was wanton. Insatiable. Her body was a volcanic pool of water, thick and fiery and steamy from the moment he’d settled his body over hers. She marveled at how easily the weight of him atop her, the light crush of his chest across her breasts, and the hot silk of his lips upon her skin turned her into a mindless creature of passion.
