Whirlwind Wedding

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  But it was impossible to properly collect his thoughts with his family present. His normally self-contained mother was all but bouncing in her seat at the opposite end of the table, enthusiastically chatting with Elizabeth.

  Caroline and Robert were engaged in a lively dis-agreement punctuated by lots of eye rolling and when their mother wasn't looking, stuck-out tongues, a favorite childish gesture neither had outgrown. Austin noticed that Miles was the only silent member of the group, no doubt because the man couldn't wedge a word in anywhere.

  The moment the meal ended Austin stood and walked to the foot of the table where Elizabeth sat. "If you'll excuse us, I believe Elizabeth and I shall retire. Enjoy your evening." Holding out his hand he assisted her to her feet, his fingers wrapping around her gloved hand.

  Caroline's eyes widened. "Retire? At this hour?"

  "Yes," Austin said calmly, purposely ignoring the smirks Miles and Robert weren't even attempting to hide.

  "But it's so early! Don't you want-" Caroline's words snapped off and she glared across the table at Robert. "Did you just kick me?"

  "Yes. But only because I can't reach you to stuff my napkin in your mouth." He waggled his fingers at Austin, then winked at Elizabeth. "Good night, Austin. Sweet dreams, Elizabeth."

  Without further ado, Austin led Elizabeth from the dining room and up the stairs. He didn't pause until he'd closed his bedchamber door behind them. Leaning against it, he surveyed his wife's flaming face.

  "Heavens above, I'll never be able to face them again," she said pacing across the rug. "They all think we're doing that?

  An overwhelming desire to do that slammed into him like a fist to his gut. He was restless and edgy and the mere thought of touching her ignited him. Pushing away from the door, he walked toward her. As she paced by him, he reached out, snagged her arm, and pulled her against him. Looking into her startled eyes, he murmured "Well, as long as they all think so, we shouldn't disappoint them."

  "I thought you wanted to leave as soon as they depart for the theater."

  He reached behind her and began unbuttoning her bodice. "I do, but it will take them half an hour to ready themselves. Besides, you need to get into your costume, and as long as you'll be out of this gown, I suggest we make the most of the opportunity." Slipping the last button free, he eased the gown down her arms, then let go. It puddled at her feet.

  "Heavens. No doubt I should develop the vapors at such a scandalous suggestion."

  He trailed his fingertips over her breasts. "Vapors? Shall I ring for the hartshorn?"

  "That won't be necessary. Fortunately I possess a most-"

  "Robust constitution. Yes, that is indeed… for-tunate."

  "Oh, my. Your tone indicates a need for stamina. What did you have in mind? A race?"

  "Well, I do want to leave in half an hour." Her chemise joined her gown at her ankles. The sight of her, naked and impossibly beautiful, a half shy, half devilish smile lighting her face, tightened his throat. Bloody hell, she moved him like no other woman ever had.

  This feeling she inspired in him confused and confounded him. It was more than wanting. It was a need. A soul-wrenching need to touch her, feel her.

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply, endlessly, his muscles straining with the effort of bringing her closer, holding her tighter. Turning them, he backed her against the wall, pinning her in place while his mouth devoured hers and his hands skimmed down her sides.

  She responded to his every touch, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him until he could feel her heart slamming against his own.

  "Austin… please…"

  Her plea snapped something inside him. Please. God yes, please. He was about to burst. He needed her. Now. Now.

  Reaching between them, he all but tore his breeches open, then hauled her upward. "Wrap your legs around me," he ground out in a voice he didn't recognize.

  With wide eyes, she obeyed and he slipped inside her. Her heat engulfed him, squeezing him in a velvety fist. Gripping her hips, he moved within her, his thrusts rough and fast. His brow beaded with sweat and his choppy breathing burned his lungs. With one final thrust, his climax battered him. Burying his head against her shoulder, he clenched his fingers into her hips, and for an endless moment, he pulsed inside her, spilling his seed and part of his soul into her.

  It took a moment for sanity to return. When it did he lifted his head and looked at her. Her eyes were closed her face pale. Guilt hit him like a rock.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He'd just taken his wife against the wall. As if she were some dockside whore. Without a thought to her feelings or pleasure. He'd probably hurt her. He looked down and saw the red marks his fingers had branded on her hips. She must think him a monster.

  As gently as he could he eased himself from her. Her legs unclasped from his waist and slid down. She would have sagged onto the floor if he hadn't grabbed her. Damn it! She couldn't even stand! How badly had he hurt her?

  Holding her with one arm around her waist, he brushed a tangled auburn lock from her forehead. "Elizabeth. God. I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

  Her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. He braced himself for the condemnation he knew he'd see in her eyes, the angry words he deserved.

  Her golden brown eyes focused on his. "I'm utterly marvelous. Who won?"

  "Won?"

  A small smiled played around her lips. "The race. I believe I won, but I'm willing to concede."

  "I… didn't hurt you?"

  "Certainly not. Of course, my knees feel like porridge, but that is an affliction that happens every time you touch me." Concern clouded her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

  Relief hit him so hard his own knees nearly sagged. A lump lodged in his throat and he had to force the word around it. "No."

  He needed to explain, to apologize, but how could he explain what he didn't understand himself? He never lost control like that. He didn't know the words, but he certainly owed it to her to try.

  Before he could speak, however, she brushed her lips over his. "I believe we still have ten minutes left," she whispered against his mouth. "Do you really want to spend them talking?"

  A half laugh, half groan escaped him. He should have known to expect the unexpected from her. Bending, he scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the bed.

  As long as she was willing, there were at least half a dozen things he wanted to do in the next ten minutes.

  And talking was most definitely not one of them.

  Chapter 16

  Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth stood in front of the cheval glass and stared at her reflection. Even her own parents would not recognize her.

  Snug black breeches hugged her legs. Scuffed boots, slightly too large, covered her feet. A billowing white man's shirt and cravat hid her wrapped bosom. With her hair firmly tucked under a sailor's cap pulled low over her eyes, she could easily pass for a tall, slim young man. Once she donned the black coat hanging on the bedpost, no one would ever realize she was a woman, let alone a duchess.

  The bedchamber door opened and Austin walked in. "All right. Everyone has departed for the theater. Are you"-he caught sight of her and his footsteps faltered- "ready?"

  She turned to face him. "Yes. What do you think?"

  His gaze traveled from her head to her toes, then back again. Then he approached her, his expression downright grim.

  Halting directly in front of her, he said between clearly clenched teeth, "You are not leaving the house dressed like that."

  She planted her hands on her hips. "May I ask why not? This is a perfect disguise. No one will guess I'm not a man."

  "The hell they won't. The way those breeches fit you…" He waved his hand around his lips clamped into a flat line. "It's indecent."

  "Indecent! You gave them to me!"

  "I didn't know you'd look like that in them."

  She tapped her booted foot. "Like what?"

  "Like…" Again he waved his h
and about, as if trying to conjure the word he was seeking from thin air. "Like that," he finally said.

  A sigh escaped her. Clearly he was going to allow a misplaced sense of propriety to ruin their plan. Pulling the black coat from the bedpost, she slipped it on and buttoned it.

  "Look," she said turning in a slow circle before him. "I'm covered from chin to knee."

  He continued to glower. After she'd turned before him twice, he all but growled "That coat stays on every minute. On and buttoned. This pub we're going to where Gaspard was seen caters to a very rough crowd. The results could be disastrous should anyone there suspect you're a woman."

  "I understand."

  His gaze riveted on her cap. "How secure is that?"

  "Like it was nailed to my head."

  His expression didn't relax one iota and for a moment she feared he would truly refuse to bring her along. Arranging her features into what she hoped was studied calm, she simply stood and waited.

  He finally spoke. "Let's go."

  She followed him from the room, careful to hide her relief. And apprehension. She certainly didn't want to be left at home.

  For she knew something important would happen tonight.

  A half hour later, when the hired hack drew to a stop in front of a dilapidated building, Elizabeth drew the curtain aside several inches and peered into the darkness. Although she didn't know exactly where they were, the stench of rotting fish indicated their proximity to the riverfront. Her nostrils twitched in protest. "Are you ready, Elizabeth?"

  She jerked her attention away from the window and looked across at Austin. Even in the dim light she could see his frown. Tension was all but emanating from him in dark waves. Hoping to dispel his obvious disquiet, she forced a smile. "Yes, I'm ready."

  He did not return her smile. "Do you understand exactly what I want you to do?"

  "Of course. If I sense anything, I'll inform you immediately."

  Although she would have thought it impossible, his frown grew grimmer. "Thank you, but that is not what I meant."

  A frown pinched her own brow. "I don't understand. I thought you wanted me to tell you if I felt anything."

  "I do. But you must not leave my side."

  "I won't. I-"

  He reached out and grabbed both her hands in his, cutting off her words. His intense stare sent shivers tingling across her skin. "Promise me," he said in an urgent whisper.

  "I promise, but-"

  "No buts. This is an exceedingly dangerous place. I cannot protect you if you wander away from me. Is my meaning clear?"

  "Perfectly. Consider me sewn to your sleeve."

  He blew out a breath. "Damn it, this a not a good idea. A thousand things could go wrong."

  "A thousand things could go right."

  "I'm placing you in danger."

  "I'm in no more danger than you."

  He released her and shoved his hands through his hair. "The more I think on this whole matter, the more I'm convinced this is not a wise idea. I'm instructing the driver to take you home." He made a move to open the door.

  She slapped his wrist. "No."

  He quirked an ebony brow at her.

  "If you make me go home, I'll simply hire another hack and return here."

  His gaze bore into hers like a spear of fire. She'd never seen him this angry and although she knew he wouldn't hurt her, a chill edged down her spine at the banked fury in his eyes.

  "You'll do nothing of the kind" he said very slowly and distinctly.

  "I will if I must." Before he could voice another objection, she cradled his frowning face between her palms. "Do you believe I can help you?"

  He studied her for a long moment and she wondered if he had any idea how the shadows in his eyes hurt her. She sensed he withheld something from her-some dark, terrible secret that ate at his soul, and she suspected he deliberately held back his feelings and thoughts from her so she'd have no chance to "see" them.

  Dear God, his torment was painful to see. If only he would trust her with his secrets… and see how much she wanted, needed, to help him.

  How much she loved him.

  She'd never said the words, not quite ready to voice the depth of her feelings out loud and also not convinced he'd want to hear them, but dear God couldn't he see it in her eyes?

  Finally he said "If I didn't believe William was alive and that you could help me find him, I never would have brought you here."

  "Then let me help you. Please. I don't want you in pain any longer. Let me help you find the answers you seek. I'll stay so close to you, you'll be able to feel my every heartbeat."

  She'd hoped to coax a smile from him, but his gaze remained serious. Reaching up, he slid her palms from his cheeks and intertwined their fingers, holding her hands so tightly her fingertips tingled. She could not clearly read his thoughts, but there was no mistaking his turmoil.

  Just when she felt sure he was going to send her home, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a heated kiss against her fingers.

  "Let's go in," he said.

  The sign hanging outside the pub read the filthy swine.

  The instant Elizabeth entered she decided the establishment was aptly named. The stench of sour liquor and unwashed bodies enveloped her like a noxious cloud. She fought the urge to gag brought on by the smell combined with the pungent smoke hanging heavily in the air.

  Through the dimly lit interior she discerned coarse-looking men sitting at small wooden tables, hunched over grimy glasses. When she and Austin appeared in the doorway, the din of conversation ceased and everyone stared at the newcomers with suspicious, hostile eyes.

  In spite of her earlier bravado, trepidation skittered through her and she inched closer to Austin. This group looked like they wouldn't hesitate to stick a knife in them if given the least provocation, but clearly the downright dangerous look in Austin's eyes kept anyone from approaching them.

  "Keep your eyes downcast and don't speak," Austin said quietly. He led her to a scarred table in the farthest corner. The weight of the patrons' stares bore into her back, but conversation began humming again once they were seated.

  A woman wearing a filthy, grease-splattered gown sidled up to their table. "Wot will you gentlemen be wantin'?"

  Elizabeth peeked up from under the brim of her cap and pity suffused her. The woman was painfully thin and her skin was badly bruised. Daring to peek up farther, she saw that the woman's lips were swollen and a yellowish bruise marred her cheek. She stared at them through the deadest eyes Elizabeth had ever seen.

  "Whiskey," Austin said. "Two."

  The woman straightened and winced pressing a hand to the small of her back. "Two whiskeys it is. If you gents are lookin' fer a bit more than liquor, me name's Molly."

  Elizabeth drew a deep breath. Dear God how awful that anyone would be forced to exist in such wretched surroundings. Her heart pinched in sympathy for Molly, and she wondered if the poor woman had ever known happiness.

  "Are you all right?" Austin whispered.

  "That woman. She's…" She shook her head and bit her lip, unable to describe such despair.

  "A whore." He leaned forward. "Did you sense something from her?"

  Hot tears pushed at the backs of Elizabeth's eyes. Casting surreptitious glances across the room, she saw Molly making her way through the throngs of men. Nearly every man groped her as she passed grabbing her breasts or squeezing her buttocks, but she barely reacted and her eyes remained flat.

  "I felt only despair," Elizabeth whispered. "I've never seen such utter hopelessness."

  "She would no doubt rob you in an instant if she thought she could. In fact, I'd wager that before we leave here she'll attempt to pick your pocket."

  "If I had any coins with me, I'd gladly give them to the poor creature. Dear God Austin, she's been beaten and it looks as if she hasn't eaten a decent meal in weeks."

  Just then Molly appeared and set down two grimy glasses of whiskey. Austin reached into his pocket, wit
hdrew several coins, and laid them on the table. Not a whisper of reaction flickered in Molly's eyes.

  "All right," she said in an emotionless voice. "Which one of yer is first?" Her bruised eyes suddenly narrowed to slits. "Don't be thinkin' I'll take both of yers at once, 'cause I don't do that."

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together, hoping her shock at such a suggestion didn't show. She couldn't begin to know the horrors that faced this poor woman on a daily basis. Pity overwhelmed her and she blinked back the tears that pooled in her eyes.

  "I only want information," Austin said in an undertone. "About a man named Gaspard." He described the Frenchman. "Have you seen him?"

  Molly thought for a moment, then slowly shook her head. "Can't say fer sure. Too many men in and out of this sty every night, and to be truthful, I try me best not to look at their faces. Only thing I know is they all smell bad and they've all got big, mean hands." Her gaze flickered to the coins on the table. "You need anythin' else?"

  "No, Molly. Thank you." Picking up the coins, Austin handed them to her. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew several gold coins that he gave her as well.

  Molly's eyes widened to saucers. She shot a stunned, questioning glance at Austin. "All this?" she asked. "Just fer a bit o' talkin'?"

  Austin nodded once. Tucking the coins into her bodice, Molly moved quickly away, as if fearing he'd ask for them back.

  "How much money did you give her?" Elizabeth asked. "Enough to feed her."

  "For how long?"

  He hesitated for an instant, as if uncomfortable to say, then he shrugged. "For at least six months. Have you felt anything yet?"

  "No. It's often difficult in a crowd. Too many sensations hit me all at once, resulting in a muddle. I need to close my eyes and relax."

  "Very well. You do that and I'll look about to see if I recognize anyone."

  She nodded and closed her eyes. Austin took careful note of every patron, but none looked familiar to him.

  After several moments Elizabeth opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, Austin, but I cannot discern anything that could help us."