Embracing the Knight

by Langston, Jenn

  No more than a few moments passed when Ian arrived at the door. Claire gasped at the sight of him, then dashed across the room filled with concern. An angry looking wound cut a red streak through his brow. His eye appeared swollen and bruised.

  “What happened?” All notion of propriety forgotten, she grabbed his hand and led him to the sofa. Running her fingers lightly over his broken flesh, she inspected his injuries.

  His green eyes smoldered as he scrutinized her ministrations. “I used my face to block someone’s fist.”

  “You fought someone?” Her throat closed at the idea. Then, her gaze dropped to his midsection. Were there other injuries hidden beneath his clothing? “Why?”

  “It was a matter of honor.” He closed his eyes for a second. “Claire, as much as I enjoy your touch, my mother will be along soon.”

  Her face burned as she pulled away from him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Please, don’t be.” He shot her a grin before taking one of her hands and kissing it. “If it were up to me, I’d offer no objections.”

  “Ian!” his mother scolded from the doorway. “I told you to wait for me.”

  “As I said before, you are not putting that on my face.” Ian pointed to the small box she held in her hand.

  Realizing his mother had brought some type of powder to conceal his injury, Claire gasped. That was why the earl had powder on his face. They both sustained wounds from the same confrontation. She narrowed her eyes.

  “You fought Lord Higgins?” She didn’t need him to answer. She knew the truth.

  He ignored her question. “Mother, as Miss Ashford has already seen my face, there is no need for that.”

  With a glare, she crossed her arms. “Very well.” She picked up her needlework and moved to the far end of the room.

  “Now,” Ian offered her an apologetic smile. “My mother tells me you wish to speak to me.”

  “Why did you fight Lord Higgins?” Claire demanded.

  “I told you. It was a matter of honor. Sometimes the man lets his tongue get away from him. I merely assisted in getting it back behind his teeth.”

  “Have you ever stopped to think his words may have affected you in that way because you don’t like him?”

  “If you had heard what he said, you would be praising me right now, not scolding.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “Claire, did you come here to talk about Higgins? If so, then I’ll have to excuse myself. I’ve had my quota of him for this week.”

  “No. That isn’t it.” She cleared her throat. “You made me an offer earlier, and I wanted to know if you are still willing.”

  His eyes widened. A smile began to touch his mouth, but he seemed to fight it back. “As I’ve made several offers to you as of late, I request you be more specific.”

  Embarrassment washed over her like a wave. Dear God, he thought she was accepting his proposal. “About my father,” she corrected. “Are you still willing to pretend to be my betrothed, for him?”

  His smile turned slightly sad. “Of course, Claire. I will do anything for you. All you ever have to do is ask.”

  After Lord Higgins’s refusal, Ian’s words seeped into her, making her want to cry. Why did he have to be so good? She wished she could lean on him. To trust him to take care of her. But, she couldn’t.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed, still too overcome with emotion.

  “Just tell me when and how you’d like me to do it. First, I can talk to Gordon while you explain things to Carolyn.”

  Fear brought her voice back to her in a rush. “Wait a moment. Why would we need to tell everyone? This is just something between the three of us to ease my father’s mind.”

  “What do you think will happen if he mentions it to your siblings? Do you want them telling him you’ve lied?”

  She twisted her gloves in her lap. The simple task was proving to be so much more than she bargained for. Carolyn definitely wouldn’t understand, and Gordon . . . Well, nowadays, it was difficult to predict how he’d react to anything. Something had happened with him, and he had avoided confiding in her in his usual manner.

  “Very well, but only Gordon and Carolyn.”

  “And my mother.”

  “Absolutely not.” Claire snuck a glance at the woman. “She’d never approve. He’d find out the truth from her, regardless.”

  Ian bowed his head in agreement. “Then we simply hope the subject isn’t broached.”

  “She has been so concerned with her chaperone duties they haven’t spoken much.” Claire smiled as an idea hit her. “Your mother’s timing is what we can work with. The day following her visit to my father will be the day we tell him.”

  Ian grinned. “That sounds like a plan. We’ll tell him together.”

  Grinning back, a weight lifted off her shoulders. Once her father’s worries lessened, he would be able to concentrate on healing until he improved enough to attend her wedding. She gulped. The second he got better, she would need to tell him of her falsehood. Knowing the role would end brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

  She sincerely wished she didn’t love Ian. That way she could simply marry him and not care about unrequited affections. She couldn’t forget how little time it took him to seal his lips with Annalise once they had escaped from the forest. Marriage to him would be watching a string of mistresses leaving her husband’s bed. She couldn’t bear it.

  As it stood, she would have to marry another while carrying her burden of love around in secret. For eternity.

  Chapter 11

  As Ian followed Claire to her father’s bedchamber, he could tell how stiff and nervous she was. This wouldn’t do. The baron loved his daughter and would never agree to allow anything that made her uncomfortable. Ian refused to have the man believe Claire was being forced to marry.

  Once outside the door, he went against his mother’s urgings and grabbed Claire’s hand. When she turned to face him, a question in her eyes, he took her mouth with his and pressed her against the wall. Although he felt her surprise, she melted against him.

  Desire took hold of him, as usual, when she was near. His body rejoiced in the contact as blood pounded in his ears. He had to fight with himself from taking it further.

  Ever since the cabin, he’d spent most days in a semi-aroused state which was only compounded by her proximity. He wanted her, badly. But, as always, she remained just outside of his reach.

  When he pulled back, he shuddered to see Claire’s heavy lidded eyes. Unfulfilled passion and need was reflected on her face. Holding himself back from taking her lips again was next to impossible.

  “What was that about?” Passion thickened her voice.

  He swallowed. “I thought you needed something to think about when you profess your undying love for me. If you go in there looking as you did, he’d be calling the funeral furnisher.”

  She laughed and he reveled in the sound. “Don’t worry about me playing my part. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

  “By the time we leave the room, your father will be rejoicing at our happiness. He’ll tell everyone who walks through the door that we were made for one another.”

  “Then, afterwards?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “What will he say then? That we are despicable for lying? Or that you played me false?”

  As he stroked her cheek with one finger, he brushed his lips lightly across hers. “That is something to worry about another day. Right now, it’s just us. Are you ready to act madly in love with me?”

  She rolled her eyes, but he still saw her concern. When she moved past him, he pressed his forehead against the wall for a second to cool his ardor. The baron wouldn’t appreciate it if he saw the proof of Ian’s not so pure thoughts.

  “Papa,” Claire called as she entered the r
oom. “I brought a visitor.”

  Following her inside, Ian was surprised to see how bright and airy the space looked. All this time he’d been envisioning a sickroom similar to the one his father had been in just two years ago. The smell of fresh flowers hit his nostrils. Definitely Claire’s touch. Her thoughtfulness made him love her more.

  “Your visit is treat enough.” The baron’s voice, once strong and sure, was gravelly and hoarse.

  Memories of the healthy man in his younger days brought sadness to Ian’s face. Although the man had a weak disposition and tended to fall ill frequently, he’d never been so sickly.

  “You will enjoy this surprise. I have Lord Knightly with me. He’s come to see you.”

  “Knightly, the younger? Robert’s boy?” A glimmer shown in his eyes.

  “Yes, my lord.” Ian moved closer to the bed, then took a seat beside Claire so the man wouldn’t have to look up at them. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has. Are you still running wild with Gordon? The two of you were trouble.”

  Ian laughed, enjoying the spark of life coming out of the sick man. “We’re not trouble anymore. I’m afraid I’ve been tamed.”

  “Never,” Claire pointed a finger at his face, her eyes narrowed. “Lord Knightly got himself in a fist fight just the other day.”

  The baron’s eyes moved from his daughter to Ian. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I say, my dear lady here, is overly worried about me. A minor disagreement becomes so much more dangerous in the eyes of your beloved.” Turning his gaze to Claire, he allowed his love for her to show through.

  Her face softened and he wished beyond anything that this wasn’t only for show. To have her look at him like that every day would be pure Heaven.

  “Beloved?” Her father’s attention settled upon her.

  The delicate blush tinting her cheeks made Ian’s smile widen.

  “My dear,” Ian said to her. “I apologize for ruining the moment. I know you wanted to tell him.”

  She bit her lip as nerves returned to her eyes. He wished he could ease her, to get back the passionate Claire, but it was too late. This was the moment they were counting on, and unfortunately, she looked as though she wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “Tell me what?” the baron pressed.

  “Papa, you told me you wished for me to bring you my betrothed. So, I brought you Lord Knightly. He has asked me to marry him.”

  Ian repressed the urge to laugh. The little minx had managed to further their story without having to tell a lie. Pride swelled in his chest. His Claire certainly was something special.

  “Is that so, Knightly?”

  “It took quite a bit of convincing on my part, and I had to ask more than once, but here we are.”

  “Without my blessing? You may not claim my daughter without it.”

  “Which is the reason why we’re here. Although Gordon has approved of our union, I personally wanted to ask if you would give me Claire’s hand.”

  “Claire,” her father called, his eyes not leaving Ian’s. “Leave us. The boy clearly doesn’t know the proper way of things.”

  “I . . . um—”

  “Go on, dear,” Ian urged as he stood, encouraging her to do the same. “I’ll come get you when we’re done.”

  She hesitated as she watched him with concerned eyes.

  “First, can I get you anything, Papa? Some water perhaps?”

  “You can go ask Cook to prepare my favorite scones. Then wait for Knightly in the drawing room.”

  “Yes, Papa.” She bowed her head in submission and left the room more slowly than Ian thought necessary.

  “That girl dotes on me too much,” the baron admitted then he let out a liquid cough. “She is very dear to me.”

  “I know. I meant no disrespect by not obtaining your blessing before speaking with her. Please tell me what I need to do to acquire it.”

  The baron shook his head slowly. “You already have my blessing. That was never in question. Since you were children, I watched the way my Claire looked at you. This comes as no surprise to me.”

  “Thank you, my lord. You must know I intend to take very good care of her. In any case, she shall never want for anything.”

  “That eases my burden. Now, the reason why I wanted to talk to you without her listening is not a subject my children will take easily.”

  Ian leaned forward in his chair, afraid he already knew what this would entail. It made him feel sick for the family. “You can trust me.”

  The weak smile he received from the baron held no merriment. “I spoke to the doctor a few days ago, and my time is drawing near.” He coughed again, the force of it racking his whole body. “I really don’t know how much longer I can hold on, but Claire is going to need you more than ever.”

  Sadness poured over Ian and his throat thickened. He had grown up thinking of the baron as an uncle. Losing him wouldn’t be easy for any of them.

  “I’m so sorry, my lord. You can be assured that I will assist the family in any way I can.”

  “If you are willing, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Once you and Claire have wed, can you look after her sister, Carolyn, as well? Gordon will take care of her, but she will need her sister. All I ask is that you make time for the two of them to be together.”

  “You have my word. I will do anything in my power to see that they spend as much time together as they like.”

  The baron let out a deep breath and settled back onto his pillow. “Thank you. I must rest now. Take care of my girls.”

  After Ian let himself out, he leaned against the wall—heartsick. Not only did he feel sorrow for himself, but the very thought of Claire and her sibling’s imminent grief brought renewed stress. The worst part was that he couldn’t tell any of them. Lord Dailey had made that clear.

  Part of him wanted to rush from the house to avoid any confrontations until he had his mind sorted. But, the other part of him wanted to go to Claire and hold her close. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed the sadness and put a smile in place.

  This would not be easy, but Claire was worth enduring this secret anguish.

  Distracted by the incessantly slow tick of the mantle clock, Claire bit her fingernails. Then, glancing at her hands, shame pulled her from completely ruining her neatly trimmed appearance. She shoved her hands beneath her. She’d been sitting in the drawing room, waiting for Ian to return for far too long.

  Jumping to her feet, she began to pace. Never had she imagined her father would want to question Ian alone.

  Sweat beaded on her cool forehead, making her feel faint. Once again taking her seat, she tapped her foot. She was terrified her father had realized her duplicity, and the idea killed her. Why had she agreed to this stupid ruse?

  As she closed her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing. Slowly. In and out. Again. In and out. After the seventh time, she began to calm, however, the second she opened her eyes and saw Ian in the doorway, her nerves returned full force. She lunged toward the doorway.

  “Ian, thank God. What happened? Did he discover the truth?”

  He caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. She melted against him, needing the comfort. Somehow he seemed to lend her his strength. She allowed the contact for a while before pulling back. Right now, she needed him to talk.

  “May I kiss you, Claire?”

  His hands ran down her arms, and he looked so sad she wanted to give in. But, she couldn’t. She had the feeling her father had denied his blessing.

  What if her father now thought she would run off and elope with Ian? She couldn’t allow him to hold on to undue worry. This couldn’t possibly be worse.

  “Since whe
n did you begin asking me for permission to do anything?” She moved away from him and paced the room, her mind moving quickly through the scenarios. “Surely, there is a way we can salvage this. We are—”

  “Claire.” He put his hands on her shoulders and stilled her. “We have his blessing. There is nothing to salvage. In his mind, he’s at peace with your decision. You have made him incredibly happy.”

  Hope swelled in her heart, and she dropped her head back in relief before turning around to face him. “Do you truly believe so?”

  Ian nodded. “I heard the words directly from his lips. Your father loves you a great deal. All he wants is your happiness. Now, you’ve given it to him.”

  As a tear escaped, she closed her eyes to hold onto the vision of her father’s newfound relief. “Thank you, Ian. I can never repay you.”

  His fingers wiped away her tear. “You will never have to. Everything I do for you is freely given. I never want a payment.”

  Peeking, she watched him from under her lashes. “But, you do want a kiss.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “I always want a kiss.”

  Jerking back, she glared at him. Of course. She was dealing with the notorious rake, Ian Michael Caldwell. How could she have forgotten so easily? He would take a kiss from any woman who offered. The images of him kissing a number of those women resurfaced. She was nothing special to him.

  “Then you should probably go find one of your paramours who would be willing to give you one.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I meant from you.”

  “Of course you did.” She crossed her arms and looked down her nose at him. “Thank you again for your help. I will let you know if my father asks for you. However, I doubt it. Your duty is done here.”

  “Claire, I—”

  “Just go, Ian. There is nothing more to say.”