Dear God, what had happened to Valerian?
Chapter Twenty-Two
There was no way for her to know how much time passed while she waited, frozen with indecision. Minutes seemed like separate eternities, one following the next. If she tried to climb free, would she send the carriage further down the embankment? She couldn’t see the extent of her precarious situation in the murky darkness. Perhaps she had reached the bottom of the ditch now situated safely against the tree line or worse the slightest movement would leave her broken in the same manner as Livie. The frightening prospect kept her bolted to the corner.
And still Valerian hadn’t reached her, hadn’t spoken. The rain had ceased, the storm abated, followed all too swiftly by the annoying chirp of outspoken crickets in the chilling damp. The oppressive silence arrowed a message of dread straight through her heart. She needed to find him. What had happened when the carriage shifted? Was he injured? Unconscious? Had she caused harm to another person held dear in her heart? Or was the answer simpler, that he remained too far or too hindered by the darkness while he worked carefully to engineer a path to reach her?
She fought against a powerful surge of hysteria. Had her stomach not been empty, she might have wretched, her nerves too vigorous to allow peace. Still, indecision paralyzed action.
A hard knock to the top of the carriage, followed by a cascade of pebbles and debris snapped her attention upward where the left side of the coach had become the ceiling. And then the door opened.
“Let’s try this one more time.”
Valerian’s dark profile was barely visible, yet his voice brought with it such elation, surely her hands would cease trembling at last.
“Yes.” Her whisper rasped a response. “I was scared.”
“You are indeed all right, then.”
“I was worried about you, Valerian. Not myself.”
His rich laughter chased her stalwart pronouncement. “Then let’s get you out of there once and for all. At last we have a bit of luck. Step onto the banquette and raise your arms, Wilhelmina. I will help you climb through the door.”
She obeyed, not willing to hear his answer were she to ask what would happen were they to slip further, but her worry proved for naught. Even in the sketchy cloud cover, she could see the coach was on even ground once she poked her head through the doorway.
His hands spanned her waist and with quick agility and impressive strength, Valerian lifted her upward where she shimmied through the door and tumbled gracelessly from the coach and into his arms.
She hardly caught her breath before he kissed her, pulling her forward in a fierce embrace that spoke far more than their feeble conversation. She could feel his heart beating hard through their wet clothing.
“Good lord, I feared I’d never do that again.” He withdrew the slightest before pressing his lips to her temple, a second kiss placed on the dried cut at her brow.
She snuggled closer, looping her arms around his neck and fanning her fingers into his hair. She stalled as soon as she felt the knot at the back of his skull, wet with what she prayed was not blood.
“You’ve been hurt.” Her voice was more dismay than admonishment.
“Nothing but a little knock on the head. Why do you think it took me so long to help you?”
When she opened her mouth to pepper him with concerned questions, he anticipated her objection and, taking her hand firmly, ushered her away from the coach.
“I’ve created a narrow path free of debris. Despite the darkness, if you follow me closely you’ll be safe. It’s not nearly as far a climb as it felt watching the coach fall.”
She willingly obeyed and together they returned to the roadway.
Valerian wouldn’t dare confess the jolt that sent him backward rendered him unconscious. He suspected he’d awoken not much later, although obliterated in darkness there was no way to be sure. He’d lain there reclaiming his wits and reassembling the series of events before he’d attempted to stand. That poor decision had brought about a wave of dizziness causing the sensation it was he turning head over heels down the embankment instead of standing and holding firmly to the trunk of a nearby pine.
Eventually the world stopped spinning and he collected his bearings. Steady steps returned. He would not fall in love with Wilhelmina only to lose her a few hours later.
A snort in the darkness announced Arcadia’s return and, ignoring Wilhelmina’s outright objection, Val hauled her atop the horse after he’d mounted. They were wet and tired and it was the middle of the night. Without the carriage, they could make good time as they returned to Kirby Park. What he wouldn’t give for Macintosh’s greatcoat or the matchsticks Jasper believed were the future of science. Mayhap Valerian needed to adjust his thinking when it came to his brother’s new-fangled investments.
At last the heavens showed them kindness and the cloud cover parted, offering moonlight to guide them to Kirby Park. Yet it wasn’t the throb to the knock of his head that hindered their progress, reverberating as Arcadia’s hooves beat a steady rhythm, but the distracting rub of Wilhelmina’s backside against his groin. It was little wonder coupled with the darkness Valerian didn’t lead them straight down another ditch. He released a long-suffering breath and allowed Arcadia to take them home.
They entered to find Turner asleep in a foyer chair, the good-hearted butler concerned for their safety. Few words were exchanged before Valerian escorted Wilhelmina abovestairs. Knowing his bedroom was the warmest and only furnished option, there was no way in hell he would allow Wilhelmina to sleep in Jasper’s bed, he hustled her closer to the hearth and insisted she drink the warm broth Turner had delivered with a generous supply of towels.
The events of the evening, confessions of the heart and now, proximity of his bedchamber, produced an unspoken agreement. Trust and desire coalesced with the security of knowing one was safe and soon to be comforted. Every glance suggested they wished for the same thing and when Wilhelmina’s gaze trailed to his four-poster bed, Valerian went completely hard.
“Take off those wet things and we’ll have you warm in no time.” He struggled to keep his tone light, as if they conversed about the most inconsequential matters, but in truth he worried she might catch a chill. At the same time, his traitorous body that should be fatigued and overwrought alerted to the suggestion of Wilhelmina undressing before his bedroom fireplace. A thrumming eager heat lit in the pit of his stomach and spread to his groin with insistence he pay fastidious attention.
She viewed him with a shy glance over her shoulder as the first few garments hit the floor. The firelight silhouetted her profile and with her hair tumbling down and her lids lowered, his breath caught in his chest.
Good lord, she was beautiful.
His headache dissipated to be replaced with the solid thud of his heart while a carnal hunger took control of his appetite. He wanted nothing but to play big bad wolf and devour Wilhelmina straight from the woods, yet with a struggle he yielded to his civilized inclinations.
“Are you feeling all right?”
She wore a cotton chemise and petticoats and while he inquired about the strike she’d taken to her forehead, he wondered how much longer he’d be able to remain conscious if she continued to undress and he played the gentleman, forced to hold back from running his fingers along her silky soft curves.
“Yes, I feel fine. I’m warm and dry. My forehead is only the slightest scrape. It’s my emotions that suffered the worst of it.”
She matched his eyes and he noticed they nearly overflowed.
“What is it?” What had he done? He rushed to her side, his bare feet brushing against her stocking-clad toes as he cradled her face and wiped away the tears all at once coursing down her cheeks.
“My parents’ accident…” A sniffle interrupted the telling. “It was my fault.”
“Whimsy, that’s not right. Why would you claim it?”
“Because it is true.” She pulled from his comfort and stepped away, her eyes slanted t
oward the flames in the firebox. “My parents and Livie were returning from a visit to my aunt who’d recently had a baby. My mother was asked to serve as godmother and the christening had been planned for weeks. As a family outing and a welcome to our new cousin, everyone was excited and looking forward to the excursion.”
He reached for her, but she stepped closer to the fire and so he let his arm drop, his attention riveted to her continuing story.
“A few days before we meant to visit, I learned an impromptu poetry assembly would be showcased at the Shropshire library on the same date. I’d read the works of several of the guests, but one poet proved a more reclusive gentleman. His work was genius and gaining favor even though he never presented publicly. I became obsessed with the notion of hearing him recite his poems. I’d followed his revered success through articles in the newspaper and discovered he’d soon be leaving for America. I convinced myself fate offered me this one opportunity to hear him speak. For some foolish, immature reasons, I took it to heart that I must attend his presentation, and reassured my misgivings with platitudes that I would have other chances to celebrate my cousin’s arrival.
“The morning when we were to be off, I remained in bed and claimed illness, embellishing to a point that convinced my mother I should stay behind. I will never forget her look of concern and disappointment. She knew there was no way the trip could be cancelled with the christening and her role as godmother, yet she worried for my welfare and felt uneasy leaving me home with the staff, no matter Livie volunteered to care for me. Mother could see no point in both of us missing the celebration and of course, the fear of illness near a newborn was paramount in her mind. Still I urged her to go and acted with unforgivable selfishness; wishing them all to leave so I could sneak out and hear the poetry presentation, then return before any servant thought the better of it.
“I’d only walked partway to the library before I was overcome with shame. How could I listen to sonnets and pretty verses when I’d deceived my parents and sister, causing them undue concern? I returned to the house and walked straight into the path of our butler. He understood the situation before I explained, and sent me upstairs directly, calling for Cook to prepare a wretched tincture to help me overcome my malaise and, I suspect, teach me a well-deserved lesson. Our housekeeper checked on me regularly, but there was no need. I lay in bed from afternoon into evening disgraced with myself for the deception I’d created and the situation I’d instigated.” She shifted, her shoulders sloped in defeat, her words laced with melancholy and regret. He watched as she twisted the bracelet on her wrist, lost in thought and somber remembrance.
“Eventually I must have fallen asleep, yet the next morning the ache in my heart was no less. I’d decided to confess my selfish plan as soon as my parents returned, but I never had the chance. The last words my parents heard from me were a selfish lie.”
Her voice had dropped to nothing more than a whisper and her face appeared so forsaken, his heart broke for her.
Wilhelmina exhaled and faced Valerian. Would he think the worst of her? His eyes glittered with refracted firelight and she stepped closer, anxious to understand his reaction to her long-kept confession. She’d never told anyone. Not even Aunt Kate. Yet somehow revealing her secret seemed the right thing to do after the evening they’d shared. And with their confessions of love, she wanted nothing between them. No secrets, misunderstandings and, smiling slightly with the realization, no clothing either.
He came at her, his forceful strides full of stunning grace and she knew, sure in her heart and deeply in her soul, she would marry him for love and nothing more. The absolute honesty of the moment was almost too much to bear.
She reached up and pushed away a lock of hair covering his brow. His eyes were such deep fathoms of emotion, shadowed by lush black lashes, yet she saw only adoration there. “I behaved terribly and caused a horrible accident.”
“I don’t see it that way.” The corner of his mouth rose in reassurance, then he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the tender scratch across her forehead. “The carriage accident would have occurred regardless of your actions. Your choice to remain behind did not bring about the event that occurred. In the end, you and Livie have each other. As trying as Jasper may be, I love him dearly and would not trade for any brother on this planet.”
“Had I been there I might have helped.” She circled his neck, the charm bracelet on her wrist sliding with a tinkling noise. She eased forward and pressed her ear to his heart; the steady thrum a comfort as much as his generous strength.
“Or you might have died.” He wrapped her closer with a gentle tug though his tone had gone gruff. “Saying those words aloud is difficult now that you’ve filled my heart. Accidents occur. You must forgive yourself. Sometimes we are victims of circumstances we can neither prevent nor avoid.”
His fingers found her shoulders to loosen the buttons of her petticoat and she allowed him, her nerves dancing, her mind lost in dreamy sensation. Could this really be happening? Could any of this? Only hours earlier, she’d crumbled in her London bedchamber bemoaning the misstep of sending Caroline into Valerian’s arms.
Now she needed him. She needed to feel his heart against hers, to belong to him, to celebrate life and a future of happiness and security. She could not repair the past, but somehow by sharing her secret and herself with Valerian, it resurrected hope. And she loved him. Without doubt or hesitation.
Cool air whispered across the nape of her neck, down her spine, as he lowered the cloth from one shoulder, and she was all at once insecure, anxious to cover her body from his view and reclaim the garment before it fell to the floor. She jerked her arms from his neck and her bracelet caught on his collar.
“Good heavens.” The distraction proved exactly what she needed to forget Valerian’s heated gaze, her undergarments hardly a barrier to her embarrassment. She disentangled the bracelet where it had snagged and pulled one of the silver links loose, then opened the catch and curled it into her palm. “Where shall I put this?”
He extended his hand with a low chuckle and when she surrendered the jewelry, he placed it on the mantle aside a small painting without dragging his eyes from her silhouette. She flushed from head to toe, the unwelcomed reaction adding to the intensity as he untied the ribbons of her short stays and she stood bared to his view in nothing more than a sheer cotton chemise and firelight.
“Do you mean to take everything off?” Her words held an incredulous tone.
“Shall I go first then?” His question was all amusement and he flashed a wicked grin, his gaze an intimate caress.
He disrobed slowly, much to her awe and pleasure. His body, hidden under layers of linen and wool, was muscular and smooth. Each action revealed planes of strength and masculinity causing odd sensations to swirl within her. She’d never seen a man completely unclothed, but she couldn’t imagine a more superior example. Broad shoulders, well defined arms, a strong chest tapered to a lean waist. Her mouth went dry despite she grew wet down below.
Any attempt at modesty forgotten, desire took hold as she stood in her chemise, firelight dancing shadows across their bared skin, while an incredibly handsome man undressed before her. They would make love and make promises. She must have lost consciousness during the carriage accident. This could only be a dream of the very best kind.
When his fingers came to his trouser buttons, her breath caught but she did not speak. Instead she offered him a shy smile and placed her fingers over his, guiding one button after another until she could feel the hard length of him jutting against her palm. Strength and heat, she wanted to touch him, learn him, have him explore her body with intricate attention.
He reached for her hand and they walked to the bed. Her fingers fluttered in his palm, a sure sign of her fear, yet she trusted him with her heart. Words failed or perhaps proved unnecessary, their bodies communicated on another level. She had no label for the dizzy giddiness alive inside her. When they neared the four-poster bed, he pause
d and matched her eyes with sincere affection.
“Are you sure, Wilhelmina?”
“Oh yes.” She attempted a smile, but her nerves won the battle. “I’ve never…” She hadn’t the words to explain.
“I know.”
This time it was he who smiled.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her confession comprised insecurity and outrage. She wanted this moment to be perfect, not ruined by her inexperience and innocence. She’d need to banish every hesitation that counseled caution and allow longing to overtake her.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Trust me.”
He kissed her again, this time leaning into their embrace so she landed on the mattress with gentle finesse. His hands skimmed beneath the edge of her chemise, his touch hot against her cool skin, though she felt heated from the inside out, anxious and ignited, curious and eager. His kisses spoke of urgent longing, a passion kept bottled up overlong, and she reveled in the awe of it all. That Valerian would desire her, that she reclined in his bed, that she’d found personal bliss when all she’d sought was to make others happy.
He stood at the edge of the mattress, his exquisite physique, thick muscled legs and firm chest, outlined in gold by the flames in the hearth, his wavy hair turned gloss and ebony, as if transformed into a patrician hero drawn in pen and ink on the page of one of her favorite poetry tomes; yet his eyes glittered as if he held the answers to all her questions, and perhaps a few surprises as well. She wanted to close her eyes, fall into the dream of being loved by Valerian, but a stronger part of her didn’t dare miss a breath of what was to happen next.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He wanted her desperately. Good lord, he wanted her like he’d wanted no one, no other thing in his entire thirty-one years. Not pride, not redemption, not solvency for the earldom…more than food and water. More than air. He craved her with the potent lure of passion and a strong tug of lust, yet he was astute enough to realize he needed to act with care. She’d attempted bravado, her sweet fingers undoing his trousers, yet he hadn’t missed the rosy bloom of embarrassment flooding her creamy skin when he’d shed the last of his clothes leaving only smalls to outline his prominent desire. He’d noticed the flare of her eyes, the quick twitch of lips as nerves consumed her. He ached to feel the tremble of her touch on his skin. He yearned to taste her, kiss her until her breathing was ragged and her knees were weak, to sink into her tight heat, but no, he had to go slowly. She deserved reverence and in truth, it was all he had to offer.
Defying the Earl Page 21
