A Wager Worth Making (Arrangements, Book 7)

by Rebecca Connolly

  He chuckled and tugged her back until she was flush against him. “I hope not. And yet I hope so. I hope you get used to not being used to it. To me.”

  Gemma bit her lip, shaking her head. “You, dear husband, are the best sort of puzzle.”

  He quirked his brows and sighed, looking around the room. “Let’s find somewhere else to be. The gallery makes me uneasy.”

  She frowned in confusion, but let him pull her away.

  Her puzzling husband was certainly allowed his mysteries.

  Someday, perhaps, he would trust her with his shadows.

  But for now, this was enough.

  “Where to?” she asked brightly, holding his arm and playing with their twined fingers. “We’ve seen the entire house, haven’t we?”

  He squeezed her hand, unconsciously pleased with her change in subject. “How would the stables do for you? We have some of the finest, and our horses are the best quality. You could ride any of your choice.”

  She wrinkled up her nose and clicked her tongue. “I don’t know how to ride.”

  He paused and looked down at her in surprise. “You don’t?”

  She shook her head, shrugging. “We don’t have a country house, remember? We’ve been in London as long as I can remember, and though I visit Beverton House occasionally and other estates when invited, I’ve never ridden. I always found a reason to avoid it to prevent having to explain myself.”

  He looked at her closely, his eyes warm and surprisingly tender. “Would you like to learn?”

  She nodded, suddenly shy. “Would you teach me?”

  “Of course.” He kissed her nose. “It would be my pleasure. Any excuse to put my hands on your ankles. Or any part of you.”

  She barked a laugh and stepped out of his tempting hold. “You are incorrigible. What has come over you?”

  He shrugged, smiling easily as they left the gallery. “Perhaps I enjoy being married to you.”

  She grinned and allowed him to take her hand again. “I enjoy being married to you as well. Though it’s been less than a week, that’s hardly enough time for anything.”

  “I mean to improve with time.” He sobered as they descended the back stairs. “I cannot promise that being married to me will always be like this, Gemma. But I intend to live in this interlude for as long as possible.”

  She looked up at him, touched at his soft admission. Despite the brief nature of their courtship and nearly as brief tenure of their acquaintance, she had come to know him better than she’d known another living soul on the earth except for her family. Even then, she felt she knew him better.

  He would never have admitted something so emotional before.

  And that said a great deal about their relationship.

  “So do I,” she murmured. Then she tilted her head at him. “Are you trying to disillusion me already, my lord? Are you not the majestic man I’ve imagined you to be?”

  His smile was swift and vanished with the same speed. “No, you must have misunderstood. I intend for you to always see me with a bit of a halo, slightly aglow whenever I enter a room, and in possession of no faults at all.”

  She nodded obediently, pretending to think on it. “I shall endeavor to perceive such things all my days, provided I am not blinded by your brilliance. And how shall you see me, my lord?”

  He stopped and looked her over with the same intensity and thoroughness that robbed her of sense whenever he employed it. He shook his head.

  “What?” she asked softly.

  “You are sunlight,” he replied in soft tones. “Loveliness and goodness, as bright as a morning in spring. And my better half by far and away. There is nothing to be disillusioned about there. Only truth.”

  She blushed and turned away, pulling on his hand to continue walking. It was not uncommon for him to say extraordinary things like that, but the hearing never got easier. And when they were not in their bedchamber, wrapped in each other’s arms, it was more difficult to hear. There, at least, he might be excused his effusive views of her. Out here in the open, proper and composed, it was too much.

  She believed him, absolutely; Lucas was no flatterer and was incapable of exaggeration. He truly meant every lovely and touching thing he said to her. But compliments and such lofty sentiments were a weight on her, and an odd choking sensation accompanied them. Flustered and blushing, she would search for anything to shift topics to something less dangerous and disconcerting.

  And Lucas knew it.

  “You also are the best bedmate I’ve ever enjoyed,” he added lightly, drawing her hand up to kiss it. “I should have married you ages ago. I am almost faint with anticipation for tonight.”

  “Lucas!”

  “Did you know you talk in your sleep?” he asked in response. “Very entertaining. You recited poetry last night. It was lovely, particularly when you snored in the middle.”

  Inordinately pleased by his lightness, and growing ever more delighted by his teasing, she giggled and leaned against him, letting him lead her wherever he wanted to.

  Yes, married life suited her quite well.

  It did not take long at all for Gemma to pick up the fundamentals of riding, and even less than that for her to be comfortable upon the horse itself. He had walked beside her as the stable master led the horse around the paddock, and he’d kept his hand on her leg the entire time.

  For balance, of course.

  He mentally grinned at the blatant lie. He would use any excuse he needed to touch her. He couldn’t help it, any more than he could suddenly smile with ease.

  Gemma was turning him into a much younger version of himself, but even that was a stretch, for he had never been like this.

  He loved being married to her, though she was right that it was barely enough time for anything, and he knew everything would change with time. But he intended to enjoy this bliss while he could.

  He would let the sunlight warm him.

  The clouds would return soon enough.

  Gemma had finally begged him to ride with her and to venture beyond the paddock, to see more of the estate. He’d had to remind her that she was not in a riding habit, only to be told quite pertly that as she had never ridden before, she did not have a riding habit.

  Properly put in his place, he’d had his horse saddled and brought out, and now they rode together, slowly for her pace, but he was content with it.

  He could have done without the stable master asking if his injuries were healed enough to ride, considering Gemma had been nearby and heard it, but the man had not pressed when Lucas had nodded in response.

  Now they ambled along the property, not far enough to visit tenants, but enough that they could no longer see the house, thanks to the rolling hills and lush countryside.

  “Why did Mr. Fletcher ask about injuries?” Gemma finally asked him, having dispensed with her cheery chattering minutes before.

  Lucas closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. How was this conversation going to proceed? Did he tell her everything that had transpired from the injuries? Did he tell her nothing?

  He could not lie. He would not.

  Lies had played enough part in his life without his adding to them.

  “Lucas?”

  He looked over at his young wife, knowing the moment he saw her face that he would tell her the truth. All of it.

  “Seven months ago,” he began, keeping his voice controlled and as easy as he could manage, “I was riding the estate, and riding hard. No reason, just mad and desperate to do something wild. I led my horse through trees and over jumps, growing more and more reckless. Then a neighbor shot a rifle without warning, and the horse threw me at the largest jump. I could have broken my neck, but somehow managed to only injure my back and my leg.”

  “Lucas!” Gemma gasped, wide eyed and suddenly raking her gaze over him as if the injuries were fresh.

  He smiled tightly, her late concern oddly touching for its uselessness. “I couldn’t move, but I had feeling in all my extremiti
es, so I felt some consolation there. It was only when the horse returned itself to the stables and people came looking that I truly felt the pain, as they had to move me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I had several lacerations that could have been dangerous, had they become infected.”

  “Where?” Gemma whimpered, holding her reigns limply.

  He gestured to his left side. “Across the back and hip here, and the leg.” He winced in recollection. “I fractured the leg and possibly the hip, and was bedridden for weeks. It was agony. I refused laudanum.”

  “Why?” she cried, the thought apparently distressful. “Why would you do that?”

  He shook his head, not ready to reveal that much of his dark past. “It makes no difference, but I would not take it. So I was left to endure it without that, and most of the lacerations needed stitching, so there were tugs and pulls and bandages, and…” He shook his head in disgust. “All because I decided to act out against nature and myself. But it led me to some good.”

  Gemma gasped and sputtered. “What good? Darling, you must have been in anguish!”

  His head swam at hearing her call him ‘darling’, and he sidled up next to her and took her hand carefully. “I am well now, love,” he soothed. “The scars are barely noticeable. I hardly feel anything.”

  Her brows snapped together. “Hardly?”

  “It does twinge on occasion,” he admitted reluctantly.

  She tossed her head and her jaw tightened. “I am seeing to them tonight, no excuses.”

  He almost grinned at the thought. “If you insist.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but her lips quirked. “Insolent man. Well, are you able to ride without pain?”

  “Not a single twinge,” he assured her. “I can do everything. And anything.”

  Her mouth quirked again, and he suddenly had a glimpse of what frustration she must have felt trying to get him to smile. She refused to do so now, and it was maddening.

  “Now, tell me what good,” she said primly, her eyes severe. “I don’t believe it.”

  He sighed and looked away again. “That experience was what prompted me to think seriously about marriage. I had nearly thrown my life away, and no one would care. The estate would pass to my idiot cousin Lewis, and all would be ruined. I had worked too hard for that, and… I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I needed to marry and have an heir, and soon.”

  He didn’t have to look at her to know that she had stiffened in her saddle.

  “So that is why you suddenly pursued me right at the start of the Season,” she finally said, her voice as stiff as her posture.

  There was really no way around that but to answer. “Yes.”

  “I asked you why you wanted to marry me, and you said it was because I am me. Was that true?”

  He turned almost fully in the saddle to look at her. “Yes. It was always going to be you, Gemma. I couldn’t… I could not imagine anyone else.”

  She watched him with steady eyes, and it frightened him. He’d just borne his soul a little and she had no response?

  “But the prompting for it was the desperation for a wife and an heir.” Her tone was clipped, and he swallowed hastily, nodding in response.

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well, why didn’t you just tell me that? I am perfectly capable of bearing an heir, why not tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was courting you for your breeding abilities,” he muttered with no small amount of chagrin. His motives were honest, but now they seemed rather… weak.

  Gemma snorted softly. “Oh, you fair flatterer. But now I know what is expected, I shall keep you apprised of the situation.”

  “Don’t do that,” he insisted, losing some of his patience, but still quite calm. “Don’t pretend this changes things. I am in no rush for an heir. So long as I don’t meet an untimely death, it’s of no real concern as yet.”

  Gemma gave him a derisive look. “Every woman knows she must bear her husband a son, Lucas. I’m no mess of distraught tears here. But if you say anything about your untimely death ever again, you may find you meet one at my hands.”

  Had his perfect little wife just threatened to kill him? For mentioning his own death? He couldn’t help it, he smiled. “You can’t kill me before there’s an heir.”

  Gemma screeched and looked away. “If I could gallop away from you to gather myself, I would do it, Lucas Sinclair! But doing so would make me lose control of the horse, and you would have to save me, and that would be unbearable when I am mad at you.”

  He didn’t care, he still smiled. “But I’m smiling, Gemma. Is that not something?”

  She sniffed. “It just means that you owe me money. Stop being happy, I’m not speaking to you until we get home.”

  His heart tightened at the word ‘home’ and he had the mad desire to sweep his wife onto his horse and show her just how much it meant, but she was mad at him, for now, and it would not help his cause.

  But the rest of the silent ride back to the house, he smiled to himself.

  And when they returned to the stables, and once again entered the house, he ignored protocol and propriety and tossed his wife over his shoulder, ignoring her protesting and squawking.

  By the time they reached the bedchamber and he had closed the door behind him, she was laughing breathlessly and had stopped pummeling him. He tossed her easily onto the bed, then crawled up after her, sliding his fingers between hers as he loomed over her.

  “What is my balance so far today, Lady Blackmoor?” he asked, nudging his nose against hers.

  “Oh, it’s exorbitant,” she informed him, her tone cool, but teasing. “You smiled the entire ride home, you offended your wife, you laughed on the stairs… You’re being careless, and it would take me hours to calculate it properly.”

  He leaned down and brushed his lips along hers, smiling at the faint gasp.

  “Well,” he murmured, “let’s see if I can bring the balance to a more reasonable level, shall we?”

  Gemma grinned unabashedly and raised her chin. “Well, you may try.”

  He grinned in return, and proceeded to kiss his wife most thoroughly.

  And try he did.

  Chapter Ten

  Eventually, they settled into a fairly regular routine. Despite his efforts, Lucas could not spend every moment with Gemma, as there were duties that had to be tended to. He had never grumbled about his duties before, and it was strange and foreign to him to be reluctant to act on his responsibilities.

  Gemma had rolled her eyes and told him to get on with it, which her husband had not appreciated.

  But it did make him smile.

  She grinned to herself as she stretched her toes into the rug of the lady’s parlor, quite possibly her favorite room in the house, least of all because it was specifically hers.

  Lucas had been wonderful in the days they had been here. He saw to her care by day, and even more by night, any reserve or control gone as he asked her nightly of his balance, amused by her recitations of his bill, and then proceeded to attempt to pay the balance in his own creative ways.

  Who would have thought that beneath the cool and composed exterior of Lord Blackmoor lived a man who was playful, affectionate, and brimming with good-humor?

  What was equally as shocking to her had been the dawning of realization that she needed Lucas. She had needed him for ages and had not known it. He answered the questions she had not known to ask. He relieved her worries and soothed her fears, he teased her into peals of laughter, he held her for hours on end so that she might never be alone.

  And he did not know, could not know, just what that meant to her.

  She did not bother restraining a sigh as she thought through on their time together at Thornacre.

  Long walks throughout the estate, hand in hand, simply dressed. Lazy mornings spent in bed full of affection and laughter. Riding across the hills as he encouraged her newfound skills and joy in it. Swimming in the pond…

  She snickere
d at that particular memory. It had been a warm day, and she’d dared Lucas to do it. He’d blanched at first, but a bit of coaxing from her had him splashing her and daring her to join him.

  He might still be the proper and composed man she’d always thought him, but that was certainly not all there was.

  There was little that she truly did know about him, if she were to be honest. She knew the sort of man he was, his temperament, what would amuse him, how he took his tea, which meals were his favorite, that sort of thing. Very wifely things. But as far was who he was, his past and his deeper, more complicated parts, she was almost entirely ignorant.

  He hid a great deal from her, and that made her uneasy.

  She tried not to show it, as he was so giving and generous, so very attentive and sweet, and she had no regrets at all about marrying him. She was falling in love with him, for heaven’s sake. But the shadows that crossed his face concerned her. The avoidance of certain topics concerned her.

  His sudden intensity bordering on desperation concerned her.

  He always seemed to be afraid of losing her, and she had no idea why.

  She was not going anywhere.

  If he would ever come out and say what he was afraid of, she would have told him so.

  But he did not confide in her about anything that truly mattered. Ever.

  Oh, he’d told her all about the estate and the tenants, the ones that would plague them with needs incessantly, the ones who truly needed their attention, the ones who had been there the longest… He knew every detail of every family, which spoke well of his nature and his views of his responsibilities. He was a very active sort of viscount, and only yesterday he had come home covered in dirt and sweat, sleeves rolled to the elbow and cravat completely gone. When she had asked about it, he’d simply said one of the tenants needed a hand before going on his way to wash.

  She rather liked that sort of earthiness about him and had convinced him to wear his fresh clothing in the same style for the rest of the day.

  He seemed to enjoy it as well, once she told him why she wished it.

  She shook her head, smiling fondly. Her husband, for all his faults and secrets, seemed as mad about her as she was about him. Would this delirium ever truly fade? It had to, surely. When they returned to London in a few days… and the thought made her groan in anguish… he would be polite and proper once more in public, but would he change in private?