With His Ring (Brides of Bath Book 2)

by Cheryl Bolen

  She gave tit for tat, mimicking him by thrusting hands to hips. "How do you know other women are not also dressed as tigers?"

  Her husband did not deem to answer her, but hitched up his leg and hoisted himself to sit beside her, refusing to make eye contact with her. Barely able to control the angry tremble in his voice, he said, "You vex me to death, woman. I can see I shall be forced to hire a companion to shadow you everywhere and keep you out of trouble."

  "I won't stand for it. You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want, and I mean to as well."

  Curiously, it bothered him that she did not care what he did. "Perhaps I'll just lock you in your chamber," he idly threatened.

  She sighed. "Very well. I promise not to dress like your tiger anymore. Though you must admit you never even suspected--"

  "Of course I didn't expect my wife to be dressed as a boy! As my wife, you're expected to be one of the most respected matrons in Bath." He slipped a sideways glance at her.

  Her lashes sweeping low, she swallowed and softly said, "I wouldn't have done it had I known you'd be this angry. I fear I've been a very disappointing wife, but I promise to behave better in the future."

  Damn, but the chit looked as if she were going to cry! He couldn't allow that. The sight of a woman crying completely undid him. He patted her tiny hand. "I have your word?" he asked softly.

  She nodded with contrition.

  Perhaps he wouldn't have to be so stern in the future. A future with a well behaved wife. He leaned into the back of his seat, rather fancying the idea of Glee conducting herself with deportment.

  His contentment was short lived.

  "Blanks, will you place a wager for me?" she asked.

  He tried to gain control of his emotions before responding. "Women do not wager on prizefights."

  She stuck out her bottom lip and frowned. "It's just as I said. You're being an old stick."

  He whipped around to face her. "I am not! I'm merely trying to hold rein on my very vexing wife so she does not do irreparable harm to her reputation."

  "You weren't at all like this. . .before we were wed. You used to live for a lark."

  "Yes, Blanks, she's right," Elvin said. "You've let marriage greatly alter your personality. Just like Sedgewick."

  From the corner of his eye, Gregory saw that Melvin silently nodded agreement with his twin.

  They were, of course, right. He had never imagined this marriage would change him so thoroughly. But, bloody heaven, it had! Why could he not be his old devil-may-care self? He looked down at his petite wife. She was the reason. Damn! He had never cared a fig for his reputation before now. A man was expected to indulge in the occasional lark. But a woman. . . He could not bear to see Glee receive the cut direct. To be shunned by the ton. No, by God, he'd protect her even if he did have to lock her in her room.

  Glee turned to Melvin. "Could I persuade you to wager for me?"

  Melvin's eyes flicked to Gregory's.

  "He will not!" Gregory said sternly.

  Staring at the canvas surface where the fighters were to face off, she spoke with controlled anger. "You're being a positive ogre, Blanks."

  "Me? What about my wife who's forever thinking of new ways to put me out of charity with her?"

  "Well, well," a man to the side of them said.

  Gregory spun around to face William Jefferson as he walked up beside Glee.

  "Fancy that!" Jefferson said. "Mrs. Blankenship at a mill! And dressed as a male." His eyes met and held Glee's.

  Gregory would love to get him in the ring right now. "My wife goes wherever I go," Gregory defended.

  "How cozy," Jefferson said, not removing his gaze from Glee.

  "I suggest you take your seat for the fight's about to begin," Gregory told Jefferson.

  He doffed his cap at Glee, then left.

  Once he was gone, Gregory spoke sternly to his wife. "I don't cherish the idea of my wife being the most shocking woman in Bath, and I don't like Jefferson getting the wrong idea about you."

  "I have been most vexing to you, Blanks. I will try to be better."

  He instantly softened toward her, repressing the desire to take hold of her hand—which wouldn't do at all. One could not hold hands with one's tiger. And he was not about to let it out that his wife had demeaned herself by traveling to a mill. Dressed as a male, no less.

  Soon the two magnificent specimens they had come to see joined one another on the center of the canvas, and the crowd hushed.

  "I've never seen such huge men!" Glee exclaimed.

  Unable to remove his own approving gaze from the fighters, Blanks nodded.

  When the two principal participants moved away from each other, the crowd turned so silent, a single sneeze would have been an intrusion.

  As soon as the bell struck, the crowd began cheering and shouting, their favor evenly divided between the two fighters. Gregory and his friends, too, yelled out instructions. Gregory leaped to his feet, shouting encouragement to The African.

  Sweet heavens! but the man was quick on his feet, dancing away from every jab thrust by Steady Eddie. Soon, though, he lunged toward Steady Eddie, his fist colliding with Eddie's cheek. The crowd—at the sight of blood spewing from Steady Eddie's nose—began to cheer wildly.

  Glee shrieked and Gregory spun around to see what was the matter with her. She buried her eyes in her hands but did not appear to have sustained an injury. Feminine vapors. His gaze shot back to the fight.

  Another jab from The African caused Steady Eddie's eyes to swell shut, but he would not give in, despite that blood flowed from his mouth now. Another punch sent Steady Eddie to his knees, but still he managed to pull himself up.

  Glee shrieked.

  Why had the maddening woman interrupted Gregory's long waited-for amusement? "What's the matter?" he asked impatiently.

  Her head still buried, she shook her head, her shoulders shaking as if she were crying. His heart tripped.

  "I can't watch," she finally managed between sobs. “It's so horridly brutal! Can't you stop it?"

  He scowled. "I cannot. I told you this was no place for women."

  "But I hadn't thought they would throw punches into one another's faces!"

  "What in the blazes did you expect?"

  She continued to babble into her wet palms. "I thought they would punch one another on the arms or the chest or the stomach."

  "Wouldn't be bloody likely to knock out their opponents that way," Gregory said.

  "You mean. . .that's how the winner is determined? The one who's left standing?"

  "Of course," he answered impatiently. "He's got to leave his opponent senseless."

  "How dreadful," she shrieked. "How can you bear to watch?"

  He mumbled under his breath. He could not bloody well watch it now, with her distracting him like she was doing. His eyes darting from the match to his huddled wife, Gregory sat back down. Glee looked a most pitiful sight, indeed. He spoke softly. "It's not so bad as you think, Glee. I've never seen anyone killed. These chaps have uncommonly hard heads."

  Her little shoulders shook with the effort of her sobs. "It's so brutal."

  "Why do you think women don't attend these affairs? They're for men's eyes only."

  "They're barbaric!"

  "Come on, I'll take you home," he said gently.

  Chapter 16

  Men did not like crying women. With that thought in mind, Glee dried her tears and faced the angry man who was her husband. He flicked the ribbons in his haste to return her to Bath. She supposed he would wish to return to the mill. Her desire to become one with his friends had sadly misfired on her. Instead of capturing his admiration, she had drawn his wrath, thoroughly succeeding in ruining Blanks's excursion. What had happened to her plan to swaddle him in her love?

  She felt remorseful, indeed. "Oh, Blanks, I'm truly sorry for ruining your fun—though I fail to see how such a barbaric sport could bring you pleasure."

  He slid a frown at her. />
  "You're sure to regret marrying me," she said, whimpering. "Especially when I promised you we'd have a good time together, that we'd be the best of friends. I've only been trying to share things with you—to be a true friend."

  He loosened his white-fisted hold on the reins, relaxed against the back of his seat, and spoke gently to her. "You aren't expected to share everything with me—though I appreciate your intentions."

  "You do?" she asked hopefully.

  He nodded.

  A moment later, a smile on her face, she asked, "Do you know what day it is today, Blanks?"

  He thought for a moment. "It's the nine-and-twentieth day of March."

  "No, silly. That's not what I meant. It's our two-week anniversary."

  "Good God, has it only been two weeks?"

  "It does seem longer, does it not?" she said wistfully. They went some distance further when she shrieked. "Oh, Blanks, do put me down right here."

  He reigned in. "Why?"

  "Because it's not fair for me to spoil your time. You have so been looking forward to the fight. I can easily walk the short distance back to Bath."

  "I won't do any such thing. Besides, you can't walk that far alone!" He scowled. "I won't have it."

  "But no one will know I'm not a lad," she protested.

  "I'll know, and I won't tolerate it."

  "Oh, dear," she whispered. "Whatever you say, Blanks. I'll try to be a humble wife."

  "And the queen will wear rags," he mumbled angrily.

  "I really don't mind if you wish to return to the fight. I don't mean to interfere with anything that brings you pleasure." Her husband, she knew, possessed an especially keen appreciation for merrymaking. And no wonder! That horrid stepmother of his had likely thwarted his every grasp for happiness. No wonder he had preferred to spend his school holidays at Hornsby, and no wonder that—when he obtained his majority—he tended to excessive indulgences. Now that Glee had met Aurora, she understood why Blanks had gone overboard in his quest of pleasure. He'd had precious little of it during his entire childhood.

  Glee cast a sideways glance at his alluring profile. His face was uncharacteristically somber, his dark eyes inscrutable. Her glance trailed to his powerful hands that grasped the reins. She fought an overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless.

  If only she could do something to make him happy. Besides pugilism, what was there? She had not lived nineteen years with her brother not to learn a thing or two about what made men tick. "I shouldn't be offended, Blanks, if you should choose to see Mrs. Ennis." Thank heavens a bolt of lightning had not struck her down for telling so outrageous a lie! The very idea of Carlotta Ennis within Blanks's embrace had the power to rob Glee of her breath—and of all hopes for happiness. But she did love Blanks so. And his happiness is what mattered most to her. Even if that happiness included the purple-hued doxy!

  He pulled the reins until his bay came to a screeching halt, then Gregory sat glaring at her. "You might not object, dear wife, but I do. I should not like for my brother to get wind of so . . .so awkward an alliance."

  Oh, dear. Glee couldn't seem to do anything right where Blanks was concerned. She could not bring herself to look at him. Instead she sat staring at the soft hills west of Bath, her face contrite. "Of course, you're right. You have an impeccable sense of propriety. A pity I'm such an albatross to you." A mock laugh broke from her lips. "And to think, all I ever wanted was to bring you happiness."

  He cupped his hand under her chin and turned her face to his. His eyes suddenly went all mellow and soft. "You're not an albatross."

  Now, she went all mellow. She was powerless to stop herself from stroking the strong planes of his cheeks, from being compelled to peer into the depths of his deep amber eyes.

  He seemed to be moving closer to her. And she ever so slightly moved toward to him. She saw the stubble of this morning's shave and drew in his subtle musk scent. His lips then settled over hers. Soft, pliable lips. Lips that pierced to her very soul.

  It was sheer delight, this taste of her lover. Magical. Soul-numbing. Blending. And she never wanted it to end.

  Her arms closed around him, and she melted into his powerful chest, his arms closing around her. Their mouths were open, and their breathing was ragged and labored.

  To her great distress, he pulled away, then took each of her hands and kissed them. "Forgive me," he said throatily.

  Feeling bereft beyond words, she caught her breath and murmured, "You've nothing to be sorry for. You are, after all, my husband. My purpose in life is to make you happy."

  He laughed a bitter laugh and picked up the reins, flicking his bay toward Bath.

  What had she done which caused the kiss to terminate? Everything had been so utterly wonderful.

  Her face crimson, she thought on it during the short ride back to Blankenship House. Obviously, she had not satisfied him. She supposed kissing was something for which a great deal of expertise could be accumulated. And, heaven knows, she had precious little experience. She had never kissed the man she had thought to run off with when she was seventeen. She had only been kissed twice, both times by Blanks. Though their first kiss wrenched her with unexpected, all-encompassing tenderness and a hunger for something deeper, this second kiss consumed her with a near debilitating passion. A passion as terrifying as her unwavering love for Blanks.

  She had not thought she would enjoy that open-mouthed kissing, but with Blanks, it seemed to draw them closer. Closer than she had known two people could be. Was this how it was with Diana and George? And Felicity and Thomas? Could they claim such boundless pleasure every day of their lives? Her heart thumped. Had it been thus for Blanks and Carlotta?

  All that Glee knew was that she had never truly lived before she had come alive in Blanks's arms.

  "I think I'm getting a knack for kissing, Blanks," she said in a husky voice. "Perhaps I'll be so improved next time, you'll not hasten to put me at a distance."

  He burst out laughing.

  What had she said to generate such mirth?

  "I would say you're doing extremely well."

  She tossed a glance at him and saw he was winking at her! "You're making fun of me!"

  "I am not," he protested. Then he grew serious. "It's just that. . .I feel such an utter cad, taking advantage of you."

  "You could never do that," she said softly.

  * * *

  How could that wife of his be so maddening? On the one hand, she was a constant thorn in his side. On the other, she enticed him as no other woman ever had. How could one as innocent as Glee elicit such hunger in him? What a brute he was to force himself on her innocence!

  He drew up in front of Blankenship House and assisted her in disembarking. He looked down at her in the kelly green livery she wore. How could he have ever taken her for a lad? She sent his palms to sweating and his heart to pounding. He fought the urge to settle his lips over hers once again. In broad daylight in front of Blankenship House! Good God, but he wanted to.

  "Please go back to the fight," she pleaded. "I feel dreadful for causing you to miss it."

  "If I know The African, the match is already over."

  "Then I sincerely hope no one was injured."

  "Don't worry so. I'm sorry the brutality upsets you."

  "I had no business going. It’s not a sport that beckons women, and now I realize why."

  He smiled down at her and patted her head. "Go change your clothing, and I'll give you some pointers on driving your new phaeton."

  "But it's being painted," she said with fallen face.

  "Red?"

  She nodded solemnly.

  "I can show you in mine," he offered. "They're much the same."

  "That's what Timothy said."

  "I don't above half like you calling him Timothy."

  "But you never objected when I called my brother George."

  "That's different. George is your brother."

  "As is Timothy. And the twi
ns. At least, that's how I feel toward them."

  He gazed hungrily at her, his voice lacking confidence when he asked, "Am I just another brother?"

  "Silly, you're far better than a brother. Haven't I always told you that?"

  He nodded solemnly.

  * * *

  The best part about giving Glee pointers on driving a phaeton was putting his arms around her in order to show her how to correctly hold the ribbons. His wife proved a most apt pupil. Too good, actually. The next thing he knew, she'd be flying through Bath. The woman in red. His wife. He shuddered.

  The thing of it was, he couldn't see any way he could prevent her from behaving in such a manner. Theirs wasn't, after all, a conventional marriage. Even if she had said he could be her master. No matter what she said, he could not bring himself to take advantage of her. It was clearly not part of their unusual bargain.

  It was during one such maneuver when his arms caught around Glee's shoulders that she looked into his face and smiled. "Oh, Blanks, I wish you didn't have to spend so much time with that cursed solicitor of yours."

  "Why?"

  "Because I much prefer having you all to myself."

  Good God, why must she provoke his . . .his physical arousal? Had she no idea what a profound effect she was having on him? He quickly removed his arms from her. Then he sputtered out a cough. "There must be any number of things far more enjoyable that spending time with me. After all, you told me yourself I was an ogre."

  Her lashes dropped. They were so long, they rested on her pale cheeks. "'Twas most uncharitable of me, and you must know I didn't mean it."

  "Whether you meant it or not, the words rang true. I've been a beast of a husband."

  She shook her head. "Not at all! I've been the beast. You have only been trying to set me straight. George would be proud of you."

  Ah, George! Yes, indeed, the man George had become would heartily approve of the new, conscience-burdened husband of his little sister. In fact, Gregory was becoming exactly like George.

  And that wasn't at all what he wanted.