The Duke's Wager: Defiant Brides Book 1

by Jennifer Monroe

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sun had not been up for long when James walked to the tiny stable to saddle Thunder. Two hours earlier, he had woken and listened at the bedroom door to hear the gentle melody of Sarah’s breathing as she slept, and that simple sound warmed his heart.

  Sarah now stood at the front door, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping on the stone stoop. Unlike yesterday, the sun shone brightly, casting its rays over James as he led Thunder to the front of the cottage where a small area of grass allowed the horse to eat as he waited for his riders.

  “I could have walked to the inn and been there by now,” Sarah snapped. “Are you always this slow?”

  “My apologies, My Lady,” he said, giving her a slight bow of his head. When he offered her his hand to help her off the stoop, he was shocked when she took it without comment. Her skin was softer than any silk he had encountered, her fingers more delicate and precious than anything in the world. She lifted her leg and put her slippered foot in the stirrup. James had worried she would scoff at having to ride astride, but then he remembered that she had often shared how she wished she had more chances to do so and was happy to offer her at least one of those opportunities.

  “With you walking beside me,” she said, annoyance in her voice, “I would guess it will take two days to get there.”

  “Once again, you are correct,” he said, and then hoisting himself up to sit behind her on the saddle, his hands grabbing the reins from her hands.

  “Well, I have never…” she spat, but then stopped and her back went rigid as his arms moved around her waist, “…never seen such brazen actions.” The last was barely audible, which brought a smile to James’s face.

  “I understood that you wanted to get home quickly,” he said. “My walking will only slow down the arrival, as you pointed out.” He was glad she could not see how much he was enjoying her show of defiance, which only made her even more desirable.

  “If pressing your body against mine violates me but sees me home safely, then I will have to bear this unsavory feeling,” she acknowledged, though he took note of her shaky and breathless voice.

  He gave the reins a slight snap and Thunder began his steady canter, but perhaps much quicker than Sarah had anticipated, for she rocked precariously in the saddle until James tightened his hold around her waist.

  “James, I do not know what has come over you, but if you think this is somehow a way to please a woman, you are failing miserably.” Her attempt at being stern fell flat when the amusement behind her words came through instead.

  He laughed, and they trotted down the lane, the sun warming them from above. In this moment there was not a care in the world. The love of his life was in his arms; she was safe and he was happy. Though he was worried about the days ahead and her final decision, he cherished the moment knowing it could be one of the last. As they continued toward the inn, he heard Sarah let out a sigh, her body leaning back against his chest.

  “It is from the exhaustion that I rest, nothing more,” she said in a drowsy, though content, voice.

  “I would think that would be the only reason,” he said, his smile growing even wider.

  ***

  “Thank you for watching after her,” James told the young man, dropping him three coins in his hand as Sarah took Molly's reins.

  “It was my pleasure, My Lord,” the boy replied with a wide grin, “and I’m glad you found your missus.”

  James groaned as he heard Sarah’s quick intake of breath. He knew what was coming before she spoke.

  “I am not his missus,” she said indignantly as she mounted her horse.

  The young man looked first at James and then at Sarah and then back again, clearly unsure as how to respond. Then, with a shrug, he turned and walked off mumbling something about lords and ladies and how they were all mad.

  Neither said anything as they rode away from the inn, their destination now Greystone Estate. It was more than the physical destination which James had in mind, but also the future in which they headed toward, hopefully to remain together.

  “As I mentioned last night, I would like to explain what happened yesterday,” he said, breaking the silence as they came to the main road. With the fine weather came more travelers, some single riders and others riding in carriages, but most heading in the direction from which James and Sarah had just come.

  “I do not want to hear your excuses,” Sarah said, looking straight ahead.

  He nodded, though she could not see him. However, there was a necessity for her to hear what he had to say whether she liked it or not. “Be that as it may, I still would like the opportunity.”

  She sniffed. “Very well, if you must.”

  “My mother returned home earlier than planned, and though I was happy to see her again, the words she shared were fearful.”

  He glanced over and Sarah remained rigid, her face solemn, so he continued.

  “She had met a woman who comes from title and wealth and had arranged for me to meet her,” he said, “to be her suitor.”

  Sarah snorted. “A woman far better than I, I assume,” she said. “I would hardly think so, but if she comes from title and wealth, then in that regard, yes, I suppose she would be. If one is shallow enough to believe that those things are of the utmost importance.”

  James chuckled. “That is exactly what I am saying. There is no woman like you, Sarah, and that is the reason why I had to tell my mother of our engagement.”

  She turned toward him, her eyebrows raised.

  “Our possible engagement,” he corrected himself, “but I could not tell her the truth about our wager.”

  Sarah laughed as a carriage passed by them, a young child crying within bringing thoughts of the children he and Sarah would have one day.

  The driver nodded his head at James and James returned the greeting.

  “You seem to have trouble telling the truth,” Sarah said.

  “Not when it comes to you,” James assured her. “It is why I said we were to be wed, so I would not be forced into a situation from which I could not be released. Or why I ride after you when you leave.”

  “Why do you keep pursuing me knowing I do not want to marry you?”

  He thought about it for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. What was it about this woman that made all means of communication muddle in his mind? He decided he simply needed to come out with how he felt. No more holding back. He waited for another rider to pass them before he replied. “Because I love you, Sarah. I have loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. Yes, I have made many mistakes and made a fool of myself. But I would do anything for you.”

  “Anything?” she asked as she turned to look up at him.

  “Of course,” he replied, “name it and I shall do it to prove my love to you.”

  “Very well, then,” she replied, “when we arrive at Greystone Estate…”

  James listened with apt attention as she revealed her plan, and he began to wonder what he had gotten himself into.

  ***

  James thanked Mrs. Crombly for the tea. Then the woman returned to sit beside Sarah on the long sofa. His mother, the Dowager Duchess herself, sat on the opposite side of Sarah and held her hand. The fact they sat with Sarah was not what James found astounding. No, it was more the protective stance and looks of concern they had for the woman.

  Sarah, on the other hand, sat with her hand dramatically at her chest as she told the tale of her kidnapping and subsequent escape as the older women listened intently.

  “Please, go on,” the Dowager Duchess urged the ‘poor girl’. “Tell us what transpired next.”

  Sarah gave one of her theatrical sighs, as if to say that what she had to say caused her agony. “Very well. Though, I hope you do not think ill of me.”

  His mother clicked her tongue. “Nonsense,” she replied. “I could not think so after all you that has befallen you.”

  Mr. Crombly, who sat in his customary cha
ir, nodded, as enthralled with Sarah’s story as the women were.

  James sipped his tea in an attempt to hide the smile that played at his lips. This was one of the many reasons he loved Sarah; her storytelling abilities were that great.

  She rose and placed her hands behind her back as she began her pacing. “There were six of them,” she said in that theatrical tone she was apt to use whenever she told one of her stories. “I knew that I could escape with one, or perhaps even two, men guarding me, but never six.” She waited for her audience to nod and then continued. “I noticed they had a bottle of spirits on a shelf in the corner.” She crinkled her nose. “The stench was terrible.”

  “Much like the highwaymen who kidnapped her,” his mother added, and the others nodded in agreement.

  “Pirates not highwaymen,” Sarah corrected the Dowager Duchess, who apologized for her mistake, much to James’s astonishment. Then Sarah continued on. “I took the bottle, acting as though I would participate in their debauchery and make them believe I was not a threat as they cast dice to decide who would ravage me first.”

  “I cannot believe those men,” Mr. Crombly spat as he slammed his fist against the arm of the chair. “I will hunt them down myself.” His face was the color of a tomato as he jumped out of his chair, and James was convinced the man would ride off at that very moment and avenge his daughter’s honor.

  “Thomas, please,” Mrs. Crombly admonished. “Let her finish.”

  The man grumbled something under his breath but did as his wife asked. However, he continued to mumble under his breath words that James could not hear. Apparently neither could the women, for they did not admonish him further.

  Once he was seated once again, Sarah gave him a stern nod and resumed her story—and her pacing. “It was then that I glanced over into the thick of the trees and saw James. Though I knew his mind was sharp, I feared it was not as sharp as the swords the men carried at their hips.”

  “I do not know how you managed to survive,” Mrs. Crombly said in a terror-filled voice. James worried that perhaps the version of the story Sarah chose to recount might have been too much for the poor woman to endure, seeing that the story was about her own daughter. However, when he looked at Mrs. Crombly’s face, he saw not a woman close to fainting, but rather a woman caught up in the excitement of a story. “And to think these…men,” she spat the last word as if it were a bitter bite to chew, “were gambling their turn with you.”

  “I could not agree with you more, Mother,” Sarah replied as she wiped an imaginary tear from her eye even as she continued to pace. “A man stood up, his voice announcing himself as the winner.” She then stopped and turned toward her captivated audience. “He came at me like this,” she said, holding her hands out in front of her and bent herself at the waist as if the man would take her to the ground. “That is when I brought the bottle down onto his head and removed his sword all in one swift movement.”

  The Dowager Duchess gave her a suspicious look. “But you do not know how to wield a sword, do you? How could you have held off the other men?”

  “You are right, Mother, she does not,” James interrupted. “At that very moment,” —he stood up from his chair and smiled at Sarah, who gave him a slight nod— “Sarah threw me the sword.” Sarah acted as if she were throwing him a weapon. It was then that James understood Sarah’s love of stories, but even more than the stories themselves, it was in their telling, for a fire burned in his blood and the words fell from his lips in a way they had never done so before. “The second man drew his sword, and a quick parry and stab to his side had him running into the night holding his wound in an attempt to staunch the blood. It was mere moments later that another one attempted to best me, only to be struck by my sword, as well. Luckily for them both, I do not believe the wounds they sustained to be fatal.”

  The women sighed and then smiled as Sarah came to stand beside James.

  “My actions the day before were a result of an illness that befell me,” she explained. “Thankfully, James was able to guide me back here to my home. We arrived just as my fever broke.” She curtsied to James’s mother. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace.” James was amazed at the soft and kind voice she used.

  “I accept your apology,” his mother replied with a quick wave of her hand, “and will hear no more about it.” She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Crombly. “Surely these two are meant to be together.” There was a tear in her eye as she said the words, much to James’s astonishment.

  James turned to Sarah and smiled. His mother approved, as did her parents. It was what James wanted. The only question that remained was whether or not it was what Sarah wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The stone path loomed before Sarah, the skirts of her indigo gown flowing around her slippered feet. She was a woman who had been wagered in a card game, had run away to work in a pub, and finally violated by a pirate, and though the burden upon her shoulders was heavy, her heart lightened when she saw James standing beside the rose bush that had torn them apart so many years before.

  It had been three days since she saw him last, both of their mothers insisting that Sarah take time to recover from her ordeal, and this time she did not hide the fact she was happy to see him. Rather than conceal her smile, she allowed it to shine brightly. “The thirtieth day has finally arrived,” she said as she approached the man she loved with all her heart. “I am glad you deigned it a priority to come.” Though the sun shone brightly above them, a heat that was not from that bright orb in the sky spread through her body as her eyes locked onto his.

  “The days went by quickly,” James replied. “Much too quickly to my liking.” He turned, snapped off a rose and presented it to her.

  She took the flower from him and brought it to her nose, inhaling its sweet fragrance.

  “The last time we shared something so beautiful between us,” he continued, “I was just a spoiled boy who was deeply in love yet unsure as to how to express it.”

  Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as she nodded, unable to speak for fear the dam would break and the tears would fall. Instead, she strolled away having no doubt he would follow, which he did.

  He continued. “And what do boys do when they are in love?” he asked her. She heard the rhetorical tone in his voice and knew he did not seek an answer, so she continued to smell her rose and walk slowly beside him. “I guess boys are not much different once they become men. To acquire your attention, I pulled your hair and stepped on that precious flower. But I think…no, now I know…that I damaged more than a rose that day.”

  Sarah wiped at her eyes and nodded. “That is true,” she whispered as she spun the stem of the flower between her fingers. What more could she add? He had said it all.

  “I realize now that I stepped on your heart, crushing the dreams you had like the petals on that rose. That boy thought of you every day from the moment he left, regretting what he did, wishing every night to have handled it differently. However, that boy is gone and now a new man stands before you.” He stopped her with a light touch on her arm and waited until she turned around. “I never meant to hurt you, Sarah. I hope you believe that.”

  “I do,” she said, letting the tears run down her face unchecked.

  He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. “When I was in India, I met a man who told me he was so in love with his wife that all the wealth in the world meant nothing if she was not by his side. I did not quite understand what he meant then, but I do now. There is no one else in this world for me. No woman can match your beauty, your mind, or your heart.”

  Sarah let out a small cry and waved her hand over her eyes. The accursed tears would not stop falling. She found it difficult to speak, a feeling that rarely befell her. However, always her champion, he handed her a handkerchief and then continued without commenting about her disheveled state.

  “I made a wager for your hand in marriage, another decision that I regretted. Yet, at the time it seemed the only way to have you
in my life.” He placed his fingers on her chin and brought her face up to look at him. He appeared blurry to her, but even then he was the most handsome man she had ever known. His eyes showed his earnestness, and as so often before, she felt pulled into them. “Allow me to love you. I want nothing more than to have you share in my dreams, and I wish to realize your dreams with you. Sarah Crombly, will you be my wife?”

  Sarah did not know what to say or how to respond. His words brought great joy to her heart and she was afraid to embarrass herself by crying even more. However, looking at the handsome face she knew by heart, she could never embarrass him, not anymore. He was a man who loved her as much as she loved him. A man who understood the misfortunes placed upon her and who was willing to stand behind her stories, and even add to them if the need arose.

  “Before I answer, I must tell you something from my heart,” she said.

  He took her hand in his. “I will listen.”

  She smiled. “What you said about that day was true, you crushed my heart. And every day that followed, I dreamed of a prince who would come and save me from all of this,” she said, looking around her. “And over the last few days, I began to realize something.”

  He smiled that smile that warmed her very heart.

  “I am aware,” she whispered, “that when I was in Weymouth waiting for my prince to disembark from one of those ships and take me away, that I had missed his arrival. For he had already arrived, and I was too blind to see that he had been right there in front of me the entire time.” She looked up at him and smiled. “James, I do love you and want nothing more than to be your wife.”

  A moment later his hands were around her waist, and he leaned his head down and pressed his lips to hers. It was even more magical than described in the books she had read, the feeling of love passing between them stronger than words could ever do justice. They kissed in the garden, near the very same spot he had once crushed her dreams. But that was when she was a child; now she was a woman—a woman who now understood what love truly meant.