Elizabeth snuggled deeper into the blankets, searching out the source of warmth next to her. She slid closer, sighing in pleasure. Her hands reached out so she could tuck her fingers into the heat and press the entire front of her body against the enticing warmth.
“If you hit my ribs once more, I’ll toss you out of the bed.” The low, raspy growl vibrated against her ear, shaking her awake.
“Oh!” She scooted back, startled, clutching at the quilt. She blinked in the semi-darkness. Morning light was beginning to stream through the room’s one window, giving the bed a gray, misty look. She could clearly see the rather large outline of a…person next to her. Not a brick meant to warm the bed, though certainly as unforgiving as something made of such hard material. Stone, perhaps.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, inching as far from him as possible.
“I was sleeping until you tried to fluff me like a pillow.” His arm snaked out as she rolled to the edge of the bed in her attempt to get away from him, catching her before she could fall off.
Kelso’s fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, the shock of which she felt to her toes. “Get out of the bed. Now.” She tried to shake him free, ignoring the delicious sensation tingling down her arm. “This is entirely improper.”
“I will not. Calm down, Elizabeth. Your virtue is not in immediate danger.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks puffed out. She looked at the pillow, wanting to toss it at his arrogant head. No clever reply formed on her lips. Kelso’s body was far too close to hers. He smelled sleepy. Clean. Male. And she was a top the coverlet, swaddled like an infant inside an enormous quilt. Kelso was beneath the covers. No less than a foot of blankets and linen separated them.
“You’re quite safe,” he said in a much gentler tone. “I promise.”
“I know.” Yesterday, after her bath, she’d brushed her hair before the fire reflecting on how much lighter she felt having told Kelso the story of her being sent to St. Albans. There had been no judgement in his eyes, either for having such a terrible mother or at the confession of her affliction. When the tea tray had come and Kelso had not, Elizabeth had felt a little abandoned by him. Even more disturbing, she’d missed him.
Thankfully, her stomach chose that moment to grumble in hunger. Loudly.
Kelso frowned. “I can see we won’t be sleeping any longer. It’s just as well; we’ve something to discuss.”
Elizabeth’s eyes shut as he threw the covers aside and stepped out of bed.
“Good lord, calm yourself,” he said in an annoyed tone. “I’m fully clothed. You were less terrified when loading pistols in a moving coach. Not to mention being shot at.”
“You’re very disagreeable in the morning.” He really was. And terribly handsome with his hair mussed and sticking up. His jaw was now covered with more than a day’s growth of beard. The cut on his forehead was raised and bruised but had scabbed over. All in all, Lord Kelso looked rather disreputable. Like a tomcat who’d just won a fight. Nothing like a lord at all.
Fire flicked around Elizabeth’s midsection.
Kelso strolled over to the fire and kneeled to stoke the embers. His movements were fluid with an easy, athletic grace. Muscles played beneath the fine lawn of his shirt as he threw another log on the flames and stood. Grabbing the chair she’d fallen asleep in the night before, he pulled it over to the bed. The chair sent up a creaky protest before he settled, throwing one leg over the arm and faced her.
Elizabeth’s heart fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Kelso’s shirt was unbuttoned at the top showing just a hint of dark brown hair and smooth skin. She found it difficult to look away.
“Elizabeth, I’m fully clothed. Stop staring at me as if I’m about to ravish you. You’re behaving like a nitwit.”
She was staring at him. “I see my bandage has stayed put despite you maligning my efforts. I told you I knew what I was doing.”
“Porter re-wrapped the bindings last night.” His lips twitched. “Properly. Did you learn anything useful at St. Albans?”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened on the coverlet. She’d never mentioned exactly where she’d lived before Mother had found her. “What do you know of St. Albans?”
“Mother Hildegard boxed my ears once when I was a lad. How is she, by the way?” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Terrifying woman. I’d gotten into the honey meant to be sold in the village.” He made a nonchalant wave of his hand. “The Duke of Dunbar is my cousin.”
“You’re Nick’s cousin?” She should have guessed. Spence and Nick possessed the same dry wit and arrogant manner. “You are only now mentioning such a thing to me?”
Her brother’s closest friend, Nick, now the Duke of Dunbar, had two cousins. One lived in the Peak District and did something with rocks. Elizabeth couldn’t remember his name. The other was a slightly scandalous attaché to the British government and had been living in India for the last several years. That cousin was slightly disreputable, by Nick’s own account. He’d even told her his disgraceful cousin’s name.
“Spencer.”
“Ah. I see you’ve heard of me. Probably not in glowing terms. I’m willing to bet Nick told you if we ever met to keep your distance. I haven’t always been so honorable.”
“What an interesting coincidence.” What were the chances Nick’s seldom seen but notorious cousin would happen upon her? A horrible thought shot through her mind. Could Langford have —
“Before you work yourself into a lather thinking I could possibly be in league with your mother, or God forbid Langford, let me assure you, I’m not. The logistics of planning to have my coach at that particular inn at exactly the right time in order for you to sneak inside it is far beyond my strategic skills. And even if it was, do you really suppose I’d choose Langford over my cousin?”
Elizabeth stiffened. It was unsettling how Kelso had come to know her so well in such a short time. Possibly her confession the previous day had something to do with it, though she didn’t regret telling him. “Sometimes I find you to be unlikeable.”
“One of my better attributes.” Sunlight flirted across the patrician nose, perfect save for the small bump at the bridge. Elizabeth liked the tiny knot. It gave Kelso an imperfect handsomeness.
“While I enjoy sparring with you, I’ve something to propose,” he said.
Her stomach grumbled again, and she gave him an apologetic look. Good lord, this was humiliating.
Kelso leaned over and addressed her mid-section. “Silence. I’m speaking. You’ll be fed breakfast momentarily.” A thick wave of hair, sunlit brown with gold glinting among the strands, fell over his forehead.
Kelso had lovely hair. She didn’t think that was something she should compliment him on as he was far too arrogant to begin with. Her eyes lowered to the patch of skin exposed by his open shirt. Despite the way her body hummed when he was near, Kelso’s presence calmed her. “You’ve already promised to take me to my brother.”
“And no matter what you say to me next, I will still do so.” He ran his hand through his hair again and his resemblance to a porcupine became more pronounced. “I find I’m in need of a wife. Before you ask, the reasons aren’t important.”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with me.” A small, barely noticeable bit of jealously made itself known as Elizabeth looked into those amber eyes. For a moment she imagined the type of woman Kelso would marry. She’d be beautiful, with the ability to comport herself appropriately in society. She would dance, something Elizabeth —
“And you need a husband.”
The words dragged her attention back to the discussion at hand. “I don’t.” She looked up at him. He couldn’t be serious.
“Marriage will ensure you stay safe from your mother’s machinations and from Langford. Nor would you need to worry about the awkwardness of being flirted with at a ball. You wouldn’t even need to attend social functions, except with me, and only for a short time.”
“You don’t know
anything about…my affliction.” Elizabeth huffed, realizing he did know. She’d explained her dread of London to him in the coach.
“Elizabeth, I’m not judging you. I am perhaps the only man in all of England who would not. I can make things easier for you. Make you safe.”
Elizabeth placed a palm to her chest, wishing her heart would stop leaping in the direction of Kelso. It had done so since she’d woken up next to him. But she doubted Kelso was doing this out of affection for her, no matter how many times he’d ogled her bosom. Or his care of her. “And yourself? What am I saving you from?”
His nostrils flared and Elizabeth knew she’d hit a nerve. “Your brother will not be able to protect you,” he said through tight lips. “He has already proven such.”
Kelso could be beastly when opposed. “Unkind.”
“You don’t wish to go to London, do you? To have all those gentlemen, strangers who you absolutely don’t want to touch you, vying for your attention? The crush of a ball. The press of a crowd at the opera.” He gave her a determined look.
“When you put it in such a way, I sound a bit like a freak.” He was entirely correct, which made Elizabeth even angrier. She didn’t care to have him describe her in such a way. “You pity me. How lovely of you, Lord Kelso.”
“Don’t be difficult, Elizabeth. If you will stop sputtering for a moment —”
“I do not sputter.” It was difficult to be haughty when wrapped up in a quilt, but she was doing her best. She didn’t like for him to consider her a charitable endeavor when her attachment to him felt quite…different. For one thing, Kelso didn’t induce the choking anxiety she’d come to dread, not even when waking to see him next to her.
“This is a very practical arrangement. We tolerate each other well enough. I need a wife to dangle from my arm while in London, the sooner the better; and, like you, I have no desire to brave the ton in order to find one. You need my protection and if it makes you feel better, I need yours.”
Elizabeth supposed the arrangement wasn’t completely one-sided. She liked Kelso, far more than she wished to. More importantly, Kelso gave her a sense of security.
“I appreciate your handling of weapons.” He reached out and opened his hand, waiting until she tentatively placed her fingers in his. “And I understand you, Elizabeth. Or at the very least, some of the more important parts.”
“And what about the rest?” She pulled her hand away from his, thinking of the intimacy most wives were forced to endure. Despite her attraction to Kelso, Elizabeth wasn’t sure how she felt about such a thing. “What about…children?”
“I promise to make no demands on you. I’ve a distant relation on my father’s side who would be more than happy to inherit my title. Children have never particularly interested me. I’d be a terrible father. And you need not live with me. You would be free to live where you wish.”
His explanation was all so logical, so well thought out, Elizabeth couldn’t refute any of his proposal. “I see you’ve considered everything, Kelso.” What would her life be like if she married him? Probably much as it had been at St. Albans except lacking a half-dozen nuns. She’d have peace and security. Freedom from the demands of society. Maybe in time, if she weren’t rushed, Elizabeth’s anxiety would disappear completely. She cast a glance at him. After all, that’s what happened when she was around Kelso.
“There is just one other small detail.”
Marrying him would solve all her problems. “The wedding?”
“The consummation,” Spence said flatly.
14
Elizabeth stuck her feet atop the heated brick as the carriage barreled toward Gretna Green and marriage to Kelso.
Her future husband sat across from her, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed, oblivious to her presence. After blandly telling Elizabeth they would need to finalize the details of their marriage in the most intimate way possible, he’d left the room without a backward glance. They could have been having breakfast and he’d merely asked her to pass the jam. Now he was ignoring her.
Elizabeth considered herself to be intelligent and somewhat worldly, even after spending so many years at St. Albans. She knew if Kelso didn’t bed her, the marriage could be contested. Her marriage must not be questioned by anyone, especially her mother. She cast a glance at Kelso from beneath her lashes wondering if she could approach the marriage bed without panic engulfing her. The idea of being bound to Kelso didn’t bother Elizabeth in the least. She wondered why.
What she did find curious was his need to marry. Money would have been a brilliant excuse, except Kelso didn’t strike her as a fortune hunter. What little she knew about him came from Nick, who had maintained Kelso was not someone a young woman of good family should involve herself with.
A bit late for that. Her eyes landed on the line of Kelso’s jaw. He still hadn’t shaved.
All attempts to question him over a hasty breakfast of fresh baked biscuits and tea had been futile. He had glossed over the incident at the Wilted Rose as nothing more than a disagreement and had, instead, related colorful anecdotes of his life in India, France, Italy and an excursion into Russia. His descriptions of the different cultures and people fascinated Elizabeth, though there was never a mention of friends or acquaintances by name. She had asked him directly what his role had been with the ministry and Kelso had replied in a vague way, telling her he merely delivered messages on behalf of the Crown.
Kelso claimed to be a courier.
His eyes fluttered open, the amber sparkling in the confines of the coach. “Are you wondering if you should just take your chances with Langford?” His lips twitched.
The low, smoky voice made Elizabeth’s toes curl in her half-boots. “I confess, my lord, it has crossed my mind.”
His gaze dropped and lingered over the area of her bodice, then floated upward to her lips. “I dislike you in gray.”
A flick of heat lit her skin, something which was happening with increasing regularity. It didn’t frighten Elizabeth, but she did find the sensation unsettling. And exciting.
“Duly noted. And in regard to Langford, anyone whom my mother holds in such high esteem cannot be anyone I wish to be associated with. Birds of a feather and all that. She has never done anything that is not in her own best interests, regardless of who could be hurt.”
“I am the lesser of two evils. How gratifying,” he said. “Gretna Green is not much farther. Luckily, we were already skimming the border to avoid any unpleasant surprises. You should sleep if you are able. I’ll make the arrangements as soon as we arrive. After spending the night, we’ll be on our way to London.”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply at the reminder of the consummation. Her trepidation over such intimacy conflicted with her attraction for him, something which pulled and tugged at her insides.
“It’s necessary, Elizabeth.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “Perfectly fine.”
15
Gretna Green proved to be lovely. The village sat upon a large, spacious green, bordered with several buildings of various sizes. Porter drove past them all before coming to a tidy white-washed building. The inn was much smaller than what Elizabeth had seen on the main thoroughfare and appeared more discreet, except for the door, which was painted a bright red. A sign above announced the building as the Red Door Inn.
Kelso hopped out of the coach and instructed her to remain inside.
Elizabeth nodded duly, her heart thudding as she peered out the window. She had no intention of leaving the coach to wander about in her novice’s garb. Even though the chances her mother and Gustave would be in the area were slim, Elizabeth appreciated the abundance of caution.
Kelso disappeared inside the small inn; he returned several minutes later, followed by a plump woman with a pile of silver curls atop her head. He came forward and assisted Elizabeth out of the coach.
The woman’s eyes were warm as she reached for Elizabeth’s hands, not noticing Elizabeth’s hesit
ation at the greeting.
“I’m Mrs. Campbell.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers. “This is my place.”
“Elizabeth,” she said quietly.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted while I make the arrangements for the ceremony.” Kelso nodded and turned to leave.
An unexpected surge of panic greeted his words. Elizabeth reached out and placed her fingers on his forearm. They both looked down at her fingers, pale and slender against the dark brown of his coat. It was the first time she’d ever intentionally touched him, taking them both by surprise.
Kelso leaned in, his breath tickling the curve of her ear. “I’ll be back, little nun. Try not to bandage anything.”
Elizabeth nodded, her hand dropping as he left her to speak to Porter; she wondered what had prompted her to touch Kelso as if she couldn’t bear to be parted from him.
Mrs. Campbell clucked her tongue. “He’s quite determined to marry you soon.” She winked and cast an admiring gaze in Spence’s direction. “Quite a rogue you’ve caught, eh?”
“I suppose so.” She pulled her hand gently away from Mrs. Campbell’s grip. Not that the older woman noticed; she was too busy admiring Kelso. Elizabeth couldn’t blame her. Disheveled from traveling with the scruff of a beard on his chin, Kelso looked rakish and dangerous. Like a romanticized pirate or highwayman from one of the gothic novels Miranda sometimes sent her. Mrs. Campbell certainly wasn’t immune to Kelso’s masculine charms.
“He’s quite the bridegroom, lass.” The woman leaned closer. “A man like that sets a lady’s heart to fluttering. Like a wolf in gentleman’s clothing.” She took Elizabeth’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Lucky lass.”
She gave Mrs. Campbell a weak smile, uncertain how to reply. Kelso was not the kind of man who would ever lack for female companionship, she realized. He’d proposed a marriage in name only once consummated, and she’d agreed. But there would be other women after their marriage. She had no right to expect anything less.
Still Wicked Page 9
