Kit stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the same ghostly figure she’d seen standing at the foot of her bed the night before. Positioned as she was in front of the window, light poured through the figure, but it was fractured, as if traveling through a prism. The chill in the air was unmistakable.
As terrifying as the presence was, how close she’d been to making a horrible mistake was even more frightening. Had the phantom not appeared, she would not have stopped him. Admitting that to herself was difficult enough, living with him in the aftermath would be even worse. As terrifying as the apparition was, in a strange way it had saved her.
Of course, she couldn’t fathom his behavior. He’d placed himself directly between her and their ghostly visitor, as if he meant to protect her with his own body if need be. Could any many truly be that heroic? That willing to sacrifice? Her past experience conjured skepticism, and yet the facts were undeniable.
“What do you want?”
He’d directed the question to the spirit. As Kit looked on, the figure turned slightly, her head coming up and her eyes narrowing as she fixed her glacial stare upon Malcolm. Her mouth opened, her lower jaw dropping unnaturally to create a gaping maw from which an otherworldly shriek escaped.
The sound reverberated off the stone walls, rattling the glass of the windows and setting the bed curtains to swaying. Unable to watch any further, terrified of what she might see, Kit grasped Malcolm’s upper arms until even her shorn nails were digging into his skin. She buried her face against his shoulder, and willed the terrifying experience to end. Never in her life had she thought to come face to face with a ghost.
“She’s gone,” he said softly.
“Not gone,” Kit corrected, her voice trembling for an entirely different reason. “She isn’t gone at all. She’s simply hiding.”
“Hiding from what?” he demanded.
“I am afraid to know that. As terrifying as she is to us, I cannot fathom ever wanting to encounter what frightens her…” Kit dared a glance at his face then as he’d turned back to face her. She noted the hardening of his jaw, the flare of anger in his eyes. But she also noted the way his arms closed around her, this time protectively. It was a strange thing to have a man put himself between her and danger. Of course, that didn’t mean he was safe. He presented an entirely different sort of danger to her. She would need to guard her heart and her pride with him, because she feared that he could destroy both if given the opportunity.
“Tell me something, Katherine,” he said softly.
“What is that, my lord?” she asked, defaulting to formal address out of both habit and the need to create some distance between them, even if it was only in her mind.
“Had that apparition not appeared, would you have still asked me to stop?”
She wouldn’t lie to him, but that didn’t mean she had to admit the entire truth. She would not have. Stopping him had been the furthest thing from her mind until she’d seen their otherworldly visitor. Instead, she replied, “We will never know, my lord… but I did stop you. And I have no intention of letting you begin again. You asked me to be your wife, not your mistress. I expect to be treated with all the respect that position will allow.”
He laughed at that, laughed until he was breathless with it. When finally it slowed to occasional chuckles, he replied, “I assure you, Katherine, what just happened between us is precisely how a wife ought to be treated. That is where most men fail in marriage, especially the nobility… they think only women they have bought and paid for ought to enjoy pleasures of the flesh. That is why wives stray and husbands are discontent.”
“And have you not bought and paid for me?” she asked, hating herself for giving voice to the thought. It was how she felt, as if she’d bartered herself for the roof over her head, spirits and all.
His brow shot up, but it was no longer amusement he expressed. It was anger and for the first time, she felt the full impact of it being directed at her. Unconsciously, she took a step back, until she once again had her back pressed to the wall.
“I am not going to strike you,” he spat out between clenched teeth. “Is this truly what you think of me, or is that all the men of your past acquaintance have failed so miserably to be anything other than spoiled, sniveling brats who throw tantrums when they don’t get their way?”
“I hardly know you well enough to have formed an opinion about you, my lord, one way or another. That alone should answer your question.” Her reply was mostly bravado, and false at that. She’d been struck by men before…by Ned when she’d refused him, and again in the aftermath, when he’d threatened her if she dared ever utter the truth. Her father, as well, though it pained her more to recall that. When he’d lost everything, when his world had been crumbling about him, she’d returned home in ruin and it had been too much for him. But she could admit easily enough, that even as little as she knew him, he was nothing like any other man she’d ever known.
“I will never strike you. I will never force you. And I most assuredly have not bought and paid for you… We have a mutually beneficial arrangement, Katherine. But that’s just a legality. What’s between us, what happens in this room is ours and ours alone!”
Kit said nothing else, but there was no need. He was gone. After his last statement he stormed out, leaving her alone in the room. Not wanting to stay there for fear of the phantom returning, Kit picked up her dusty skirts and scurried after him.
Chapter 13
As Kit stepped out into the bitter cold morning, even the weak sunlight which pierced the heavy, gray clouds was blinding. The glare from the heavy blanket of snow on the ground made it impossible to see anything so she stopped outside the door and waited for her eyes to adjust. At least the snow had finally stopped falling altogether, though for how long, one could not be sure.
Kit tugged at the sleeves of her pelisse, a vain attempt to pull them down to meet the frayed edge of her gloves and protect her skin from the chill. It failed. The dress was her best and it was nothing more than vanity that had prompted her to don it as it had short, puffed sleeves. Theirs might be an unorthodox arrangement, but in that regard, at least, she still wanted to feel like any other bride. It was also the first time she’d be facing Malcolm since their encounter in his room. She’d begged off dinner, too embarrassed to face him.
In the end, he’d sent Vera to her room bearing a tray. It was a more thoughtful gesture than she deserved. She’d had a great deal of time in the solitude of her room to reflect on everything that had transpired between them to that point, and frankly, thinking of all that had been preferable to letting her imagination run away with her at every strange noise or creak that a drafty, old house could produce. She’d reached the startling realization that, of the two of them, he’d been the most honest, most forthcoming, and had never given her any reason to doubt his honor. On the other hand, she’d been judgmental, distant and difficult, she’d snooped through his private things and lied to him from the moment they’d met. And they were to be wed.
If there was any hope of having a life that was something other than miserable, it was time to accept him for all that he’d shown her. Instead of waiting for him to become her father with his temper and his recklessness, or Ned with his scheming and machinations, or any of the other men she’d fended off since her reputation had been destroyed, she’d have to judge him only by his own actions and not by her past.
With her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she looked up, her gaze locking on him instantly. He stood next to a team of horses that had been hitched to a sleigh. It would get them into town, but not much further she thought. It was older than the house by the looks of it.
“Is that sound?” she asked.
“We’ll soon find out,” he answered as he reached into the vehicle and produced a bundle of cloth. “I had Lytton go through the attics. He managed to locate a cloak that isn’t too moth eaten. It should at least keep you warm.”
“Thank you.” Kit accepted it from him.
It was old and it showed signs of wear, but it had been very fine at one time and was still finer than anything she currently owned. Draping the heavy velvet over her shoulders and fastening the clasp, she ignored the musty scent of it and savored the sensual feel of the fine fabric. “It’s lovely.”
“We’ll get you new things once the weather clears,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her feel as if she hadn’t a stitch on. “But it will do for now. Come. We need to be there and have the service before noon. As it stands, we’ll just make it.”
Kit stepped forward and let him take her arm to help her into the conveyance. He didn’t. Instead, he closed his hands about her waist and lifted her easily into the vehicle. If it seemed that his hands lingered longer than necessary, there was naught to be said for it. Very soon he would be entitled to even further liberties and try as she might to feign reluctance, a part of her thrilled at the thought. He’d kissed her soundly only the afternoon before, touched her in ways that no one had ever been permitted to, though some had, regardless of her protests. It had been an eye opening experience for her. He’d spoken of passion and pleasure. Based on those few brief moments, she had to conclude that such a thing truly did exist, though it would be a first for her to experience it.
When he climbed up beside her and settled onto the bench seat, his hip rested against hers. Even through the layers of fabric separating them, she could feel the heat of him and it sparked something inside her that she was afraid to lay name to. He knew, of course. It was obvious from the slight smirk that he had not missed the slight indrawn breath or her tension at his nearness.
Lytton, Vera and a sullen Joseph emerged from the house. The valet and maid were accompanying them to act as witnesses. Joseph was accompanying them because he was far too young to be left unattended, especially in a house that harbored the terrifying secrets that Rosedale Hall did.
The long ride into the village was cold and silent. Between Joseph’s pouting and all of the adults present knowing that there was a very real likelihood that the local vicar would turn them away, it was hardly a joyous wedding party. For Kit, it was more than that though, and she suspected that it was for Malcolm as well. Neither of them spoke, perhaps because they were both feeling the weight of the monumental thing that was about to happen between them. She’d thought during her London season, before her reputation had been ruined, that she would marry for love. Now, on the verge of marrying for convenience, for security, for the need to provide for her brother and to escape her termagant of a cousin, it felt, if not wrong, then somewhat disappointing.
As they entered the village, the few souls that were stirring looked askance at them. While other ladies could have ridden out in an open vehicle with a man and had no one spare them a glance, but everything she did was scandalous in the eyes of the villagers. Soon, she thought, it wouldn’t matter. Once she was wed, there would be nothing for them to say.
“It’ll all be over soon enough,” he uttered softly.
“Tis hardly a joyous sentiment for one’s wedding day,” she replied.
His lips quirked upward then at her caustic remark. “I suppose it isn’t. But I didn’t mean our marriage, Katherine, I meant their whispers. Those vicious tongued vipers masquerading as the good women of Lofton will soon have naught to say.”
Kit didn’t respond. They’d stopped near the church yard. She watched the heavy play of muscles in his legs as he jumped down from the sleigh, his boots crunching the snow beneath his feet. He came around and helped her down, setting her easily on her feet. Lytton and Vera disembarked next and Joseph took off like a shot toward the churchyard. They took one step, and then she stopped abruptly. “Wait!”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Reneging?”
“Before we do this,” she offered haltingly, “There are things I must tell you.”
He stepped back, nodded to Lytton and the maid that they should go on ahead before he crossed his arms over his broad chest and offered a curt nod to indicate that he was listening.
“I didn’t break your window.”
He smirked. “I never thought you had. But it was admirable of you to work so very hard to protect Joseph.”
Of course, he’d known all along. Kit managed to just avoid rolling her eyes. “About the scandal surrounding us… it isn’t just my reputation or the fact that Ned ruined me so publicly.”
“Go on.”
“My father lost everything gaming… everything. That’s why we wound up living with Patrice, because the moneylenders tossed us out into the street. And—.” She paused and drew in a deep breath, hating to even utter the words. “He committed suicide. He shot himself while Joseph and I were out.”
“While you were out… and did you still have servants then, or were they all gone?”
“They’d been gone for months,” she admitted. “They’d given up on wages and simply left.”
“So he shot himself knowing that his children would return home to find him… Forgive me for saying it, Katherine, but your father was a worthless bastard. And a selfish one.”
His statement mirrored her own feelings so well that she couldn’t even speak. The truth was she had yet to mourn her father because she hadn’t been able to stop being angry with him to do so. He’d left them. When things were at their absolute worst, he’d simply left them. “Yes. He was.”
“I know most of these things,” he said. “All the gossip and rumors were repeated to me with glee. None swayed me.”
“You could marry other women… cousins or family connections to local gentry who would be thrilled at the prospect of being so closely linked to a lord. I cannot fathom your determination to wed me when I am clearly such a poor choice!”
He shrugged, an elegant shifting of broad and powerful shoulders beneath the well fitted greatcoat he wore. “Women with a past are infinitely more interesting than their sheltered and virginal counterparts.”
Kit blinked at him in surprise, stunned once more by his extraordinarily unconventional views. But he simply turned and walked ahead toward the church. It was a calculated gesture. He would not pursue her further. She could follow him if she wished, or she could go back to her old life as a drudge in Patrice’s home, assuming she begged prettily enough to earn her cousin’s barbed version of forgiveness.
Picking up her skirts, Kit rushed forward to fall into step beside him. It was not a difficult choice. As they neared the door, their two lonely servants already waiting inside for them, he reached for her hand. Kit allowed it, feeling the warmth and strength of his fingers as they closed around her own. He terrified her in many ways, mostly because he’d given her something she couldn’t bear to lose again—hope.
Malcolm truly had no notion of whether or not she would follow. Katherine, in many regards, appeared to be her own worst enemy by creating obstacles where none existed. Yet, when she fell in step beside him, he couldn’t explain the overwhelming sense of relief that he felt when she did so. He could blame it on expediency. The time and effort of finding another woman who would meet the requirements set forth by the trustees in order to claim the estate would be daunting. But he prided himself on being honest with himself, at least. He was relieved because it was her, and because at some point during the brief acquaintance, he’d begun to think of her solely as his.
Entering the church, he passed Vera and Lytton who hung back and awaited instruction. He approached the vicar who stared at Katherine as if she had no right to even step foot inside the building. “Wait here while I speak to him,” he said, and indicated that she should sit in one of the empty pews.
“There’s nothing he will say that I have not heard before. He will attempt to dissuade you and will repeat every dirty, vicious bit of gossip that has ever been uttered about me.”
And she was determined to confront him while he did so, Malcolm surmised. But then he saw a spark of doubt cross her face. The worried look in her eyes gave him pause.
“He may refuse to per
form the ceremony,” Katherine added. “He’d be within his right to do so, and I certainly haven’t endeared myself to him.”
Malcolm didn’t ask how or why. In his mind, it mattered little. No one, not even a man of a cloth, was above bribery. Enough coin could be ‘donated’ to ease any objections the vicar might have.
“Yes, and he’ll be less likely to maintain his refusal in the face of bribery without additional witnesses. This isn’t a consultation, Katherine. It’s a negotiation. Please, wait here.”
She sighed heavily, but relented and took a seat on one of the pews near the back of the church. Leaving her there, Malcolm walked ahead to face off against the vicar.
“We’re here to be married.”
“There’s been no reading of the banns!” The vicar protested.
Pressing Mooney for information of licenses, information the man had been most reluctant to give, had clearly been a wise course of action. “We’ll be married by a Common License, if you please. Katherine’s family situation necessitates moving quickly.”
“With child, then,” the vicar said with a sour twist to his mouth. “Are you certain it’s yours?”
“Not with child, sir, but tossed out by uncharitable relatives who are incapable of true regard for anyone other than themselves… I’d prefer to marry as quickly as possible for that reason, as Katherine has already moved into my home. Naturally, I’d be willing to make a generous contribution to the church for your trouble.”
A Heart So Wicked (The Dark Regency Series Book 6) Page 10
