Dauntless (The Shaws)

by Lynne Connolly

  He was gazing back as if he felt the same thing. The warmth, the increased heartbeat, the hair prickling. But he said nothing, and Dru did not know how. Revealing her heart did not come naturally. It had not come at all. She’d told her parents she loved them, and she did. It was her duty. But nobody expected her to love her husband. Even her mother’s confession that she had grown to love Dru’s father had not prepared her for this overwhelming sensation—the warmth, the urge to fall into his arms wherever she was, the longing for his kiss.

  Being the person she was, Dru tried to analyze the way she felt, but for the first time in her life she came up short. She could not imagine anyone else feeling like this, ever. Least of all her mother.

  “Y’r grace, sir.” The wizened groom—Halford—was back.

  “Yes?” Oliver appeared to move reluctantly from her gaze to his.

  “The stone. It will take a bit of effort to remove.”

  Something passed between them, but Dru couldn’t discern what the groom was trying to communicate. “Will Misty recover?”

  “Oh, yes, my lady. Most certainly. But I want to be sure the stone is completely gone. I would like to keep her for an hour or two.”

  “Halford has a most excellent recipe for a salve,” Oliver put in. “He will ensure the mare is perfectly well.” He glanced toward the exit. “And delivering her will not prove difficult.”

  They shared a smile, all three. “Yes, of course you may keep her.”

  “She will be coming here soon, anyway,” Oliver said.

  Dru ducked her head, embarrassed and warmed by the expression in his eyes.

  “I will escort you home,” Oliver said. “If you will permit me.”

  “Of course.” She said goodbye to Misty, and they went on their way.

  In this hidden part of London, the smell of fresh horse manure mingled with the smoky scent of hay. Stacks of it stood in every yard. As they passed the mews to her house, she paused. “If we go this way, we can walk through the garden.”

  He agreed, and she inwardly rejoiced. She had plans for their stroll through the garden.

  * * * *

  Oliver had meant to take Dru straight to her house. He really had. The garden was large, well-kept, and visible from the house. However, when she caught his hand and tugged him in a different direction, he went with her and found a small pavilion. The charming confection was plainly meant to display climbing roses. A veritable thicket wound its way around the six white columns to the domed roof, which was mostly open to the sky.

  Dru appeared to advantage in a riding habit, the mannish jacket, and cocked hat softened by the skirts. And that shade of crimson deepened the flush in her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as she turned to him, a naughty smile on her lips. “They can’t see us from the house here.”

  Willingly, he followed her into the bower. “We can’t be long. Someone will already have seen us.”

  “Oh, yes, a gardener will interrupt us shortly.”

  Oliver hated to admit how much the subterfuge aroused him. Sneaking around to snatch rare minutes with a girl reminded him of his first passion, a dairymaid called Alice. Goodness, he’d had to stretch his mind to remember her name. They never went beyond kisses and caresses, but she had wanted more. If she’d led him on any further, he might have found himself in a much stickier position. One he would welcome with Dru, but they could hardly go that far here. Even if it would speed the wedding process. Already, waiting two weeks to possess her was driving him to heights of frustration he refused to assuage, except for the occasional relief with his hand. Otherwise, he’d go around in a state of permanent arousal.

  Still, the relief of taking her in his arms and kissing her gave him some peace. Until it did not. He’d shown her how to respond. Now he had reason to wish he had not, when she spread her hand over his waistcoat and wickedly slid it down to press his aching erection.

  He pulled slightly away, groaning against her lips. “Have mercy. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “But I will soon, won’t I?”

  Giving in, he resumed the kiss, claiming an intimate caress of his own when he cupped her sweetly curved little bottom, pulling her tightly against him. “Feel that?” he murmured to her. “It is waiting for you, as is the rest of me.”

  Her shudder evoked a response from him, one that hardened the shaft she had her fingers curled around. “I want it now,” she said. “I couldn’t bear if all this was taken away from me.”

  A thread of uneasiness curled into his mind. “Why should anyone take our happiness away?”

  She smiled, but he felt the tension in her lips, since his were a breath away. Something concerned her. “Has someone in your family created trouble again?” He stepped back, although it nearly killed him to do so, and gathered her hands between his, warming them. “If they have, we will go into the countryside and marry quietly. We have a special license. We may wed anywhere we choose.”

  “Then let’s go now.” Her voice grew urgent. “Please, Oliver. We may elope. Our families will make it right. I want you. Now.”

  He groaned. “You look at me with such eagerness. But no, Dru. Two weeks, sweetheart. That’s all. Let’s please our families and let them turn our union into a social event. Once we’ve attended the wedding breakfast, we may go where we please. I have a small villa in the country nearby. We could go there. It’s a day’s ride from London, and few people know of it.”

  “Oh. Can we not go tomorrow?”

  Laughing softly, he drew her close, looped his hands around her waist. “I love your eagerness. I feel it, too. But we should do our utmost to wait. We will see one another often and maybe snatch more interludes like these.” He touched his lips to hers, and they opened eagerly, inviting him to explore.

  He would have lost himself in her then. However, the gentle throat-clearing and the perfectly unnecessary crunching of feet on gravel told him of the imminent arrival of the promised gardener.

  Their enjoyable interlude was over for today.

  After seeing Dru home and having a quick word with her father about the mare, Oliver returned to his stables, a pleasant smile wreathing his features. He loved the dreamy look when she finally opened her eyes, and her kiss-stained lips ensured that he had made his mark on her. She’d wear his brand for an hour or two yet.

  Previously he’d had no intention of something as basic as marking any woman. Some men delighted in it, often with marks more permanent and brutal than a kiss, but he had never understood the urge before. He did now. He wanted her known as his, belonging to him, so that nobody would touch her.

  A strange urge. No doubt he would understand it before long. Oliver set to understanding everything that happened to him or to the people around him. He was never satisfied unless he knew and could claim it as his own. Ever since the act that had changed his world, he never took anything for granted.

  This phenomenon, his urgent and strong reaction to Drusilla, fascinated and alarmed him. He wanted no one to have jurisdiction over him or his emotions. That must never happen. He had too many responsibilities, too much on his mind to allow himself to become obsessed by one person.

  Yet it was happening.

  His sunny mood lasted until Halford met him, his eyes mere slits under his furrowed brow.

  “What is it?”

  Halford glanced around, marking their solitude, and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “I can’t be sure, sir, but I think that stone was put there.”

  The man must be imagining things. “That is foolish talk. Who would want me to put a stone in a horse’s hoof?”

  “Someone who wanted that horse to stumble. Fall, I’d say. Could have delivered a dangerous tumble for whoever was on her back.”

  Shock throbbed through Oliver, a dull thud that swiftly escalated to pure anger. “You mean someone intends Lady Drusilla harm?”

&n
bsp; “It looks that way, sir. I can’t be sure, now, but if she was hurt, the wedding would have to be put off.”

  Oh, no, it would not, he thought grimly. He would marry her the sooner, so he could take care of her. But an injury would necessarily deter more intimate exchanges. The delightful interlude he’d just shared with Dru put him in mind of that part. Because she was injured, he could not possibly consider inflicting her with an experience that, despite her teasing, would probably shock her, although he intended it would also please her. Perhaps deter him from marrying her.

  Who did not want him to marry Dru? The match was eminently suitable, and all parties appeared pleased with it, he and Dru not least of those.

  Who would do this? The only person he could think of was his previous mistress. But she would not care. Already she’d found a new protector, and Oliver had left her well provided for.

  A servant? A member of his family? No, his brother was overjoyed. Only this morning Charles had warmly congratulated Oliver and asked when he would have the pleasure of meeting Dru. He’d taken Oliver aback. Charles never saw anyone except Oliver, their mother, and his three personal servants.

  Or perhaps another agent. Someone who wanted Oliver to look elsewhere for a bride. That broadened the field considerably. Many ladies of society must have been aware that Oliver was in the market and had pushed their daughters his way. Perhaps one had arranged a little subversion.

  Anyone could get access to a stable, if he knew a groom, or if he delivered material.

  “Have you noticed any unusual activity?” Oliver asked his groom. He had, after all, set a watch after the carriage incident.

  Halford jerked his thumb in the vague direction of the Strenshall stable. “Over there? I’ve not been looking, sir. Perhaps I should, but I can’t direct who comes and goes in another stable. In ours? Not a blessed thing, and I’ve set careful watch. Even let people in to see what they would do, and the answer was nothing they shouldn’t have been doing. Our servants sometimes use the stables as a short way to the house, like they all do. It’s a way between houses, too, one that isn’t as well observed as the front entrance. Even the kitchens are better guarded.”

  “Hmm.” Oliver stroked his chin. His morning stubble rasped his fingers, and he was reminded of the reddened spots on Dru’s delicate skin after their kisses. Damnation, he would have to take care with that. Ensure his valet shaved him closely, perhaps twice a day, like a blasted dandy. “A direct attack on Lady Drusilla. That answers the questions we had about the carriage accident.”

  “I don’t like to say it, sir, but that family has its enemies.”

  Halford was right. Dru had five siblings and belonged to a big close-knit extended family. That could prove a problem. Perhaps he should consult with Drusilla’s father, inform him of what was going on.

  His instincts went against taking that course. The fewer people who knew his suspicions the better, as far as he was concerned. He trusted the marquess, but he could not say he knew him very well. And Strenshall would tell the rest of his family. Then, who knew who would come to know the unfortunate accidents that happened recently were of a more sinister nature?

  No, he would deal with this matter himself. He was used to keeping secrets, and he would keep this one, but the sooner he had Dru under his own roof the happier he would feel. Once she had separated from her family, the attacks would likely cease.

  Swiftly, Oliver made his decision. “Do not tell anyone about this for now. Keep a watch as much as you can of the comings and goings here and the other stables. I will continue to look into this.” One last try. “Are you certain these incidents aren’t accidents?”

  “Somebody else would have missed them. But that stone was pushed into place. It would have worn on the poor animal the longer you traveled, but the mare couldn’t have picked it up on the way. And the carriage—yes, sir, I’m certain about that now I’ve had a better look at it.”

  Oliver thought of all the curse words he had in his vocabulary, and he had quite a few. He would let them all go once in the privacy of his bedchamber, but not now. His protective instincts rose as never before, and that was saying something. For years, he’d jealously protected Charles and his mother from any scandal or hurt, but his urge to care for Dru superseded even that. He would not willingly let her out of his sight until he had her to himself.

  Chapter 8

  Dru couldn’t allow anything to come between her and the man with whom she was rapidly falling in love. She had to get to that manuscript before it was published on Monday, and she had three days to do it. Tonight she was to attend the theater with Oliver. Sunday was church and preparation. She’d have no chance then. And today, she had to sign the contract for her marriage settlement at the lawyer’s office.

  Her attempt to get him to elope had fallen on stony ground. That would create a completely unnecessary scandal in the eyes of the world. In her view, it was the perfect solution. The book would come out, be a nine days’ wonder, and disappear by the time they returned to town.

  The carriage took them to the solicitor’s office. The Strenshalls had used the same solicitor for generations. Their current man of business was the great-grandson of the founder of the firm, and he considered the Strenshall business the most important he had. His office was located in the City, a place that fascinated Dru, full of narrow streets, shouts, and the occasional grand space that had seen better days. As the fashionable world had moved farther west, wealthy Cits had taken over the houses until they dominated the City.

  The carriage took Dru, her parents, and her brother Darius with his business—and personal—partner, lawyer Andrew Grey to the busy cramped offices. They alighted to be met by Mr. Carter himself, who, with due ceremony, ushered them up the narrow bare stairs to his office. There, Oliver and his man of business awaited them.

  Dru tried to behave like a society lady and coolly offer her hand. However, when Oliver glanced at her as he rose from his bow with a wicked grin, he tried her self-control. She would have preferred a more intimate greeting, and from his expression, he would, too.

  She listened to the explanations of her marriage settlement impatiently, even more to Andrew’s translation of the legal language to normal everyday words. Andrew had a gift for making people understand, and he’d used his eloquence to great results when he had acted as her brother Marcus’s advocate. That was why the family trusted him. His work for the Shaws had marked the beginning of the love affair that had shocked the Shaw family. They’d always known of Darius’s preferences, but he’d never lost his head as he did over Andrew. Or sacrificed so much. He rarely appeared in society these days and preferred his City friends. His business was prospering, although Dru didn’t understand the half of what he did. He’d soon be wealthier than anyone except her father.

  He certainly appeared to be happy in his new life. Nobody knew how he’d persuaded Andrew to join him, especially when Andrew had so much more to lose, but they both seemed content. In fact, they exuded the happiness of a newly married couple, although of course that would never happen. Neither could anyone acknowledge what Darius and Andrew truly meant to one another. The world was given to believe that the couple were business associates and shared the same roof for convenience. That thin excuse kept most people happy.

  Now Dru wanted her own slice of happiness, but if her book was allowed to see the light of day, she feared that would never happen. Oliver guarded his privacy carefully—she knew that—and he also expected honesty from her. She shivered when she thought of what might happen if he ever discovered what she’d done.

  She had worn her plainest clothes in preparation for the plan she was determined to put into place today. It would be her only chance.

  The contract explained and signed, she breathed a long sigh of relief. She did everything expected of her, spoke warmly to her brother and his friend, expressed her pleasure, and then saw her betrothed frow
n.

  As they sat together on hard chairs in the crammed office, he managed a private word with her. “Is there anything wrong?”

  “No, of course not. Why?” Alarm spiked in her.

  “You seem on edge. Too bright.” He frowned. “I can’t quite explain it. But I can feel your tension.”

  Forcing a smile and smoothing her expression, she faced him. “Is it any wonder? My whole life will change in a matter of two weeks. I have a lot to think of.”

  He stroked her palm, sending responsive warmth through her. “Then I insist that you rest. I want you rested and happy on our wedding day. Are you happy?” He let her see his concern, his expression soft and caring.

  For a man who kept his emotions so carefully shielded from public view, he was letting her see so much. “Yes,” she replied immediately, and dropped her gaze, for fear he would see more than she wanted him to. Aware she was withdrawing while he was advancing, she set her expression and lifted her head again.

  His steely gaze bored into her, seeking her deepest secrets. “You are well?”

  “Perfectly.” Then she decided to tell the truth, at least some of it. She could soothe her raging conscience. But he must not know what she had planned. “I am visiting the mantua-maker after this. I have something I particularly want her to do to my gown, and I have had no time to tell her.”

  A seductive smile curled his lips. “I’m intrigued. Would you like me to escort you?”

  “No!” Her reply was so vehement that her mother turned her head and arched her brows in query. Dru forced the smile back. “Livia has promised to accompany me to the mantua-maker after this,” she explained. “Merely a detail I want to clarify.”

  “I’ll send James with you,” the marchioness said.