by Brenda Joyce
He nodded. “It will make your mother very happy, and frankly, I have never been so worried as I have been in these past months, seeing you so dark and without humor.”
Tyrell was shocked; he sat down.
“I think that I have always known that it would come to this. I was just refusing to admit it. I can be a stubborn old man,” he added with a smile.
Tyrell shook his head. “Stubborn? No one is more open of mind than you. Thank you, Father, thank you.” He stood and went to embrace his father.
“You have my blessings, Tyrell. And I will speak with Harrington immediately.”
Tyrell could not speak. He had expected a battle or at least no small amount of recriminations, but instead, his father had stood by the most important decision of his life. “You will not regret this,” he vowed.
Lizzie lay in bed. It was midnight and sleep eluded her. Her visit to Harmon House earlier that day played in her mind a hundred times, Ned’s grins, Tyrell’s every look, each exchange. This terrible chasm of aching was a grim reminder of the past they had shared. Friends did not yearn to be in each other’s arms, and friendship with Tyrell might prove to be a nearly impossible task. And the truth was, her heart wanted far more. Lizzie remained resolved, though—she was going to settle for friendship and do whatever she must to make their friendship succeed.
First, she would ignore the terrible sexual tension that only Tyrell could arouse. Lizzie inhaled, staring at the ceiling. True friends were loyal, caring and honest with each other. Maybe they were doomed, no matter what she did. A lie remained between them, the lie about Ned’s maternity.
Lizzie flipped onto her side. She hated thinking about that ancient falsehood. She had promised Anna she would take her secret to the grave with her, but now it seemed to be one more obstacle in the way of her relationship with Tyrell. Although it hardly affected his life now, it might affect how he felt about her. He would not be pleased that she had lied so monstrously to him, if he ever learned the truth.
Lizzie leapt from her bed. There was only one conclusion to be drawn. If there was any genuine hope of their becoming friends, the truth had to be told.
If Seagram was surprised to see her at the front door of Harmon House at half past seven the next morning, he gave no sign. “His lordship is taking his breakfast in the library, Miss Fitzgerald. I shall tell him you are here.”
Lizzie smiled as brightly as possible. “I will see Lord de Warenne in the library, Seagram.”
Tyrell was at his desk in his shirtsleeves. When he saw her, he instantly stood and crossed the room. “Elizabeth!”
She curtsied. “Good morning. I know this is odd but—”
He took her hand. “What is wrong?” His gaze was very concerned.
“Everything is fine. But I must speak with you. I know the hour is unusual, but I could not sleep.”
He gave her a sidelong look, not releasing her hand. Elizabeth suddenly became aware of his warm, strong grasp and her heart skipped. But she was too tired to pull her hand away, and she did not want to.
“Would you bring tea, please, Seagram,” he said.
Lizzie tugged on his hand. “We must speak privately.”
Tyrell followed the butler to the doors, then firmly closed them. He then returned to Lizzie, who was pacing. She was sick with dread.
“It cannot be that bad,” he said.
Lizzie shook her head. “That depends on you, I think.”
Tyrell’s eyes widened. “Are you planning to tell me you will not see me again?”
Lizzie started. “No! Of course not! I meant what I said—I desperately want to be your friend.”
His face closed. “Is that why you are here?”
She nodded, trembling. “I must tell you a story.” She had thought very carefully of how to proceed.
Tyrell appeared bewildered, but she had his full attention now. “Very well. Do you wish to sit?”
“No.” She twisted her hands. “My sister, Anna, who is married now, has always been reckless, Tyrell, reckless and terribly beautiful.” She tried to smile and failed. “You know her. You must—she was at several of the masked balls at Adare.”
Tyrell was utterly confused. “Why are we speaking about your sister?”
Lizzie inhaled. “She isn’t malicious, but she is vain. She was terribly spoiled as a child.” She spoke in a rush now. “Mama indulged her, and so did Papa. I think that is why, as an adult, she has never thought twice about gratifying her needs.”
Tyrell held her gaze. “What is this about, Elizabeth?”
Lizzie bit her lip, her vision blurred with tears. “I told you in the letter I left you at Wicklowe that I was not Ned’s true mother. There is a reason,” she whispered, “that I appeared at Raven Hall after a year away, with your son in my arms, claiming him as my own.”
Tyrell was clearly perplexed. Then Lizzie saw comprehension begin. “Elizabeth, I did not receive that letter. I have suspected for some time, though, that Ned was conceived on All Hallow’s Eve, by the woman who wore your costume.”
Lizzie nodded, shaking terribly. “That woman was Anna.”
Tyrell blanched as she had never seen him blanch before.
Lizzie hugged herself. “I planned to meet you that night, Tyrell, but Anna had ruined her costume and Mama insisted she go home. She asked me for my costume, and fool that I was, I gave it to her.”
He was staring in absolute disbelief.
Lizzie knew he was appalled by the nature of the tryst, but was he appalled with her, as well? “Please, please try to understand! I swore to Anna I would never divulge this secret. Even though I knew it was wrong, even though I knew you had every right to know the truth, she begged me for her help the day she bore Ned into this world. We had planned to give Ned up to a good home, but when I held him in my arms, I fell in love and I knew I could not give him away, not to anyone! I decided he would be mine, and as you know, I have loved him as if he were my own child ever since.”
He was breathing hard. “Elizabeth! I had no idea that woman was your sister! I was waiting for you, and I was very angry when I found her instead. Good God!” He ran his hand through his hair, clearly trying to understand. “I intended to leave when I realized a strange woman had met me in the gardens. She was very bold. She indicated she would be more than pleased to cater to my appetites and I accepted the invitation in extreme anger.”
“I know. Anna told me,” Lizzie cried. “I know you were not her first lover.”
“No, I was not!” He exclaimed, beginning now to flush. “How reprehensible this is! But God, this explains so much! I had always wondered who you were protecting.”
Lizzie finally sat down, but she never took her gaze from his. She felt as if a stone had been lifted from her shoulders and it was such a relief. “I pray you are not angry with me. But, Tyrell, no one must know. Anna is happily married and with child. We must protect her good name.”
And Tyrell’s ravaged face began to relax. “Yes, of course, we must. You would do anything, would you not, to protect Anna, or Ned, or those you love.”
Lizzie didn’t know what to say. “That is the nature of love.”
“That is the nature of self-sacrifice—that is the nature of great courage.” And he smiled in some anguish. “Do you think I have not thought long and hard about how you claimed Ned as your own, selflessly sacrificing your reputation and your life for his well-being?”
“There was no sacrifice to make.” In amazement, she began to realize that Tyrell was not angry with her.
“I know. I realized how much you love him the first night we made love.” And he sat down beside her, taking both of her hands in his.
Lizzie flushed, not really wanting to discuss that particular deception. “I don’t understand.” But the morning had become one of intimate and honest confession.
Tyrell’s expression softened. “Elizabeth, you must think me a fool.”
“Hardly!” She now became aware of his strong hands holdin
g hers, clearly not about to let go.
“The first time we made love you were a virgin. I knew from that instant Ned was not your natural child, that you loved him as if he were, and that you were protecting someone. But I never guessed it was your sister.”
Lizzie stared in real surprise. “But you didn’t say anything.”
“I believed you would tell me the truth, in time,” he said slowly. He reached for her. “I have never thanked you for claiming Ned as your own, for loving him so well and caring for him when he had no one else. You could have given him up to an orphanage, but you did not. You sacrificed your reputation and your life for my son. Elizabeth, it is something I have known from the first night we spent together. It is something I have never forgotten—it is something I will never forget.”
Lizzie could not move, nor could she breathe. She was moved by his gratitude, but gratitude was not love.
“I admire you immensely. There is no one I admire more,” he said roughly, his hands on her shoulders now.
Lizzie could not help but be thrilled. His praise would always affect her so powerfully. Now, the crisis almost past, a fire burned under her skin. It would be so easy to lean toward him, but she knew that if she did, in moments she would be in his bed.
So Lizzie slipped free of him and stood. “I am flattered, but I did what I felt was right, Tyrell,” she said.
He stood, their gazes locking. “Ned loves you,” he said.
Lizzie was completely mesmerized. Somehow, her hands were on his chest and she was in his arms.
“Ned loves you,” he repeated roughly, “as I do.”
He cradled her face in his hands and Lizzie met his burning eyes. Desire soared and made her feel weak and faint. “I want you in our life, Elizabeth, now and forever. I love you.”
Her heart beat so hard Lizzie thought it might erupt from her chest. Tyrell had just told her that he loved her, and she loved him, too. But they could not go back to an illicit affair. “Don’t do this,” she whispered.
But it was too late. As if he had not heard her, he kissed her.
It had been so long.
Lizzie forgot everything except the powerful man before her. She forgot everything except for her love and the desire raging from his body to hers. Tyrell crushed her in his arms, kissing her deeply, powerfully. For one instant, Lizzie held on to his huge body, kissing him back.
And Lizzie wanted nothing more than to have Tyrell’s body joined with hers. She wanted nothing more than for him to take her with all of the urgency and passion he could. But she simply could not go back to that place where they had once been lovers. There would be too much pain.
Tyrell made a harsh sound, pulling away from her. “I know you deserve more. I have always known it, Elizabeth.”
Lizzie remained shaken by his kiss. Suddenly he got down on one knee before her. “What are you doing?” she asked in genuine bewilderment.
“I am asking you to be my wife,” he said gravely. He was very serious, his gaze intent, and now he held out a ring. Lizzie stared at a large ruby, surrounded by diamonds, in absolute shock.
And comprehension began.
“This was my mother’s. No one else has worn it,” he was saying. “Will you marry me, Elizabeth?”
“Tyrell? What are you doing? You are engaged to Blanche!”
“I have broken it off with Blanche.”
Lizzie felt her knees buckle, yet somehow she remained standing. “You have broken your engagement with Blanche?” she gasped.
“Not only that, Father gives us his blessings.” He smiled at her, but his eyes reflected anxiety, too. “I know I have hurt you. I swear, Elizabeth, upon the Bible, upon the grave of every one of my ancestors, that I will never hurt you again. I will honor you, cherish you, love you and protect you. Will you marry me?”
He wanted to marry her. He had broken it off with Blanche and the earl approved!
Lizzie could not move or speak. This was her wildest dream come true! Excitement began and her body coursed with it. Hope blossomed. Was she really going to become his wife?
Lizzie cried out.
“Is that a yes?” Tyrell asked with a soft smile.
Lizzie knelt and flung her arms around him, holding him, hard. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Tyrell kissed her deeply, then seized her hand. Lizzie could hardly see through her tears, but she watched him slip the stunning family ring upon her finger. “Can this really be happening?” she whispered, daring to admire the ruby ring. “I am afraid I am in my bed and I am about to wake up, alone and unloved.”
He laughed with devious intent. “This is no dream. And I think I know how to convince you of that. Of course, you will wake up in a bed—in my bed.”
His tone was rough with hunger, his look filled with heat. Inside her, the fire raged.
Slowly, seductively, he smiled at her. “I should like another son.”
Lizzie inhaled, as no words could move her more. It had been so long—she needed him surging inside of her now, and not a moment later. “Let me give you another son, Tyrell,” she managed to say.
His regard locked with hers and they exchanged a long and frank look. And then she was in his arms and he was stroking her back, her hips, pressing her close. As one they stood, and he whispered, “I have no patience this morn.”
“I know,” she said, reaching for his handsome face. “Tyrell,” she whispered, a plea.
And it was one he had heard so many times before and would forever recognize. His eyes blazed and he crushed her in his arms, his body already hard and aroused, their lips touching. Lizzie opened for him, frantic, as he moved her to the sofa, his hand already beneath her skirts.
Soon she would be more than Tyrell’s lover, she would be his beloved wife. Emotion overwhelmed her as he slipped his hand against her sex and she gasped. Already turgidly aroused, Lizzie thought she might explode and she began to weep. “I can’t wait,” she sobbed against his mouth.
“Neither can I,” he gasped, reaching for his breeches. Lizzie met his gaze and felt as if she had flown into the universe and was blinded by its brilliant stars. He smiled as he sprang huge and hard against her, but it was brief and then he paused. “I love you, Elizabeth.” A devilish gleam entered his eyes. “I love you, wife.”
Lizzie could no longer hold back. His words had an instant effect, sending her over the brink, and she shattered into a million bold pieces of heat and love while he thrust into her, fast and hard, trying to catch up. And an instant later his cries rent the day.
Lizzie stroked his back through his shirt. She felt him regain himself and he shifted to his side, pulling her into his arms so they could look at each other. The sofa was far too narrow for them both, and in unison, they laughed.
“I am afraid I have become a poor lover, indeed,” he said, grinning. “Unless you have decided you prefer a brief tryst?”
Feeling as if her grin might split her cheeks, Lizzie said, “Hmm, something has changed, hasn’t it?” And she had to laugh, because he was still aroused and she couldn’t care less about how speedy or slow their lovemaking was.
He became very serious. He leaned over her and kissed her temple, not once, but twice. “I will make it up to you, as soon as you wish.”
“I know you will—it is rather obvious.” She did not smile, lifting her face so she could tenderly kiss him on the mouth in return.
He slipped his hand into her hair. “Are you happy, Elizabeth? For that is all I want. No one deserves peace of mind as you do.”
“I have never been happier, Tyrell,” she said, sensing he wished to discuss something. “And you? Are you happy?”
“Yes. I am beyond happy, Elizabeth.” He smiled a little. “I know you think I do not recollect it, but I do.”
She was confused. “What are you speaking of?”
“The day I saved your life when you were a small, plump child who preferred a book to a game of pirates.”
Lizzie went still. Her pulse ricocheted. “You
remember when I fell into the river?”
He kissed her briefly again. “How could I ever forget? And it was the lake, darling, not the river—had you fallen into the river even I couldn’t have rescued you, as the currents are far too dangerous there.”
Lizzie was amazed. How was it possible that he recalled that long ago day, too?
“I had been horseracing with my brothers and my stepbrothers—I had a new steed, one I was determined to show off. We were a very rowdy group,” he added with a grin. “And we were hot and dirty and decided to stop at the lake for a swim. There was a picnic in progress and the first thing that I saw was this adorable child with her nose buried in a book—a book half her size.”
Lizzie dared not breathe; she pinched herself to make certain she was awake. “Some boy took it away from me.”
“Yes, some bully seized it and you chased him and I felt like thrashing him. But then he threw the book in the lake. You ran to retrieve it—and fell in face-first yourself.”
“How could you remember this?” she whispered, shaken to her core.
He shrugged. “I have never forgotten. I dove in and carried you out and you looked at me, right into my eyes, and asked me if I was a prince.”
Are you a prince?
No, little one, I am not.
Lizzie had to hold on to him now. “I fell in love with you that day. I know I was only ten and you were far older, but in my eyes, you were a prince—my prince.”
He moved some hair away from her cheek. “I’ve never forgotten that day, Elizabeth. And every time I saw you in town—usually with a book—or at our St. Patrick’s Day lawn party, I had the oddest urge to protect you, should another bully appear.”
“You…you knew who I was?” she cried, stunned.
He did not smile now. “When I saw that coach on High Street, about to run you down, I felt a fear I have never before felt—except for at Wicklowe, when Harrington came, and I knew you were going to leave me.”
“You knew who I was that day those rowdies almost ran me over?”
“Yes, and when I had pulled you to safety, I realized the child no longer existed. There was a woman in my arms, a terribly beguiling woman.”
