by Brenda Joyce
JULIA LOOKED AT HERSELF in the mirror over the handsome mahogany bureau in Tyne’s hotel room, morning light sneaking in past the curtains. He had stepped outside to allow her to dress. They’d spent the entire day and night since her arrival in his hotel room—making love, then talking about their lives, then making love again. They’d ordered room service for supper. And then they’d made love once more.
He was leaving today.
Julia trembled. She knew that she had never before looked so radiant, but she couldn’t smile now, and her eyes were filled with despair. He was a strong, determined man, but a simple one in many ways. And his life was the homestead he had fashioned on the harsh California frontier over the course of two decades. Now she knew what that had entailed. She had seen the physical scars, and he’d shared the mental ones. He’d told her a dozen stories of miraculous escapes. It was amazing that he was even alive.
She trembled. Her life was a dutiful round of teas and balls, her horses and her dogs. Stephen hadn’t needed her advice or guidance or even her support in years; he was a grown man, and a very successful, driven and accomplished one. And while she was sorry he wasn’t settled yet, she felt certain that day was rapidly approaching. He was so obviously head over heels in love with Miss Bolton. Everyone seemed to know it except for him.
She knew that Tyne would love for her to visit, and she intended to do just that. But she couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving now, when they’d just begun such an impassioned friendship, nor could she bear the probability that she might not see him for six months or even a year.
He knocked softly on the hotel-room door.
Julia managed a smile. “Come in.”
He slipped inside, his smile brief, his eyes dark.
“I need help with the back of this dress,” she said softly.
“Of course you do.” He studied her as he approached. She gave him her back, and as he did up the last few buttons, she closed her eyes. Even his fingers skimming across her back felt so terribly right.
He clasped her shoulders and turned her around. “You don’t seem happy today.”
She met his unusually somber gaze. “Neither do you.”
“What man in his right mind would want to leave now?” he asked simply.
She gasped. Then she seized his hands. “Then don’t!” she said. “Stay a little longer—so we can further our friendship.”
“And then what?” he asked. “I’ll have to leave eventually, and your life is here.”
She stared.
“What is it?” he asked sharply.
“I meant it when I said I want to visit you in California,” she whispered.
His stare widened. “But you have a full life here, Julia. You are a dowager duchess.”
“I am,” she agreed, “and soon, if I do not miss my guess, there will be a new Duchess of Clarewood.”
“What are you saying?” He gripped her hands tightly now.
“That my duties here can be escaped, but the Danes must come with us.”
His eyes were wide and intent. “Julia, I have a confession to make.”
She tensed.
“I am glad to stay on longer, to see you. But there is a problem. If you come with me to California, I may not be able to let you leave when you need to go.”
“And what if I never want to leave? What if I want to stay?” She clasped his face. “I have fallen in love with you, Tyne, and there is nothing here for me now.”
He pulled her close. “I can’t believe it…. You’d leave everything you have here—for me? What if you don’t like California? I have told you how hard life is there.”
She slid her hands to his shoulders. “I am more than ready to start life over,” she said softly, meaning it. “And I am tougher than I look.”
He started to laugh before catching her by her waist and lifting her up, and then he hugged her fiercely. “For such a tiny woman you are very tough, but you no longer have to be, because I will be tough enough for us both. Julia. I love you.”
Her heart exploded with joy. And she knew then that everything else that had transpired in her life had been leading up to this moment—to Tyne.
She tilted her face up, and he kissed her, then murmured, “But I want to make an honest woman of you.”
HOLDING THE JEWELER’S BOX, Alexandra walked past Stephen’s doormen into the front hall of the house. Guillermo beamed as he saw her, rushing forward to take her coat. “I will tell His Grace that you are here, Miss Bolton,” he said. “He is in the study, of course, with his architects.”
She trembled. Should she stand on formality now? “I know the way, Guillermo, but thank you,” she said, her heart racing so swiftly that she thought she might faint. She had been up all night, staring at the engagement ring. A part of her was thrilled. She knew Stephen so well now, and she knew he would never be defeated in something he had decided he must accomplish. They had come full circle, hadn’t they? He was pursuing her again. He would not take no for an answer. But this time, his seduction would make her his wife.
She loved him so much that she felt dizzy thinking about it. She loved him so much that she thrilled at the notion. But her pride remained, and so did innate caution. He was a proud, complicated and difficult man. He did not understand compromise. A marriage without mutual affection and understanding would be impossible. And he had to genuinely care for her in return. They could not marry simply out of convenience, or for their child. It would hurt too much.
Ariella and Elysse knew him as well or better than anyone, and they were certain that he loved her. But then why hadn’t he simply said so?
She knew him well enough now to imagine that such a confession might be difficult for him. He wasn’t demonstrative, except in bed. He might not even know how to express such feelings. And he certainly wouldn’t think it necessary to explain himself, not even to the woman he wished to marry.
Alexandra paused on the study’s threshold, praying that he truly cared for her, too. The door was wide-open. Sunlight was pouring into the room. Her heart slammed as she looked at Stephen, standing by the far desk, with two architects, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, his gaze trained on the drawings spread out before them. The sunlight illuminated his high cheekbones and the sharp bridge of his nose. Her heart slammed and filled with love, but the hurt remained. She needed him so.
He looked up, and their gazes locked.
Then his eyes fell to the velvet box she held. He straightened, his expression impossible to read. “Would you excuse us?” he asked the other men.
Alexandra didn’t move as the two gentlemen smiled at her and filed out. She was absolutely breathless now. She prayed for a happily-ever-after fairy-tale ending.
He came forward, unsmiling, his eyes searching and somber. “I see that you’re not wearing the ring. Have you come to return it?” He spoke quietly.
She bit her lip. “I have come to discuss it.” That hadn’t sounded right—it had sounded so detached. “I have come to discuss us, Stephen.”
“Good,” he said harshly. Then, “Is it true? Is St. James already courting you?”
She tensed. “Stephen, he has been calling, but as a friend. He knows I am heartbroken.”
“And why would you be heartbroken, Alexandra, when your long-lost love has returned? I thought you would be delirious with joy.”
“I am hardly delirious with joy.” She inhaled. Was their inability to communicate so severe? “You never let me tell you why I couldn’t agree to marry you,” she said tersely.
“So you have come to reject me. Be warned. I have thought a lot about this. I am not going to back down, and I will not take no for an answer. Nor will I allow my wife to run off with another man.”
“In a relationship, in our relationship, you must step down from tyranny, Stephen.”
He winced. Then, “I am not giving up. I meant my every word.”
Her heart thrilled, but she had to be sure. “Because of the child,” she said. “
Because you have a sore spot where bastards are concerned.”
He stared. “Who told you that? Let me guess—Elysse? Ariella?”
“Yes, but they did not say why.”
“Then I will tell you why, and if you ever use it against me, I will deny it. I am a bastard, Alexandra. My natural father is Sir Rex.”
She cried out, shocked.
“With that background, how could I ever allow another man to raise my child?” he asked. “My child must have my name!”
She reached for his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He didn’t pull away. “It is a serious matter, never mind the rumors that abound, some of which are correct. One does not confess such a secret at the drop of a hat. Clarewood is at stake, should that truth ever be revealed and confirmed.”
She was still reeling from his revelation. “If I had known, I would have understood why you were so insistent that we must marry—or that I must leave my child with you.” It began to make so much sense now. She considered what Elysse and Julia had told her—that Stephen had been raised harshly and unkindly.
He studied her. “I had a difficult childhood. While St. James seems a reasonable man—and nothing like Tom Mowbray—I could not bear to leave my son or daughter in another man’s custody. I simply cannot do it.”
She touched his face, the comprehension surging. He was afraid his child would suffer an unhappy childhood in another man’s care. “I am not marrying Owen. I am not with Owen. I am not in love with Owen, Stephen.”
He seemed puzzled. “But you—”
“I love him, but you are the man I am in love with.”
His gaze widened with disbelief. “What?”
“I think I fell in love with you at the Harrington ball, when you rescued me and then my father,” she said, tearing up. “I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but not only were you an impossibly handsome prince, a true knight in shining armor, you were strong and kind.”
He reached for her and pulled her close. “And that is what you desperately needed, Alexandra, and I felt it immediately. You needed someone else to bear the burdens you had been struggling with for so long.”
She met his somber gaze. She had needed his strength and he had known it—he had offered it to her immediately. “I am strong, but I am tired, Stephen, tired of always having to be the strong one, of always having to do the right thing, of sewing until two or three in the morning.”
He clasped her face. “You will never have to be tired again. You will never have to struggle again, and you will end that damned business immediately! Can’t you understand? This isn’t simply about the child. I want to take care of you. I always have—from that first moment we met. I will take care of you!” He wiped a tear away from her mouth. “And I need you, Alexandra. You have warmed these icy halls.”
She wondered if this was his way of telling her that he loved her.
He added thickly, “I truly thought myself a heartless man, until you came into my life. You showed me love, and you taught me passion—now can you see why I can’t allow you to leave me?”
She somehow nodded, crying. “I love you so much.”
His eyes widened. He inhaled, trembling. “Do you really love me? You have seen me at my worst. I can’t quite believe that you could truly love someone like me. You have seen my temper and my cruelty. How can you love me?” he asked harshly.
She took his face in her hands. She knew very little about his past, but he suddenly seemed to be a small, vulnerable boy, not a powerful grown man. He clearly needed reassurance, and she was glad to give it to him. “You have lost your temper, I agree, but very rarely, and you are not cruel. You are the kindest, most generous man I have ever known.”
He glanced past her.
Alexandra turned. No one stood behind them. “What is it?”
As if he had just realized something, his expression became relieved, and he smiled at her. “Nothing. Alexandra? I have been miserable without you. I do not want to live alone at Clarewood, in these damned halls, without you.”
She laid her hand on his cheek, surprised by the passionate admission. As he blushed, she said, “I have been miserable without you, too. I cannot live without you, either.”
“Good,” he said, pulling back. And suddenly he was the powerful, arrogant, confident Duke of Clarewood again. “Then that is settled. We will be wed immediately, without fanfare.”
Alexandra nodded, crying all over again.
And he swept her up into his arms, smiling.
“What are you doing?” she asked, astonished.
“Carrying my soon-to-be bride over the threshold.”
JULIA PAUSED ON THE THRESHOLD of the great dining room at Clarewood, and before Guillermo could announce her, she smiled. Stephen sat at the head of the table, with Alexandra on his right. Their heads were together, and he had his hand on top of hers. Both of them were smiling, but it was her son’s warm, open smile that caused her heart to swell with joy.
She had been right about them, she thought, pleased. And she had been right to pray that Stephen would find love, not just a bride. He was so obviously happy, and she was thrilled.
“Your Grace? The dowager duchess has called,” Guillermo intoned.
Stephen leaped to his feet. “Mother, you have impeccable timing. Guillermo, set another place.”
The butler smiled and hurried off.
Julia entered the room, and he hurried over to kiss her cheek. She turned to Alexandra, who was standing, looking expectant. “How are you, dear?” she asked.
“I am fine, Your Grace. It is a pleasure to see you again,” Alexandra said, her cheeks tinged with pink.
Julia glanced at her son and saw him staring at Alexandra with a besotted expression. She laughed, happy as never before.
He turned sharply. “Your timing is perfect because we have news to share, and I wanted you to be the first to hear it. But I must say, you are in very good spirits.” His gaze had narrowed with suspicion.
“My spirits have never been better, and I also have news. But why don’t you go first?” She was too deeply in love to be worried by her son’s impending disapproval. Nothing would stop her from being with Tyne now.
Stephen turned toward Alexandra, who came around the table to stand beside him—and he pulled her close. He faced Julia and said, “I have asked Alexandra to be my wife, and she has agreed.”
Julia, overjoyed though not surprised, clapped her hands together. “I am so happy for you both!” She instantly reached for Alexandra and hugged her hard. “I am so thrilled, my dear. I thought and hoped this would be the outcome of your affair.”
Alexandra beamed. “You are so kind. Thank you. I love your son, Your Grace, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making him happy—while teaching him a thing or two about compromise.”
Julia laughed. Stephen was staring at Alexandra again, with the same smitten look. “Oh, dear,” she said. “There is a wedding to plan. And I have a feeling Stephen has realized that sometimes a queen rules, not the king.”
Alexandra laughed.
“We are eloping,” Stephen said firmly. “Alexandra and I have already decided on it—and we did not even have to compromise.” He glanced warmly at her again.
Julia wondered at that—every woman wanted a wonderful wedding. Alexandra had suffered many hardships, and she deserved a big event. “I refuse to be excluded,” Julia returned instantly.
Alexandra took Stephen’s hand. “That is what Alexi said…and Elysse and Ariella. And what about Sir Rex and Lady Blanche? They will surely wish to witness the nuptials—and so will Randolph—and my sisters, of course.”
Julia grinned. Alexandra had no intention of eloping.
He sighed. “I had truly hoped to avoid a society affair.”
“You cannot avoid such an affair, you are the Duke of Clarewood,” Julia said firmly. And then she thought of her own plans with Tyne. He wanted to marry her. He loved her. It was a dream come true.
She smiled to herself. Their timing was clearly perfect, too. “But if you are truly in a rush, I could help—I am sure we could manage a small family affair within a month or so. I have an excellent caterer.”
“Ah, that means just a hundred—or two hundred—guests.” But Stephen smiled as he spoke.
Alexandra couldn’t help it. She looked at him. “My sisters would love to be my attendants.”
Julia said softly, “Sara and Marion would love to be bridesmaids, too.”
Alexandra instantly thought of her two new and dear friends. “And Ariella and Elysse, who gave me so much hope when I thought we were finished.”
“I give up and I give in!” He put his arm around her. “I see I have been deluded all along. Very well. We will have small affair, then. Under two hundred—” he scowled “—but as soon as possible.”
Alexandra bit her lip in pleasure. She was becoming Stephen’s wife, and they would have a beautiful wedding after all. “I hope I am not dreaming. Maybe I should pinch myself.”
“You are not dreaming, and if I did not know better, I would think that the two of you conspired against me in advance.” But he smiled.
“We are women—we think alike when it comes to weddings, darling,” Julia said, smiling.
Alexandra could guess why Julia seemed so ecstatically happy, and she smiled to herself. Once in love, it was easy to recognize another person who was in the same state.
“Mother? I am now thoroughly worried. You keep beaming like a moonstruck girl.”
Julia sighed. “I am moonstruck, Stephen—I am head over heels in love.”
His horrified expression was comical. “Pray God you are not in love with that American!”
“I am marrying that American, Stephen. In fact, we are eloping.”
He stared at her, for once at a loss for words.
“I am happy as I have never been before, and we will be leaving for California after your nuptials.”
He sat down.
Alexandra rushed to him. “Stephen, this is wonderful news! Your mother so deserves love and a good second marriage.”
