A Necessary Husband

by Debra Mullins

  She rolled to the other side of the bed and was on her feet before he could blink. They stared at each other across the expanse of the coverlet, Malcolm amused, Lucinda defiant.

  "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I only want what you have been promising me all these years. It's not polite to tease a man, you know."

  "I haven't promised you anything," she said hotly. "I may have been seduced by your charm when I was a young girl, but I know the real you, Malcolm. I would rather bed a leper than lie with you!"

  He narrowed his eyes. "Have a care what you say, Lucinda. I have better uses for that mouth than spitting at me."

  Revulsion churned her stomach. "Don't you understand, Malcolm? I am refusing you."

  "Don't you understand, Lucinda?" He came around the end of the bed, stalking her until she backed up against the bureau. "I don't care. I will have you tonight, and it is up to you just how difficult you want to make this on yourself."

  Lucinda swallowed hard as he reached out to hold the top of the bureau, trapping her between his arms. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and nuzzled her hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell delicious," he breathed.

  Fear wrung a small sound from her throat. Malcolm pulled back and looked at her, his pale blue eyes almost compassionate except for the lust that lit them. "What ever is the matter, dear Lucinda?"

  She had to be clever. She had to get herself out of this. "My nerves are overset. Perhaps some brandy..."

  "Of course." He stroked his hand over her cheek. "Help yourself, my dear. But do not think of trying to escape—my man is just outside the door."

  She nodded, her hands shaking as he stepped back and allowed her to cross the room to the brandy. A soft sound made her whip her head around. Malcolm smiled seductively as he pulled the tails of his shirt from his breeches and unfastened the last of the buttons.

  "Hurry, my dear," he purred. "I grow impatient."

  She nodded, then reached for her bag.

  "What are you doing?" he barked.

  She jumped. "Just taking off my reticule, Malcolm." She tugged open the strings on the bag before making a show of slipping it from her wrist and placing it on the table beside the brandy bottle. As she did so, she tipped the tiny bottle of laudanum into her palm.

  "All right then," he said. "But be quick about it. I am very eager to claim what's mine."

  She made a show of uncorking the brandy bottle and refilling the single goblet, letting the clink of the bottle on the glass disguise the small pop of the stopper on the laudanum bottle. She put down the brandy bottle and tipped the laudanum bottle against the edge of the goblet.

  Malcolm grabbed her wrist and jerked her around to face him, the laudanum bottle gripped in her captured hand. "What's this?" he demanded. "Are you trying to poison me?"

  He shoved her hard against the wall with one hand on her throat, the other clenched on her wrist. Then he ripped the vial from her hand and threw it into the fire. The glass shattered, and the fire flared as her last chance at escape burned to ashes before her eyes.

  "You will regret that," he hissed, shoving his face close to hers as she struggled for breath beneath his punishing fingers. "I didn't want this to be difficult, but you have made the choice."

  He tightened his fingers around her still-tender throat, and tears stung her eyes.

  He used his free hand to fondle her breasts, his gaze locked on hers. "Now listen to me. You will remove your clothing and lie down on that bed and spread your legs for me as a woman should. And you will take me—and anything I want to do to you—with silence, do you understand?"

  He was going to rape her now, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could only hope to get out of this alive.

  The door crashed open and slammed hard against the wall. Garrett burst into the room, his eyes fierce. Knightsbridge followed, casually stepping over the body of the unconscious man in the hallway.

  "Say, Kelton," Knightsbridge said, "you will have to show me how you do that—" He stopped short just inside the doorway as he caught sight of the occupants of the room. "Good Lord, Arndale, have you lost your senses?"

  Malcolm released Lucinda and turned to face the two men. "Gentlemen, you interrupt."

  "That's my fiancée you're fondling," Garrett snarled.

  "The devil she is!" Malcolm exclaimed. "She's my mistress, you know."

  "Liar!" Lucinda rasped, wincing as the effort hurt her throat. She ran over to Garrett, who pulled her close against his side.

  "You've kidnapped and abused my future wife," Garrett said to Malcolm, his voice silky with menace. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

  "Lies," Malcolm snarled. "The woman came willingly. She's no innocent virgin. She's a lusty widow, as you no doubt know." He smirked. "She all but begged to have me between her legs. Perhaps your future wife is not so virtuous as she would have you believe."

  Garrett gave a roar of rage and leaped for Malcolm, slamming his fist into the viscount's nose.

  Knightsbridge pulled Lucinda out of the way as Malcolm went down, crashing into the table. "Kelton, do try not to get any blood on your clothing," he called out. "Stobbins would be most put out with you."

  Garrett stood over Malcolm, who gingerly picked himself up off the floor, holding his bleeding nose. "Come on, you bastard," he growled. "Let's settle this."

  Malcolm drew himself up, stanching the blood with his shirt cuff. "Perhaps in the wilds of America they settle such things like savages, but here in England, gentlemen settle disagreements in an honorable manner."

  "No," Lucinda whispered with horror, sensing what he was about to say.

  "Name your seconds, sir!" Malcolm demanded.

  "What the hell is a second?" Garrett snapped.

  Malcolm burst out laughing. "This is priceless," he sneered.

  Knightsbridge stepped forward. "I shall serve as your second if you like, Kelton," he said. "Arndale has just challenged you to a duel."

  Garret bared his teeth in a predatory grin. "I accept, Arndale. Shall we say Thursday at dawn?"

  "Agreed." The viscount gave Knightsbridge a smug smile. "You will need to educate Kelton on the ways of a gentlemen's duel, my lord. He should also choose the weapon."

  "Pistols," Garrett said, ignoring the dig.

  "You will inform me as to the name of your second, Lord Arndale," Knightsbridge said coldly. "I will expect to call on him tomorrow afternoon to make the final arrangements."

  "Of course, Knightsbridge."

  "Come, Kelton," Knightsbridge said, giving a tug on Garrett's sleeve. "Let's take your lady home. There's much to do."

  "See that you show up Thursday morning, Arndale," Garrett said, "or I'll come find you."

  The viscount smiled maliciously. "I wouldn't miss it."

  Chapter 21

  "You can't fight a duel," Lucinda said for the third time in the carriage on the way back from the inn. "Malcolm is a crack shot."

  "So am I." Garrett gazed impatiently out the window into the night. Being a man of action, it didn't sit well with him to leave the viscount in one piece back at the inn. But Lucinda's reputation was on the line, and he would follow these blasted English rules if it saved her good name.

  Besides, he had the pleasant memory of Arn-dale's bloody nose to sustain him until the duel.

  "And what was all that nonsense about me being your fiancée?" Lucinda ranted. "I do not recall accepting your proposal, sir!"

  "It wasn't nonsense at all," Garrett said, turning to face her. "I intend to marry you, Lucinda.

  However long it takes to convince you, you will be my bride."

  She lifted her chin defiantly. "I will not be bullied into marriage, Captain."

  "Captain, is it?" His temper snapped, and he reached across and hauled her into his lap.

  "Garrett!" she cried.

  "Pardon, Knightsbridge," Garrett said, then kissed Lucinda with all the passion that was eating at him.

  "Not at all," Knightsbridge responde
d politely.

  After a moment of initial resistance, Lucinda melted into his embrace, her arms slipping around his neck. She clung to him, and he pulled her closer. He had almost lost her today.

  "You're going to be my wife," he murmured, holding her close.

  "If you survive," she replied, snuggling into his arms, "then you can ask me—and not before."

  "Congratulations to you both," Knightsbridge said with a grin.

  * * *

  Lucinda tried all day on Wednesday to talk Garrett out of fighting the duel, but to no avail. He seemed bound and determined to risk his life for her good name. At one time she would have been pleased, but now she just wanted all of it to be over.

  She didn't want to be a widow before she was even a bride. Or a fiancée, for that matter.

  Malcolm had named Baron Chumley as his second, a nasty lecher who had been his good friend since they had attended Eton together. Knightsbridge had gone off to meet with Chum-ley, and he returned with the news that, since Garrett had no intention of apologizing for striking Malcolm and insulting his good name, the duel would go on as agreed at dawn on Thursday morning.

  Upon hearing the news over tea, the duke said to Garrett, "I'll tell you again. Wound the fool if you must, but do not kill him. I'll not have you arrested for that idiot's demise."

  "I wish you would just call it off," Lucinda said.

  Garrett, the duke, and Knightsbridge, all stared at her.

  "Matter of honor," Knightsbridge said. "We can't have it said that Kelton is a coward."

  "And Arndale must pay for his scurrilous behavior," the duke agreed. "He has insulted my grandson's future bride and behaved like the veriest knave. I, for one, hope Garrett aims true and teaches the cad a lesson."

  "I'm not his future bride yet," Lucinda retorted.

  "I must do this," Garrett said to her, his voice low and quiet. "I take care of my own."

  "Forget it, Lucinda," Meg spoke up. "Once he's made up his mind, there is no changing it."

  "Then let's pray Arndale leaves the country like the coward he is," Agatha said placidly. "Would someone please pass the cake?"

  By dinnertime, Lucinda's nerves were drawn to the limit. It didn't help that Meg was also worried and depended on Lucinda to calm her fears. Garrett's mind was on the upcoming duel, and he, Knightsbridge, and the duke periodically locked themselves in the duke's study to discuss the matter, no doubt to avoid alarming the women. But Lucinda would have felt better if she knew what was going on.

  Well, maybe feminine wiles would convince the stubborn man.

  She waited until the house was quiet. The clock in the foyer had just struck one when she slipped into Garrett's room. He sat up in bed when she entered, the bedclothes falling back to reveal his bare chest and shoulders in the flickering candlelight.

  "What are you doing here, love?" he asked softly.

  Lucinda locked the door, then turned to face him, her ivory silk nightgown swishing softly in the silence of the room. Her curly hair fell about her shoulders, and she had brushed it one hundred times to make sure she looked her best.

  With a seductive smile on her lips, she sauntered toward the bed.

  "I came to be with you." Kneeling one knee up on the bed, she leaned over to kiss him, her hair falling forward like a curtain around them.

  He responded to her kiss, cupping her cheek in his palm. Then he pulled back and looked into her eyes, his own dark and glimmering in the dim light. "I am going to meet Arndale in the morning," he told her.

  "I know." Her smile turned sad as her heart grieved at the words. "That's why I'm here."

  "You won't change my mind," he warned as she climbed onto the bed to kneel beside him.

  "I can try," she whispered. "Or better yet, I can show you what you risk by going through with it."

  "I know what I risk," he said, swallowing hard as she tangled her fingers in his hair. "And I know what I risk if I do not do this. Arndale must be taught a lesson."

  "Is that lesson worth more than your life?" She held his face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I have only just found you, my love. I don't want to lose you so soon."

  He placed his hands on either side of her waist as she dropped soft, nibbling kisses on his mouth. "You don't have much faith in me, Lucinda."

  "I don't trust him," she corrected. "He is not an honorable man, Garrett. If there is a way for him to cheat, he will do so. He believes that his social position will protect him from anything."

  She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. "All this time, I have been begging you to accept your heritage. Now, when all I want is the American sea captain, you choose to act the English gentleman."

  He chuckled. "Don't count on that too much, my love. I am only doing this for you."

  "Why?" she pleaded. "We are going to live in America. Who cares what English society thinks?"

  "I do." He took her hands in his. "I have been talking to my grandfather. He has been an invaluable fountain of knowledge about this whole thing."

  "I'm so glad that your imminent death has brought you closer," she snapped.

  He squeezed her hands reassuringly and continued, "Grandfather and I have come to a sort of understanding. I see now that there is more to being a nobleman than just the title and riches that go with it. As you said, the duke is an old man, and he can no longer keep up with all that is involved with running his many estates. He needs help."

  She thought of the duke's illness, but decided against telling him. The duke would tell Garrett in his own time. "He needs you."

  "Exactly. He needs me." He sighed. "Like it or not, I am his only heir. I know that he regrets what happened with my father, and I also know that I cannot hold my grandfather completely to blame. My father played a part in this, too. He didn't have to lose all contact with England, but he was a stubborn man."

  "Imagine that," Lucinda murmured, earning a playful slap on the bottom.

  "Have some respect for my family line," Garrett admonished, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "We can split our time between America and England. We can come back every year for the Season and spend the rest of the time in America."

  "If I marry you," she teased. Then she sobered. "Garrett, there is something I have not told you." She took a deep breath. "My late husband accumulated quite a bit of debt before he died. By rights, Malcolm should have paid those debts. It would have been the honorable thing to do."

  Garrett snorted. "And we all know how honorable Malcolm is."

  "Exactly. He refused to pay Harry's debts unless I became his mistress. He was obsessed with what he called our ‘unfinished business' from years ago."

  Garrett pulled her into his arms. "I should have killed him when I had the chance," he murmured into her hair.

  "I managed to elude him by making a bargain with your grandfather," she continued, snuggling into his embrace. "If I successfully launched Meg into society and got her wed to an eligible suitor, then the duke would pay all of Harry's debts. If I did not succeed, then I was on my own."

  "Wait a minute. You have been working for my grandfather?"

  She gave him a haughty look. "Please. We Northcotts do not 'work.' "

  "After all that rubbish about how the English gentry doesn't work for a living, you were employed the entire time by my grandfather!" Garrett chuckled.

  "It was a bargain we had," she corrected. "The duke paid for my wardrobe and allowed me to accompany Meg to all the social events. There, of course, I hoped to find a husband. It was the only way I could escape Malcolm."

  Garrett's shook his head. "And then I came along and played havoc with your plans by trying to seduce you, didn't I?"

  "You didn't help matters," she acknowledged.

  "But you're marrying me, and I will happily pay off Harry's debts for you."

  Lucinda grew serious. "If you survive this foolish duel."

  "I will survive, my love." He took her face in his hands. "Believe it."

&nb
sp; "I do not know what the morning will bring," she whispered. "But tonight I would like to show you how much I love you." She pushed against his shoulders until he leaned back against the pillows, then climbed on top of him. "Just please, come back to me."

  "I intend to."

  He reached for her, but she pushed his hands away, placing them on the bed on either side of his body. "No. I want you to lie back and let me love you. I need to do this, Garrett. I need to show you so that if the worst happens..."

  He leaned forward and kissed her, then laid his forehead against hers, blue eyes earnest. "It won't."

  She licked her lips, loving the taste of him. "Lie back, my love. Let me remind you what you have to come back to."

  He allowed her to push him against the pillows again. She hitched up her nightdress and straddled him, her bare thighs on either side of his beneath the covers. He made to push down the blankets, but she stopped him with her hands on his and shook her head.

  He fisted his hands. "I want to feel you."

  She smiled at him. "Soon."

  "You're punishing me, aren't you?"

  "No, I'm loving you." She leaned forward, letting her silk-clad breasts brush his chest, and kissed him, deeply and slowly.

  He made a noise of longing and tried to take control of the kiss.

  "Stop," she murmured. "For once, let someone else be in control."

  "Tyrant," he teased. His breath hissed from between his teeth as she trailed kisses down his neck.

  "Tyrant, hmm?" She licked the pulse at the base of his throat and slid her hands down his chest, flicking her thumbs over his flat nipples as she went. He groaned and whispered her name. His fingers clenched on the blankets.

  She laughed, low and sultry, feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world. "Do you want me, Captain?"

  "You know how much I do." He shifted his hips to emphasize his words, and she clearly saw his arousal outlined beneath the covers.

  "Yes, you certainly do," she murmured. She tugged the blankets, to the foot of the bed, leaving him bare before her. Cupping his hard shaft between her hands, she murmured again, "You certainly do."

  "Sweet Jesus, Lucinda," he muttered, his head falling back. She continued to caress him, and he grasped the edges of her nightdress in his fists and shoved it up over her thighs.