Miss Darling's Indecent Offer

by Cerise DeLand

  Then he howled in pain as she sank the knife into his buttock. And removed it and struck again!

  He jumped forward.

  Right into the arms of her husband.

  “Hello, darling!” Jack grinned at her as he passed Trayne from his arms to that of another burly creature. “Take this animal away, Sheriff.” Jack came toward her, saw the bloody blade and knit his brows. “Taking up carving, are you, sweetheart?”

  “Only rump roasts, Jack,” she got out with a shot of humor that surprised her, considering the terror she felt draining out of her.

  Grinning suddenly, Jack slowly extracted the knife from her stiff fingers and spread his arms around her to bury his lips in her hair. “Are you well? Did you hurt you? Let me see you.”

  He brushed her hair from her face and examined her with a husband’s practiced eye.

  Tears of happiness dribbled down her cheeks. “No, no. He wanted to. Said he would.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noted how three men tied up Benjamin Trayne the way he had done to her. “Oh, Jack! How did you find me?” She began to sob then.

  He rocked her in his embrace. “A short story I will gladly tell you. Shall I recount it as we go home?”

  ****

  Emma drank tea on the veranda outside her bedroom and watched the swallows dance in the trees. Spring came to the north of England now that early April had arrived. The air seemed fresh and gentle breezes wafted over her face as she took another sip.

  She inhaled the fragrances of new grass and flower buds. Her body, thankfully, was stronger, recovering from the bondage and confinement that the ogre Benjamin Trayne has imposed upon her for nigh unto three days and four nights.

  That nightmare had ended more than ten days ago and here, in her husband’s home, she had recovered much of her physical strength. But her heart was sore.

  Though Jack had been loving and solicitous, demanding that they not ride home that night but take a room in an inn close by and then hiring a coach the next day to drive her back to Durham Manor, she was now alone. Jack, seeing to her comfort with his staff constantly fluttering about her, had demanded she sleep in her own bedroom alone. Furthermore, he had ordered her to remain in bed for at least two full days. She had balked and complained of his orders, even secretly arising to stretch her limbs in joyous abandon and scurrying back to bed if he poked his head in her door. Then, just as he had surprised her when he burst through Trayne’s cottage door in Stanley, he shocked her when he left her a note one morning.

  “Gone to London, darling. Sorry, but I did not want to wake you before I left. And I must go soon. Eat well and stay in bed! Love, J.”

  For what she now wanted from him, this had been a miserly, miserable note to receive.

  She had not remained in bed. Indeed out of pique, she had taken to long walks in the gardens. She no longer had Trayne to fear. The sheriff had seen to that man’s incarceration for abducting her. Jack told her, too, that Trayne would come before a judge soon to hear his case.

  And as for her stepfather, Pinrose, whose note to Jack was as good as an admission of complicity in her abduction, that man would face criminal charges in London as well.

  Emma told herself she ought to be satisfied with those events. Still, she wanted more. She wanted Jack.

  And she worried, now that she had time and occasion, that her original offer to him was now inadequate to the totality of all she did desire from him.

  And how to tell him, how to ask for more when he remained in London?

  She had asked Simmons if he knew why his master had gone. “His lordship does not confide his personal issues with me, madam.”

  Emma contemplated her options. What was best to do now? With Jack away and only a little more than a month gone since she first waylaid him in front of White’s, she had two more months’ time before she could return to speak to her solicitors and fulfill the terms of her father’s will. Gaining her inheritance and her freedom seemed like the best course of action, whether or not her marriage lasted beyond that period. It was, after all, what she had originally sought. Best to stick to her plan and accomplish what she could.

  She rose now and putting her cup and saucer aside, knew she needed to exercise her mind as well as her body.

  Pulling on the coat that Jack had ordered for her, she buttoned up the frog closures and descended the stairs and walked out the front door to the side garden. A maze of tall boxwoods, dotted with stone benches and a few sculptures, the walk was one she delighted in for its complexity. Not once in the past few days had she turned the same way or become bored. Often, she had a devil of a time finding her way out. The mental challenge now, she told herself, would steer away her mood.

  But that was easier said than done. Finding a bench she had sat in a few days ago, she praised its comfort, but sighed in sadness. She was lonely. For her husband.

  And what if, Emma, he never returns?

  A hand over her mouth, she told herself that was foolish to believe. He cared for her, did he not? What man makes love to a woman the way he did and not care for her?

  And how knowledgeable are you, Emma Stanhope, of men? And love?

  She jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her face, and made for the house and her bedroom.

  Within the hour, she had asked Simmons for a reticule. “Any,” she demanded of him.

  “One of his lordship’s, if you must. I want you to have the groom hitch the horse to the brougham.” She took chemises and negligees from her dresser drawers, piling them up for her journey.

  Simmons had objected. “His lordship will not approve, madam, that you are gone.”

  “His lordship,” she replied with vigor, “is not here. And I will not be bound. Not deterred, do you hear me? Not by anyone!”

  “Can I not entice you to stay, Emma?”

  She spun toward the sound of the bass voice that asked that question so softly.

  Jack.

  He nodded to Simmons, who promptly hurried away and shut the door.

  Jack’s dark silver gaze took in the pile of her clothes, her body, her hair, her determined expression. With nary a word, he strolled toward her and raised his brows.

  Emma lifted her chin.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Were have you been?” she countered.

  “London.” From his dust–covered breeches and green frock coat, it was clear he had returned home with all due speed and perhaps on horseback.

  She dare not allow herself the hope that this implied he hurried home to her.

  “Where are you going, Emma?” he asked again, his large body looming over her, his eyes shocked, his mouth stretched in grim lines.

  “I…I thought I would visit my mother.”

  “I know she would like that.”

  She tipped her head. “You do? How?”

  “I saw her three days ago. I went to Kent to talk to her. Introduce myself.”

  Emma surveyed his features. Why now, even as she planned to leave him, did his rugged masculinity appeal to her? Why did his demeanor enchant her? “Why?”

  “To tell her what happened with her husband. She did not know. I thought she should.”

  Emma nodded. “Of course. She needed to know.”

  “She is relieved. In fact,” Jack said as he dug a small envelope from his inner coat pocket,

  “she sends you this.”

  Emma took it from him and with shaking fingers, tore open the parchment. Tears immediately obscured her vision. “She says she is well,” Emma finally managed to clear her eyes.

  “Better than she has been in months, because you have come and told her about Daniel’s arrest.”

  She caught back a sob and peered up at him. “I am grateful.”

  “I know, darling. You always are.” He smiled but it took him an immense amount of effort. “Will you tell me why you are leaving me?”

  “Because you were not here.”

  He stepped so close now, her body melted with d
esire for him. “I am now,” he whispered.

  She stomped her foot, feeling foiled and petulant, angry and neglected. “You know what I mean!”

  “Yes, I do,” he said with his old compassion for her and took one of her hands. “Will you come sit with me and let me tell you what I have done?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded and followed him to two lacy old Chippendale chairs by the window.

  “I had to return to London to testify against Daniel. He is in gaol, not soon to be let out, not only because of this charge but also others brought by two men he defrauded. I also had to deposit monies in a company of which my father and I now hold the major shares. Pinrose was excluded from this venture by my father and me.”

  “For me.”

  “Yes.” He acknowledged. “I am happy to say for you.”

  “Clearly your father did this not for me so much as to aid you.”

  “And to get into my good graces. Perhaps that of Wes and Adam. Clarice, too. He is trying his damnedest to turn a leaf, change his life.”

  She squeezed Jack’s hand.

  He gave her a small smile. “While in London, I also paid a call on Jared Draycomb.”

  “My father’s solicitor.”

  Jack nodded. “And the executor of his estate. I officially informed him of our marriage.

  Then I proved it by showing him the license and the certificate from our vicar here with his signature and the date of the wedding.”

  Emma sat straighter. “What did he say?”

  “Congratulations.” Jack grinned as she did. “I also reminded him that as of the tenth of June, when you will be married to me officially for ninety days, you will be eligible to appear in his offices for the official dispensation of your father’s assets into your keeping.”

  “Oh, Jack!” She felt her heart burst open with love and pride in him. “What did he say?”

  Jack lifted a shoulder. “The only thing he could, my dear. He offered me his congratulations on our wedding and then invited you to come promptly at nine on the morning of the tenth of June to receive your due.”

  She stayed quite still. “According to the current law, I cannot take those assets to my own keeping unless I am divorced or widowed.” Her statement, she knew, begged the question of what Jack would do about their marriage within those next months. Divorce her or —?

  “Precisely,” he said and rose from his chair. His hands clasped behind him, he strode away from her. “Your orphanage is a fine project which awaits funding.”

  Her body stilled. He would leave her. Divorce her. Oh, no, no. She had to save her own pride here and so she said, “You know how grateful I am for what you have done for me, Jack.

  No other man would have done more and I—”

  “Emma.”

  She had to look at him, but once more, she found that difficult with tears in her eyes.

  “Emma, I am here prepared to make you an offer.”

  She blinked. The last word surprised her and yes, even pleased her. Yet wary, she asked,

  “What kind of offer?”

  “I told Draycomb I would remain married to you until June eleventh.”

  “Oh, God.” She clamped a hand to her mouth to strike back a sob.

  “On that morning at ten o’clock, you may decide if you wish our marriage at an end. If so, I will promptly leave the meeting with Draycomb and I will sign a statement declaring my intent to divorce you.”

  Blinking back tears, she could scarcely fathom life without him.

  “But I do earnestly hope you do not wish a divorce, Emma.” His voice fell to a harrowing softness. “I want you to stay with me, Emma, not just until the eleventh of June, but for the rest of our lives. And if you do, I lay no claim to your estate of lands or money. You establish and operate your orphanage as you see fit. Or any other enterprise you wish to open.”

  She was not certain her ears worked well. She stared at him and to make her vision better, she swiped tears from her lashes. There was no mistaking what she saw.

  He dug from his pocket her wedding ring and held it out to her. She had feared, among other things, that he had returned it to the family vaults when she could not find it after she’d returned from Stanley. “I want you to have this. I took it with me to London and had the jeweler cut it down for you. Will you take it, Emma? Be my wife? Not merely for three months but always?”

  This was so much more than she had imagined from him.

  “You want me?” she whispered.

  “I think I did from the first few minutes in my carriage, Emma. For your daring, your fortitude, your generous nature.”

  “I can’t believe it,” she said in wonder. “What of the family curse?”

  “To hell with it. Convenient excuses for men who do not wish to love completely.”

  She laughed.

  “I love you, Emma, darling.”

  “I do believe, my lord,” she told him with a cascading joy spreading throughout her body,

  “my name is Emma Stanhope.”

  He gave some ragged sound. “Will you keep it?”

  She rose and strolled toward him. “Keep my name? The ring? And you?’ She reached up on her toes and curled her fingers into the hair at his nape to speak on the lush firm contours of his lips. “I have never known a gentleman to equal you. I do accept your offer. I love you, Jack.

  You and no other, my darling man. Now will you please kiss me to seal the deal?”

  About the Author

  Cerise DeLand believes great romances match feisty women with one—or more—men who cannot live without them. And Cerise knows men—all types of them from living in Italy, England, Japan, New York, Washington—and wild west Texas! She blends that intimate knowledge with a passion for European and Chinese art and travel to delightful lands she loves to write about.

  An award-winning author, Cerise has also penned 18 print romances and mysteries (under another name), many of which have been selections of The Doubleday Book Club and The Mystery Guild. And what does this prolific author do when she’s not writing? Ah. She is an excellent cook. To taste and prepare a few of her delicacies, do come to her blog, especially on Thursdays for her Afternoon Delights, elegant simple refreshments to serve after your rendezvous! http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com

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