The Wedding Chase

by Rebecca Kelley

  “Have you been riding?” She pivoted around, scanning up his broad chest to the tanned, slightly flushed face.

  “Yes.” Wolfgang’s eyes met hers, his tone accusatory. “I couldn’t find you.”

  “I was meeting with Lady Stafford, planning the musicale.” Zel matched his tone. “And if one is to do any accusing, it should be me. You regaled the lady with stories of my prodigious talent. She refused to hear my nays and placed me firmly in the program with nothing less than a sonata.”

  “Good, I’m proud of your talent.” He folded his arms, looking very smug.

  “You might have been embarrassed if I’d failed to find familiar music.”

  “But you must know many pieces by heart.” He sat beside her on the bench.

  “Shorter pieces, yes, but I rely on the score to prompt me on the longer pieces.”

  “What are your choices? I heard only the end of the one you were playing. Beethoven, I presume?”

  Zel held up the music. “Both Beethoven. Pathétique or Appassionata.”

  “Why, there’s no choice.” Wolfgang grinned. “Appassionata it must be.”

  “But I know Pathétique so well, it is nearly ready now.”

  “Play Appassionata.” He clasped her hand. “For me.”

  “You’ll have to promise to leave me alone then, for the rest of the afternoon today and several more hours in the morning and afternoon tomorrow.”

  “I suppose I can handle that.” He sulked. “If I could have a few moments now, before you lose yourself in your rehearsal.”

  “Shall we move to the sofa?” She stood, taking his other hand to draw him up.

  His eyes intent upon hers, he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed each fingertip. “You’re unlike any other woman I’ve known.” He sat very close to her on the settee.

  “Lady Stafford said the same thing.” Zel grimaced. “But I do not believe she was being complimentary.”

  Wolfgang’s eyes shuttered. “What did she say?”

  She paused, then plunged in. “That I was nothing like your other women and certainly not like your wife.”

  “Damnation and demon spawn.” He raked his fingers viciously through his hair, pulling free the already disordered queue. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have you embarrassed for the world. But thank God you are nothing like Rosalind.”

  Zel’s voice sounded tiny, even to her ears. “What was she like?”

  “Where do I begin? Are you sure you really want to know?”

  She nodded.

  He jumped to his feet, stalking to the pianoforte, running his fingers roughly over the keys. “She was a whore. A bitch in heat.” He smiled grimly at the shock on Zel’s face. “I suppose it didn’t start that way. At least I didn’t know it from the start. I was just home from the Peninsula, my physical wounds barely healed, when Ridgemont persuaded me to forget my worries in the social whirl.”

  Wolfgang sat at the bench again, face to the pianoforte, back to Zel. “I met her at her come-out ball. She looked like a fairy princess. Tiny and delicately beautiful, face framed in a cloud of golden hair. She seemed all that was good and sweet. I was completely besotted.” He swiveled, a hard, unseeing glare aimed at Zel. “I had to have her. I had nothing to offer but promises. I told her I would make a fortune for her no matter what it took. I’d become a pillar of the community. Everyone would look up to us.

  “She had dozens of suitors, but I was the most obsessed. I never left her side at parties, never looked at another. I never did more than kiss her fingertips, I was so certain of her purity. She chose me.” Wolfgang pushed off the bench, striding to the windows. “She insisted on a long engagement and the thrill of the hunt began to wane. I started to work, making good my promise of wealth, devoting myself to my properties and investments. I hadn’t inherited the earldom, had no hope of doing so with so many in line before me, but I wasn’t a pauper.” He ran restless fingers over the lines dividing the panes of glass. “She complained that my adoration for her wavered. I tried to devote myself to her and my promises, feeling stretched to the limit, consoling myself that the wedding drew near and all would be well.” He struck the window, the glass shook.

  Zel dashed to him, enclosing his fist in both her hands. “If this is too difficult, you do not need to continue.”

  He looked at her queerly. “I want to tell you.”

  She guided him back to the settee. “Then sit with me.” She opened his fist and twined her fingers with his.

  “The wedding was a disaster. The bride was drunk and crude. The groom thought his disillusionment complete. But the illusion was to be shattered further. The bride wasn’t a virgin and made no secret of the fact she had a string of lovers both before and during the engagement.” He leaned into Zel, eyes focused on their hands. “I could have forgiven lovers before the engagement. I was certainly no saint. But I’d been stupidly faithful to my betrothed and expected the same.

  “During the wedding trip to the lake country she tried to convince me she was still my fairy princess, tried to rekindle my adoration. But it was gone. I could see too clearly behind the facade.” Wolfgang squeezed Zel’s hand.

  “I realized I’d never loved her, never really knew her. I tried to bargain with her. I’d provide her with the wealth she craved in exchange for fidelity until she bore me a son, then she could do as she pleased.” He stroked Zel’s thumb, scratching his own finger with her nail. “She laughed in my face, and the minute we were back in town she took up with her former lovers, one of whom was Newton.” He raised her hand to his cheek. “He’s one of the men who cuckolded me and then blamed me for not making her happy. Maybe I didn’t try enough, I don’t know. I finally exiled her to a small family holding in Scotland, promising to divorce her if I found she was pregnant. She lashed out in fury, and word came she was bedding anything on two legs.

  “I went to Scotland and told her I would begin divorce proceedings immediately. We fought bitterly and I left to spend the night at a local inn. The next morning she was found dead at the bottom of the stairs.”

  Zel gasped and pressed in close, kneading his hands.

  “There was an inquest and I was cleared. She was seen alive by the servants after I left, and witnesses at the inn swore I was there all night.” He raised his eyes, no longer trying to mask his pain. “But there were many who believed I killed her. I put my affairs in order and took off for the Orient before the dirt had settled on her grave, and didn’t return until two years ago.”

  “My God, I am so sorry, Wolfgang.” Zel released one of his hands, laying her fingers lightly over his cheek.

  “Those years in the Orient probably saved my sanity.” He breathed in deeply. “My father had been a missionary in the Far East before his marriage, and he brought home his Chinese butler. Some of my earliest memories are of Mr. Yang and his friendship. He taught me his language and culture.”

  The faint stubble on his face scratched at her palm as he pushed his cheek into her hand. “With that kind of knowledge, I found I could make deals with a few renegade Chinese merchants in Singapore. Deals no other English barbarian had a chance at. I threw myself into trading. I was only trying to forget Rosalind, but made a tidy fortune in the process.”

  Wolfgang pulled her fingers to his lips, his shaky laugh warming her hand. “I didn’t plan to burden you with my memories. Some wounds refuse to heal.” He leaned forward, holding her hand to his chest. “It’s been over five years, and I can’t stop thinking I should have done something differently.”

  Zel put her free arm about his shoulders. “But you did not kill her, you cannot blame yourself.”

  “I was a fool. I should’ve seen her for what she was and never married her at all. She’d be alive now.”

  She smoothed the hair at his nape. He released her hand, arms circling around her waist. Wrapping her own arms about his neck, she pulled his head to her chest. “She made her choices. You made yours. What’s done is done. What does it serve to torture
yourself over the past?”

  Wolfgang gripped her tighter. “I seem good at doing just that.”

  Zel gently massaged his shoulders and back. “Are you talking now about the deaths in the succession line?” She kept her tone light. “Surely you haven’t found a way to blame yourself for those too?”

  “Just hold me.” His sigh shuddered through her body as he rubbed his cheek against her silk-covered breast, arms still clenched fast about her.

  * * *

  “I don’t trust that man.” Maggie looked into the kind, scarred face, seeking the reassuring bright blue eyes. “He and his friends watch Miss Zel all the time, follow her around. Jenkins, we need to do something about him.”

  “Maggie, I asked you to call me Marmeduke.” He flashed his strangely perfect teeth, so at odds with the rest of his face. “The captain takes care of his own. There’s no love lost between him and Newton, but your mistress won’t be hurt.”

  “He makes me fretful.” She leaned against the thick oak trunk, watching Newton enter the stables. “I suppose I worry too much, but I don’t like the look of him or that Horeton woman either.”

  “Come walk a bit more.” Marmeduke took her elbow. “You won’t be needed for another hour or more.”

  Maggie sighed and followed his lead, wondering again why she felt so safe in this man’s company. She barely knew him and she certainly could not be drawn to his looks. She peered up at him. He looked as if Miss Zel’s dog had chewed on him more than a bit. But all those scars were somehow comforting. He’d smile at her with those amazing white teeth and the chill she’d lived with for years would suddenly lift. She wanted to know everything about him. “How long have you worked for Lord Northcliffe?”

  “I worked for his family near as long as I can remember.” He steered her along an overgrown path, away from the house. “His grandfather pulled me off the streets, gave me work in his stables. I was one of his Christian charities, but it saved my life even if not my soul. When the captain’s father, a third son, mind you, married, I left with him to live on his wife’s estate and run the stables there.

  “Captain always adored horses. People used to say he was born astride a saddle, such a wild thing he was.” Marmeduke held a willow branch aside for Maggie to pass. “After his sister died he didn’t have anyone except the Chinese butler, myself, and his horses. He did make some friends at school, and later when they all bought their colors he asked me to go to the Peninsula as his batman. I thought it would be my last chance for adventure before sinking into old age.” He laughed, a wonderfully warm sound. “But it sunk me good.”

  Maggie joined his laughter. “I wouldn’t say you’re sunk yet.”

  “I caught a rifle ball and came back in no condition to work the stables. Captain asked me to be his valet. I couldn’t believe my ears, but when he sweetened the pot with a promise of my own horse, how could I refuse?” He stopped at a small lily-clogged pond. “I learned the job. It’s easier than training horses at my age. I do it well. Now, tell me more about you.”

  “I’ve only worked for Miss Zel about a month.” She meant to be evasive but suddenly wanted him to know the truth. He already knew most of it. “I ran away from my husband. You met him.”

  “Shall we sit?” Marmeduke had her settled on a bench beside him before she could reply. His voice when he spoke was hard. “I know. He beat you.”

  “I married young. My parents were pleased that a prosperous farmer would want me, with no dowry. The beatings didn’t start right away but he controlled my every move, kept me away from my family and friends.” She took a deep breath and continued. “The first time he hit me was after I smiled at a neighbor in church. The next day he tended my wounds and cried as he begged forgiveness. I wept with relief and forgave him.

  “We repeated that little scene often but still I believed that each beating would be the last. It was years before I faced the fact I would die if I stayed. Then I ran away so many times it all blurs together.” Maggie waved her hand, he took it, steadying it with his own firm grip. “He always found me and dragged me back. The beatings got worse. This last time I made it to London, and a woman on the streets told me about Miss Zel, who gave me a safe place to stay. Several days later when my injuries started to heal, she asked me to work for her.”

  Maggie turned, watching the sunlight glint off his thick, white hair. “I was afraid to say yes, even though I wanted the position more than anything. What did I know of being a lady’s maid? But she didn’t care. She took me in and Mrs. Stanfield’s maid, Sally, taught me how to go on. Sometimes I think Miss Zel doesn’t have a lot of need for a personal maid, but she lets me fuss over her and I help around the house too, same as Sally does. And you know, I have a knack for it too.

  “I’d do anything for miss.” She kept her tone light but didn’t try to hide the tears in her eyes. “What other maid in London, or the world for that matter, has a mistress willing to battle a brute of a husband for her?”

  “She’s a true gem, a worthy mate for the captain.”

  “But is he worthy of her?” She queried half in jest, half in earnest.

  “Aye, he surely is.”

  “Zel? Where are you? Are you hiding from me?”

  “Sssh.” Zel beckoned him from a hedge off the moonlit terrace.

  Wolfgang strode toward her, grin widening with every step. “Leading me on a merry chase?”

  “No, I am avoiding Lord Newton.” She frowned at his even, white teeth, as he laughed. How could he be in such high humor, playful and flirtatious, when just this afternoon he was clinging to her, near tears? She pulled him behind the hedge, groaning. “I let him connive a dance out of me, but I hate to have him touch me, and it’s a waltz.”

  “By Satan’s horns, ma’am, I never knew you to be such a craven coward.”

  “He refused to take no for an answer. He got Lady Stafford to put his name on my card.”

  “The scoundrel. Should I call him out, my lady?” He bowed over her hand.

  Zel pulled away her hand. Wolfgang might be teasing her, but she decided it would be unwise to tell him how Lord Newton had crudely whispered to her that he was ready as soon as Northcliffe moved on. The last thing she wanted was for a duel to be fought over her. “There is something about him. I get little shivers down my spine whenever he is near.”

  Wolfgang raised his brows. “Should I be jealous?”

  “Not those kind of shivers.”

  “Are there different kinds?”

  “Of course. There are the bad kind that make one nervous.” Zel walked along the path heading away from the terrace. “And the good kind that tickle.”

  She was not aware he was so close until his finger ran down the back of her neck, inducing a tiny tremor. His whisper feathered the hairs at her nape. “Which kind was that?”

  “If you cannot guess, I’ll never tell.” Zel ducked away, straying farther down the path as the moon slid behind a cloud.

  Wolfgang followed, only a step behind. “I think there might be a third kind.” He clasped her arm firmly in his long fingers. “Hold still so I can demonstrate.” He hauled her back against his chest, slipping an arm about her waist as he ran his lips ever so lightly up and down her neck. “Now, I’m not sure, you’ll have to tell me. What kind of shiver was that?”

  “Well …” She paused. “It did tickle my neck.”

  “Just your neck?”

  “Yes.”

  His warm lips started at her ear, brushing moonbeam soft across the back of her neck to her shoulder, sliding the sleeve of her gown down her arm. “Now didn’t that tickle go down your spine and end in a warm puddle right about here?” Wolfgang wedged a hand between them tracing a line lower and lower down the center of her back.

  “No.” Zel broke away, scurrying ever farther down the cobbled path, deeper into the garden.

  His laughter echoed deep, rich, and very near. “Stop, I haven’t finished my demonstration.” He whipped her about so quickly she lost her
balance. He joined her tumble into a fragrant flower bed, taking the force of the fall on his back, shifting her to his chest. She laughed and squirmed as he grazed her ribs and sides with his fingers. The laughter subsided as he rolled her to her back and slid on top of her. His body covered hers, heavy and warm, a blanket of flesh and muscle.

  Zel felt oddly bare and cold when he pushed off her. She gazed into his face as he hovered over her, knees and lower legs braced along her hips and thighs, hands at her shoulders. The moonlight was filtered by the trees and flowering shrubbery, too dim to see his eyes clearly, but they seemed backlit, two glowing, silver half-moons surveying her face and form. A shiver coursed the length of her body as if he touched her everywhere at once. The scent of roses filled her nostrils as she watched the shimmering sphere in the sky above dip behind an oak branch. Closing her eyes, she pictured his mouth, hot and mobile, pressing to hers. As if in answer to that invitation his head lowered until his lips met the corner of her mouth.

  Perched over her on all fours, he became a wild beast bent on devouring her with his feral mouth. He took her lower lip between his teeth, shaking it gently, releasing it to nibble a line along her upper lip, then following that line with the tip of his tongue. She stirred languidly as he nipped her lobe and laved the swirls of her ear. His mouth and teeth left a trail of little circlets of sensation down her throat, moving to her chest. He burrowed through the valley of her breasts, his chin pushing aside the fabric of her gown as he feasted on the narrow canyon’s inner curves.

  Wolfgang lifted his head abruptly, molten eyes on her half-bared breasts. Bending again, he licked her nipple through the thin silk of her gown. Zel shuddered violently as he nudged aside the cloth and took the puckered tip between his teeth, alternately nipping, licking, and suckling until she sighed in relief when he released the tortured flesh to torment its twin.

  Slowly, he raised his head again, looking deeply into her eyes, a smile spreading from his silver eyes to his generous mouth. He barked out a rough laugh, arched his back, head high, and howled softly at the full moon.