Love's Guardian

by Dawn Ireland

  He had to commend her. She was learning to control her temper. Someone who didn’t know her would never guess she was furious.

  He steepled his long fingers and studied her over them. “I’m not sure. What would you suggest Madame Colette?”

  “I would do the gown in pale peach organdy with pearls and lace. And, of course, we would give mademoiselle the necessary undergarments.” She moved to a table and started thumbing through the books containing current styles. “Her figure is perfect. I would chose a gown with a fitted bodice in front and back with a separate attached train.”

  “Your sense of style is perfect,”—Declan rose and gave her a small bow—“as always. When do you think the wedding gown and others can be completed?”

  “It will take at least three weeks.” Colette appeared to figure the time in her head. “I can have the habit, two of the gowns, and the costume done by Friday.”

  “That would be acceptable. Send them around to my address.” He tugged on his gloves. “Ladies, shall we go?” He offered his arm to Alex and saw the hesitation in her eyes as courtesy warred with anger. Courtesy won.

  The sound of a slamming door at the top of the stairs reverberated through the hallway. Declan glanced toward Alex’s room and shook his head. What was so wrong about insisting she order a wedding gown? From the silence in the carriage on the return trip, he’d have thought he killed someone.

  Anna gave him a timid look and rushed upstairs, but his aunt remained in the hallway. “The Countess of Lochsdale doesn’t want to marry, does she?” Lady Bradford removed her hat and pinned him with a knowing look.

  “She must. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Was there someone she fancied at home?”

  “No, she’s just stubborn. If I said she didn’t need a wedding gown, she’d want one.” Declan ran his hand through his hair. “She knows she has to marry. Why should it matter if I try to expedite things?”

  “Perhaps Lady Lochsdale wanted to marry for love.”

  He scoffed. “She’s better off marrying to protect her title and estates.”

  “Declan, sometimes love matters more than anything else in the world.”

  “Yes, it can matter more than anything—or anyone.” Hurt curled around his heart, squeezing till he thought he couldn’t breathe. “And we’re well aware of the results of a love match, aren’t we, Aunt?”

  Lady Bradford tried to take his arm, but he brushed her hand off and shut himself in the library.

  I’m in love with him. Alex stood with her back to the door wishing she had somewhere to run, but she couldn’t run from herself. All this time she had thought she hadn’t found the right man, when the truth was she’d never find anyone to compare to Declan. Even as a child, she’d secretly looked up to him.

  She respected him. Yes, he made her angry, but she had to admit his requests had never been unreasonable. And though he discouraged her unconventional pursuits, he’d never ridiculed her or disparaged her abilities.

  He’d slipped in under her guard, just as he’d done in their fencing match, only this time she’d sustained permanent injury. She’d fallen in love with him, while he felt nothing for her. If only he’d ordered the gown for her to wear at their wedding. Instead, he expected her to marry another man, while he married his spoiled beauty.

  Could you marry one man, while loving another? She supposed you could. She picked up her list off the carved table by her bed and read the first item. Declan would never let her do as she pleased, but he fit the second requirement admirably. He didn’t love her.

  Someone tapped on her door. If it was Declan, she couldn’t face him yet.

  “Lady Lochsdale, may I come in?” Lady Bradford’s voice carried through the door.

  “Yes.”

  She entered and closed the door behind her, then turned with a concerned look on her face. “My nephew can be difficult.”

  Alex shoved the list in the writing table drawer. “I would agree.”

  Declan’s aunt crossed to the padded bench and sat down, motioning for Alex to join her. “There are things you don’t understand.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as why Lord Worthington is...” Lady Bradford chewed on her bottom lip, then gave a weak smile. “I suppose I should start with my sister. Maura was such a beautiful, wild young woman. Everyone she met loved her, including Edward Devereaux.

  “He’d come to Ireland to visit friends. He was supposed to stay two weeks. He stayed two months. At the end of that time he asked Maura to be his wife.”

  Lady Bradford clutched the cameo at her neck, rubbing her thumb over the figure. “I came to visit shortly after they moved to England. During my stay, Maura discovered she was with child. I remember how excited they were.” Her face wore a sad, wistful smile. “They spent hours trying to decide what to name the baby. Edward made the cradle himself and placed it in the nursery.

  “Ten months later, I received a letter telling me my sister had died in childbirth.” The older woman’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry.” To have a sister, only to loose her, Alex couldn’t imagine the pain. She reached over and squeezed Lady Bradford’s hand.

  Declan’s aunt rose, keeping her back to Alex. “At first I was so caught up in my own grief, I didn’t even think about Maura’s son. A year passed before I visited England again and went to see my brother-in-law.”

  Lady Bradford turned and raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “Initially he refused to see me, but I persisted. I couldn’t believe the change in him.” Her slender white fingers plucked at a pearl button on her gown as she stared vacantly over Alex’s head. “He told me he never wanted to see me or my family again. I’ll never forget his eyes. They were wild, crazed.”

  “Surely he didn’t mean it.” She rose and grasped the other woman’s arm. “People often say cruel things when they’re hurting.”

  Lady Bradford placed her hand on top of Alex’s, then closed her eyes. “When I asked to see my nephew, Edward went berserk and started throwing things. He screamed, ‘I’ll take care of the murderer in my own way. Now get out.’” Suddenly, all the energy appeared to leave Lady Bradford’s body and her hand dropped to her side. She stared at Alex, remorse and pain etched into her features. “I was a coward. I left. It occurred to me to go to the magistrate, but what could he do? Declan was Edward’s son.” She crossed to the window, then grasped the edge of a damask curtain and peered out.

  “I stayed in England and finally married my husband. Lord Bradford had some influence. We were able to get reports on Declan, but I never saw him.” She turned toward Alex, a tremulous smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

  “That’s one of the reasons I knew of your grandfather. Our reports went into great detail on how he’d taken my nephew under his wing. Because of Lord Lochsdale’s kindness, I slept easier at night.”

  She joined Lady Bradford. Pride for her grandfather mixed with the horror of what Declan’s life must have been like. “I suspect they helped each other. It wasn’t easy for grandfather after my mother left. Lord Worthington acted as a replacement. They needed each other.”

  The distraught woman wrapped her arms around her slight form. “It wasn’t until Edward died that I found the courage to approach Lord Worthington. By then my husband had passed away, but I wanted my nephew to know he had family.” Her voice became rough. “It was a shock when I saw him for the first time. He looks so like Maura. I felt as if she’d returned.”

  She sighed. “Unfortunately, physical appearance is where the resemblance stopped. All those years with his father have done something to him. He’s learned to keep everyone at a distance.”

  No wonder her guardian found it hard to trust in love. His aunt had left him in the hands of a madman. What must it have been like, growing up, thinking no one cared? “Surely he’s forgiven you?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “But you had no choice.”

  “Perhaps. Is there something else
I could have done?” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because you need to understand. Lord Worthington hasn’t experienced love, only what the loss of it can do.” Lady Bradford studied her until she blushed and looked down. “You do care for him.” She sounded relieved. “I’m hoping, that in time, you can teach him love is not something to be afraid of.”

  “But I don’t have time. I need to marry quickly.” There was no point in denying her feelings.

  “Then we’ll just have to make him realize he loves you.”

  She raised her head. “But what if he doesn’t?”

  Lady Bradford gave her a conspiratorial smile and patted her cheek. “I’ve never seen a man so anxious to marry a woman off. He loves you, and we’re going to make him admit it.”

  Chapter 11

  Alex had forgotten how badly her feet could hurt after dancing till the early morning hours. This was her fourth ball in the last two days. Her physical pain couldn’t compare to the torture of constant suitors vying for her attention.

  In spite of her discomfort, she was nicer than normal to her current dance partner. The poor man had a very bad habit of batting his eyes.

  She’d inquired if he had something in them, but he’d blushed, creating a strange contrast to his lavender-colored wig, and stammered an incoherent reply. Thank God dancing the Quadrille only required polite conversation, as you weren’t with your partner for very long.

  “Lady Lochsdale,”—blink, blink—“are you staying in London for the season?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Splendid, perhaps I’ll see you again.” Blink, blink.

  The dance ended, and they parted. She realized she hadn’t paid much attention to his last comments, but he’d batted his eyes thirty-one times. Had she agreed to see him again? She hoped not.

  Before he spoke, she felt Declan’s presence. To be honest, she’d been watching him off and on all evening. It hadn’t been difficult. Wherever Catrina was, she’d be sure to find him.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” He reached down and took her dance card, eyeing each entry.

  Her next dance partner approached, and Declan coolly raised an eyebrow in his direction. The man couldn’t turn around fast enough.

  “Better now, thank you,” she said. “I think I’m just tired.” In spite of her fatigue, she could still appreciate Declan in full evening attire. He wore the elegant black and white formal garb with his usual nonchalance. Still, the way it fit to his body nudged her imagination, and she felt her face grow warm. She lowered her gaze.

  “Tired?” Declan returned her dance card. “I thought all young women were thrilled with entertainments such as this. I know my cousin is.”

  She glanced across to where Anna held court. At least eight young men were gathered around her, laughing at something she said. At one point, she stopped speaking and gave a particularly handsome young man a coy look from behind her fan. This was Anna’s element. Alex felt washed out by comparison. “She likes all the bustle.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “This isn’t my kind of excitement.”

  “Oh really, and what excites you?” He reached out and brushed a loose curl out of her eyes.

  She wanted to tell him he did, but fear of his response kept her silent. His touch kindled such yearning that it was a wonder he couldn’t feel the heat.

  Her mind searched for a safe response. “I like the thrill of testing my abilities.”

  He gave her a devilish smile. “Poor Lady Lochsdale, you haven’t had much opportunity to stretch your wings, have you? Would you like to go riding with me tomorrow? Sidesaddle, of course.”

  “I’d love to.” It was one of the few times he’d wanted to be alone with her since they got here. Perhaps they were making progress.

  “We can discuss how you’re coming along in your search.”

  Declan didn’t have to say what search. He wanted to see if she’d found a husband yet, so he could be rid of her. She opened her mouth to tell him to forget the ride, when a strong sense of unease prompted her to turn around. Luther stood across the room. The minute their gazes locked, he crossed to them.

  “Isn’t this a pleasant coincidence?” Luther gave her a graceful bow and nodded curtly in Declan’s direction. “I’ve been looking for you, cousin.” He touched one of the diamond-studded patches at the corner of his mouth, as if to reassure himself of its presence. “I went to your grandfather’s townhouse, but you weren’t in residence.”

  “Lord Worthington deemed it necessary for me to stay with him.” She made a conscious effort to stop worrying at her dance card.

  “I’m sure Lord Worthington had his reasons”—Luther’s eyebrows raised—“but surely you aren’t staying there alone?”

  Declan moved closer to her. She could see the tension in his jaw as his gaze narrowed on Luther.

  “My mother and sister are staying with me.” His voice held thinly veiled anger. “You needn’t worry. She’s well chaperoned. I’ll take good care of her until she’s married.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Luther plucked at the lace around his sleeve. “Well, little cousin, perhaps Lord Worthington will allow us to dance. You can tell me what you've been doing since you arrived.”

  “Another time, Lord Addington.” Her guardian became politely formal. “Lady Lochsdale just told me she’s tired. I’m taking her home.”

  Declan put his hand at the small of her back and propelled her toward the door. They stopped long enough to say goodnight to his aunt and cousin, but she knew Luther watched every movement from across the room. Relief swept over her when they stepped outside, away from the malice in his eyes.

  Declan didn’t want to be in an enclosed carriage with Alex, alone, at night. He sighed. There really hadn’t been a choice. Either he took her with him, or he left her there for Addington to play his games.

  “I really wasn’t that tired,” Alex commented as Declan handed her up into the carriage. “Isn’t Catrina going to miss you?”

  “Morgan will take her home.” He’d already made arrangements for him to do so. Catrina was beginning to annoy him. Two nights of being constantly at her side could try anyone’s patience. He got in and sat across from Alex, making sure their knees didn’t touch.

  It was warm for the beginning of June. Alex removed her cloak and set it beside her on the seat. He wished she’d put it back on.

  She wore her mother’s dark green gown. Damn, he’d been right about how she’d look in that dress. The simplicity of the lines, as well as her upswept hair with two fat curls trailing over her shoulder helped accentuate her fragile beauty.

  Why couldn’t the fabric have come to her neck? Instead, it dipped down, exposing the tops of her creamy breasts. He closed his eyes. Maybe he could feign sleep.

  “Lord Worthington, tell me about yourself. I know so little about you, but you know a great deal about me.”

  He stared at her not-so-innocent expression dimly visible in the carriage. Why the sudden curiosity? Wary, he wished he had the slightest inkling what she was up to. “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No.”

  “Are your father or mother alive?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to answer any of my questions with more than one syllable?”

  “No.”

  “A man of mystery. I bet everything I read about you in those newssheets is true. Did you really challenge the Duke of York to a horse race on Derby Day?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d love to go.” She absently brushed at one of the curls that had worked its way into her cleavage.

  He had difficulty taking his eyes away from the spot. When he did, he realized Alex gazed at him expectantly. “What?”

  “Could we go to Derby Day?”

  He shook his head, feeling somewhat bemused. “Of course. I
’ll see to the arrangements. It’s three weeks from Saturday.” He hadn’t been there in years. Unlike most females, he suspected Alex would enjoy it.

  “What if I’m betrothed by then?”

  He found it incomprehensible that in three short weeks she could belong to someone else. Surely it would take longer than that.

  Without warning, the coach lurched around a corner, feeling as if it rode on only two of its four wheels. The waxed leather seat gave Declan little purchase. He grabbed for the loop near the door, missed, and found himself tossed to the floor. Alex soon followed, landing on top of him in a tangle of limbs. He tried to straighten in the cramped space, grunting slightly as his back struck one of the warming bricks.

  The horses snorted, and frantic curses filled the air as the carriage lurched hard to the left, then righted itself before coming to a stop. Quiet descended.

  Alex had landed so that her chin came even with his forehead, and her attempts to right herself brought about a different kind of pain.

  “Please stop wiggling.” He managed to get the words out between gritted teeth. “Are you hurt?” His question created a puff of warm air that reflected back at him from the alabaster perfection of her throat.

  “No.”

  His breathing quickened. Her welcoming curves pressed along his entire length. He shifted, the slight friction rubbing his now throbbing manhood against her. His brain refused to work.

  Unable to resist, he nuzzled forward until his lips traced the soft skin exposed to him. He inhaled her fragrance. The smell of vanilla, mixed with her unique scent, was driving him wild.

  With his tongue, he traced a small circle on her neck. She tasted salty. He licked the spot, moistening it for his kiss.

  Just as he was about to press his lips to the tender area, Alex shimmied down his body and gave him access to her mouth. She couldn’t have been aware how erotic her movements were. Dazed, he drew her to him. His demanding kiss went far beyond all rational thought. A groan escaped him as he cupped her face, then moved his hands further back to remove the pins from her hair and twine his fingers in her glorious mane.