by Rose Gordon
Juliet blinked. Drake had always been so cautious with her about sharing intimacies and often waited for her to initiate their lovemaking. Sure, he’d do things to offer her pleasure without expecting anything in return, like that night in London. But sometimes it took some persuading to get him to let her enjoy his body as well. Not to mention the other night when he’d acted strangely after returning from London. It all made sense now. He wasn’t trying to shame her, or inflate his pride; he was genuinely worried he’d done something to make her grow to resent him. The hard wall she’d erected around her heart this past week crumbled. “I’m not like that, Drake.”
“I know,” he whispered. He released her hands and cupped her face. “I know. You’re everything she wasn’t, Juliet. You’re strong, and confident. You’re a fighter. And more than any of those differences, I believe the biggest difference is you love me just as much as I love you.”
“H-how did you know?” Juliet asked with a gasp. Not that it was a secret, but the fact he knew when she hadn’t told anyone stunned her.
He grinned, but didn’t answer. He removed his right hand from her face and reached down into his pocket. Without letting his eyes leave hers, he handed her a folded up piece of paper. “This.”
She took the parchment from his fingers, and glanced at the writing. “My note?”
He nodded. “You didn’t give up on me. You did indeed intend to come back and fight for what you wanted.” He flashed her a quick smile. “This all might be presumptuous of me, but I am Lord Presumptuous, so think of it as me just living up to my title. I think this says far more than any spoken declaration of love, Juliet. You weren’t giving up. You’d planned to come after what you wanted, and I’d be devastated if you said it wasn’t me.”
“It was,” she said.
He wrapped his arms around her, and he pulled her close. “Now, will you go away with me?”
“I can’t,” she said, ice chilling her veins.
“Can’t?”
She broke eye contact. How could she possibly say what she was thinking? Obviously now that she knew he’d read her note, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore and say the reason she hadn’t gone back to Briar Creek was because he’d barred the door to her. They both knew his careless words alone wouldn’t have really kept her away. But how could she tell him the truth, that even if she―
“I think I know what will change your mind,” Drake said, stealing her from her thoughts. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out that bundle of papers he’d shown her downstairs.
Her heart thudded to a stop. The annulment papers? Why was he bringing those out? “Are we going to burn those?” she asked, ignoring his curious look at her quivering voice.
“No. Why would we burn them?”
“Because I’m not going to be your mistress,” she blurted.
He chuckled. “Good. But I didn’t ask you to be.”
“Well, good,” she returned, crossing her arms. She looked around the room, grinding her teeth as her insufferable husband unfolded those blasted papers. “Would you just put those away already? I’m not signing them.”
“Once again, I didn’t ask you to sign them.” He handed them to her. “Just read them.”
She snatched the papers from his grasp, and peered down at them. Her breath caught. “Am I reading what I think I’m reading?”
“I believe so, but if you want me to take you back to London to visit Mr. Nills again, I can.”
She was too enamored with the lines on the page to respond to his humorless jest. Her eyes scanned over the endless description of the direction, followed by Drake’s full name, then two signatures, Drake’s and Mr. Sayas’.
“Anything to say?” Drake asked when she flipped the page.
“I had no idea your Christian name was Kirkpatrick.”
He scowled. “That’s the only thing on that paper you found of interest?”
She looked up. “I thought it was a rather fascinating fact,” she said without a hint of emotion in her voice. “I wondered how Lord Sinclair and Emma got the K for Jack from Patrick. Now I know.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, now the mystery has been solved. Kirkpatrick was my mother’s maiden name. I have never been called such, and usually say or write K Patrick whenever necessary. But that old codger, Mr. Sayas, wouldn’t sell me that cottage unless I signed it with my legal name.”
“Well, I hope you have many years of happiness there,” Juliet said flatly.
He frowned. “What’s wrong, Juliet? Isn’t that cottage what you always wanted?”
“Yes. But I’ll not be packed away and visited when you’re struck by an urge for female company,” she said coldly, trying in vain to mask the hurt. She’d thought now that they’d both confessed their love, he’d take her back with him to Briar Creek, not pack her off to some nearby cottage to wait for him to visit with the intention of slaking his urges.
“Now, who’s being presumptuous?” he teased, stepping closer to her. He took her stiff arms and wrapped them around his neck. “I’m not suggesting any such thing. But if that’s what you’d like...”
“No.” She tried to pull her arms off of him.
He wouldn’t let her. “Then what do you want?”
“To go to Briar Creek.”
“You don’t want to live in that cottage?”
Did she need to brain the man? “No.”
“What if your family was there?”
“My family?”
He nodded. “Yes. Your family.”
“You mean my parents and siblings?” she asked, even more confused.
“No. Your family as in your husband and daughters?”
“You mean?”
He reached up and swept a few tendrils of hair from her forehead. “Your husband and your daughters will be there to help fill your home with all the love and laughter you could ever want.”
“But you’re Lord Drakely; you have to live at Briar Creek.”
“I don’t have to. Nor do I want to. Briar Creek is just a house, a cold, impersonal structure where an endless number of beds and haunting memories reside, not a home. I may not have realized it until recently, but as long as we stay at Briar Creek, we’ll never be a true family. And that’s what I want more than anything, Juliet. I want you, me, and our girls to be a family.”
Juliet nodded numbly. “Does that mean you still don’t want me to conceive?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I know,” she agreed. “But you just said me, you, and the girls.”
“Well, who else is there?”
“Nobody right now, but―”
He cut her off with a kiss. “No buts. You’re right, though. That’s all there is right now, but, like you, I’m hoping that will change in the coming months. In fact, the prospect of having a child with you is the only thing that kept me from traveling to London today to see if it were possible to renounce my title.”
“Pardon?”
He rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones. “If not for the prospect that we might have a son together who might feel cheated his due if he had to take an occupation as a smithy rather than a viscount, I would have renounced my title if necessary to win your affections back.”
“Do you mean it?” she asked, tears in her eyes.
“With all my heart.”
She squeezed him in a tight hug. “Oh, Drake.”
He stiffened. “That’s another thing, Juliet. I hate it when you call me Drake.”
“You do?” She loosened her hold on him.
He nodded. “Quite a lot, actually. A man’s Christian name is a more fitting name for a wife to call her husband, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” she agreed. A teasing smile bent her lips. “Which would you prefer I call you? Kirkpatrick or Kirkpatrick Ludwig?”
A broad smile crossed his face. “I should think just Patrick will be sufficient, you teasing minx.”
“Just Patrick it is, then,” she said with a wink.<
br />
“Now that we have that worked out, shall we go home?”
“Yes, let’s.”
Epilogue
September 1820
“Patrick, stop!”
“Why? He likes it.”
“I don’t care if he likes it. The longer you do that, the longer we’ll have to sit here.”
Patrick shrugged and tickled the little boy sitting on his knee again. Peals of contagious giggles filled the air once again.
“Patrick, I mean it, stop.”
Patrick shot a wide grin at his wife. “Why don’t you come over here and make me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Oh, I like it when you’re tempted.”
“That will be enough of that,” Mr. Swill said from behind his canvas.
Juliet’s skin grew pink. “Kate, would you be a dear and reach over and fix your papa’s cravat?”
“There’s nothing wrong with m―” The rest of the sentence was cut off as Kate pulled his cravat so tightly it nearly choked him to death.
“That looks much better, Kate. Thank you.”
Patrick scowled and reached up to loosen his strangulating neck cloth. “Was that necessary?”
“Yes,” Juliet and Kate said in unison.
Patrick shook his head. It’d been more than five years since his wedding to Juliet and she was still able to keep him in his place with just a few words.
Mr. Swill stood. “I do believe I’m done.”
Before the last word was out of the man’s mouth, the children were to their feet and scrambling off the picnic blanket.
“Come look, Maman,” Helena exclaimed from the other side of the canvas.
A huge smile crossed Juliet’s lips. She’d long ago confided in Patrick that no matter how many times she heard it, being called Maman by any of her children never seemed to lose the ability to fill her with a warm, tingly sensation. He returned her smile, nearly bursting with excitement at the knowledge he alone could give her such a wonderful gift.
Patrick reached forward and took her hand. Interlacing their fingers, they walked together to the other side of the canvas.
Juliet gasped. “It’s wonderful.”
“Yes, it is,” Patrick agreed.
“He’s captured us all perfectly.”
“That he has.” Patrick let his eyes travel the canvas. In the middle sat Celia, Helena, and Kate. All three wearing pale green dresses were positioned in the middle of the picnic blanket. Celia was standing on her knees. Helena was sitting on her right hip with her legs in front and her face looking over her shoulder toward the artist. Kate sat in a similar position except her body was facing the viewer and the picnic hamper was positioned right in front of her with her left hand holding up one side of the lid. Behind the older girls, stood the three-year-old twins, Laura and Miranda. Both wore apple red dresses and had their brownish-blond hair in braids that came down and rested on their shoulders. To the left, on the edge of the blanket, sat Patrick. He smiled. Finally, there was a portrait painted where he didn’t resemble an angry bear. In fact, he didn’t look angry in the least. The grin Mr. Swill captured on his lips looked as if it split his face in half. Directly on his lap, sat one-year-old Myles. Then, Patrick looked to the right. Half-sitting, half-lying on the other edge of the blanket wearing a yellow dress and the most beautiful smile was the one who held them all together: Juliet.
Coming Late 2011 and Early 2012--GROOMS SERIES
Four men are about to have their bachelor freedom snatched away as they become grooms...but finding the perfect woman may prove a bit more difficult than they originally thought.
Her Sudden Groom—The overly scientific, always respectable and socially awkward Alexander Banks has just been informed his name resides on a betrothal agreement right above the name of the worst chit in all of England. With a loophole that allows him to marry another without consequence before the thirtieth anniversary of his birth, he has only four weeks to find another woman and make her his wife.
Her Reluctant Groom—For the past thirteen years Marcus Sinclair, Earl Sinclair, has lived his life as a heavily scarred recluse, never dreaming the only woman he’s ever wanted would love him back. But when it slips out that she does, he doubts her love for his scarred body and past can be real. For truly, how can a woman love a man whose injuries were caused when he once tried to declare himself to her sister?
Her Secondhand Groom—Widower Patrick Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, fell in love and married at eighteen only to be devastated by losing her as she bore his third daughter. Now, as his girls are getting older he realizes they need a mother—and a governess. Not able to decide between the two which they need more, he marries an ordinary young lady from the local village in hopes she can suit both roles. But this ordinary young lady isn’t so ordinary after all, and he’ll either have to take a chance and risk his heart once more or wind up alone forever.
Her Imperfect Groom—Sir Wallace Benedict has never been good with the fairer sex and in the bottom drawer of his bureau he has the scandal sheet clippings to prove it. But this thrice-jilted baronet has just discovered the right lady for him was well-worth waiting for. The only trouble is, with multiple former love interests plaguing him at every chance possible, he must find clever ways to avoid them and simultaneously steal the attention—and affections—of the the one lady he’s sure is a perfect match for him and his imperfections.
Already Available--SCANDALOUS SISTERS SERIES
Intentions of the Earl—A penniless earl makes a pact to ruin an American hoyden, never suspecting for a moment he’ll lose his heart along the way.
Liberty for Paul—A vicar’s daughter who loves propriety almost as much as she hates the man her father is mentoring will go to any length she sees fit to see that improper man out the door and out of her life. But when she’s forced to marry him, she’ll learn there’s a lot more to life, love and this man than she originally thought.
To Win His Wayward Wife—A gentleman who’s spent the last five years pining for the love of his life will get his second chance. The only problem? She has no interest in him.
If you enjoyed Her Secondhand Groom, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.
Lend it. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend.
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About the Author
Rose Gordon lives as queen of her castle, surrounded by only boys, in the mid-west United States. With an accounting degree hanging on the wall, and two wild little boys running around, she started writing her first book and has been at it ever since.
She can be found on somewhere in cyberspace at:
Http://www.rosegordon.net
or
http://rosesromanceramblings.wordpress.com
Rose would love to hear from her readers and you can e-mail her at [email protected]
If you'd like to be notified when new books are available, please send an e-mail to [email protected] and put upcoming books in the subject line.
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