There was no blood, so he continued his search and found nothing else amiss. “Emily,” he croaked out, his voice rough with emotion. “Could you return to the house and fetch the carriage?”
Emily held her hands over her mouth, her eyes large. “I’m not sure I should leave you,” she said through her fingers. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain later and Danielle will be back in just a moment.” He placed a hand on her arm. “I’ll take care of her. Go.”
Emily gave a stiff nod and then spun, racing out the door, her skirts held up in her hands.
Harry looked down at Sophie, her breath shallow, skin pale. Placing a hand on her cheek, he said a silent prayer. Please let her be all right. I haven’t even told her how much I love her yet.
* * *
Sophie woke to a dark room. Where was she? How long had she been asleep? Her head throbbed terribly, but the rest of her was comfortably tucked into a warm soft bed.
Blinking her eyes several times, she cleared her vision and immediately recognized the ceiling of her bedroom. She bunched the covers in her hands, and she recognized the quilt that she’d sewn several summers ago.
Slowly, as not to increase the pain, she turned to look at the fire only to realize that a large mass blocked her view. Reaching out her hand, she felt a solid wall of muscle next to her, radiating heat. No wonder she’d been so comfortable. Harry lay next to her.
At her touch, his hand came to her stomach, and he kneaded her skin in a comforting gesture. “Are you awake, love?” he whispered.
He usually only used the endearment when they were involved in other amorous activities and her lips curved to hear it now. He must have been worried. “I am.”
He pulled himself from the bed then and fumbled around to light several candles. Their soft glow made her head ache all the more but it was still good to see his face. He held up two fingers. “How many do you see?”
“Eight,” she mumbled, just glad to look at him but as his features spasmed, she realized it was no time for teasing. “Two. I was kidding.”
His features relaxed again, his shoulders drooping. He slowly sat down next to her again. “Mental faculties and sense of humor still intact. That is most excellent.”
“What happened?” She closed her eyes again. Much as she liked looking at him, it caused her head to throb painfully.
He brought his fingers to the back of her neck, gently massaging her stiff muscles. “You were trying to get away from Mayfield. You fell and hit your head.”
Mayfield. The scene came rushing back. “You were there. You’d come for me.” With her eyes still closed, she scooted toward him until she could lay her head in his lap. Deep inside, she needed to touch him.
“I’ll always come for you,” he said as he gently brushed her hair back from her face.
The words momentarily soothed her, but they were a lie. “You don’t mean that.” He had every intention of leaving her. He’d stood by her because she’d been attacked—but what did that mean for their future? Their marriage? What if she needed him when he was away fighting at the front? She pulled away, but he applied the tiniest bit of pressure to her back.
“I mean every word.” He continued to massage her, both hands working on her aching muscles. She struggled to keep from leaning into his touch. “I should have realized sooner that the army was my past. You, sweet Sophie, are my future.”
Warmth radiated through her. “What?” she tried to lift her head, but the pain radiated from the front of her skull. “But the army is your purpose.”
“Was. Now my purpose will be, first, loving you. Second, giving you a large family, and third, taking care of my people and my land. I wanted to honor Alfred and I believe this will suffice.”
She reached for his waist, emotion making her throat thick. “By loving me?”
“That’s right.” He bent down and placed a soft kiss on her temple. “It took Drew, of all people, to help me see that I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she gasped putting her other arm about his waist to hug him tight.
“Thank goodness,” he murmured gathering her closer and pulling her head up to his chest. “I’d hate to be in this alone.”
She would have laughed if that wouldn’t have hurt so much. “So what happens next?”
He feathered kisses along her jaw, sending shivers along her skin. “We get married. Work on making that baby.” Then he paused. “I know how much you love this house, but would you be willing to spend part of the year on the estate granted by the earldom? We’ll have a big job to do there.”
“We?” She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, even if it did make her terribly uncomfortable. “You want me to help you run an earldom?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He kissed her temple. “Now, you need to eat, drink tea, and go back to sleep. We’ve got a lot to do and I can’t do any of it without you.”
That sounded absolutely divine.
Epilogue
Sophie surveyed the foyer of the dusty estate she and Harry would call home. So much work to be done. A grin split her face. She loved every second of it.
“You’re plotting already, love. I can tell by the way you’re smiling.” Harry wrapped his arms about her waist. “Perhaps we should have stayed at an inn for our first night as man and wife. This place is barely fit for habitation.”
She put her arms around his neck and stood up on her tiptoes. “We’ll be fine. I love that we’re spending our first night together in our new home. Isn’t it so exciting? We get to make it whatever we want.”
He gave her a tender kiss. “You’re not too disappointed about leaving your house?”
“Not at all,” she said as she bounced on her toes and gave him a squeeze. “This is so much better. A home we get to make ours…together.”
He lifted her and spun her about. “I agree. And Danielle will be able to make a fine match with the house as her dowry.”
Sophie kissed her husband, long and slow. “Thank you for understanding that I needed to give it to her. She deserves a future as beautiful as the one we’ll have.”
“It was yours to give, love. You don’t need to thank me for anything.”
Her eyes sparkled in the evening light. “All the same, what do you say we go and see if there’s a suitable bed to sleep in.” She stepped back, giving him a saucy wink. “And of course, I’ll need to thank you properly as well.”
He let out a small rumble. “Well, in that case, let’s go and have a look.” And he took her hand to lead her up the stairs.
Sophie allowed him to pull her along, but now her curiosity was piqued. As they made it to the second-floor landing, two women and a man, clearly hired, stood waiting for them. “We’ve prepared everything, my lord, as you instructed.”
“Prepared?” She cocked her head looking at her husband.
He held up his hands. “Don’t be upset, my lady. Emily hired a small staff to get the kitchen running and a bedroom prepared for us. It isn’t the master, I thought you’d like to take care of those chambers yourself.”
She covered her mouth to keep from squealing in front of the new staff. She wasn’t upset. It was a lovely gift to have a room ready for their wedding night and the fact that he’d specifically requested it not be the lord’s chambers only showed how well he understood her. “Thank you, Harry. That is truly lovely.”
His shoulders slumped as he let out a breath. “Thank goodness.” Then he put his arm around her back and gestured to the butler. “Mr. Archer, lead the way.”
With a bow, the man started down the hall. “We’re very pleased to serve, my lord and lady. We’ll give you a proper tour of the house in the morning. We’ve been cataloging the rooms. Mrs. Dunphy has started a list of all that needs to be accomplished.”
Sophie’s insides warmed. “Sounds like a woman after my own heart.”
Archer gave a single nod of his head. “I’m glad you think so, my lady. But for tonight, we’ve laid
out a dinner banquet.” He turned to the left and opened a door. Inside was a room that had been washed, polished and freshly made.
“The bed is new too. That, I ordered myself.” He grimaced. “After staying at your home, I can’t go back to uncomfortable beds.” Then he pointed to the window. “And pink curtains. We can’t go without those, can we?”
They stepped into the room and Archer closed the door behind them, leaving them alone. “And I can’t go back to a bed without you.” She stepped into his arms. “What do you say we see how you perform in your first wedded purchase?”
“That is a bloody good idea, my countess.”
She thought so too.
Earl of Dryden
Tammy Andresen
Wicked Earls’ Club
Chronicles of a Bluestocking
Miss Chloe Finch sat on the edge of the dance floor with her toe tapping. She’d strategically placed herself somewhere between the potted fern and the shining marble statue of some long-ago valiant soldier. The candlelight shone on his alabaster finish, adding shadow under his cheekbones and rib cage. He looked quite dashing actually and he was the only company she had, despite the sea of people around her. Which was how she’d preferred to be at such events.
Her aunt, Lady Mildred Hartworth, was engaged in conversation with several other matrons. They whispered behind their fans as people passed, casting judgment upon them with narrowed eyes and not-so-subtle words.
Chloe could only hope to stay hidden behind them so their sharp tongues did not turn on her.
“Did you see the garish bird figure perched in Lady Millicent’s hair? Dreadful. How does she expect to make a decent match looking like that?” Her aunt gave a loud sniff.
Chloe cringed, shrinking smaller into her chair. She hated these affairs. Her aunt was insistent that Chloe could make a good match if only she’d stop being such a ninny and attempt to be charming. Chloe had tried, on numerous occasions, to do exactly that, but she simply couldn’t. Plagued with an irrational shyness that she didn’t dare explain, she froze, unable to utter a syllable, every time a suitor came near. Or anyone she didn’t know, for that matter. She couldn’t explain the why, she scarcely knew herself. She only could pinpoint the when; the dreadful plague began shortly after her mother’s death four years prior.
Wrapping her arms about her waist, she consoled herself that her affliction was getting better. She’d even made a few friends. Lovely girls, who like herself, were outcasts, but that didn’t bother Chloe. She thought them delightful.
And they thought her smart and fun rather than simple or daft. She’d been passed over by suitor after suitor when she’d been struck mute in their presence. Who could blame them?
Of course, there were also the men who took advantage of her silence, she blamed them plenty, but there was little she could do to stop them. Her aunt most definitely blamed Chloe for their deeds.
“Chloe looks darling this evening,” Lady Mayfair leaned over to her aunt and Chloe’s eyes widened.
No no no, she chanted in her head. Don’t talk about me please.
“What does it matter? Until the girl will stop being so stubborn and apply herself to seeking a match, I may as well be dressing up a doll.” Her aunt gave a loud huff to match her words. “One would think she’d show some appreciation for my efforts by actually trying. Since the moment I took her in, she’s been nothing but a willful, errant, troublesome girl. Exactly like her mother.”
Even crossed as her arms were, in a display of protection, her fists clenched. She was trying to be what her aunt wanted. Always had. Tears pricked at her eyes. Did her aunt think she liked being like this?
“Such a pretty girl too. What a shame,” Lady Mayfair said, despite only being a foot away, as though Chloe wouldn’t even understand the words.
Her aunt knew very well that Chloe understood everything and yet she persisted. “That’s not the half of it. She isn’t dumb or mute, just trying to disobey me. I’m sure of it.”
Chloe opened her mouth to protest but then closed it again. Who was she kidding? She’d never argue in front of these women. Instead she turned to the statue. He was tall and strong and for just a moment, she pretended he was real though she knew very well he wasn’t. “Would you save me, kind sir, from the dastardly tongues of wicked old women?”
“Chloe,” her Aunt Mildred gasped, turning back to her. “Of all the things to finally utter in public.”
But then, something even stranger happened. The statue answered. “Why yes, I will.”
* * *
Fin stood next to an abomination of a statue, doing his best to avoid Lady Angela Stark. Hiding was probably the more accurate word. She was one of this year’s fresh-faced debutantes in frilly white lace ruffles and tight curls. Her high-pitched laugh sounded with every sentence she uttered and cut him to the bone.
Didn’t she know most ladies of marriageable age were frightened near to death at the very sight of him? Not just because of his dark and often menacing looks, but because of the rumors that swirled about him. The girl had no sense.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He wasn’t looking for a wife. Though he understood the merits of one. Actually, his barrister liked to remind him regularly that matrimony would do a great deal to boost his public perception and business. The man had practically bullied him into attendance tonight. And, as an earl, he’d eventually need an heir. But as a man with real darkness in his soul, the thought of marrying a woman like Lady Angela was laughable.
Angela walked by and he ducked behind the beast of marble, glad for its hulking size. He’d tried everything he could think of to rid himself of the girl, but she had one characteristic in spades: tenacity.
He peeked around the other side of the marble monstrosity and caught site of a lovely woman sitting just in front of him. Her honey blonde hair was piled high on her head but loose strands fell all about her face, highlighting her delicate features. At least they appeared delicate in profile. Full, dusky pink lips trembled as she listened attentively though no one appeared to be talking to her.
Then he realized the women just in front of her were talking about her. Words like such a shame were bandied about as her fists clenched against her sides, her chin hardening as it notched up.
Her back straightened and her mouth opened, and he found himself leaning forward waiting to hear what she would say. Would her voice be sultry or sweet? Was she intelligent or full of air like Lady Angela?
Instead of talking to the matrons, however, she slumped back down and looked at the statue. “Would you save me, kind sir, from the dastardly tongue of wicked old women?”
Sultry and saucy too. Her voice and her words raced along his skin like a touch. Her voice, like red velvet, could turn a man inside out.
“Chloe,” one of the old women turned, looking stunned. “Of all the things to finally utter in public.”
Finally utter in public? Chloe? Bloody hellfire, he’d run himself smack into Miss Chloe Finch. Miss Finch was known to be a mute. Men claimed her dumb, daft, bereft of a mind. Many a lord had referred to her as a beautiful little puppet. They said she went mad after her mother’s death. Some even joked that she’d make the ideal wife if not for the possibility of passing such an affliction onto their children.
This woman was neither mute nor dumb. Perhaps she never used her voice because it had magical powers. It was a possibility. He was fairly certain it had just cast a spell on him. Which explained why he uttered the most ridiculous words of his life. “Why yes, I will.”
Want to read more! Earl of Dryden
About the Author
Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It was inevitable that at the age of eighteen, she headed of
f to Simmons College, where she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.
Find out more about Tammy:
http://www.tammyandresen.com/
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Read Tammy Andresen’s other books:
Seeds of Love: Prequel to the Lily in Bloom series
Lily in Bloom
Midnight Magic
Other Titles by Tammy Andresen
How to Reform a Rake
Don’t Tell a Duke You Love Him
Meddle in a Marquess’s Affairs
Never Trust an Errant Earl
Never Kiss an Earl at Midnight
Make a Viscount Beg
Wicked Lords of London
Earl of Sussex
My Duke’s Seduction
My Duke’s Deception
My Earl’s Entrapment
My Duke’s Desire
My Wicked Earl
Brethren of Stone
The Duke’s Scottish Lass
Scottish Devil
Wicked Laird
Kilted Sin
Rogue Scot
The Fate of a Highland Rake
A Laird to Love
Christmastide with my Captain
My Enemy, My Earl
Heart of a Highlander
A Scot’s Surrender
A Laird’s Seduction
An Earl’s Forsaken Bride
Taming the Duke’s Heart
Taming a Duke’s Reckless Heart
Taming a Duke’s Wild Rose
Taming a Laird’s Wild Lady
Taming a Rake into a Lord
Taming a Savage Gentleman
Taming a Rogue Earl
Taming a Christmas Wallflower
Fairfield Fairy Tales
Taming an Unrepentant Earl (Taming the Duke's Heart Book 10) Page 11
