And suddenly everything became clear.
He didn’t want to rule a nation; he wanted Ian to have it.
He knew, with a certainty he hadn’t ever experienced before this moment, that he didn’t want to be king. For twenty-eight years, he’d had everything his heart had desired and nothing had ever pleased him.
In the few weeks he’d been here, he’d learned more about himself through Chloe’s eyes and through the hearts of the men his brother called friends. These men weren’t kings or dukes or earls or barons, but he knew this for certain…they would, indeed, kill to protect those they loved, and he needn’t pay them a fortune to do it. They looked after their own and they loved Chloe as a sister. As soon as they’d been told what had happened, every single man had gone after his gun and his horse. He hadn’t had to ask them to join him.
Merrick had never had friends before now.
He’d rarely smiled.
Never loved.
Until now.
“Do you think…” His voice broke. “That you could be happy to be a simple farmer’s wife?”
Chloe’s eyes burned. Was he trying to marry her off to some unfortunate man? God, she shook her head, not comprehending. Surely he didn’t mean that he would give up everything just to be with her?
“I want you to be my wife,” he said with sincerity and conviction. “I want wee little ones like Rusty Broun’s who’ll climb upon my back and beg for rides. I want to be smothered in kisses by sweet-faced daughters. I want to teach my sons to hunt.” He made it sound like heaven on earth, but she knew he couldn’t possibly want that—not when he could have any woman he desired and any life he chose.
Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. “How could I ask you to give up so much just to be with me?”
Merrick’s eyes, as she peered into them, moistened with tears, mirroring her own. “Chloe…when I thought I’d lost you tonight, I realized…my life is nothing without you. I’m not Ian,” he said. “Forgive me. But I am the same man who has loved you from the instant he saw you.”
Chloe was terrified to believe in him—terrified to hope—terrified to lose him. “But you were born to be a king,” she argued.
He shook his head. “No, Chloe. I was born to be your husband. It would be my life’s joy to care for you until the day I die—hopefully in your arms.”
Chloe’s eyes overflowed with tears. “You mean it truly?” she asked, overcome with joy.
He nodded without hesitation. “I will build you a hospital here where you can treat everyone for free. We can stay in Glen Abbey and raise our children together—let Ian take my place, if he will. He doesn’t know it yet, but it’s his crown to do with as he pleases. He is the crusader…not me.”
Chloe’s throat convulsed. Her lips trembled. Her heart felt as though it would burst. She shook her head, wanting to believe in happily-ever-afters, but afraid to. “You would loathe me someday for making you give up so much.”
Merrick, too, shook his head adamantly. “No, my love. I was imprisoned by my life before. Now I am free.”
“Then, yes,” Chloe said, nodding happily. “Yes!”
Merrick reached out and took her into his arms, not caring that she would wet his clothing. “Then marry me tomorrow,” he demanded, spinning her about, and Chloe laughed.
She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him joyfully. And then she felt suddenly wicked with him holding her naked to his chest. She smiled at him.
Merrick grinned, recognizing that look in her eyes. They fell down upon the bed together.
Chloe untied his cravat, her gaze never leaving his. Smiling, she impishly tossed it to the floor.
Merrick shivered at her look, at the slow, deliberate way she removed his clothing. “I have corrupted you, I fear,” he said, but he grinned and his body hardened with her every touch.
Chloe nodded, her eyes shining with tears.
Lying gloriously naked before him, her skin pink from the warm water, her lips wet from his kisses and her hair flowing down her back, she looked like a temptress…a siren…
When he was naked, as well, she rose from the bed and lured him into the tub. They stood facing each other a moment and then she pushed him down into the water and sat upon his lap in the most scandalous fashion.
Her body fit over his like a velvety glove.
Christ, she was made just for him, her body tight and warm and soft.
“I will give you all the children you desire,” she whispered sweetly.
“And I will love you until I die,” he promised, his voice hoarse with desire.
And he meant it.
With every fiber of his being.
Chloe began to undulate over him, needing to feel their union once more.
It was a wicked dance they performed, writhing in the tub together. She rode him until he could bear it no longer and then he stood, holding her close so that they wouldn’t separate.
Merrick walked with her to the bed, lying her down gently.
Chloe moaned softly, moving beneath him as he covered her completely. Pushing himself deep inside her, he increased the tempo, burying himself deeper and deeper with every thrust, until it seemed they truly were one.
When at last they came together, the two of them collapsed wearily in each other’s arms and fell asleep until the morning light.
Epilogue
Two months later…
Merrick sat at his desk within the little cottage, penning the final draft of his letter to Ian. It was long and involved, with explanations that were better left for a face-to-face discussion. He blew a sigh and wadded up the paper, tossing it in the bin with the rest.
“Dammit all!” he said, frustrated by his lack of verbosity.
“What is it, darling?” Chloe asked, coming up behind him to massage his shoulders.
They had wed a month ago in a lovely ceremony that was attended by the entire town. Isabel, Aggie’s little sister, had carried posies, smiling as she’d tossed them at every pew along the aisle. Aggie had both sewn and carried Chloe’s train.
For her part, Fiona sat, all the while weeping, in the front pew, with Constable Tolly patting her hand.
Rusty, along with his wife and three daughters, all prettily dressed in their new outfits from Mr. Duncan’s newly restocked general store, sat behind Fiona. Donald Lowson, his wife and two-month-old daughter sat in the back row—lest she begin to wail again. Merrick hadn’t minded. He wanted a few of his own someday.
“I do not know what to say,” he confessed. Ian had yet to learn the truth and Merrick couldn’t find the words to explain all that had transpired, all that he felt. He wanted to know his brother—but more than that, he wanted to somehow make amends for all the years Ian must have felt like a beggar in his own home.
Chloe rubbed gently at his neck, calming him. His lovely wife had a way of making everything clear. “Are you still certain you wish to give it all up?”
Merrick pulled out a clean parchment. “Absolutely!” he said, without question. He stared at the paper a moment and then realized he needn’t say much at all—at least until they were face-to-face. Until then, Ryo would explain the rest. All Merrick needed to do was to give up the ring. He penned the following.
My dearest brother, wear it in good health.
And with the letter done, he removed the ring from his finger, wrapped it in a kerchief and waited for Rusty to arrive. He trusted Rusty to deliver it safely to its destination.
“There. It’s done,” he said, and sighed in relief. “No more worries.”
They were in somewhat cramped quarters until the new house was complete. Every last man in Glen Abbey had come together to rebuild the manor. Merrick, along with the rest of the men, had rolled up his sleeves to help reconstruct his mother’s home. He labored with his hands every day, building calluses along with his home, but he came to bed every night feeling blissfully tired and complete—satisfied in a way he’d never been before now.
There was very little t
hat had survived the fire. A few baubles here and there. Most everything else was gone—save for the aviary, the stables and his mother’s rose garden.
He turned in his chair to face his wife, reveling in the beauty of her smile. “Do you realize we’re alone until Mother returns?” Fiona had ventured out for a picnic and a walk with Constable Tolly. He raised a brow meaningfully.
Chloe giggled.
She tapped him gently on the bridge of his nose. “I suppose you wish to try again for that daughter you so desire?” She sighed, as though it were the greatest burden, but it was betrayed by her impish grin.
Merrick shrugged. “Or son. It matters not to me.”
She bent to kiss him, wrapping her arms about his neck so sweetly that it made him shudder with desire. His loins tautened at once. She never failed to do this to him, rouse him to incredible heights of passion.
“What do you say we retire to the bedroom?” he suggested.
“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” she teased him, whispering in his ear, “Anything you say, Your Majesty.”
Merrick groaned in the back of his throat as he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom. “You will always be my king.”
“And you will always be my queen.”
Surely, as much as they had coupled in the last month, she should be increasing by now…but oh, well…Merrick was having the time of his life trying.
“About that daughter,” he said as he lay her down upon the bed, grinning mischievously.
“Son,” she returned with a smile and lifted her chin.
“Whichever,” he said. And then, “I love you, my flower.”
“I love you, too,” Chloe whispered back.
And they made love, whispering sweet words to each other and promising to adore each other for the rest of their days.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4335-4
THE IMPOSTOR’S KISS
Copyright © 2003 by Tanya Anne Crosby
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit us at www.eHarlequin.com
Tanya Anne Crosby Page 19
