Marrying Mischief

by Lyn Stone

  Emily was exactly where Wrecker said she would be, issuing orders and attempting to instill calm among the servants. Her nightrail, wrapper and face were blackened with smoke. Her hair, the curling tendrils that weren’t plastered to her head with dampness, flew every which way. Her hairpins had given up their task and one dangled ineffectively over one ear. She looked like a dirty street urchin.

  Nick didn’t care who was watching. He simply shoved his way through the crowd and clasped her in his arms, enormously relieved she had lived through this. She was soaking wet all over.

  He whispered against her ear, “God, that was close. You were so brave. Smart, too, dousing yourself first with water. You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “No,” she rasped. “I’m fine.”

  He felt her wilt against him, as if she’d only been waiting to relinquish her command. Still holding her, he spoke over her head to one of the footmen. “Joe, saddle one of the coach horses and bring it around. Make it fast.”

  Emily reared back her head and asked, “Why? You’re not leaving?”

  “We are leaving,” he declared. “I won’t have you stay in this house a moment longer.”

  He looked to Rosie who was hovering nearby. “Go inside. Bring her a cloak. Anyone’s cloak that doesn’t smell of smoke.”

  “The fire?” Emily asked.

  “Out,” he assured her, “but it’s no longer safe for us to remain here.”

  When she would have asked more questions, he shushed her by pressing her face against his chest and caressing her head, gently raking out the useless pins and smoothing her tousled hair as if she were a child in need of comfort. “Everything will be fine, Em. You’re not to worry.”

  Nick did not release her until Rosie brought the cloak he’d requested. He wrapped Emily in it and held her close again until Joe brought the horse.

  “Where will we go?” she asked the moment Joe had lifted her up to sit in the shelter of Nick’s arms.

  “I’ll tell you as soon as we’re out of earshot. No one here needs to know how to find us.” With that pronouncement, he kicked the horse into a gallop and headed for Duquesne’s. It was less than a mile away, but he took the long way ’round to make certain they were not followed.

  “Do not expect much in the way of amenities,” Nick warned Emily as he dismounted and assisted her down from the broad-backed coach horse. “Guy lives a rather frugal existence.”

  “Fine,” Emily said, sounding a bit breathless.

  “What is it? Are you all right? Sure you weren’t hurt?”

  “No injuries,” she answered with a short half laugh. “You’ve been squeezing the breath out of me.”

  “Sorry,” he growled, loosening his hold and taking her hand instead. “Come, let’s see whether Guy’s home. He might have gone out after he left Hammersley’s.”

  Nick raised the heavy knocker and let it drop. It clacked loudly in the still night air. He repeated the act.

  A few moments later the door opened a crack and a wizened old face peeked out. The lamp he held threw his features into a deathlike mask. Nick smiled. “Good to see you, Bodkins.”

  The door opened wide and the wrinkled butler stepped back. “Lord Nicholas. Come in, please.” As if Nick visited every day.

  “Is Lord Guy here?”

  “He has gone up to bed, m’lord. Wait in there, please,” he gestured formally toward the front parlor. “I shall announce you are here.”

  “Thank you, Bodkins,” Nick replied kindly. He ushered Emily toward the room Bodkins had indicated but did not enter it. It was pitch-dark, so they remained in the doorway, waiting. Nick slid his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

  Before the old butler had reached the third tread on the stairs, Guy came bounding down, dressed in shirtsleeves, his vest hanging open. He was in his stockinged feet. “I heard knocking. Who was it, Boddy?”

  “The Earl of Kendale and a lady, m’lord,” Bodkins croaked.

  Guy, his shock apparent, quickly scanned the cavernous foyer until he spotted them in the near dark. “Good God, man! Boddy, give me that light!” He took it and approached Nick and Emily.

  “We came to beg a room for the night,” Nick explained. “There was a fire at Kendale House.” Then he lowered his voice, knowing that old Bodkins couldn’t hear him when he did so. “No accident. Emily was almost…” But he couldn’t say it. And he shouldn’t, he realized, not in front of her. She must be near collapse as it was, and she probably didn’t even realize yet how close she had come to death.

  Guy took charge. “Bodkins, grab a candle, lock the front door and go to bed now. I’ll handle what needs doing.”

  “Of course, m’lord,” the old man answered. “Have a pleasant evening, m’lady, m’lords.”

  A pleasant evening. Nick almost laughed. It was two o’clock in the morning. Poor Bodkins had gone past his prime, poor old fellow, but he was loyalty personified.

  “Come with me out to the kitchen,” Guy said. “You’ll want to clean up.” He addressed Emily, “I regret there are no maids in service, my dear. Will you manage?”

  “Of course,” she assured him.

  Of course she would. When had she not? She had grown used to managing without anyone’s assistance in the past few years. With the vicar in his dotage, her brother too young at first, then gone off on that cursed voyage. Nick hated that he’d not been there for her when she needed him.

  He now felt the aftereffects of almost losing her tonight—light-headedness, his thoughts flying in every direction, a weakening in his limbs and a sickness in his gut. Not unlike what he had experienced the day of the carriage wreck, only magnified.

  How had he not realized then how much he still loved her? He had closed himself off from feeling much of anything but determination and had dedicated all his efforts toward building a fortune, independent of his father’s business. Perhaps somewhere deep inside had remained a small hope that someday he would return to Bournesea, defy the old man and claim Emily.

  Now that he had her, he had wasted their time together by allowing the past to come between them.

  They arrived in the kitchens. Guy set down the lamp and found several more on a shelf. “There are rain barrels outside the door there,” he said. “Why don’t you start a fire, Nick? Then we’ll haul in some water for bathing. There’s a tub.”

  Frugal indeed. Other than expressing regret that there were no maids to attend Emily, Guy had made no apologies or excuses for his lack of servants. Apparently he had none other than Bodkins, who was too old to find employment anywhere else.

  Nick embraced Emily and kissed the top of her smoke-scented hair, then walked her to a nearby bench set against the wall. “Sit down here and rest while we prepare your bath.”

  From now on, he would put Emily first in his life, Nick promised himself. Her happiness must come before any plans he had for himself. There would be no more attempts to integrate her into life here in the city, no more molding her into the countess he had thought his peers expected.

  He had one more task to complete here in London tomorrow evening that would hopefully eliminate any threat to their safety. After he made that visit to Julius Munford they would return to Bournesea where Emily could feel at home.

  Emily hugged the cloak around herself as they climbed the stairs. Underneath it she wore only the soft nightshirt Guy had brought down to the kitchens to clothe her after her bath. Her own nightrail and wrapper were ruined, tattered and speckled by sparks that might have burned her alive if she hadn’t drenched herself with water first. Delayed thoughts of it made her shudder.

  Nick had on a pair of trousers and a shirt he had borrowed from Guy.

  That man would make some woman a fine husband, she thought to herself as she watched him climb the stairs before them, lighting their way. He was charming and certainly self-sufficient. And, apparently, an excellent friend to have.

  His grand old house could use a feminine touch. The wallpaper peeled here and there, the
sparse furnishings were of excellent quality though covered with a fine layer of dust and the fabrics somewhat faded. There were no paintings on the walls and few rugs upon the unwaxed floors. She suspected Guy or one of his predecessors must have lost much of the family fortune along the way. Yet not a trace of bitterness marred his good humor or affected his gallantry.

  “The two of you won’t mind sharing a room, will you?” he asked as they reached the third floor and started down the hallway. “There is only one.”

  Emily stifled a gasp. There must be fifty bedchambers in a house this size. What did he mean, only one? Then she realized the others must be unfurnished.

  “One will be quite sufficient,” she heard herself announce.

  Nick squeezed her shoulder in unnecessary thanks, she thought. How else could she have put Guy at ease? She could hardly demand that he and Nick share Guy’s chamber. If he had only one extra room for sleeping, then they would simply have to make do.

  At the moment she cared very little where she slept or with whom. Given their exhaustion, it was highly unlikely there would be a confrontation of any kind between herself and Nicholas. It took two to argue or to engage in any other kind of intercourse, and tonight, she did not intend to be one of them.

  She quickly banished the quiver of apprehension as they entered a spacious chamber containing an enormous four-poster and all the other amenities one might expect in the home of a noble lord. It rivaled any at Bournesea or Kendale House.

  “How lovely,” she commented.

  “Thank you,” Guy said simply. He set the lamp down upon the bedside table, lighted the candle beside it and took it with him as he made to leave. “I’ll say good-night, then. Pleasant dreams.” With that, departed and closed the door behind him.

  A fire burned low in the fireplace, some of the logs now reduced to embers. She saw the massive desk in one corner, outfitted with writing instruments, a bottle of spirits and a glass. “Nick, this is his room.”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “We cannot put him out this way. Go and call him back. We’ll sleep somewhere else.”

  “No, Emily. We shall sleep here.”

  “But—”

  “Accept his gracious offer,” he advised.

  Emily knew he was right. “He’s a good man, isn’t he? Kind,” she said. “What happened to him?”

  “His wealth, you mean? The earl gave most of it away about ten years ago before Guy realized the old fellow had begun to suffer dementia. The rest, including what Guy has acquired from his own enterprises, has gone to support his father and those who constantly look after him on a small estate in the north. The earl’s physically well, but quite mad now. Guy refuses to lock him away.”

  “Oh, how sad.” Emily wiped at her tears and sniffed. “I love him for that.”

  Nick smiled down at her and took the cloak from her shoulders to lay it on the chest at the foot of the bed. “So do I. Therefore, we must not insult him by refusing his generosity tonight. You understand?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  He walked over to the desk, unstoppered the bottle of spirits and poured himself a dollop. “I hope you don’t object. If ever there was a time for a nip of brandy, I think it is tonight.”

  Emily watched the working of muscles in his neck, the way the glass rested against his lower lip, the way his long-lashed eyes, the very color of the liquid he drank, closed in appreciation. He lowered the glass and exhaled roughly.

  “Might I?” she asked hesitantly. If liquor numbed the senses, she definitely needed it. Hers had a keen edge tonight that she seldom, if ever, had experienced.

  Nick poured a bit more, sauntered over and held out the glass, his gaze daring as she lifted it and sipped. Twice. Three times, until the brandy was almost gone. She made a face and handed it back to him while the liquid burned a path down her throat, settled in her stomach and slowly spread to encompass her limbs.

  “Come, let’s go to bed now,” he said gently, his eyes holding hers as he tossed off the last of the liquor and placed the glass on the bedside table. “Which side do you prefer?”

  “I…I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She had never shared a bed with anyone before in her life. Her own, at home, had been hardly wide enough to accommodate one. Now she would be lying beside Nicholas for the very first time.

  Perhaps brushing against him accidentally during the night. Touching inadvertently. The errant thought sent a new streak of heat right through her that rivaled that of the brandy. Unbidden, came the sudden memory of Nick’s kisses, his hands upon her in the carriage before the wreck. She rubbed her arms briskly to dispel the tingling feeling.

  Nick’s defenses seemed to be as worn down as her own. His very stance was different, so casual and unassuming. Yet he looked as confident and powerful as he ever had, perhaps even more so without that aura of formality she hated so much. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the change in him or exactly when she had noticed it, but there definitely was one.

  Her gaze traveled up and down his body. Would he be sleeping in these clothes? She devoutly hoped he would. Otherwise…

  He had turned back the covers and was shrugging out of his shirt. Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Not since he was a boy had she seen his naked chest. There were mounds of muscle there and in his upper arms that had not been evident then. And smooth, dark hair. Lots of it. For the life of her, she could not look away. Her hands fairly ached to touch him there.

  “Em?” he questioned, breaking her trance as he reached to hang the shirt on the back of the chair to the desk. “You needn’t worry, you know.”

  Ha! Needn’t worry? “No, no! I’m not…not worried at all.”

  “Good. Get into bed. I’ll douse the lamp before I finish undressing.”

  “Finish?” Undressing? She quickly crawled up on the mattress and slid under the covers, pulling them up to her neck.

  He turned the screw that lowered the wick and extinguished the flame. The room darkened considerably, but Emily’s eyes quickly adjusted. He stood silhouetted against the firelight and the dark outline of his body seemed much larger than when she had been able to see his features.

  His hands went to his waist to unbutton the opening of his borrowed trousers. He pushed them down and stepped out of them, then folded them. Briefly, she saw him in profile as he laid the garment across her cloak on the chest at the foot of the bed.

  He was clearly in an aroused state. Upright. She knew what that meant. And she was worried now. The very sight of him stirred hot feelings within her that a woman such as she should not be having. She would like to blame it on the brandy, but knew that would be dishonest.

  True, they were married and she had decided to allow him to consummate their union when the time was right. But she knew very well she should not exhibit any eagerness. What did that say about her morals?

  Would he be horrified to know how desperately she wanted him? His kisses had caught her off guard in the carriage that day and tripped a complete surrender of inhibitions. She had not even suspected she possessed such feelings.

  Tonight that few moments in the carriage seemed to pale by comparison. She burned for him in that place that bore no mention in civilized conversation.

  Insatiably curious, she had read as much as she could manage to find on conjugal interactions between husband and wife. And, of course, her father had that book to help him counsel gentlemen in marital matters. Since she was fairly certain no one ever counseled women in such things, Emily had felt perfectly justified in appropriating the information.

  According to all instructions, the wife should accept the husband’s attentions without complaint, but he should not expect her to actively participate. Emily wondered, somewhat despairingly, how difficult it would be to remain unaffected by what he would do.

  The mattress dipped as Nick sat on it, lifted the covers and swung his long legs under them. Heat seemed to emanate from him in waves and to encompass her completely.

/>   A fine sheen of moisture broke out on her brow and she brushed it away with a trembling hand. She heard his huge sigh as he relaxed against the large pillow, one arm beneath his head. Maybe he would simply fall asleep.

  Emily was uncertain whether she wanted him to do that, or to get it over with. They had to do it sometime and he was obviously ready. It might as well be tonight. Very well, she wanted it to be tonight, she admitted with a small huff of resignation. Now, as a matter of fact.

  “You can, if you wish to,” she told him in a whisper.

  “Hmm? Can what?” he asked as innocently as if he didn’t know.

  Perhaps he really didn’t know. There was no reason his mind should be attuned to what she was thinking.

  Though he must have been dwelling on similar thoughts, judging by the state of his body.

  Nick rolled to his side, facing her. There remained a space between them wide enough for another person to sleep. She wanted to close the distance, but did not dare.

  The arm that had rested on his pillow extended just above her head. She felt his fingers smooth her hair back from her brow, a feathery touch that sent tingles all through her.

  “It will soon be morning, but may I kiss you good-night?” he asked softly.

  Emily released the breath she’d been holding. “If you like.”

  “I would,” he said, a smile in his voice.

  Slowly he leaned toward her until his mouth reached hers. The light caress, lips brushing lips, did not appease in any way.

  She moved her head a bit to establish a more satisfying pressure, but he drew back, eluding her. Without thinking how it might seem to him, she raised one hand to his neck and urged him to apply himself.

  His immediate response almost frightened her. Before she knew what had happened, his body was flush against her own and his mouth devoured hers as if he were starving and she, his only sustenance.

  Desire was the one truth between them she could fully trust and it would not be denied.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The intensity of his need for Emily shook Nick to his core. He hated wanting this desperately, this profoundly, yet he relished it all the same. He crushed her to him as if he might never have the chance again. Twice now, he’d nearly lost her and the very thought of it almost destroyed his reason.