Light to Valhalla

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  Charley watched him, expression shuttered and thoroughly impassive. “Mrs. Kent made lemon butter scones.” She waved in the general direction of the refreshment tray. “Are you hungry?”

  Her indifference after their scorching embrace irked him and hurt more than a little, but he refused to entertain that she may be comparing him to other men. “Famished.” His gaze fell to the modest bodice of her gown and his mouth watered, literally. But not for scones.

  “Wonderful.” Evelyn clasped her hands warmly. “Come sit, we’ve a great deal to catch up on.”

  Alex cleared his throat, chancing a quick glance at his wife. “Actually, Evelyn, would you think me terribly rude if I begged a moment alone with my wife?” He flashed his most charming smile. “With all the chaos we’ve hardly had a moment to breathe much less speak privately.”

  “No, mama,” Charley blurted a little too quickly, belying her cool exterior. “That’s really not necessary.”

  Inwardly—and perhaps more than a little perversely—Alex relished her discomfort. Good. It meant that at this exact moment she was unsettled because of him, not Sidney or some other lover.

  Evelyn shot Charley a disparaging glare. “It’s fine, I insist, but before I go I would like to hear about your visit with the magistrate. The fact someone would want to have my daughter murdered is… well, I really cannot describe how horrified I am by the prospect.”

  “Of course.” Alex nodded solicitously. “I’m afraid there is not much to tell at this point. I informed Mr. Reilly of the situation and he promised to update us when he has any word. My suspicion is that Johnston and Halverson are halfway through Scotland by now. At least they should be if they’re in possession of half their wits and a brain.”

  “I do hope you’re right.” Evelyn nodded. “Take care not to mention this in my husband’s presence.”

  “Of course. I understand completely. How is Edmond faring?” Alex asked solicitously.

  Evelyn sighed, the sparkle in her eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Better. More reasonable in any case. I gave him a bit of laudanum. I hate the stuff, but it seems to slow his mind and he’s much less paranoid now.”

  “Lady Grayson?” George appeared in the parlor door. “Your immediate assistance is needed in the kitchen.”

  “My assistance? Where is Mrs. Kent?”

  “I’m afraid no one has seen her for nigh unto an hour, milady.”

  A red hot blush seared Charley’s cheeks and she quickly turned her gaze into the fire. Amusement tugged Alex’s lips. Give him three guesses, but he’d only need one… he knew exactly why the housekeeper had disappeared. Call it pride, but he’d had that effect on women a time or two.

  With a demure shake of the head Evelyn stood and glided toward the door. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that woman. George, I’ll be there in just a moment. You two enjoy a little quiet time.” She turned a sly half smile to Charley, who merely scowled in return, and winked.

  “Thank you.” Alex dipped his head respectfully as the countess slipped past him into the hall. What he wouldn’t give to be privy to the details of that unspoken exchange. Perhaps he had an ally in Evelyn after all.

  Evelyn Trent was a vibrant woman, much like Charlotte in many ways, and the fact she’d remained at Lord Grayson’s side for the last twenty-five years never ceased to baffle him. Such gracious, unwavering commitment would never have occurred between his parents.

  “So Mrs. Kent disappeared.” Alex chuckled, ambling slowly toward Charley’s perch before the hearth. “Pity the mere sight of me is enough to send women into hiding.”

  The pink in her cheeks blossomed, a becoming rosy hue suffusing her face, lighting a twinkle in her eye. “I’ve seen her husband.” Charley’s gaze wandered playfully the length of him, the left corner of her mouth quirked, a lone dimple winking from her chin. “He doesn’t look anything like you.”

  “Should I be flattered?” Alex stopped before her, holding out a hand, inviting her to sit with him on the sofa or at the very least beside him in one of the chairs.

  Charley lifted a hand, slipping her fine fingers into the crook of his palm. “I should hardly think you need me to flatter you, my lord.” The tone was light, teasing, and Alex relaxed just a fraction. She tugged on his hand. “Join me. The fire is very pleasant.” Without releasing his hand, she scooted closer to the fire as though proving the point.

  “Going to make a cripple sit on the floor,” he joked, settling beside her on the rough stones.

  “Don’t speak that way, Alex. You’re not a cripple.” Charley clamped her arms around her knees, staring wordlessly into the flames. “What did you come here for?”

  “You, my lady, owe me a rematch.” Charley looked up at him, surprise and bemusement evident in her eyes. He grinned, holding up a battered deck of playing cards. “Last count you were ahead twenty-two games to eight. I simply cannot have so staggering a loss on my conscience.” He cut the deck into two equal piles, expertly shuffling the cards. “Especially,” he leaned conspiratorially forward, “to a girl.”

  Charley bristled in mock outrage, a saucy smirk curving her lips. “Prepare to lose, sir, for this girl is about to beat you so badly you’ll never show your face in polite society again.”

  Alex laughed. “You call that a threat? I may lose on purpose.”

  Charley too chuckled, leaning forward, cozying in. “Do you remember how angry we were when we found out Richard and Christopher were letting us win on purpose?”

  “How could I forget?” He grinned. “You were so enraged you went to your mother.”

  “And both of our mothers were horrified to learn your brothers were teaching us to play cards at the tender age of six and nine.”

  “Chris pounded me for tattling.” Alex rubbed his jaw, recalling the brotherly menace in Christopher’s eleven year old eyes. He quirked a brow at Charley. “Not sure I deserved that particular beating.”

  She flashed an impish smile. “I apologized for your bloody nose years ago.”

  “Indeed you did.” Their gazes locked, warm with memories of a better time. Silence settled between them and Alex was the first to avert his eyes. Talking about his brothers was still hard.

  Alex cleared his throat and wordlessly dealt the cards. While the interlude was going better than expected, he was at a total loss as to what to say next. He’d mentioned talking a time or two, but in reality he wasn’t much of a talker; had never understood the compulsive need of the fairer sex to verbalize and analyze every emotion. The fact Charley rarely, if ever, displayed such a compulsion was extremely refreshing, but just the same she proved as much a puzzle as any woman.

  The firelight cast a tantalizing play of shadows across her face, leaving Alex to decipher the montage of emotions dipping elusively in and out of her expression. He had the impression she intended to keep her feelings carefully shuttered from view, but the effervescent girl he’d once adored lay just beneath the surface. All he need do is peel back the layer like skin from an onion—or perhaps an orange, he didn’t particularly like onions.

  He could always mention the weather. There was a hell of a lot of snow outside for early October. But people always commented on the weather when there was nothing to discuss. What about—

  “You’re wearing your wedding band.”

  Startled by the gentle observation, and more than pleased to have the conversation started, Alex spread the fingers of his left hand and glanced down at the simple gold band adorning his ring finger. “Yes,” he said simply. “I rarely take it off.”

  “Really?” A mixture of awe and disbelief—mostly disbelief, he noted wryly—flickered in Charley’s eyes. “Why?”

  Alex met the questioning line of her gaze and gave a wry snort. “Because I’m married, love. To you last I checked.”

  She smiled ever so slightly. “Touché, Alex. Though you must admit it was a fair question.”

  “How was the question fair?” He finished dealing the cards, and scooped up
his hand, studying the cards. The Queen of Hearts stared straight up at him. How convenient.

  Charley discarded three cards. “Well, we’re not really married.”

  “What?” Alex spluttered. “Not really married? Where did you come by that notion?” He set the discard pile before the hearth, and made the first play. “How are we not really married?”

  Charley flushed, tossing an ace on top of his king. “Oops. That didn’t come out right. What I mean is—”

  “I fail to see how we’re not really married.” Alex led another card. “We stood in a church, the reverend said, ‘You may now kiss the bride’—”

  “Alex.”

  “—which I did,” he continued without missing a beat. “And then the reverend said—”

  “—presenting for the first time in society Lord and Lady Coverstone,” Charley finished, exasperated. “Yes, I know. I was there.”

  Eyes narrowed he leaned forward looking intently into her eyes. “Then do tell, love, how are we not really married?”

  Her gaze narrowed in return. “You can be quite annoying did you know that?”

  “You still haven’t answered my question.” He tapped the fourth finger of her left hand. “Do you not wear a ring because you don’t consider us wed?” For the life of him he could not remember what the band he’d slipped on her finger looked like. It didn’t matter. Wed was wed and he was most definitely leg shackled.

  “I usually wear mine,” she said defensively, flipping another card out between them, “but those men stole it.” She tugged her earlobes. “And my grandmere’s emerald earbobs. She brought them all the way from Russia you know.”

  Actually he hadn’t known, and at the moment he didn’t particularly care because he’d become rather fixated on the way she continued fingering her ear. He supposed he should look to see which card she’d played, but…

  “I don’t know how I’ll tell Mama, she’ll kill me for losing them.”

  “Somehow I think she’ll understand,” he murmured, scooting closer, gaze riveted on the hollow between her earlobe and throat. Damn, but only Charley could make something as mundane as an ear look positively appetizing… like strawberries and cream. She was strawberries and cream. “I’ll buy you new emeralds.” Alex reached across the hearth, smoothing a hand over her long braid, and brushing her soft earlobe with the pad of his thumb. “And a proper wedding band.” His hand slipped around the back of her slender neck. Charley’s eyes widened in alarm her lips parting like the halves of one of those delectable strawberries. The urge to kiss her, sip the heaven that lit her face, was heady indeed.

  “C-cards,” she stammered. “It’s your play.”

  My play… how many different meanings he could derive from such a statement. His gaze dropped to her mouth, slowly assessing each and every plump curve… that one perfect dimple in the corner of her chin. It became much more pronounced when she smiled, or worried her lower lip between her teeth.

  Mentally Alex ticked off all the things he’d rather do than play cards. Piquet did not rank in the top ten. Hell, cards didn’t even make the top twenty. Oh, no… the top fifty things he’d like to do consisted of the various ways he’d like to undress Charley, pin her beneath him, and make mindless love to her right here on the hearth. Why he hadn’t had a woman since… well… to be honest, he couldn’t remember when exactly, but it had been far too long. Painfully long. “Would you rather be playing cards?”

  “No,” she whispered, a husky lilt in her voice.

  Alex groaned, she wanted this too, he knew it. The heat of their bodies mingled in the few inches left between them, intensifying the heat leaping from the hearth. They weren’t even touching and yet he’d never been more aware of a woman, so attuned to every breath or movement. This was madness. If he was anything more than a fool he’d rise from the smooth stones and, married or otherwise, put as much distance between them as possible. But then he’d never been one to play it safe, and unable to resist—because really, how could any man resist the sensuous vixen resting on the stones—he closed the remaining distance catching her lips in a tender kiss. The touch was soft, coaxing, and dear Jesus her lips were so velvety smooth he could taste their perfection. Before he lost himself completely, Alex drew back and opened his eyes, allowing her the freedom to make the next move; waiting, hoping she would continue their foreplay.

  Charley’s eyelids fluttered and half closed. A sultry haze glassed the surface of her eyes, and her tongue swept over her lips, leaving them wet like dew on rose petals. Not a sound escaped her, but her breath came in quick erotic pants, her bosom heaving up and down. What he wouldn’t have given for a more revealing gown, one that would afford an ample view of her quivering cleavage. Of course if he opened that first button…

  No, no, not yet. Wait for it. Just wait.

  Charley leaned in, eyes closing before she pressed her lips to his. Soft and warm, her mouth melded with his in equal parts eagerness and hesitancy.

  Encouraged Alex rolled to his knees, bracing his arms on either side of her, forcing her to lean back. A little cry slid from her throat as she looped her arms around his neck to prevent falling backward. Not that he’d have let her fall. He stole an arm around the small of her back pulling her close. “I’ve half a mind to show you just how married we are.” He lowered her down to the floor, using the crook of his elbow to pad her head from the harsh surface of the hearth.

  He settled over her soft pliant frame, and her heat surrounded him in a way he’d never experienced before. It was as though a piece of her slipped beneath his skin, swam through his veins and wiggled into his heart. The strange warmth flickering through him was downright frightening and so utterly perfect all at the same time. “Oh, Charley,” he whispered, deepening the kiss, taking hold of her with increased intensity. She kissed him back, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. He teased her lips, silently begging them to part, and went for that first button at the front of her gown with his free hand. He just had to see more. Skim his fingers across her soft bosom.

  She stiffened. “Alex, please don’t,” she whispered, breathless. She made no physical move to stop him, and the feeble entreaty would hardly give him pause except that the supple vixen who’d been his partner just moments ago was gone. “Please, stop, I am so confused.”

  Confused? Alex stilled. That wasn’t quite the response he’d anticipated. Confused about what? Us? Sidney? The thought of Sid and Charley together chilled the warmth inspiring his ardor. He rolled to his side, propped on an elbow facing her.

  Abruptly Charley stood, expertly avoiding eye contact, cheeks brilliant red, and bolted for the door.

  “Is Sidney your lover?” he called after her.

  Charley stopped dead in her tracks and whirled back to face him, jaw agape, utter shock playing across her features. “N-no,” she spluttered, blushing to her ears. “Absolutely not.”

  Alex sat, weighing the sincerity of her declaration. She hadn’t even hesitated, not for a second, before saying no. But, she had stuttered. “Then what are you confused about?” he needled. “Me? Some other gent taking up vocation in your bed?”

  Wrong thing to say.

  Charley bristled, spearing him with an arctic glare. Her chin inclined to a regal degree, making him feel two inches tall. “If you’re quite through insulting me, my lord, I’m going to see if my mother needs help with dinner preparations.”

  Extending an arm, he demanded, “Charley, wait.”

  Shoulders squared, back ramrod straight, she continued marching toward the door. Goddamn, but he was used to having his orders followed. Immediately.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Still nothing.

  Alex ground his teeth, sacrificing himself on the altar of dignity. “Please?”

  Finally she reached the doorway and turned, frigid glare slicing clear through him. Now he felt an inch high.

  “What you said upstairs, in the bedroom—” Alex hesitated, unsure how to broach the sub
ject weighing so heavily on his heart. “I don’t hate you, Charley. I could never hate you.”

  Those oh so perfectly green eyes widened and thawed just a fraction.

  Determinably he plunged on. “I hate the circumstances that brought us together.”

  Her face fell and his heart dropped with it. He could take her anger. Hell, he deserved it, but the hurt on her face… hurt that he’d caused… was almost too much to bear.

  “I wonder if there is there much difference,” she murmured.

  “There is a world of difference, Charley.”

  “How, Alex? The day before we married I heard every word you said to my parents. Every. Word. You never wanted me and I cannot believe you want me now.”

  He swallowed, hard, beating back all the feelings of resentment he’d battled these last few years. He raked both hands through his hair, struggling for words. How could he explain his change of heart? “I don’t hate you, Charley, quite the opposite in fact, but three years ago,” he digressed, because, really, there was nowhere else to begin, “I lost everything… my brothers, my freedom. My world fell apart. I was ordered home for family emergency, but given no specifics. At the door of Coverstone House Hastings called me Lord Beringworth.” Alex would never forget looking over his shoulder certain Richard was standing behind him. “I knew then that not only Richard, Earl of Beringworth, was dead, but my other brothers as well.

  Tears glittered ominously in the corners of her eyes. “It was a horrible time, Alex. I know that. I was there, but…” She shook her head, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

  “I severed your trust, Charley. I realize that, but you must understand in part why everything surrounding our marriage seemed a bit—”

  “Tainted?”

  “Off.” He offered a tentative smile of friendship. “But only at the start. A lot of time has passed and I don’t resent or even regret marrying you.”