The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6)

by Barbara Devlin

  “And I should be going, as Mark will be expecting me.” Lady Amanda stood and smoothed her skirts. “So we are to attend the wedding in Penhurst, the funeral in Portsea, and the family dinner that I will host, once we return to London.”

  “In that order.” Beth clutched Lady Amanda’s elbow, as they walked into the foyer. “And I am so glad you are feeling better. Did Dr. Handley know what caused the sour stomach?”

  “Oh, yes. And I am in fine fettle.” Lady Amanda cast a pointed stare at Daphne, and she dipped her chin. “But we can talk more, when we are all together.”

  “And my brother paces in the back parlor, Miss Daphne.” Dirk smirked, has he hugged Rebecca. “I do not think I have ever seen him so nervous, so you should take pity and put him out of his misery.”

  “How do I look?” Wearing a sapphire silk gown, which she had purchased just for her one true knight’s delectation, Daphne rotated. “Will Dalton consider himself fortuitously matched?”

  “Given you sport his favorite color, he will fall at your feet.” Then Dirk nipped the tip of his wife’s nose. “As do I, when my bride captivates me with something fetching from her wardrobe in my shade of choice. Oh, I almost forgot, Hughes gave me a message, which is addressed to you.”

  “Thank you.” With a half-curtsey, Daphne swiped the envelope, slipped it into her side pocket, and squealed.

  In the hall, she turned right and walked to the appropriate portal. A footman opened the door, and she crossed the threshold and gasped in surprise.

  What she had previously known as the back parlor had been transformed into an oasis filled with red roses and a smattering of candelabra, which lent a warm, soft glow to the room. Some of the furnishings had been relocated to make space for a small table for two, which had been set in the center of the room. Standing before the hearth, bedecked in his gentleman’s garb, featuring a fawn waistcoat and a coat that matched her dress, her dashing sea captain favored her with his shy grin. When the latch clicked shut, she gave vent to a smothered sob and sprinted into his embrace.

  For a long while, Dalton held her, and though no words were spoken, they conveyed a wealth of meaning in gentle caresses and sweet kisses. Again and again, they came together, tongues twining, lips converging, and hands groping in an enchanting symphony of desire, and Daphne wanted more, as everything inside her seemed to twist and turn. When he attempted to set her free, she moaned an injunction of protest, and he steered her into heretofore-unknown bliss.

  How they made it to the sofa, she neither knew nor cared. But when he settled her in his lap and loosened her bodice and the chemise, she retreated a hairsbreadth and inhaled a shaky breath. “What are you doing?”

  “May I?” Recalling his troubled infancy, she could not comprehend how anyone could have hurt him. Endearing to a fault, he had been blessed with endless charm, and she could not resist his lure, so she nodded her assent.

  “If you wish me to stop, you need only say so.” Then her knight bared her breasts. Whereas she had expected some semblance of awkwardness, the heat of his stare emboldened her, and she relaxed. “You are beautiful, Daphne.”

  “I am so glad to know you are pleased with me.” As he cupped her tender flesh, she shifted her hips, as foreign sensations assailed her.

  “Pleased? The word is insufficient, sweetheart.” To her minor discomposure, he admired her without restraint and drew small circles on a peak. “Watch your nipple. See how it responds to my touch? It grows hard.”

  “Yes.” A strange fluttering in the pit of her belly, and lower, snared her attention. But when Dalton licked his finger and brought the warm wetness to her pebbled tip, she emitted a muffled cry.

  “Do you know what this means?” he inquired a husky tone. When she shook her head in reply, he smiled. “You are aroused. It means you want me, as I desperately want you.”

  “In that, I must trust you, as I have no experience in such matters.” Despite her nudity, she sank against him and nuzzled his chest. “How I have missed you. I long for the simple days, on Portsea, when you joined me on my charitable visits.”

  “My back may never recover, given I chopped more wood in those few hours than I have in my entire life.” In that instant, he bent and suckled her nipple, and Daphne thought she would surely melt. “Just as I presumed. You are pure honey, my angel.”

  “Will it be like that again?” She struggled to focus, as fire simmered in her veins, and her heart beat a rapid salvo. “The companionable walks and easy talks, with just the two of us?”

  “I hope it will be better.” He grazed her with his teeth, and she closed her eyes. “I want you to be happy, Daphne. But if you have any second thoughts or regrets, you may tell me, and I will release you from our engagement.”

  “What?” She lurched upright, as sheer panic replaced the contentment. Clutching her gown, she retied the chemise and secured the bodice. “You do not wish to marry me?”

  “You did not listen to me.” He kept her in check, when she tried to push away. “I seek to give you a way out, if you so desire it, because you know my faults. As for me, you are the only woman I would ever wed, but I would not hold you to our arrangement, if you valued your freedom. You need not concern yourself with money, as I would take care of you, regardless.”

  And there it was, his vulnerability on full display, just as his mother had explained. He considered himself less than honorable, when nothing could have been further from the truth. At that moment, she framed his face and kissed him with all she had and for all she was worth. When, at last, they came up for air, she rubbed her nose to his.

  “I will not let you renege on your proposal, Dalton Randolph.” At her proclamation, he squeezed her so tight she gasped. “And if you try to leave me, I will hunt you down, sir. You would never escape me, because I love you. So you are saddled with me, till death do us part.”

  “All right, sweetheart.” Without ceremony, he retrieved a long but thin box from his coat pocket. “Then I would ask a favor. For our wedding, I would have you wear something special to mark the event.”

  “Dalton, not more jewelry.” He had already gifted her diamonds, after the awful confrontation with Lady Moreton, and Daphne was unaccustomed to such demonstrations of wealth. “I feel guilty, as I have nothing to give you, in return.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, as I count your kisses as priceless treasures, love.” As if to prove the point, he claimed a quick buss. “Humor me, for the occasion.”

  “You spoil me terribly.” With a frown, she lifted the lid—and burst into tears. “Mama’s pearls.”

  Hugging the much-cherished family heirlooms to her chest, she collapsed, as the stress of the impending nuptials, the remodel of Courtenay Hall and her room at his bachelor lodging, and the contretemps with his former mistress had taken their toll.

  “Daphne, please, do not cry.” As she wept and sobbed, divesting herself of the tension that had plagued her since arriving in London, her knight massaged her back and offered unshakeable support. “I had intended the sentimental gesture to make you smile.”

  “You have no idea what this means to me.” With a roll of her shoulders, she laughed and burrowed close to him. “But how did you know about the pearls? I surrendered them to pay a portion of papa’s debt.”

  “I know.” Dalton cupped her chin and brought her gaze to his. “I was in your father’s study, hiding behind the drapes, when you gave them to Mr. Allen. I knew you were in trouble, and I wanted to help you. After the ball, I sent two of my men to locate him and purchase the baubles, so I could restore them to you. That is the effect you have on me. You make me want to be a good man.”

  “But you could never be a good man.” She pressed her forehead to his and sniffed. “Because you are a great man, and I am fortunate you found me.”

  “Sweetheart, I thank my lucky stars, every day, that you chose to board my ship.” It was just as Elaine had said, he could not stop touching Daphne, and she reveled in the attention. “And I
never thought I would be grateful to your brother for stealing the brooch, but I am obliged, because the theft led me to you.”

  “Then let us toast our auspicious fortune.” With that, she eased from his hold, pulled on his wrist, and led him to the table. “Because right now, I want to celebrate.”

  The meal passed in relative calm, as she learned the simple fare of roasted pork and apples, with a side of macaroni and cheese, was Dalton’s favorite. For dessert, ah, dessert was a marvel of unimaginable delight, as her one true knight fed her a spectacular whipped syllabub. Then it was her turn to offer him spooned bites of the creamy concoction, interspersed between sugary kisses, which she had indulged from the now-familiar cozy perch of his lap.

  All too soon, the long-case clock chimed the late hour, and her fiancé stood to depart. But another thirty minutes had passed before she walked him to the door.

  “So we journey to Penhurst on Friday, lady mine. And on Sunday, you shall be Mrs. Dalton Randolph.” With a sly grin, he drew her close and set his mouth to hers, and she flicked her tongue to his, just as he like it. “Thank you, for a lovely evening.”

  “Oh, I dearly love the sound of that.” Wrapping her arms about his waist, she rested her head to his chest and sighed. “Tomorrow, after I inspect my quarters at your home—”

  “Our home.” In play, he tapped her nose. “And I want everything to be perfect for you.”

  How disappointed she had been, when he gave her a tour of his town residence. When Daphne had envisioned their happily ever after, it had not included separate bedrooms, and she wondered how he would react to her secret renovations at Courtenay Hall.

  “In any case, I shall practice writing my new name.” Just the prospect gave her gooseflesh. “Until I see you again, I will miss you.”

  “Then dream of me, tonight.” He pressed his lips to her bare knuckles. “As I will conjure naughty fantasies of you, angel. Now go upstairs, before I break my promise to be good and have my wicked way with you.”

  #

  The next morning, after a relaxing breakfast in bed, in her private apartment, Daphne stretched long, as the lady’s maid shook out the sapphire blue gown and hung it on a peg in the armoire.

  “Miss Daphne, an envelope fell from the pocket of your dress.” Mary set the missive on the tray. “Will there be anything else? Would you like more tea?”

  “No, thank you.” Daphne poured a third cup of the steaming brew. “I shall lounge for another hour, and I will ring for you when I am ready for a bath.”

  “Very good, Miss Daphne.” The maid curtseyed and exited the room.

  Reclining against her pillows, Daphne tore open the letter and unfolded the parchment. As she digested the contents, she cried out in shock.

  Miss Harcourt,

  If you value your life, do not marry Dalton Randolph. Heed this warning, and call off your wedding. If you do not do as I advise, you will be sorry.

  There was no signature, and neither the stationary nor the handwriting yielded hints of the sender. Of course, Daphne had her suspicions, and she pondered whether or not to apprise Rebecca and Dalton of the threat. As the obvious culprit was Lady Moreton, Daphne saw no reason to permit the harridan a victory, of sorts, by spoiling what should reign as a happy occasion. And what could the widow do in so little time?

  Resolved to stay the course, she tucked the envelope into her journal and opted to pen an entry describing the evening with her one true knight. For good or ill, she had given him her promise, and she would not go back on her word.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It had taken two days to journey to Penhurst Castle, the ancestral seat of the Weston dukedom, so Dalton’s last night as a bachelor had been spent in a dank tavern in the village, surrounded by his fellow Brethren of the Coast, save Everett and Lance, who remained in London with their wives and newborn children. As he peered out the window of his chamber, which had been prepared to accommodate his bride for their wedding night, he admired the impressive vistas of the Channel.

  “Brother, it is time.” Dirk came to stand beside Dalton. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” That was putting it mildly, because he had not slept much, as all he could think of was his blonde angel and the consummation of their vows. Never had he wanted a woman, as he desired Daphne. “Is it true? Does the drawing room look like a hothouse run amok?”

  “You never should have told Damian that Miss Daphne favors roses, as he may have secured every bloom in England, for the occasion.” Dirk chuckled and chucked Dalton’s shoulder. “Alex believes her brother lavishes on your blushing bride the trimmings he had intended for his sister, as he has thrown himself into the planning and decorating with unrivaled gusto, and even mama is irritated.”

  “Bloody hell. But I cannot complain, as he aids our cause.” Dalton swaggered to the long mirror and assessed his appearance. After adjusting his cravat, he smoothed the lapels of his coat made of Bath superfine and sighed. “By the way, thank you, for the suggestion regarding my formalwear. As you warned, the old Jolly Roger is primed for battle, in anticipation of tonight’s consummation, and I would not frighten my bride or scandalize the vicar and mama.”

  “I understand.” With a snicker, Dirk inclined his head. “Suffered the same affliction until I bedded Rebecca in my bunk aboard the Gawain, and I had already sailed her harbor, so I can’t even begin to imagine your misery, at this point.”

  “Trust me, you do not want to know, as I may be erect until the holidays.” He stepped into the hall, with his sibling in tow, and navigated the landing. In seconds, he skipped down the grand staircase. In the foyer, he turned left and strolled through the double door entry. “Good afternoon, Conrad.”

  “Good afternoon, Sir Dalton.” The butler bowed. “May I extend congratulations on behalf of the entire household, as we are honored to serve you during this most felicitous event.”

  “And my soon-to-be-wife and I thank you.” As he tugged on the lace trim of his shirtsleeve, he cleared his throat and entered what he had previously known as the drawing room. “Upon my word. What in God’s name has Damian done?”

  Crimson blooms festooned every conceivable surface, and tapered candles dotted the chamber. Some sort of sheer white material bedecked every stick of furniture, and a haphazard arch had been constructed of branches and boasted the same textile and flowers. While he understood the female sex lived in expectation of their wedding day, in all its pageantry and splendor, he could think of nothing more than the moment when he rested between Daphne’s creamy thighs, savored her untried flesh, and the two became one.

  “Is it not fabulous?” Alex rocked on her heels and cast Jason a dreamy expression. “Do you remember our own nuptials, in this very space, Captain of my heart?”

  “Trust me, I will never forget it.” Jason blanched. “I was certain Damian would kill me, after the ceremony had ended, and I had given you and our babes my name.”

  “Stuff and nonsense.” With a gentle nudge, Alex teased her spouse. “My brother adores you—Oh, there is Hicks. Let us take our respective places, as the bride is just arrived.”

  “I say, good luck, Dalton.” Over his shoulder, as Alex dragged him away, Jason imparted, “Though you will not need it, as your fiancée is of an agreeable disposition.”

  “Indeed.” With a wink and a smile, Dalton nodded acknowledgements to his family and assumed his prearranged position. In that instant, nerves set in with a vengeance, and he inhaled a deep breath. Myriad memories flashed in his brain, as a sentimental journey: Daphne eluding him aboard the Siren, Daphne walking along the lane in the Portsea countryside, Daphne bound and gagged in his bunk, Daphne garbed in various sapphire gowns, and Daphne seated in his lap as he fed her a sumptuous syllabub.

  But it was the vision of his provincial angel, standing in the entry, with a halo of blonde curls backlit by the afternoon sun, and gowned in another spectacular creation fashioned in his signature shade and trimmed in old gold, which he would carry to the grave and
beyond. When she met his gaze, she glowed, as she fingered her mother’s pearl necklace, and unfamiliar but not unpleasant warmth spread from his chest, suffusing his muscles in soothing heat, which eased the tension investing him. Holding a bouquet of lilies clustered with red roses, and with Richard and Hicks at either side, as the string quartet played a tune he barely heeded, she promenaded in his direction.

  “Please join hands.” Looming before the makeshift altar, Mr. Catchpole flipped through the Book of Common Prayer. “Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered here…”

  As Dalton twined his fingers with Daphne’s, he bent and whispered, “Nice dress.”

  “I had it made just for you.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek, and an endearing blush colored her countenance.

  “I never would have guessed.” With his thumb, he caressed her palm, and gooseflesh covered her arms. Desire surged, potent and palpable, and he swallowed hard.

  “…I require and charge you, as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you do know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that you confess it.” Mr. Catchpole adjusted his spectacles and turned the page. “Sir Dalton Philip Arthur Randolph, will thou have—”

  “Wait.” The youngest Harcourt elbowed Dalton and wrenched Daphne. “Sister, you do not have to do this. You need not sell yourself for our family, as Robert is commissioned, and we can survive, on our own.”

  “Richard, what are you doing?” As she paled, Daphne pulled free of her brother. “Are you out of your mind? I am not selling myself. I love Dalton, and I would have you wish me merry, not interfere where you have no right.”

  “I have every right, as your blood relation.” The gadling sneered at Dalton. “And you are grateful to him, because he gave us food. He bought you, in exchange for fancy decorations and new carpets in Courtenay Hall.”