“I must confess it is my fondest wish.” Save their residence in the city, which she still viewed as his bachelor lodging, and she abhorred it. How many women had he seduced under that roof, she knew not, yet she had not wanted to join their ranks. She wanted to be the one, not the one of many. “Excepting the Brethren, I care not for London society.”
“I believe I figured that out, love.” Shifting her in his hold, he rested his chin atop the crown of her head. “And is there anything I might do to put you at ease, where we are concerned?”
“Are you asking in earnest?” Oh, she hoped so, as she needed his kindness.
“Indeed.” He caressed the small of her back, and she shivered, as he had that effect on her, despite their unpropitious wedding night. “Given we enjoyed a favorable start, I would recover the precious ground we somehow lost.”
“You truly wish to know what attracted me to you?” she inquired, as she toyed with his black armband. “You want to know why I accepted your proposal?”
“You said you love me.” He exhaled audibly. “I suppose that had something to do with it.”
“It was our conversations that caught my attention. Our first, over dinner at the inn, when you detailed the history of the brooch, reigns supreme as a most cherished memory. And then there was our shopping excursion to fill my community pantry, and the day you accompanied me on my charitable visits.” Daphne inched back, adjusted his cravat, and met his stare. “I like how you talk to me, with deference and directness, as an adult. And you cover a wide variety of topics, which is never dull. That is how you won me.”
For a minute, he gazed into her eyes, with a quizzical expression. Then he sobered. “You are serious.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes.” That he had ceased their dialogues had stung, and his withdrawal had rendered her confused and second-guessing every move. “And I dearly miss our chats.”
“I am blessed with many skills, but never had I counted verbal exchange among them.” He scratched the back of his neck and frowned, and it was clear she had stumped him. Could it have been possible that she knew him better than he knew himself? “So you are telling me I have a talented tongue?”
“In more ways than one, sir, but I believe you know that.” Glancing at the family plot, she vowed never to suffer the same fate as her parents. Her marriage would be a success. “And there is something else you could do to allay my trepidation.”
“Name it, sweetheart,” her true knight proclaimed without hesitation.
“From the onset of our acquaintance, we shared some tender moments when we were alone.” She gulped, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “But when we journeyed to London, you terminated such solicitous…attentiveness. Do you understand what I am asking?”
“I think I do, but I want to hear you say it.” Now he had the audacity to wink. “So what is it you want from me?”
“I want you to kiss me.” There. She had proclaimed it, loud and clear, in no unmistakable terms. “Your lips present a powerful diversion, such that I can scarcely think, let alone suffer fear or anxiety, and had you applied yourself with diligence the other night, we would have consummated our nuptials.”
“My beautiful wife, the reason I ceased such activity when we ventured to the city was because societal dictates demanded restraint, as we were not wed, and I would not damage your reputation. The provincial Portsea community commanded no similar limitations, and I took liberties, as I could not resist you.” He tipped her chin. “Now we are married, we are free to luxuriate in each other’s company, and the gossipmongers will say we benefit from a felicitous union.”
Before she knew it, Dalton bent his head and set his mouth to hers. Fire ignited from the point of contact, and she delighted in it, as his particular brand of intoxication quelled all distress. Searing heat blazed a path from top to toe, and she relaxed against her husband. In seconds, gone was the cold chill that had pervaded her chest since the disaster at Penhurst, and in its place was only warm contentment.
#
The sun had not yet surpassed the yardarm, when Dalton loitered at the foot of the front entry steps before Courtenay Hall. Checking his pocket watch, he rolled his shoulders, as uncharacteristic and unwelcome nervousness plagued him.
It was only yesterday that he had queried Mrs. Jones and Hicks, regarding his wife’s usual habits, and had learned of her morning walks along the beach. As if on cue, the front door opened, and Daphne emerged. When she spied him, she halted.
“Dalton, what are you doing up and about, at this early hour?” Gowned in a heavy black mourning creation, which still set his blood boiling, she bestowed upon him a glowing smile.
“Good morning, love.” Recalling her sweet confession beneath the oak tree, he charged if only to hold her. With his arms about her waist, he hugged his wife and then claimed her mouth. Had he known of the power his kisses wielded over his backwater bride, he would have engaged in all manner of questionable clinches with his angel, prior to their nuptials.
With unmasked enthusiasm, she moaned, as he suckled her little pink tongue, and his loins went up in flames, despite his crude handiwork, to which he had resorted in the wee hours. Again and again, he nibbled her succulent flesh, as he remained on guard for the minutest amount of fear. When she speared her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulse points blazed to life, and every muscle tensed, as never had he desired any woman as he desired Daphne.
“Oh, dear.” Gasping for breath, she nuzzled his chest. “Perhaps I should not have apprised you of your singular appeal, as someone might see us.”
“Relax, darling.” How quickly she reverted to his naïve provincial. “Remember, we are married, so our behavior is state-sanctioned. But my plan was to join you for your customary stroll, not to ravish you, though I am at your service, if you choose otherwise.”
“Well, I cannot complain, as I wedded a rake.” Though she giggled, it was high-pitched, and her subtle flinch betrayed an inner turmoil, so he withdrew before she conked his noggin.
“Former rake.” He arched a brow. “As I belong to you, now.”
“And I am yours.” With a girlish squeal, she jumped and smacked her lips to his. Then she grabbed his wrist and yanked him to the driveway. “Hurry, as June is the perfect month to collect wildflowers on Portsea.”
“I did not know you collected wildflowers.” He marked that for future reference. “What do you do with them?”
“Mama taught me to press and frame them.” Marching forth, as a woman on a mission, Daphne led him to a narrow path amid the tall grass. “I want to find some nice specimens, to make gifts for the Brethren ladies.”
“How very thoughtful of you, my angel.” All of a sudden, she halted, and he almost knocked her to the ground.
“Is that your pet name for me?” Without warning, she whirled about and cast him an expression of hopefulness. “As I have always wanted one.”
“It is, indeed.” Given her parents’ unhappy union, he guessed her query disclosed a real concern in that respect, and he understood her apprehension. “Do you recall our initial meeting, in the study at Courtenay Hall? You wore a pale yellow dress, with your blonde curls fashioned as a crown, of sorts, and when you stood by the window, the sunlight caught your hair, and it appeared as a halo.”
“You recount so much detail.” Emanating unutterable joy, she bared her teeth as she smiled, and he found her enchanting. “Was that instance so special?”
“It was life-changing.” How he loved it when she bounced. “Because that was the first time I set eyes on my future wife.”
“Oh, Dalton.” When she came at him, he could have cried. Framing his face, she offered her rosy lips, and he took what she gave—but no more, as he would not frighten her. But, God, she was delicious, and he was hungry.
As the situation spiraled out of control, and Daphne’s maidenhead hung in a fragile balance, Dalton broke their kiss and set her at arm’s length. “Easy, angel, else you will
lift your ankles for me right here.”
“Did I do something wrong?” She snuggled to his side, and he marveled at her innocence.
“No, love.” Oh, she had done everything right, the marauder below his belly button poised for attack, and Dalton would have to deploy four fingers and a thumb upon return to the estate house. At that rate, he would develop calluses. “But let us continue on your search, as I see a cluster of blooms near the bend.”
“That is a perfect yellow horned poppy.” How fast she shifted directions, as she ran down the verge. “I will need several more, but this is an excellent start.”
“What about the pink thatch by the large rocks?” He pointed to the west. “Over there.”
“Upon my word, but you have a keen eye.” After making her selection, which she spread atop her handkerchief, she jumped to her feet and sprinted to the next target. “This is red valerian, and it is my favorite.”
“I should make note and present it to you, often.” And then something occurred to him, and he asked, “Did you save any of the roses I gave you?”
“Every one of them.” With her back to him, she had missed his shudder of shock. “And I would prefer you pick the wildflowers, as they are far more colorful than the hothouse varieties.”
“Wait a minute.” He stretched upright. “You kept all of them?”
“Why would I not?” She shrugged. “In fact, the two dozen that decorated the table for our dinner at the inn is now framed, and the complete set graces a wall in my bedchamber.” To his surprise, she turned and glanced at him, and her welling tears gave him pause for reflection. “When I pressed the buds, I had thought, at some point, they would be all that remained of you in my life, and I dreaded that day.”
“Daphne.” He spread wide his arms and exhaled in relief, when she came straight to him. “You humble me, angel. I had no idea how much my simple display of affection meant to you, but I will never forget.”
“May I make a confession?” She sniffed. “My greatest cause for concern is that I might suffer my mother’s ill fortune. To my knowledge, her father negotiated her marriage contract, including a healthy dowry, to give her social standing, as my sire was destined to assume the governorship. Love never entered the equation. And were it not for my engaged affection, I would have rejected your proposal.”
“In good faith, I should admit your concern was no secret.” But her spontaneous admission inspired the strange but not unpleasant response he had come to expect. Looking inward, he searched his soul. What he discovered remained shrouded amid a nebulous haze of indecision, so he let it go for the moment. “Fret not, angel. Despite our dubious beginning, we will sort it out, as all Brethren marry for love.”
“Do you know—yet?” she asked in a small voice.
“No.” But it physically hurt him to acknowledge it.
“Then let us continue our walk.” With that, she pushed free, retrieved her handkerchief with the floral booty, and resumed her search.
For the ensuing hour, Dalton escorted his bride along the dunes, until they neared the coastline, when she shed her slippers and hosiery to stroll at water’s edge. After numerous pleas, which he pretended to disregard, because he adored her entreaties, she persuaded him to doff his boots, and they frolicked in the ebb and flow of the ocean.
When a rather loud grumble announced her hunger in less than graceful fashion, he could not help but laugh. “My angel, let us return to Courtenay Hall, as we have yet to break our fast, and it sounds as if you require sustenance.”
“Might I prevail upon you to forgo the dining room and partake of your meal in my sitting room?” With their clothes righted, they climbed the dune, and she took his hand. “I have so relished your company that I am loathe to share you with anyone.”
“What a wonderful idea, and I like the way you think.” In play as his mood was light, he patted her bottom, and she favored him with a coquettish giggle. “I shall make you a bargain. You tend your bounty, I will order our repast, and we can meet in your quarters in forty-five minutes.”
“My one true knight, I shall await your arrival with baited breath.” In the courtyard, she hiked her skirts and broke into a run. As she skipped up the entrance stairs, he caught a glimpse of her shapely calves and salivated.
As he stepped into the foyer, he noted her thunderous jaunt to the second floor, and he grinned. “Hicks, your suggestion was a stroke of genius, and my bride and I will take our morning meal served in her sitting room. And, by any chance, do you have strawberries leftover from the funeral reception?”
“I do, Sir Dalton.” The butler narrowed his stare. “And Mrs. Randolph is quite partial to clotted cream, as well. Of course, for her main dish, she prefers scrambled eggs, ham-steak, and toast.”
“Then I shall have the same.” Was it too soon to hope, or had he turned a corner with his wife?
“Very good, sir. Also, the contractor, as well as his foreman, is here to review the last minute changes to the renovation, and the gentlemen are in the drawing room.” Hicks bowed. “And there is correspondence just delivered from London.”
“Thank you, Hicks.” Dalton strolled into the redecorated chamber, which boasted his signature sapphire hue as the primary focus, much to his amusement. As Rebecca had appealed to Dirk’s predilections, so, too, had Daphne appealed to her husband’s preferences. “Mr. Benson, Mr. Dumas, to what do I owe this visit?”
“The remodel has exceeded the budget, due to your wife’s additions.” The contractor fumbled with a sheaf of documents, which he passed to Dalton. “Those are the updated costs, as well as the rendering of the new master apartment.”
“What new master apartment?” He perused the drawing and discovered the current separate bedrooms were to be combined into one large accommodation.
“Mr. Benson, it was to be a surprise.” The foreman shot Dalton a sheepish glance. “I beg your pardon, sir. But Mrs. Randolph bade me not to show you the plans.”
“That is all right.” Clenching his jaw to stave off laughter, he studied the images and knew just where she had got the idea.
Everett had started the trend, when he removed the beds from Sabrina’s quarters. Then he took things a step farther, when he had the walls separating their rooms torn down. Trevor and Dirk had followed suit and had nothing but praise for the practice. So it appeared Daphne wished to share a single space, and it was an aim he would not countermand, given the inevitable conclusion.
“As we have not begun the demolition, we can modify the alterations, sir.” Mr. Benson tugged his cravat and resituated himself on the sofa. “And I can always—”
“I shall direct my solicitor to remit payment for any extra expense.” He rolled up the sketches. “And you will adhere to Mrs. Randolph’s demands and say nothing of my knowledge thereof.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A sennight had passed, since Dalton and Daphne had returned to London, and she already longed for the security of Courtenay Hall. In full mourning, society expected her to avoid the limelight and eschew public events, which suited her, given recent troubling events.
Ensconced in the back parlor of her husband’s bachelor lodging, she examined the third threatening missive, which he had unwittingly delivered on that spectacular morning, wherein they had enjoyed a delicious breakfast, and he had fed her strawberries and clotted cream, as she nestled in his lap. Later, he had kissed her for the better part of an hour, and the memory precipitated a foreign ache, even now.
Yet the nefarious note intruded on her pleasant reverie, as it carried an identical intimidating ultimatum:
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.
The unfamiliar franking bore a date that indicated the letter had been posted prior to her nuptials, but she could glean nothing beyond the pedestrian information. A knock at the door brought her alert. “Come.”
“Mrs. Randolph, the carriage awaits.�
�� Merton bowed.
“Thank you.” Standing, she tucked the ominous directives into her reticule and followed the butler to the foyer, where he held her black shawl and gloves. “I expect to be home by three, and I should like dinner served at six, as Mr. Randolph expressed a desire to retire early.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bearing a wrapped package, he loomed in her wake, as she settled into the squabs. Then he placed the parcel on the opposite bench, closed the portal, and stepped to the sidewalk. “Drive on.”
After a short ride through Mayfair, the sumptuous equipage halted before Caroline and Trevor’s townhouse. A footman rushed forward to provide assistance, and he handed her to the road.
“Will you please retrieve the bundle?” In the grand entryway, she tugged off her gloves, untied and removed her bonnet, and then shrugged from her light wrap, which she passed to the butler. “I am here to see Lady Caroline.”
“Yes, Mrs. Randolph. Her ladyship is in the morning room, and I shall take you to her.” The manservant bowed and accepted the package from the footman. “If you will follow me, ma’am.”
As was the case with the other Brethren properties, the Lockwood residence blended expensive textiles and refined accessories, to create an overall elegant abode. So how was it that Dalton’s décor seemed more suited to a house of ill repute? Of course, she had no experience with such places, but the bold red and gold that covered everything struck her as altogether discordant with the image his family portrayed.
“Mrs. Randolph is just arrived.” The butler placed the parcel on a table and bowed. “Will there be anything else, your ladyship?”
“No, thank you, Roberts.” Caroline waved a welcome. “Daphne, it is so good to see you. Rebecca, Alex, and I were just talking about you. Sabrina and Cara will not be joining us, as they are reluctant to leave their new babes, and Elaine is shopping with Celia, so it is just the four of us. And what have you brought?”
The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Page 22
