The Copeland Bride

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The Copeland Bride Page 39

by Justine Cole


  The awful irony of it was not lost on her. She had committed the same folly as dozens of other women. She had fallen in love with Quinn Copeland. But she was much more vulnerable than any of them, because she was bound to him in the eyes of both man and God.

  The next evening, their carriage took them to the home of Wolf Brandt. He had issued a dinner invitation only that morning, and Quinn had accepted. As the carriage neared the northern edge of Cape Crosse, Noelle tried to calm herself by recalling what Quinn had told her about the man, but all she could remember was that he was a bachelor. She seemed to remember Quinn telling her Brandt was renting a house that Edwin Darcy owned, but she wasn't certain. Everything had been so muddled for her since last night that nothing seemed to make sense any longer. To add to her confusion, Quinn had been different with her since the moment, not a half hour ago, when he had come up behind her in the hallway as she was making a final check on her appearance in the mirror.

  "Don't touch anything, Highness. You're perfect."

  She had dressed with special care in a lace-trimmed gown the color of old gold doubloons. It was a romantic dress with something about it that conjured up Spanish ships and plundered treasure. The two of them together, she in her gilded dress and Quinn with his buccaneer's swarthy good looks, seemed as though they belonged in an earlier time.

  Now, as Quinn helped her down from the carriage, his hand held hers a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She looked up into his eyes and wondered how she could have ever thought them cold. There was something there he had never before permitted her to see. Was it tenderness? Affection? Had he too tired of the war between them, of the verbal skirmishes, the bed that was too often only another battlefield? Noelle's lips curved tentatively and Quinn smiled in return, his face looking younger than she had ever seen it, almost boyish.

  Whatever might have happened between them was cut off by the sound of the front door opening as Wolf Brandt himself stepped out to greet his guests. As soon as Noelle saw him, she was certain she had met him before. Only a few inches taller than she, he was an attractive man in his late thirties with fair hair and gray eyes. None of his features was extraordinary, but there was an elegance about his manner that stirred her memory.

  "Quinn, welcome! And Mrs. Copeland. I'm so glad that you could come."

  While he ushered them into the house, Noelle tried to recall when she had last heard that faint Germanic accent. There was something so familiar about the way he turned his w's to v's, his th to z.

  After the butler took her wrap, Brandt surveyed Noelle with such open appreciation that she was amused. Wolf Brandt was obviously an accomplished flirt.

  "Mrs. Copeland, you are even more enchanting than I have remembered."

  "So we have met before. I thought as much."

  "But of course. And you don't remember." He flicked his palms open and closed in an elegantly despondent gesture. "You see, Quinn, how sad life can be. Unlike you, I am one of those unfortunate men whom beautiful women quickly forget."

  Quinn gave a snort of amusement, and Noelle smiled. "Somehow I doubt that."

  "I will jar your memory. We were introduced at an unpleasantly overcrowded ball in London. The Atterburys', I believe."

  "Of course," Noelle lied. "How could I have forgotten, Mr. Brandt."

  "You will call me Wolf. It is short for Wolfgang, you know. Hideous name! Only my sister is permitted to call me that. Come, let us go into the drawing room. She is waiting for us."

  Noelle's attention was caught by a pair of exceptionally fine Sèvres vases sitting on a table, and so she did not see Quinn's thunderstruck expression or the apologetic shrug Wolf Brandt gave him. She did, however, notice that just before her host reached out his well-manicured hand to open the drawing-room door, he swept her with a faintly pitying gaze.

  Like a beautiful, deadly spider, the Baroness Anna von Furst sat in the exact center of a white satin sofa. She was a study in black and white. The black crepe gown that molded to her body was dramatically slashed to reveal one alabaster shoulder and the luscious top of a single white breast. Her hair was pulled back from her face in shining raven's wings, her eyes and lashes so sooty, they looked as if they would leave stains on her white skin. She wore no jewelry, no feather or flower. Only her lips, red as fresh blood, moist and predatory, gave color to her ensemble.

  "And so, Wolfgang, you finally bring our guests to me. I have been waiting."

  In the face of Quinn's betrayal, Noelle could not move. Just as she had discovered her love for him and deluded herself into believing that things could be different between them, he had brought his mistress to Cape Crosse to flaunt before her!

  She was dimly conscious that he was walking toward Anna, but since his back was toward her, she couldn't see the angry white line that traced the edge of his lips as he took her hand, nor did she hear the frost in his greeting.

  With a gentle yet insistent pressure on her arm, Wolf Brandt propelled her into the room. The baroness's eyes flicked over Noelle lazily, and then in a manner neither hostile nor friendly, she said, "What a pretty child you are. I had forgotten."

  At the subtle barb, anger flooded through Noelle, blurring the edges of her pain. "But I have not forgotten you. Baroness," she said. "You don't look as well as you did in London. I can see that the loss of your husband has weighed heavily on you."

  Noelle caught the slight crinkling at the corner of Quinn's eyes, and it fueled her fury. So he found it amusing to see two women sparring over him! How amused would he be when he saw she didn't care?

  The butler appeared at the door to announce dinner, and Anna rose quickly and slipped her arm through Quinn's. With a brilliant smile, Noelle turned to Brandt.

  "Wolf, you must tell me how you like Cape Crosse. Do you find it frightfully dull after London?"

  His gray eyes raked her appreciatively. "No longer, my dear Mrs. Copeland. No longer."

  Unlike Quinn, Wolf Brandt was a man who was content with himself. He was wealthy, handsome, and had no hidden devils tormenting him. He observed the world through a slightly jaundiced, but never bitter, eye, amused at the follies of others, but somewhat detached from them. Men sometimes confused Brandt's fastidious ways with effeminacy, but they were wrong. He was a man who liked beautiful things and liked them in their proper places, but he was also an accomplished lover who derived as much pleasure from bringing a woman to fulfillment as he did from his own release.

  It never occurred to women to doubt his masculinity. They knew that he was that priceless rarity, a virile male who genuinely loved women and, more important, who understood them. Brandt recognized what escaped so many other men, that a woman's emotions were her strength, not her weakness, and it never occurred to him to try to reason away her feelings. It no longer surprised him, however, when he saw other men make this mistake, for he had long ago accepted the fact that most men did not understand women as he did.

  As the beautiful Mrs. Copeland held out her wineglass to him to be filled for a third time, he knew that Copeland certainly did not understand his wife; nor, it occurred to him, did she understand her husband. He steadied her trembling hand with his own as he poured her wine, not missing the dark scowl that came over her husband's face. The situation intrigued him. There was a magnetism between them that was so palpable, the air was heavy with it, yet they were letting his sister's scheme drive them apart.

  Quinn Copeland was foolish, Brandt decided. All he needed to do was take his beautiful wife in his arms and tell her that Anna no longer meant anything to him. But this he would not do. He was a proud man who would see his own life crumble around him before he would bend that pride. And the exciting, tawny-haired woman who had been flirting so outrageously with him ever since dinner had started was much the same. It was a volatile combination of personalities running out of control, and if one of them did not bend, the collision could be tragic.

  Brandt twisted the stem of his glass in his fingers, considering his own place in all
of this. If Copeland decided to treasure this delicious creature as he should, he vowed he would leave them alone despite the fact that she intrigued him more than any woman had in years. But if the shipbuilder were foolish enough to continue making her unhappy—well, then he, Brandt, would be waiting close by.

  As Anna whispered a laughing comment to Quinn, Noelle leaned forward and offered a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts to her handsome dinner companion. She was rewarded by the sight of her husband's face tightening in anger.

  "This wine is excellent, Wolf." She smiled provocatively over the silver rim of her glass. "Did you bring it with you?"

  "But of course. I always travel with my own stock. This particular vintage is from my vineyard near Rheims."

  "I had no idea your business interests were so diversified."

  "The vineyard is my pleasure, not my business. A man should never confuse the two."

  Speaking easily and requiring nothing from her in the way of response, he described the beauty of the land and the small château that graced the property. She gazed at him intently, nodding her head in the proper places but concentrating only on the hushed conversation and intimate laughter coming from the other side of the table.

  Wolf was saddened by the triumph that flushed his sister's lovely face as Quinn slipped his arm across the back of her chair. His darling, magnificent Anna with her raven hair and alabaster skin. Wise about everything except this one man. Victory was not going to be as easy as she thought. The shipbuilder loved his wife even if he would not admit it to himself. Still, that was undoubtedly a point in Anna's favor. This complex man would not succumb to love easily.

  "Ladies, perhaps you will excuse Quinn and myself. We have a small bit of business to discuss, then we will join you in the drawing room."

  There was only the briefest hesitation before the beautiful Mrs. Copeland rose gracefully from the table and glided from the room, leaving his sister in her wake. Wolf smiled to himself, wishing he could be an observer of what was to come. It would be most interesting to see how they would deal with each other.

  In the drawing room, Anna wandered over to the corner table, where she picked up a piece of jagged white coral and idly turned it over in her hands. "You're really quite charming, you know," she said.

  "I beg your pardon."

  "I have been studying you. You're lovely. But, of course, Quinn has always been surrounded by beautiful women." Anna's scarlet lips curved in a sly smile. "Now he is quite angry with me for having shown myself openly to you despite his orders. But he knows I'm not a woman to be kept locked in the attic." With a touch as light as the thread of a spider's web, she placed her fingertips on Noelle's arm. "In the end, it will be easier for both of us because we will not have to pretend."

  Noelle could feel her heart breaking, but she clung to her dignity. "You will do well to stay out of my way, Baroness. I do not have the advantage of generations of impeccable breeding, and my inferior blood sometimes makes me behave rashly. Now, if you will excuse me, I feel the need for some fresh air." With her head held high, she swept from the room.

  Anna drew a deep breath. For an instant, she looked older than her thirty-two years, but at the sound of footsteps approaching the door, she sank down on the sofa and languidly draped one hand over the arm.

  "Where is my wife?"

  She smiled lazily. "Where is Wolfgang?"

  "Don't assume everyone has your talent for intrigue, Anna."

  "What an ugly scowl, liebchen. You must stop it at once, or you will frighten me."

  The grim line of Quinn's mouth relaxed. He was fond of Anna, and despite her teasing manner, he knew she was suffering. "This time Wolf is innocent. I just left him alone in the dining room, looking over some papers he has to sign."

  "Too bad." Anna pouted. "It would have made things so much easier." She stood and walked toward him, arching an amused ebony brow. "Who knows? It may still all work out."

  The line of his mouth was firm, but not unkind. "Don't do this to yourself, Anna. Everything is over between us. We agreed to that in London."

  She pressed herself to him, the hardness of his body against hers making her voice husky with desire. "I never agreed to anything, liebchen. I have not yet tired of you."

  Gently he skimmed the raven softness of her hair with his hand. "I have enough complications in my life without adding another. Accept the fact that we can never be together again."

  "Never?" she murmured, tracing her fingers upward along the lapels of his jacket and then sliding them along his neck into the black hair that curled over the back of his collar. "Perhaps you are being too hasty." She pulled his head toward her parted lips and brought his mouth hard against hers.

  The kiss was pleasant, and Quinn responded to it, but too soon he realized that Anna's ripe body was not stirring him as it once

  had. With something akin to anger, he caught her in a closer embrace and drove his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth.

  Noelle watched from the open doorway, wanting to tear herself away but unable to move. She grabbed the door frame for support.

  "My beautiful swan, you do not need to see this." Coming up from behind her. Wolf Brandt slid an arm around her and drew her toward him.

  Quinn brought up his head just in time to see his wife disappear in Brandt's arms. Furiously he disengaged himself from Anna and stalked toward the door.

  "Bitte, Quinn. Please wait." The languid air was gone as Anna ran after him and clutched at his arm. "Where are you going?"

  "Where do you think?"

  "You are not a man to grovel before a woman," she exclaimed. "What will you do? Tell her you did not enjoy kissing me? She will know that's a lie!"

  "Damn it, Anna, shut up!" He began to pull away from her, but she threw her body in front of him.

  "Leave her to my brother, Quinn. You saw at dinner how he fascinated her. It is like that sometimes. A thunderbolt! A woman cannot always help it when her heart strays. Don't make a fool of yourself!"

  Refusing to listen to any more, he pushed her aside and darted from the room only to find the hallway empty. By the time he thought to look outside, it was too late; a carriage was already pulling away from the house.

  Brandt quietly stepped from the deep shadows of the porch. "I had my driver take her home."

  "You had no right."

  "And you, my old friend, had no right to humiliate her as you did. Do you not even care how she feels?"

  "This is none of your business, Brandt," Quinn snarled.

  "There you are wrong. We have known each other for a long time, and, while we have never been intimates, we have always respected each other. Is that not true?"

  "You have one minute. Get to the point."

  "Proud and impatient." Brandt smiled. "Excellent qualities in a businessman, but not so good in a husband, yes?"

  "Like I said before. This is none of your business."

  "But I must have my say, because I am now involved."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "Ach! You Americans! It is obvious, is it not? I find myself attracted to your wife. She is the most desirable woman I have met in a long time, and she deserves to be cherished." The amusement faded from his gray eyes. "I give you fair warning, Copeland. Mend your ways or I shall do my best to take her from you."

  Quinn's voice was flat and unemotional. "I'll kill you if you try."

  "Any other man, yes. But not me, I think, because I have warned you. You are a fair man, and you'll know that you have only yourself to blame if you lose her."

  "Your time's up, Brandt."

  Without another word, Quinn strode to his carriage, rousing the napping coachman with a none too gentle kick before he pushed him to the side and grabbed the reins himself. Gravel sprayed from the wheels as the carriage tore off down the drive.

  Quinn was halfway to Televea before he changed his mind and turned the horses toward Kate Malloy's, where he got quietly and thoroughly drunk. When he got home, he found h
is own bed empty and the door that connected their rooms firmly locked against him.

  Grimly he pulled back his foot, ready to break it down, but then he stopped himself. What was the use? She had seen him kissing Anna, and he was damned if he owed her any explanations. She wasn't going to lead him around on a leash like a trained dog! It was time she understood that he didn't need her. God damn it, he didn't need anyone!

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Wolf Brandt and Anna von Furst were quickly accepted by Cape Crosse society. The women of the community were delighted to have a baroness in their midst, even one as aloof as Anna, but they barely knew what to make of her handsome brother, who kissed their hands so elegantly and smiled at them in a way that sent blood rushing to their cheeks.

 

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