Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings)

by Pam Roller

  Katherine could only shake her head. Ellis had always acted arrogant, but until he had cried off their engagement, she’d thought that under his glittering cravat brooch beat the heart of a kind man. Now she knew what a vile person he really was. Why had her father insisted on pursuing a marriage contract with him?

  More on her mind, however, was Alex’s reference to her as his betrothed. She stopped him in the hall by his door and raised her brows in expectation.

  He knew what she asked, and waved his hands in agitation. “I do not know why I said it. ’Twas a protective gesture, nothing more.”

  But his eyes revealed his true feelings. She saw his need for companionship as clearly as she’d heard his declaration of solitude. As wrong as she had been about Ellis, she knew she was dead on in her instincts about Alex.

  Wearily, she turned to walk to her room. Only when the words from his lips rang true to those in his heart would she gather up her scattered hope.

  “Katherine.”

  Facing him once more, she waited. He stood for a moment, his eyes moving from her forehead to her lips in unhurried study. “He didn’t deserve you,” he said softly. “You are so beautiful. All of you. Body and soul.”

  His words sounded as if he had carefully wrapped them in silk and then spun them loose in slow, flowing cadence.

  He grasped her hand and kissed her palm, then let it go and slid his hand around the back of her head.

  Lowering his head, he kissed her amidst a clatter of the inkwell, pen, and papers he dropped.

  She welcomed his mouth on hers, his arms enfolding her like a blanket. She pulled him closer, to deepen the kiss.

  He did.

  The warm, masculine scent and feel of him made a joyful, throbbing haze flow through her body. All the world disappeared except for Alex.

  He moaned deep in his throat as he reached behind her and opened his door. Backing her into the room, he closed the door and pressed her against it. “My love,” he murmured into her neck, and then found her lips again as his hand slid up her waist and cupped her breast.

  The words cut through her sensual fog.

  His love. After telling her that he’d love no one, he called her his love.

  Why did he romp with her emotions like this? A surge of anger made her push at his shoulders. He owed her more than this hilly ride of insecurity. She deserved more.

  He broke the kiss and stood looking down at her, his hands pressed to the door on either side of her head. He lowered his forehead until it met hers. His hair tickled her cheek.

  “I am sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I did it again. I am allowing my body to speak for me. It will not happen—”

  Furious, Katherine ducked under his arm and went to his writing table. I am no fool. She thumped her hand on the paper in frustration.

  He stood beside her. “No, you are not. You know I want you.” His hands made fists. “I’m the fool, Katherine. I’m allowing the past to dictate everything I do.” Gripping her arms, he brought her to her feet. “I want you. But I cannot have you. I will only cause you pain. Do you understand?”

  He didn’t give her time to answer. He kissed her, his mouth hard and possessive, and then abruptly let her go.

  Reeling, Katherine dropped into the chair and stared at him, and then propped her elbows on the table and put her head in her hands.

  The man was impossible.

  She heard him pacing the room, his boot heels ringing on the bare floorboards. “I know two things. One is that you are making me crazy. You’ve got me tied up in knots that would put a sailor to shame.”

  Katherine raised her head and rested her chin in her hand. What was he getting at now?

  His voice took on a trace of arrogance. “The other thing I know is that I want no other man to have you.” His footfalls stopped. “We can marry, you know. You can give me heirs, and I can carry on my name.”

  Katherine jumped to her feet. Oh, to be able to tell the oaf exactly what she thought of him! Why could he not admit his feelings? She dashed across the room and jerked open the door to leave.

  “Where are you going? I’m not finished discussing this matter.”

  Oh yes, he was. This bumbling attempt at a marriage proposal was as close as Alex would ever come to opening his heart to her. She headed toward her room.

  She could tell by his voice that he had followed her into the hall. “I did not give you permission to leave.”

  She stopped and spun toward him, and flashed him such a look of disdain that he flinched, albeit every so slightly. Still, she was satisfied with his reaction, and continued on to her room.

  The seconds passed as she neared her door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, knowing that entering her room and shutting the door would shut him off from her forever.

  “Wait. Please.”

  Katherine stopped and turned to him, her chin raised, relief and want making her legs weak.

  “Come back,” he said softly, his expression contrite. “I am doing this all wrong, I know.”

  Slowly Katherine returned to him, then moved past inside his room.

  He took a deep breath, hesitated, and cupped her cheeks with gentle hands. For a moment he seemed about to kiss her. But he asked, “Do you want to be my wife or not?”

  Gads! She knocked his hands away and went for the door.

  Before she could open it, Alex grabbed her arm and swung her around to him. “Blast it, I am no good at poetic drivel. I do not know how to say what I am feeling. But I can show you.”

  Down came his mouth on hers. The kiss was at once sweet and forceful, loving and possessive. He thrust his tongue into her mouth with a tender fury that at once thrilled her and pushed aside all doubts of his sentiment.

  A melting sensation overcame her and she was lost in him, sliding her hands down along his hips, marveling in his firm physique. She couldn’t believe how quickly he could dissolve her anger and then solidify it right back into fierce need.

  Breathless, she gasped when he ended the kiss. His lips trailed over her face and neck and his arms tightened around her in warmth and protection. Hot pulsations pounded through her and she was vaguely aware that he was backing her up.

  Scandal warred with desire as he lowered her to the bed.

  However, he slid his arms from her, leaving her alone on the bed while he took a chair a few feet away.

  His steady gaze on hers, he spoke. “My head battles my body, and my heart does the same with my words. I have closed myself off from emotion for so long that I do not know how to handle it. And now, it has pierced me through.”

  His words, uttered slowly and with care, caused a deep yearning within Katherine’s heart. She nodded for him to go on.

  “I didn’t have a happy marriage, Katherine. I do not know how much of it was my fault, how much harder I could have tried to save her.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. His voice dropped. “I am afraid of doing this again. I am afraid that I will lose you, that you will grow to hate me, as Mary did. I cannot promise you love. I am not ready for that. But I pledge to take care of you for the rest of your life. If you will have me.”

  Alex moved off the chair and knelt in front of her. He took her hands in his.

  She gazed back at him, taking in the open, vulnerable expression on his face, and wishing his heart could be the same.

  “My dear lady,” he asked, “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Late that night, at a table in the corner of the mostly empty eating room, Rochester poked an unsteady finger under his peruke and scratched at his head. “Lemmee think. When I broke the betrothal, I tol’ her it was because I wanted the gold her father promised, but then my men found nothin’ in the ruins of her house.” His powdered face, of which most of the white had been rubbed off from lovemaking with Mrs. Mallet and drinking three pitchers of ale with Alex, even now expressed his indignation.

  Alex s
et his mouth in a grin and leaned his arms on the scratched table. “Oh ho! Her father had gold! How much?”

  “Eighty thousand pounds. Traitor’s money, Charles said. He wouldn’t lemmee have it.” Rochester gave a dramatic sigh, and Alex fought not to rear back from the earl’s ale-drenched breath. “So she had no dowry after Charles took the gold. But she did have the necessary at—at—attributes befitting a man o’ my status. An’ she would have made for good breedin’, o’ course.”

  Alex smiled with congenial warmth. He wanted the full details of her father’s treason. “I’d like to tumble with her myself.”

  “I never did. Tried. She wouldn’t lemmee. Wouldn’t let anyone. Wanted t’wait for marriage.” He shook his head in disgust.

  Alex was glad to hear it. “What else did you tell her?”

  “Hmmm. I tol’ her that as a man o’ dis-distinction, I couldn’t take a mute to wife.”

  “So you cried off.” Alex held up his cup in a friendly toast. “Good riddance, say you.”

  “I mos’ certainly didn’t cry off,” Rochester sniffed in contempt. “The decision was ‘ers.” He put back his head and drained the last of his ale, then leaned forward and slammed the cup onto the table.

  “Indeed,” Alex said, refilling the earl’s cup as steadily as he could, yet splashing some of the dark yellow liquid onto the table. He wanted to pound the man with the pewter pitcher. Holding it up, he signaled to the tired-looking serving girl for another.

  “Kate seems well,” Rochester said. “Not at all what I would’ve expected by now.” He stared into his cup, and the ends of his brown wig curled in the puddle of ale on the table.

  “I was not in agreement with Lady Castlemaine’s plan to have her punished,” Alex said. “She is in good health, although she became trapped in her closet and injured her fingers trying to get out. She has an affliction with small spaces.”

  “Since the fire,” Rochester said with a nod. “She went into a house t’save two children. They died anyway, an’ she lost her voice.” He shrugged.

  “And you tried to help her? You had doctors look at her?”

  “Two. An’ the king sent his own doctor. All agreed she won’t speak again. But we wouldn’t ‘ave bothered if we knew the truth.” His head began to lower slowly toward his cup. When his nose touched it, he snapped up his head. “Got to sleep,” he muttered. “Long day.”

  “Ah, but we have one more pitcher coming,” Alex said. “Let us drink like old friends. I enjoy your company.” He smiled. “Why had no one told Katherine what her father did?”

  Rochester straightened in his chair and cocked his head. “Oh, she knew. I’m sure someone tol’ her. I guess she chose t’be silent about it. Not too hard for her to do, be silent.” He chortled at his own joke, then turned his head and emitted a long, wet belch.

  Alex raised his brows. “She knows nothing. And you obviously didn’t tell her. How much did Lady Castlemaine pay you?” He sat back as the server set the pitcher on the table.

  “Enough.” Ellis’ face was red and puffy with drunkenness, and his words were slurred and slow. “It goes back to last year. Lord Seymour wanted Kate to be Charles’ mistress. Lady Castlemaine paid me to offer her marriage to get her away from the king. So I courted her. Even after the fire.” He took a long swig of his ale, set the cup down, and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “And then, last month when they found ‘er father’s papers outlining plans to have Kate spy on the king’s dealings, the agreement ended. So I tol’ everyone she cried off, and Lady Castlemaine came up with her plan to send Kate to you.” Ellis rubbed his eyes. “You’re goin’ t’London, right? You will see Charles?

  Alex nodded.

  “Here.” Ellis pulled out his pouch and shook out its contents.

  Across the empty room, the server perked up at the sound of coins jingling onto the table.

  “If the king asks, you never saw me.”

  The man carried around an extraordinary amount of money. “I do not want it,” Alex said. He placed his hands on the table and pushed himself up, knowing he would get no more information from the earl.

  Ellis hesitated, then gathered up the coins and put them back in their leather bag. The serving girl slumped back in her chair. “One more thing, Drayton,” he said, his lip curled in a drunken sneer. “You say Kate knows nothing. When you go see the king, take her with you. Let her be standin’ there when he tells you about her pigeon-livered father.”

  ****

  Rolling toward London the following morning, Alex wouldn’t reveal the details of his conversation with Ellis. By the time the familiar oily, fecal stench of the city hit them that afternoon, Katherine was frazzled with curiosity over what the two men had discussed.

  Even more than that, however, was the knowledge that this very day, she would marry Alexander Fletcher. So cold he had been upon their first meeting, and how aloof during her first weeks in his home.

  Now she watched as he turned from the coach window to her, smiled, and took her hand.

  “We have a busy day ahead of us,” he said, and his blue eyes held warmth and promise.

  Could this be the same man who had declared that he wanted nothing more than to get her married and out of his house as quickly as possible? What had changed him, even since last night when he’d declared his intention of wishing to remain alone?

  She didn’t know. But she reveled in the peace that filled his eyes.

  “I do not understand how the nobles here consider country life so dull,” Alex said, looking past her out the window as the coach crossed noisy London Bridge. “I could not live in London with its crowds and stench. And I can still smell burnt wood.”

  As they turned left down Fleet Street, Katherine saw that in the weeks she had been gone, the king had made more progress with rebuilding the city. Wider streets that had previously been narrow and sunless from the overhanging roofs of houses now boasted buildings under constructions with straight walls built of masonry instead of wood.

  She thought Alex’s generalization to be unfair. The smell of London seemed simply part of the life of the city. For her, seeing the din of activity from the coach window brought a strange homesickness, one never to be rectified as she had no home to return to.

  Perhaps, someday, she could voice her view of the city to Alex.

  Millie stared from the window. “Will ye look at all the people!” she exclaimed. “They walk in the street among the horses and carts like they wish t’be killed!”

  “They probably are killed,” Alex said, although his mind was not at all on the bustling street. He knew that Katherine wondered at his change of heart, and he himself wondered why he would invite turmoil and misery back into his house by taking another wife.

  Yet the woman sitting beside him was neither chaotic nor miserable. Her calm demeanor—calm unless he riled her, that was—caused a tranquility within him that had replaced his almost constant tension.

  The prospect of spending the rest of his life with Katherine pleased him. He could be sure she remained well and happy.

  He would care for her and protect her, yes. But love her? The prospect of opening his heart again to love made sweat bead on his upper lip.

  ****

  Katherine wore a white satin dress with silver lace underskirt that she and Millie had procured from a merchant who sold ready-made clothing. It didn’t fit as well as would one made for her, but it would have to do.

  The wedding was not what she had imagined her nuptials would entail, but she had little time to reflect on that. Her mind was on Alex. He may as well have been a block of wood standing beside her at the altar. Although he didn’t hesitate as he said his vows, neither did he put any sentiment into his words.

  She experienced a sinking within her heart as she became Lady Drayton, afraid that she had made a terrible mistake marrying a man who had made it clear that he would never love her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Alex studied his wife’s anxious face
that evening in their room at the London inn as they lingered over artichoke pie and boiled mallard.

  They’d kept the conversation light and avoided any talk of their own concerns. During the course of the meal, Katherine had filled two pages of their discussion of London’s rebuilding, the plans for the new cathedral designed by Inigo Jones, and the current play in the theater.

  ’Twould be a pleasure to see a play again, if you’d like to go tomorrow,” Alex said with a smile as he poured the last of the wine into their goblets.

  Katherine nodded her assent and then searched his face for an answer to some question she’d not asked.

  Their wedding night might be what she wished to discuss, but Alex doubted it. After declaring that he would never again marry, he’d asked for her hand. What, she surely wanted to know, had changed his mind?

  “Rochester,” he said.

  Katherine stopped with her goblet midway to her mouth and raised baffled brows.

  “I am usually not a man of indecision,” Alex said, “but in case you are wondering, ’twas Ellis Potts who changed my mind about marrying again. He hurt you. I want to make you happy, to give you a good life.”

  Katherine picked up her pen. As always, her response was direct. But not love.

  He could love her so easily. But he shook his head. “Please do not ask that of me.”

  ****

  Katherine tried to maintain interest on her dessert of apple cream sweetened with sugar. The wedding night loomed ahead, and her husband didn’t love her. Did all marriages begin like this? Would they consummate their union with a physical act that would mean nothing to him? Would he claim her body only to beget his heirs?

  The cream no longer tasted good. Katherine put down her spoon.

  Alex, apparently seeing her action as an end to the meal, reached past the wine bottle between them. His big hands were warm and comforting on hers. “Let us not think about anything but each other tonight,” he said. “I want to pleasure you.”

  Katherine swallowed and made desperate attempts to remember her mother’s lecture. Something about duty, and lying perfectly still during the act, and feeling unclean afterwards, but also the satisfaction of knowing she wouldn’t be touched during her monthly time of evil blood. There hadn’t been mention of pleasure. But then again, her mother hadn’t loved her father at all.