The Disgraced Lords Series 3-Book Bundle

by Bronwen Evans

  “I might have wanted that at one time, but I soon understood that your parents’ type of marriage was not for me.”

  She drew back out of his arms. The crisp ocean breeze was not the only reason her body went cold. “I don’t understand you. I know the war and losing Robert changed you, as it would have changed anyone. But you can’t withdraw from life. If you do, what was all the loss and suffering for?”

  “I ask myself that question frequently. What was all the bloodshed and loss for? It made me remember my father and how he led his life. He took his role as head of our family seriously. He knew he had responsibility for our family, our tenants, and, through the House of Lords, our country.”

  She felt her stomach clench. It seemed to her that Grayson was comparing her father to his. She remembered the late Lord Blackwood as a distinguished and formal man. He could be very kind—that is, if he noticed you at all. Her father had been a loving and happy man who lived not for title or duty but for his family. “That’s commendable, but I’m not sure a life of duty excludes a life filled with love.” She knew he was hiding something, and she had a good idea what it was—he was scared to love. He’d lost so many people in his life. “I won’t marry a man who doesn’t love me.”

  He took a step back, almost pushing her out of his arms, his jaw doing that manly jutting-out thing. “You gave me your word.”

  She nodded. “I did. And I won’t break it. I agreed to marry you when we got back to Flagstaff Castle. I simply won’t set foot in Flagstaff Castle again until you give up this absurd notion of honor or fall in love with me.”

  She knew what would happen next. As she predicted, his hands rose to his hips and his left eye developed that telltale tic. “God damn you, Portia. You fully understood what you were agreeing to when you took me to your bed. What if you are with child?”

  Her hand flew to her stomach. How delicious would that be, to carry his child.

  “I will not have any child of mine born out of wedlock,” he pronounced. Any minute she expected to see steam coming out of Grayson’s ears.

  A dreamy smile spread across her face; she couldn’t hide it. “I shall of course agree to become your wife if I am with child. However, I will not be ambushed into matrimony for an out-of-date convention such as honor.”

  He moved toward her, an angry mass of maleness. Portia soon found herself pressed back against the railing. “Honor is how I live my life, how your brother lived his, and what he died for. I will not have a woman such as you deriding what I and many men fought and died for.”

  She dropped her head in shame. He was right. “I’m sorry. That was a tactless thing to say.” Finally she looked up, hoping to plead her case. “But look at it from my point of view. I have not accepted countless numbers of proposals. I turned them all down because I want to marry for love. And now, through no fault of my own, you expect me to give up that dream.”

  The hands lowered from his hips, and Grayson had the grace to forgive her thoughtless words about honor. “You are slightly to blame. You should never have gone to meet me that night.”

  “We are going over old ground here. What is it you want in a wife that I cannot give you?”

  He offered her his arm and indicated that they stroll the deck while talking. She shivered in the light breeze as her fingers touched the muscles flexing in his arm. He spoke quietly, as if to soften the blow of his words. “The Blackwood name is all I have left of my family. I won’t let anyone or anything vilify what I want the name to stand for. I want to continue with Robert’s work. He understood about duty and privilege.”

  “He must have learned that from you. I don’t think father ever stepped into the House of Lords.”

  He gave a pained smile. “I watched him change almost overnight. As soon as Robert joined up and saw the conditions his men endured, he knew he had found a cause dear to his heart. He wanted his men and their families looked after once the war ended. There were many who lost limbs, eyes…” He hugged her. “He died trying to save one of his men. War is a good training ground for learning about true sacrifice and duty. I believe my father was the epitome of duty.”

  “Your estate is prosperous. Your father at least chose well in his estate manager.”

  “No, I have your father to thank for ensuring I had an estate and money left to inherit. He at least knew how to count money.”

  “My father loved you. Your father was his closest friend.” Portia sighed. “Duty or not, I know we could have a happy life together. I’ll challenge you, that’s true, but I’m not selfish enough to do anything that would disgrace your name. I would always support you and your dreams. Could you not support mine?”

  Her words struck a nerve, for his mouth relaxed and an eyebrow rose. “You’re saying that I should take an interest in your dreams. I thought most women dream of a stable home, financial security, and children. What is it that you dream of? I thought by now you’d be content to marry and become a mother, as you’ve achieved more than most.”

  “Most men never consider our needs, wants, or dreams. We may only be females, but we breathe, bleed, hurt, and desire just like men. What is so wrong with me wanting to achieve something for myself? Would you be happy to be defined by your wife’s achievements? Could you be kept by someone else, have to ask your husband or brother or father for money, and then find out you’ve been bartered away as good breeding stock?” She squeezed his arm. “Is that what you would have wanted for Lucinda?”

  “I would have wanted her to be happy. I would have done anything to protect her.”

  “I know you would have.” She reached up and kissed his lips lightly. “However, I am proud that I don’t have to rely on any man, or woman, for my livelihood. I earn enough from my business to never have to be a burden. It’s given me choices most women never have, and I owe it to myself and other women to make the most of my opportunities.”

  “Robert was very proud of you, but he was conflicted. He wanted to see you married and settled. He thought you would grow tired of your independence.” He gave a laugh that spoke of the irony. “He even suggested I marry you, but knowing both of us well, he saw that it would not work.”

  Portia felt the deck give way under her feet. Robert had discussed her with Grayson? Her own brother hadn’t thought she was good enough for his friend? She swung away before he saw her pain. “Then he must be turning in his grave right now, horrified that his friend must marry his wayward sister.”

  “Perhaps. However, he’d be pleased to see you safe.”

  She could not believe this. Robert had originally scolded her when he’d found out she’d set up her cider business, but eventually he’d helped her avoid more scandal by becoming the nominal head of the business. She thought he’d been proud of her, but perhaps he was merely reining in her more outlandish schemes.

  “Robert wouldn’t have forced me to marry you. He’d want me to be happy.”

  In the silence the wind seemed to drop. She swore the sails stopped flapping. He stepped closer and cupped her face, “I can make you happy,” he said, and then he kissed her.

  It was a kiss that saw her falling into the sweetest dream. His warm lips sent longing racing through her. He kissed her as if she were the last woman on earth and he needed her. She could taste his desire and perhaps also a touch of desperation, as if he were trying to ensure her compliance with his betrothal offer.

  For a moment she resisted his mouth’s seduction, trying to prove that she would not be a pushover. She suspected any other woman would have swooned, such was the power of his kiss. His tongue stroked her mouth as if she were the sweetest dessert, while his lips were gentle and commanding at the same time.

  Her body melted from the inside out, and she gave in to the temptation and let her arms rise to circle his neck. She rubbed her aching breasts against his jacket. She suspected that if she’d been able to hike up her skirts, her legs would be around his waist.

  When he finally lifted his head she would have agreed t
o anything he wanted. To be kissed like that for the rest of her life would be worth the price.

  “We are not compatible in all things, but in my bed I suspect we will be very compatible. As to the rest, I know you’d never intentionally set out to dishonor me or my name, but for a woman who takes as many risks as you, it will invariably happen.” He pulled her roughly against him. Her hands rose to land on his muscled chest. Warmth flooded her body and she wanted him to kiss her again. But he merely hugged her tightly. “Whatever happens, I plan to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t doubt it. You’ll want to lock me away like a bird in a cage, something lovely to look at and to display to visitors, and then expect me to be chirpy about it.”

  “I’d hardly call my house a cage. You will come and go as you please. I’m not an ogre.”

  “But you will expect me to defer to you.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I will of course discuss important issues with you—”

  “But you’ll ultimately make the decisions regardless of my wishes.”

  “If we cannot agree on a topic, then of course I will determine our course of action.”

  She bit back a sharp reply and tried to remain calm. “I’m assuming we are not going to agree on what happens when we get to Calais. Therefore, I’m very pleased we are not yet married!”

  Grayson’s hands rose to his hips. “When we reach Calais you’re not to leave your cabin. I want you to stay hidden.”

  “Say please,” she goaded him.

  Instead he pulled her close, engulfing her in his arms. “I want you safe. I can’t fight this unknown enemy if I have to worry about you too.”

  “You learned something from the man we captured. Are they going to attack again in Calais?”

  He remained silent.

  “What did you learn? You may as well share or I shall go to the prisoner directly.” She heard Grayson’s heart speed up, and his arms tightened until her newly healed ribs protested.

  “Someone tried to kill you.”

  Portia stilled. “My attacker indicated that was so. Did you learn who is behind the attacks?” When he shook his head she added, “My ribs and my throat already proved that they mean business. What did you learn?”

  She could feel every muscle in his body tense. “They will try again in Calais,” he said at last.

  Invisible icicles scraped over her skin. “Then we should set a trap. I want this over with, and so do you.”

  “I’m not putting you in danger.”

  “You’re not thinking this through properly. If we work together, we can take the fight to the enemy. We need a plan that sees me well protected and yet allows you and the men to capture our enemy.”

  He stepped back and said in an emphatic voice, “No. It’s too dangerous. If—”

  “She’s right, Grayson. You can’t keep running. You have to stand and fight at some point.”

  He swung to face Seaton, anger scoring his handsome face. “We stand when we reach England.”

  “How do you get her safely home? Once we reach England, traveling overland leaves you wide open. It’s not like this ship. They can sneak up on you—”

  “No.” Grayson turned and stormed off toward the bow of the ship.

  Portia moved to follow him. She wanted the enemy stopped, and the sooner the better, as far as she was concerned.

  “Leave him,” the captain said. “Let him cool his temper, and then we can talk to him logically. I assume you have an idea?”

  Seaton’s faith in her ability to come up with a plan warmed her. At least here was one man who did not see her as a helpless female who could not contribute anything other than child rearing. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  He smiled. “Why don’t we go and have breakfast and you can tell me all about it? Then we can work out how to get Grayson to agree.”

  —

  Grayson finally got his temper under control and went in search of Portia and Seaton. He kicked himself for leaving her with the captain; no doubt they would tackle him with an idea that would see Portia put in danger.

  As soon as he entered the stateroom he knew he was right. Portia sat smiling as sweetly as a lioness that had swallowed the kill—dangerous and enticing.

  Before they could speak, he put his hand out and said, “Not one word.”

  Seaton rose and cursed. “Listen to what she has to say before you make any decision. You owe her that. It’s her life that’s threatened.” He turned and smiled at Portia. “Plus she is one smart woman. A man would be stupid not to take advantage of that.” With that he left the stateroom.

  “I know you’re clever, but you are also a risk taker, and this is too risky.”

  Her lips tightened and the fingers of her hands spread out on the table as if she was trying not to pick up the fork and stab him with it.

  “How do you know it’s too risky if you don’t know what it is?”

  “I know because it probably involves you being put in harm’s way. I cannot countenance that.” His guts clawed at the thought. Yes, he was afraid. He was man enough to admit that.

  “I love you for that, and I’m counting on the fact you’d do anything to save me and keep me safe. Now sit down and hear this plan or Seaton will lock you in the cabin and we will instigate the trap without you. That would be unfortunate, as you are the key to our success.”

  Grayson’s mouth fell open. She was serious. He sat, pretending he was playing along, but he’d find some way to stop this craziness. If anyone was going to be locked in a cabin when they reached Calais, it would be her.

  Chapter Ten

  They’d arrived in Calais early, well before dusk. However, Grayson’s heart was thudding so hard in his chest he could barely breathe. Under protest he’d agreed to her plan. It was a good one, which he hated to admit, but it still put her at risk.

  They checked into a hotel for the night and dined in the public dining room. He watched those around them carefully but could not see anyone acting suspiciously, and Portia had not used the signal they had agreed upon, pulling a loose curl straight, to indicate she saw anyone she recognized.

  At the end of the first course they began their staged performance. It was actually fun to start arguing with Portia. She was quick-witted, and it made their pretend quarrel an enjoyable activity. For one moment he thought how much fun it would be to come home at the end of the day and have her to discuss his day with.

  “Are you even listening to me?” she asked rather loudly.

  He didn’t even have to pretend that he wasn’t listening, as he hadn’t been. “My dear, having to listen to you all day makes a man wish he were deaf.” His words spread over the other diners like a rippling wave, and he could see several people stop eating as he and Portia became the center of attention.

  “Well, I never. If you were deaf, then I could tell you constantly what an arse you are without having to listen to your boring sermons on etiquette.” Portia’s voice rose shrilly on the word “arse,” drawing it out like a long bagpipe note. Titters started throughout the room.

  Her words hit too close to home, and suddenly his temper ignited. It was her smug look, as if to say I can say anything and you can’t stop me, lighting the fuse. “And one wonders why I want to spend more time with my mistress than at home with my newly married wife.”

  The smile left her face, and he saw her physically wince. He wished he could take back the cruel words, but he couldn’t if they were to maintain their cover. To his admiration she responded haughtily. “Thank goodness is all I can say, sir. It will save me from suffering mediocrity in the bed sport department.”

  “I haven’t had any complaints before, madam.”

  “It’s a shame your little manhood isn’t as big as your ego.”

  That saw the men in the room snort and the women giggle.

  Playing to their audience, he rose quickly, throwing his napkin on the table. “I saved your reputation by marrying you—you could at least be a tad grateful. I
think I need some fresh air, and maybe I’ll find company for the night more welcoming than yours.”

  With that he stormed out of the dining room, to gasps from the onlookers. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn around, go back, and stay glued to her side. However, two of Seaton’s men were in place, tasked with ensuring her safety. This was the part of the plan he objected to—that he had to entrust her safety to others. Robert was likely turning in his grave.

  He walked back toward the docks as planned. He was to give her thirty minutes; if their enemy had not attacked by then, then presumably they hadn’t fallen for their display in the dining room.

  Grayson had walked only a short distance before he sensed he was being followed. Was it their enemy or simply an opportunistic thief? There was only one way to find out.

  Grayson slowed and spun to face his pursuer.

  —

  Portia stood on shaking legs and held her head high as she swept out of the dining room. That went rather well, she thought. Her pretend tears were an inspired touch—she blubbered all the way up the stairs to their suite, hoping that if their enemy was watching, they would think her too distraught to notice what was going on around her.

  Nothing appeared out of the ordinary as she made her way back to her room. She pulled the key out of her reticule and opened the door. She hesitated before stepping into the room. The shadows appeared sinister, and she fingered the pearls at her throat. Perhaps her plan wasn’t such a good idea. She only just stopped herself from seeking out the two men seeing to her safety until Grayson could double back to the hotel.

  Gathering her courage, she entered the room, seemingly still upset. I should be on the stage, she thought briefly, as she was more scared than upset.

  The maids had laid a fire and lighted a couple of lamps. The shadows flickering over the walls sent shivers running over her, though earlier in the afternoon the room had looked very pleasant.

  She needed a drink to calm her nerves. As she poured a small sherry she prayed their plan worked. She wanted this adventure over so that Grayson’s attention would fall fully upon her.