Lyon's Bride and The Scottish Witch with Bonus Material (Promo e-Books)

by Maxwell, Cathy

  They’d both been so young.

  He’d forgotten what it was like back then. Now, responsibilities, worries, and the weight of not only his country’s future but his family’s were heavy on his shoulders. He’d forgotten how free he’d felt when he’d been around her.

  But that was then and this was now. Gone was the blondness of her hair, which had darkened to a honeyed brown. Maturity had sharpened the lines of her face and given her character. Her eyes were just as blue, but they were no longer innocent. Knowledge of the world, of herself, had created shadows in their depth.

  “I don’t need this discussion right now, my lord,” she said.

  “I’m not here to discuss anything,” he said, suddenly concerned he’d be dismissed. He needed to talk to her. He wanted to.

  And then tears came to her eyes. Large, luminous ones that she struggled to hold back.

  Like most men, Neal didn’t know what to do in the face of a female’s tears. His sister, Margaret, rarely cried. She was too proud. Considering the set down Thea had given him only an hour ago, Neal had assumed that she was as proud, unless something had broken her spirit.

  He didn’t think it was himself . . . or at least he hoped it wasn’t.

  Neal took a step up the staircase toward her. “What is the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said, the tension in the word so tight that something had to be wrong.

  “Mrs. Gray took all our money,” a voice from her side said.

  Neal was startled to realize they weren’t alone. He’d been so focused on Thea that he hadn’t noticed the two small beings who stood on either side of her.

  Both had flaxen blonde hair and eyes as blue as their mother’s. The youngest had a death grip on Thea’s skirts, his wary expression telling Neal he wasn’t about to trust him any more than his parent did.

  The other was bolder. He was the one who had spoken. He’d stepped forward to make his announcement, his body taut from the top of his head to the fists he clenched at his side.

  There was no doubt these were her sons. They shared her refined features and determined chin.

  Neal didn’t come in contact with many children. He had few relatives, and they were all aged. His day-to-day activities rarely brought him within close proximity of children and, although he saw them on the street or in shops, he rarely talked to them—even if he wanted sons of his own . . . desperately.

  His desire to father a child was more than just a need to fulfill the obligations he owed his family name and title. He yearned for children in a way he didn’t understand.

  He now found himself both charmed and curious by these two boys. They were more than copies of their mother. They were independent souls, souls created from the spark of a connection and little more.

  “Mrs. Gray stole your money?” Neal repeated, addressing the child directly while wondering who this woman was. “Did you see her take the money?”

  To his surprise the youngest answered, the words coming out of his mouth so fast they tumbled over each other in his earnestness. “Yes, we did. She took the money. We told her not to, but she didn’t listen to us. Jonny told her.”

  “Who is this Mrs. Gray?” Neal demanded, insulted for the boys.

  “This isn’t your concern, my lord,” Thea snapped, even as her youngest answered, “The lady. Mrs. Gray. She took all our money. We don’t have any.”

  “Chris, quiet,” Jonny ordered.

  His brother’s response was to bury his face in his mother’s skirts but not before he explained, “We can’t catch her. She’s gone.”

  Jonny was furious that his order had been ignored. He took a step toward his brother, but Thea’s hand on his shoulder stayed him, and Neal was reminded of his own battles with his brother. He and Harry were as close as two brothers could be and as far apart.

  “Who is this Mrs. Gray?” Neal asked again, ready to charge after the woman.

  Thea said, “I am handling the matter, my lord. This is none of your affair. Is there some outstanding business between us you wished to convey? Although I don’t understand why there should be.” She’d started down the last of the steps, brushing him aside as she made her way through the open apartment door, shooing her boys in ahead of her. They obeyed, the oldest taking the youngest’s hand. Seeing they were safe, she turned, blocking Neal from entering the flat by leaning one hand on the door. “I thought I made myself very clear this afternoon.”

  “You did,” Neal said.

  “Then we have nothing else to say to each other,” she informed him crisply.

  “Actually, we do. You misunderstood me in Sir James’s office. I am serious in my need for a wife, and you are not in a position to toss aside opportunities,” he said, pointing to the empty wooden box she held in her arms.

  Her chin lifted. A flash of new insult lit her eyes.

  “A moment of your time,” Neal pressed. “That’s all I ask.”

  “A moment is too much,” she answered.

  Her tart reply ignited Neal’s own temper. “Every inch the duke’s daughter, aren’t you, Lady Thea? Well, think about your sons and don’t be foolish. I need your help and you need mine. Let’s keep the past behind us.”

  The lines of her mouth flattened. “Your request is impossible to honor. That talk about a curse—”

  “It’s true.”

  She rolled her eyes and reached for the door to close it.

  Neal blocked the action with his arm. “I know it sounds impossible,” he said, “but I’m not known for being a frivolous man. Why would I make such a thing up?”

  “I haven’t a notion, my lord. Now, if you will please go?”

  “Once you’ve heard me out.”

  For a long moment they were at a standstill. The set of her mouth told him she would like nothing more than to push him down the stairs and out of her life.

  Well, he wasn’t going, and he didn’t know why, but it was now very important that she hear his story.

  She sighed her capitulation. “All right. Explain yourself, although I’m not in the mood for explanations. You would be wise to postpone this conversation.” She turned and walked into the apartment.

  “Why are you so angry with me, Thea?” he said.

  She looked back at him with suspicion and then frowned. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” Neal asked, closing the door behind him. Her sons still stood together, the oldest watching him warily. The youngest yawned.

  Thea set the box on a wooden table. There were three chairs around the table, an unfortunate-looking settee, a serviceable cupboard. Everything was clean and neat and, in spite of the scant furnishings, it felt like a home. There was a stack of books on the cupboard and a slate board with chalk. Two horses carved out of wood had been placed there as well. They had leather saddles and bridles and appeared to be cherished toys.

  She removed her gloves and started untying the ribbons of her hat as she said, “You disappeared on me years ago. I went to the stream, and you didn’t show—without any explanation, my lord. You stopped coming, and I didn’t know if it was something I said or did. I feared you had taken ill, until the servants said they had seen you out and about.”

  “It was the curse,” he said.

  “The curse? What, you’ve been cursed so that you cannot act politely to your friends?”

  Her barb stung. “You’ve developed a sharp tongue, my lady,” he said.

  “It’s the consequence of marriage, my lord,” she shot back. “I’m not as gullible as I was when we were younger.”

  “Then hear me out. I don’t ask that your mind is open, Mrs. Martin, but I’d like to finish a thought without your ‘wisdom’ being tossed at me.”

  She didn’t like a touch of sharpness tossed right back at her. She placed her hands on her hips, her hat still on her head, the ribbon
s hanging down. “I don’t have time to dally, my lord.”

  “Then let me pay you for your time,” he challenged. “Provided you will let me speak.”

  “I don’t think you could afford me,” she answered. “Furthermore, after all this time, I truly am no longer interested in your excuses.”

  “For a woman without a shilling to her name, you are very proud.”

  “I’m still the daughter of a duke,” she replied tightly.

  “I am a wealthy man,” he returned. “I want what I want and will settle for no less.”

  “And you must have my help?” she said, her disbelief clear.

  His gaze drifted to the boys, who listened attentively to all that was being said. Did they understand? Could children understand the arguments of adults?

  Bringing his eyes back to her, he answered, “Yes.”

  “Unfortunately, you will be disappointed. I choose not to work with you,” she said, and he could have ground his teeth in frustration.

  “You are so foolish,” he said almost under his breath, but of course she heard it.

  For a second, Thea appeared ready to breathe fire—

  “Mother, I’m hungry,” the youngest boy said.

  “Christopher, one moment,” his mother answered.

  “No,” Neal countermanded her, seizing upon an idea. “I’m hungry as well. Why don’t we discuss this over dinner?” He’d be moving the lioness from her lair, and then she’d have to listen to him with a reasonable state of mind, all past grudges set aside. “Let me take all of you to dinner.”

  “That isn’t necessary—,” she started, ready to refuse his invitation.

  “Have you lads been to the Clarendon Hotel?” he interrupted her, brazenly taking the argument straight to her children.

  “The what?” Christopher asked. His older brother looked to their mother, not answering Neal without her approval.

  Neal lowered himself to their level. “They have a French chef at the Clarendon who truly is a marvel. And there is nothing more fun than a small outing.”

  Jonny had placed his arm around his younger brother as if holding him back. Neal pressed his case. “Jacques makes a poulet en croute that is food of the gods.” His mouth was watering just thinking of it.

  Thea laughed, the sound bitter. “They don’t know what you are talking about, my lord. They’ve been raised on my meager cooking. Talk to them of a rarebit and they’ll understand.”

  “You cook?” Neal repeated in surprise and then realized it was a ridiculous question. All of this—the boys, the squalor, the married name Mrs. Martin—was a surprise. The girl he’d known had been raised in luxury.

  It was Christopher who saved him. “Do you have a horse?”

  “Chris, stop talking,” Jonny said, giving his younger brother’s shoulder a jerk.

  Neal put out his hand to steady the boy and said, “I have many.”

  Now he had Jonny’s attention as well.

  “How many horses do you have?” Christopher asked.

  “More than I can ride by myself,” Neal assured him. “And my brother is in the Horse Guard.”

  “Horse Guard?” Jonny repeated with the same awe that pilgrims reserved for a religious shrine.

  “He’s one of the barracks officers,” Neal said.

  “What color is his horse?” Christopher demanded.

  “A bay,” Neal said. “His name is Ajax.”

  Christopher broke free of his brother’s hold and ran to the cupboard for his horse. He held it up. “This is my horse. His name is Regal. My mother had a horse named Regal.”

  “Yes,” Neal said. “I remember Regal. He was a good pony.”

  “Mother says he was very fast.”

  “She and Regal beat me and my pony in every race,” Neal confirmed.

  Jonny glanced at his mother as if trying to picture her flying along the ground in a race.

  Thea came over to her sons. “Please, boys, we need to let Lord Lyon leave—”

  “What are the names of your other horses?” Christopher cut in as if he hadn’t heard her speak, and he might not have. Neal remembered a time when he was that enthusiastic about life.

  “It would take a while for me to tell you all of them,” Neal said. “However, I have two waiting outside that you lads should meet. Would you like to see them?”

  “Yes.” The word practically burst out of Jonny. Christopher nodded his head vigorously. He started toward the door, holding his wood horse in front of him.

  “Wait,” Neal cautioned. “We need permission from your mother. We could even have a ride in my coach, if your mother would let us go to the Clarendon for our dinner.”

  Two pleading sets of eyes turned as one toward Thea, not, she knew, because of the treat of patronizing one of the finest public dining rooms in the city but because of the opportunity of a coach ride.

  “Please, Mother,” Jonny whispered.

  “I want to go,” Christopher said with his delightful candor.

  Thea stood in indecision. Neal had circumvented her wishes by catering to her horse-mad sons, and he was unrepentant.

  “I don’t know,” she hedged. “I don’t know that it is proper for a lady to go to the Clarendon with a man who isn’t her husband.”

  Neal made an impatient sound. “Women dine at the Clarendon. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Yes, they are accompanied by friends or their husbands, but you have two of the most upstanding chaperones of all. Your sons.” Her boys stood up a bit straighter at his words.

  Thea’s gaze met his, and he saw that she really did want to go. He wondered how long it had been since Thea had participated in society for the pleasure of it and not as a means to help her small family survive.

  She breathed deep to register her annoyance, then released it before saying, “Very well. This one time. Go don your hats and coats.”

  She didn’t have to repeat the order. Her sons charged off with cheers of excitement.

  Thea retied the bonnet ribbon beneath her chin. “Unfair,” she said to Neal.

  “But necessary,” he assured her, quite proud of himself. She needed this outing. He knew it. “We will talk, Thea.” He paused and then added quietly, “You were important to me.”

  She looked away.

  The boys joined them. They had matching coats and wide brimmed hats that were exactly the sort any child of the gentry would wear. Christopher was so excited that he was having trouble putting his coat on. Neal helped and then opened the door. The boys fairly ran down the stairs.

  “Wait,” their mother warned them. “You know the rules.”

  Her sons came to a halt and stood like two racehorses anxious to take off out of the gate.

  “You must be gentlemen at all times,” Thea chided and, after locking the door, went down the stairs to take their hands.

  Neal followed, rather enjoying the boys’ excitement.

  On the street, Thea kept a firm hold on her sons. There was much activity, mostly neighbors sitting on the stoops and in the doorways of surrounding buildings. Christopher tried to gallop, and Jonny had to try it a step or two.

  Harry and Neal used to play that game of horses when they were the ages of Thea’s boys. Margaret had played too when the nanny would let her. They had spent hours at Morrisey Meadows, the family’s country estate, setting up jumps and then trotting or galloping over them.

  Funny, but it had been years since he’d thought of the good parts of his childhood.

  “Which way shall we go, my lord?” Thea asked.

  “My coach is at the end of the street. This one was too narrow for it to travel down,” Neal said, pointing to the right. He saw his coachman waiting for him. “Let them go,” he said to Thea. “Bonner is there waiting for them.” Bonner was the name of his coachman, and he already had a small audience of childr
en around him.

  She ignored him, but her sons did not. They were both pulling on her now, anxious to have a look at his coach. She still held fast, until their excitement overcame them. They were pulling too hard, and when they were fifty feet from Bonner, she took Neal’s advice and let them go.

  They ran to the coach. Their first stop was Neal’s matched grays.

  The coach itself was Neal’s pride and joy. His father had designed it out of burled wood. The seats were covered with tufted red velvet. The overall vehicle was smaller than most coaches and very comfortable for town riding. It was so distinctive that his father had never bothered placing a coat of arms on the door. It was unnecessary. Everyone recognized the Lyon when he traveled.

  “They are horse mad,” Thea admitted to Neal, who fell into step beside her, “and I don’t know why, because they haven’t been around many. They’ve always been that way.”

  “We all are at that age,” Neal answered. “And remember, their mother was a bruising rider.”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I did outride you on more than one occasion.”

  “Yes.” He paused a moment and then said, “How was your money stolen?”

  She looked to her sons. Bonner was telling the boys the horses’ names: “Blen and Cully.”

  “Why did you name them that?” Christopher wanted to know.

  “Lord Harry named them, laddies, after famous battles.”

  “He is the one in the Horse Guard, isn’t he, sir?” Jonny asked.

  “Aye, he is,” Bonner answered.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Neal told Thea. “They are in good hands. Bonner will have them feeding the horses molasses bits.”

  She crossed her arms. He sensed she wanted to tell him that how her money was stolen was none of his business. And then she surprised him by saying, “I didn’t leave them alone if that is what you suspect. I would never do that. Those boys mean more to me than my own life. When I received Sir James’s request for an interview, I went to see if Mrs. Hadley upstairs would watch them. She wasn’t at home, but her sister-in-marriage was. I didn’t know Mrs. Gray, and now I feel foolish. Mrs. Gray’s husband had been a vicar. I assumed . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was not happy with herself. “I didn’t know the vicar had been a thief and a drunkard, two traits that have obviously been carried on by his widow. When I returned home after our interview, I discovered the door was open and the boys left alone.”