Taming Beauty

by Lynne Barron

  “Good God, was that what all that folderol on the terrace was about?” Jasper asked on a snarl of laughter. “You wagered Dunaway you could scare me off with nothing more than a few lecherous fairy tales?”

  “With the truth,” Lilith replied with a snarl of her own. “I wagered I could convince you to surrender Dunaway’s debt and bid the lot of us a hasty return to London, using only the unvarnished truth as a weapon.”

  “And instead, I surrendered you.” Jasper’s hands came up to wrap around her arms. “And you surrendered your home.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lilith exclaimed. “Charmed Crossing is not my home. It is nothing more than a ramshackle old house on a plot of land worthless to anyone beyond the two men currently racing to Cornwall. Which, I might add, is precisely what you ought to be doing just now.”

  “I won’t sell your home out from under you.”

  “Are you not listening to a word I say?”

  “Your home, your house, your dowry. Call it what you will,” Jasper replied, his fingers flexing as if he might shake her. “The fact is, Charmed Crossing belongs to you and you cannot simply give it to me.”

  “Can you truly be so obtuse?” Lilith demanded. “I did not give you Charmed Crossing. I gave you a choice! A choice about your future, your estate, your family. Most importantly, a choice in whom you take as your wife.”

  “If the choice is mine, I choose you.”

  “You cannot choose me,” Lilith protested, what little remained of her composure slowly slipping its mooring. “I will not allow you to take the choice I’ve given you and throw it back in my face in the name of honor or duty or whatever other notions you’ve got rattling around in that thick head of yours.”

  “Damn it, Lilith,” he growled, and when the shake came it was nothing more than a gentle jostling. “You must know how I feel—”

  “Do not say it.” Lilith wriggled against the manacle of his hands wrapped around her arms, panicked by the direction the conversation had taken, by the path he seemed determined to travel, never mind the road was lined with thorns and bogs and all manner of danger. “Go home, my lord. Auction off Charmed Crossing on your front lawn and don’t settle for a penny under thirty thousand pounds. Reclaim Northridge, restore your family name, marry a sweet, innocent Cornish miss and fill your nursery with sticky-fingered, chattering, carrot-topped children.”

  Jasper made no reply, simply looked at her from beneath lowered brows, studying her as one might an insect under a magnifying glass. A grasshopper, perhaps.

  “Oh for mercy sake,” Lilith cried, irritated and aggravated and enraged beyond all measure. “Listen to me, you blundering buffoon! Gwendolyn sold my virginity to the highest bidder and all of London knows it. You would have known it had you not exiled yourself to Cornwall for the sake of your bloody lost honor, which wasn’t lost so much as stolen by Lord Morrissey. The very same man I took to my bed in a mad scheme to preserve an elderly duke’s pride when my mother suggested selling my blasted maidenhead a second time. Good God, it’s too damned ludicrous for words, but such is my life!”

  Jasper let loose a gruff chuckle. “Christ, you’ve a mouth on you when in a temper.”

  Lilith was thrown off-course by his sudden amusement, her fury falling away to leave her breathless and befuddled. “I’ve a mouth on me even at the best of times.”

  “That you do,” he agreed, his gaze falling to her lips.

  “Don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “I’m afraid I used up my meager allotment of bravery and benevolence on your terrace at Breckenridge,” she whispered even as she lifted up to her toes, almost aligning their mouths. “Please don’t make it all have been for naught.”

  “Ah, Lilith, my contrary beauty, it was all for naught the moment you crossed into Cornwall,” Jasper murmured, his breath mingling with hers, the intimacy of it shaking the foundations of her resistance. “My entire life will be for naught if you are not there to share it. I love you, Lilith Aberdeen.”

  Lilith blinked furiously against the sudden moisture gathering in her eyes. “Why must you always turn up stubborn when I am attempting to exercise a modicum of prudence?”

  “Throw prudence to the wind.” Jasper wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his big chest, nearly lifting her feet off the floor. “Marry me.”

  “You truly are a beast,” Lilith replied on a watery laugh. “And perhaps a bit mad to tempt me so when you know I was not raised to resist temptation.”

  “Then don’t resist, love.”

  “The scandal would be of biblical proportions.” The warning was as much for her sake as his, for she could feel the last vestiges of resistance crumbling.

  “No more than a slightly soiled bedsheet to add to the line of dirty linens waving about,” he assured her. “Both yours and mine.”

  “I have noticed gossip is no match for a stiff, Cornish breeze.” Gracious, that sounded remarkably as if she meant to accept his daft proposal.

  Jasper must have thought so as well. His big body went still, his eyes shining with something both soft and fierce. “Is that a yes?”

  “I suppose you’ll want that nursery full of boisterous little red-haired urchins, forever under foot and up to mischief?” Lilith twined her arms up over his shoulders and sifted her fingers through his hair.

  “I thought you’d taken a liking to the little creatures,” he replied with a frown, though not quite the pout she adored. “But if you’d rather not bear my children, I’ll do my best to prevent it, if you’ll only say yes.”

  “And I imagine we’ll live out the rest of our days in that wild wasteland you call home?” Truly, if she possessed so much as a smidgeon of compassion, she’d put the poor man out of his misery. “Foregoing all but the occasional visit to London?”

  Jasper’s frown dipped into a scowl. “We’ll make the journey twice yearly, if you will but say yes, woman.”

  “If I know you, you’ll insist upon a reading of the banns and a wedding in the quaint little church surrounded by dancing daffodils, with the entire village there to bear witness to the misalliance of the decade.”

  “Damn it all, we can elope to Scotland today. Just say yes.” Lovely, simply lovely, his gray eyes shooting sparks as he attempted to hang on to his temper.

  “I’ll be reduced to wearing ready-made gowns stripped right off the mannequin in the funny little shop. What was it you called it?”

  “The mercantile, and you needn’t purchase ready-made gowns, seeing as we’ll be journeying to Town twice yearly if you would but say yes already.”

  “You’ll likely invite my sisters, all five, soon to be six, to country house parties every autumn. Goodness, I’ll be tormented with pall-mall on the lawn and romps over the moors.”

  “Say yes, and you’ll never see hide nor hair of the ladies, though I make no promises in regards to your grandmother.” And there it was, a full-fledged pout, lower lip pushed out and heavy brows drawn low over molten eyes. “Alabaster Sinclair is a feisty bit of muslin, same as her granddaughter.”

  “And Dunaway—”

  “For Christ sake, what will it take to make you say yes?” His deliciously gravelly voice echoed around the empty library, thrilling Lilith to the core and amusing her to no end. “Only tell me what you want and it is yours, if you will just say you will marry me!”

  “I want all of it,” she replied on a gurgle of laughter. “A wedding in the little stone church with your Cornish brethren belting out hymns. A life in the country, chasing grasshoppers over our land, with sticky-fingered, grubby faced children clutching my skirts and chattering incessantly. House parties with your family and mine, including Dunaway, spending afternoons playing pall-mall and evenings trading bawdy stories across the dinner table. I even want a ready-made dress or two, though only day dresses. No evening gowns, as a baron’s wife must adhere to certain standards of elegance.”

  “Lilith, my love,” Jasper murmured, his eye
s going soft and a smile teasing his lips. “Are you saying yes?”

  “I love you.” Lilith gave him the words he truly needed to hear, if not the ones he was after. “Quite madly, in fact.”

  “And you’ll marry me?” Jasper hefted Lilith clear off the floor and pressed a kiss to her lips, soft and sweet and infinitely gentle.

  “Yes, you daft man, I’ll marry you,” Lilith replied, smiling against his lips. “After all, I led you down the primrose path, didn’t I?”

  Epilogue

  “Which path shall we take?” Lilith raised one hand to shade her eyes as she looked up at the jagged line of the cliffs. “Meg said there are two, a short, easy path leading down to the beach and a long, difficult path climbing to the highest bluff.”

  “Which would you prefer?” Jasper asked his bride of less than two hours, though he imagined he already knew the answer.

  “Why, the tricky path that puts me on top of the world, of course.”

  “Are you certain you want to traipse along the cliffs in your wedding finery?” Jasper reached for her hand, surprised when she met him halfway, lacing her fingers through his and giving him a little squeeze.

  “I’m certain I want to steal a few moments alone with my husband,” the new Lady Malleville replied with a sultry laugh. “And Lord knows we aren’t likely to find much privacy in a house bursting at the seams with our various relations.”

  “We might have freed up a chamber had we simply allowed your grandmother and her fellow to bunk down together.” He led her to the foot of the dirt trail, carefully maneuvering around a boulder and a patch of slippery marsh grass.

  “Jasper, we have six innocent, unmarried girls under our roof. It is up to us to have a care for the proprieties.”

  His heart gave an odd, almost painful extra thump only to speed up as if marking an altered tempo, an altogether new rhythm. We. Our. Us.

  “In fact, I rather think Kate is enjoying sharing a chamber with Annalise, as they haven’t seen one another since the unfortunate tree climbing incident,” Lilith continued, blithely unaware she’d knocked his world askew yet again. “Honestly, I remember Miss Beaumont as having a bit more forbearance than to expel Kate and Harry simply for climbing out the window to rescue their sister from a marriage far, far better than she deserved.”

  “I thought they climbed down the window to ride to your rescue,” he pointed out.

  Lilith waved her free hand in a graceful arch. “La, it hardly matters which sister they intended to rescue. It’s all part and parcel of the same happily-ever-after.”

  Jasper pondered her words as they made their way slowly up the steep incline hand in hand. He’d argued against Lilith staying on in London when he’d returned to Breckenridge to act as auctioneer to Cheltenham and his brother, known to the elderly contingent of London as Wherewithal. But it seemed as if the weeks she’d spent in London had softened her heart where her sisters were concerned. Even toward the prickly, haughty Harry, who’d returned from Scotland with Alabaster and her twin, the scandalous Bathsheba Sinclair, only just barely in time for the wedding.

  “How did Dunaway manage to spirit the Ladies Priscilla, Annalise and Madeline from London?”

  “I rather doubt the countess knows the girls have left Town, let alone journeyed to Cornwall,” Lilith replied. “Apparently, the countess has eyes and ears only for the long-awaited heir. Poor little William, he’s likely to be spoiled to the point of petulance. A terribly unattractive quality in a man, petulance.”

  “But pouting isn’t?”

  “Not the way you wear it, darling,” she drawled. “All masculine bluster and banked virility just primed to break free of all restraint. Why, it’s quite dastardly, how devastatingly handsome you are in the midst of a full-fledged tantrum.”

  Jasper barked out a laugh, amused and not a little bit flattered by her words.

  “Truly, Jasper, how you managed to roam wild until I had the good sense to tame you is one of life’s greatest mysteries.”

  “Tamed me, have you?”

  “Never fear, I shall allow you to run quite wild from time to time, even run amok on occasion.”

  “As I did last night?” He paused a moment when they reached the top of the cliff, allowing her to come abreast of him. “I know I was a bit rough with you but, hell, it had been nearly a month.”

  “You were quite the beast last night,” she agreed, peering at him from the corner of her eye. “I never knew two people could make love in such a position, let alone how positively divine it would feel. And here I thought my education well-rounded.”

  “Your education, along with the rest of you, is wickedly well-rounded.” Turning to the left, he set off to take the well-trodden path running along the jagged bluff.

  Lilith’s hand slipped from his and he spun around to find her standing as still as a marble statue but for the riot of short, spiky curls whipping on the wind and the skirts of her wedding gown, a confection of gossamer thin cream lace over palest green silk without a ruffle or bow, tangling around her legs.

  “My God,” she whispered, and again, “My God.”

  “Lilith?”

  “It’s…I never…look at it…Jasper…it’s so…I can’t…”

  “Have you never seen the ocean?” he asked, though the answer was all too obvious.

  “I’ve seen rivers and ponds…but this…it’s so…vast…endless…I feel dizzy…or something rather like it.”

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked in alarm.

  In answer, Lilith walked to the edge of the precipice and peered down at the waves lapping on the beach below. “I thought the water would be still and glassy. Why would I think such a thing when I’ve heard the waves crashing against the rocks?”

  Jasper reclaimed her hand and held tight lest she lose her precarious balance on the rocky embankment. Positioning himself at her side to block the worst of the wind, he studied her profile as she looked out over the sea.

  Thus, they stood for long minutes, Lilith entranced by the ocean, Jasper entranced by the woman.

  Until a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Lilith, love?” Jasper whispered, undone by that single tear.

  “It quite makes one feel inconsequential, doesn’t it?” Lilith’s voice was so soft he had to strain to hear the words over the crashing of the waves.

  “There is nothing inconsequential about you, Lilith Eve Marie Grimley, Baroness Malleville,” Jasper replied around the lump in his throat. “Nor will there be anything inconsequential about our life together.”

  “We’re going to be blissfully happy, aren’t we?” Lilith’s fingers tightened around his and her head came to rest on his upper arm as naturally as if she’d been placing it there, just so, for years.

  Jasper Edward Grimley, the Beast of Breckenridge pressed a kiss to his bride’s wind-tousled, cropped curls. “Blissfully happy.”

  And so they were.

  Blissfully happy between bouts of sheer madness, what with Dunaway and his daughters forever embroiling them in one scheme or another.

  All of them ending happily ever after.

  The End

  About Lynne Barron

  Lynne Barron always wanted to be a writer, if only she could decide what to write. Everyone told her write about what you know. It wasn’t until she married her wonderfully romantic husband that she was able to follow the advice. Lynne lives in Florida with her husband, son and a menagerie of rescued pets.

  Lynne enjoys hearing from her readers. Please feel free to contact her at LynneBarron06@gmail.com or on her website lynnebarron.com.

  Books by Lynne Barron

  Idyllwild Series

  Portrait of Passion

  Widow’s Wicked Wish

  Unraveling the Earl

  Pretty Poison

  My Darling Gunslinger

  The Mad Earl’s Daughter

  Taming Beauty

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  Dear Reader,


  Thank you for taking the time to read Taming Beauty. If you enjoyed Lilith and Jasper’s story, please take a moment to post a review. Even one or two sentences on Amazon, Goodreads or your favorite book review site can make a world of difference to an author, as well as to readers in search of their next great story.

  If you enjoy Sensual Historical Romance, please read on for a sneak peek at Portrait of Passion, Idyllwild Book One.

  Thank you,

  Lynne Barron

  Excerpt Portrait of Passion

  Prologue

  Chateau De Fontaine

  On the outskirts of Paris

  March 1827

  Beatrice watched him from the shadowy alcove, half-hidden behind a leafy green fern in a tall gilded planter. The handsome young man in a peacock-blue waistcoat and fine gray breeches wandered around the room, stopping to flirt with a pretty young lady here, to chat with a dissolute poet there. His artfully tousled blond curls gleamed in the soft light from a hundred candles. His merry blue eyes twinkled when he laughed. He laughed often.

  Just like his father. Everything about him reminded Beatrice of the father. From his tall, muscular frame to his rich voice with its clipped upper-crust English accent, he was his father’s son.

  Only the eyes were different. The former Earl of Hastings had possessed the deepest, warmest brown eyes, eyes a sheltered and naïve girl could not help but trust. The young Earl of Hastings’ eyes were a vibrant blue, as blue as the English sky on a cloudless summer day.

  Beatrice waited. She waited for her rapid heartbeat to slow, she waited for her sluggish brain to speed up, she waited for her limbs to cease trembling. If there was one thing Miss Beatrice Morgan excelled at, it was waiting. She had been waiting for nearly a decade for the chance to reclaim her life, the life only this young nobleman could return to her.

  Suddenly the earl looked away from the evening’s hostess with whom he was conversing. He looked up and across the room. As if he sensed her presence in the shadows, his gaze found her across the room.