by Tarah Scott
“You have an uncanny knack for business that almost borders on black magic. Perhaps you are also a magician when it comes to love. Have you matches for the other sisters?”
He gave a single nod.
“What of you and Lady Chastity? Her father doesn’t have enough money to tempt you and I’ve never known you to care about a title.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured. “But Sir Stirling James, Duke of Roxburgh, has a nice ring to it.”
Chapter Six
A knock on the door of the parish chapel’s drawing room snapped Chastity’s gaze onto the plain wooden door. She stared for a heartbeat, then looked at Lucy, who sat on the settle near the window.
“Open the door,” Lucy urged.
“This is madness,” Chastity said.
Lucy silently agreed. Two days ago, she’d danced with a man who clearly had no desire to marry her. This morning, she wore an ivory gown as her wedding dress and she was about to walk down the aisle to pledge herself to this stranger.
More knocking.
“Please, open the door Chastity,” Lucy said.
Chastity looked more distressed than Lucy felt, but she did as Lucy wished.
The vicar’s wife stood in the doorway. She was only nineteen-years-old, and she appeared as nervous as the sisters.
“Are you ready, my lady?” She smiled tremulously at Lucy.
“Aye.” Lucy stood. As ready as she would ever be.
The vicar’s wife led them down a short hallway and into the parish foyer. Through the open doors, Lucy glimpsed two dozen guests seated in the ancient pews. She took a deep breath, inhaling cold air that smelled of age, incense, and candle wax. A tremor rippled through her belly. She couldn’t see him, but she knew Baron Delny stood before the vicar at the end of the aisle, waiting for her.
Her father emerged from the chapel and strode toward them. “You may go to your seat, Chastity.”.
She looked at Lucy. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“Chastity,” the duke warned.
“Nae,” she said. “Lucy has a choice in this matter.”
“We did agree to this,” Lucy said. “Papa trusts him, and I trust Papa.”
Chastity started to reply, but the duke shook his head. “Take your seat, or go home.”
“Please.” Lucy touched her arm. “Do not leave.”
Chastity’s mouth thinned. But she nodded and headed toward the chapel. She disappeared.
The duke grasped Lucy’s shoulders and searched her eyes. “I hope you understand why I do this.”
“You want us safely wed.”
“I want you happy,” he said.
She lifted on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I know.”
He nodded, and she was sure she glimpsed moisture in his eyes before he faced the doors and angled his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and they started forward. When they entered the chapel and she caught sight of Baron Delny standing before the pulpit, her heart fluttered. She’d never seen a more beautiful man. His black tailcoat contrasted beautifully with his ivory waistcoat, and his tanned neck encircled by a crisp white cravat made her mouth go dry. They neared the pulpit and the intensity of his gaze caused her to flush. They reached his side and her father kissed her.
“Take care of her or I will shoot you.” Without another word, Papa turned and took three steps to his seat in the front pew.
Lucy stared at him. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. For all his bluster about marrying them off, he was going to miss her.
“Take her right hand,” the minister instructed the baron.
The baron did so and her stomach did a somersault at his gentle touch.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar began, and Lucy started. She was truly getting married.
Was this a dream? Like many of her sex, she wanted a husband, children, a home of her own. But her sisters had yet to marry, and she had assumed—feared—she would have difficulty finding a husband.
“I require and charge you both,” the vicar continued, “as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it.”
Lucy’s heart pounded. Would Chastity challenge the marriage? She tensed in readiness for her sister’s voice to ring out in the small chapel. The baron gently squeezed her hand. She snapped her head up. He smiled down at her with such kindness and understanding that the sudden need to cry rushed to the surface. His brow furrowed and she startled when he lifted a hand and brushed a tear from her cheek. She hadn’t realized she was crying.
The vicar’s eyes flicked to the baron’s hand and pleasure transformed his face. All the guests remained quiet and he went on. “Quinn Ramsey, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Lucy held her breath.
Quinn locked gazes with her and said, “I will.”
The vicar looked at her. “Lucy Hamilton, will thou have this man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” she whispered, and was surprised at the relief that flooded the baron’s expression.
“Have you the ring?” he asked Quinn, and Quinn withdrew a gold band with a three-carat emerald.
Lucy gasped. Had she ever seen anything so beautiful? Her fingers shook as he grasped her left hand and held the ring while he repeated after the vicar, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship—” something flickered in his eyes and she flushed with the thought of what lay ahead for their first night as husband and wife “—and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He slipped the ring on her finger and it seemed to Lucy that her hand suddenly weighed five times its normal weight.
“Have you a ring?” the vicar asked her.
She reached into a small pocket and pulled out a simple gold band. When she grasped the baron’s large hand and repeated in a near whisper the same vow he had made, her stomach did another somersault as she slipped the ring onto his finger.
“Please kneel,” the vicar instructed.
She lifted her skirt and Quinn grasped her hand to steady her kneel, then he knelt beside her.
The vicar looked down at them. “Forasmuch as Quinn Ramsey and Lucy Hamilton have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He closed the book.
Lucy couldn’t bring herself to look at Quinn as he rose, then pulled her to her feet. He kept hold of her hand and they followed the vicar to the register, which lay open on a stand to their left.
Quinn first signed his full name, then she did the same. They faced the guests and Lucy’s gaze met Chastity’s. A strange sense of finality settled over Lucy.
***
Lucy sat beside her husband at the wedding breakfast table, overwhelmed by his attention.
“Would you like more tea?” He lifted a brow, waiting.
She nodded and he filled her cup.
He picked up the platter of ham. “Do you like ham?”
“Yes.”
He smiled and placed two slices on her plate.
“Thank you.” Lucy returned his smile, but she had no appetite and, instead, sipped her tea as everyone else ate ravenousl
y. Except Chastity. Lucy’s heart went out to her sister. Chastity seemed to be waiting for Lucy to reach the end of the plank she walked and fall.
Sir Stirling sat to Chastity’s left. Like the duke, he ate with gusto, but Lucy didn’t miss the worried glance he cast Chastity’s way. She pushed her food around her plate, and Lucy suddenly understood. Chastity might be worried for her, but she also worried for herself. She hadn’t truly expected Sir Stirling to be able to marry Lucy to anyone, much less in two days. All this meant that Chastity was one sister closer to a marriage she didn’t want.
What frightened her so much about marriage? Was it Chastity’s ‘adventure,’ as she called it, with Lord Everson four years ago when he whisked her away to a parson to marry her? Chastity had been twenty, but she hadn’t been a green girl. Lucy was certain Chastity had never been a green girl. She’d often wondered if Chastity had given her innocence to the earl. Lord Everson hadn’t betrayed her—exactly. He was in financial straits, and hadn’t told her. He’d sworn all along that he loved her, but their father forbade the marriage. For some time after the affair, Lucy had wondered if Chastity still loved the earl. Could it be possible she eschewed marriage because she still pined for him? Lucy could find no truth in the idea.
“You haven’t eaten anything, love.”
The baron’s—her husband’s—voice startled Lucy. Had he called her love? He stared at her and she realized he’d said something.
“Oh, I’m not hungry.”
He frowned. “The service was very long. Do you need to rest before we depart for Caenleigh Castle?”
A knot formed in her stomach. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about leaving home. Sadness suddenly weighed down on her. She would miss her family. Oddly, she realized her leaving would be harder on Chastity than her. Understanding struck. Chastity didn’t want her sisters to leave her.
***
The farewells were tearful, and Quinn was surprised when Stirling requested that his bay be readied to leave when Quinn and his wife set out. His wife. God help him.
Stirling shook hands with the duke near the front door steps, then approached Quinn, where he stood waiting beside the carriage.
“Are you ready?” Stirling asked.
Quinn nodded at the carriage. “Lucy’s luggage loaded. She is taking only two bags today. The rest will be sent later.”
Stirling shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Oh.” Quinn could find nothing else to say.
Stirling laughed and clapped him on the back. “You’ll do fine, lad.”
Quinn looked at Lucy, who was hugging Olivia. Three days ago, marriage had been the farthest thing from his thoughts. Now, he couldn’t imagine a future without this woman in his life. He didn’t know her, but he’d glimpsed her keen mind and hidden strength, traits lacking in the women he’d dallied with. He wanted a lifetime to learn everything about her. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
His heart thumped. “Thank you.”
Surprise flickered across Stirling’s face, then he smiled. “I’m pleased you’re happy, Quinn.”
Quinn regarded him. “What of your bride-to-be?”
Stirling released a breath. “She is…a challenge.”
“I’ve never known you to run from a challenge.”
Stirling laughed. “I suspect Lady Chastity will prove to be the greatest challenge I’ve faced yet.”
“Is her father’s title worth all the trouble?”
He snorted. “God, no.”
Lucy and her father turned toward them and she met Quinn’s gaze. His mind muddled. God help him, was the woman going to have this effect on him for the rest of his life? The idea frightened him. How much power would she have over him? Bloody hell, yes, for he would move heaven and hell to make her happy.
They reached the carriage. Lucy hugged her father. The older man released her, then clasped her hand and helped her into the carriage. He looked at Quinn. “Remember what I said. If you hurt her, I will shoot you.” He turned and left.
Quinn stared after him. “A man of few words.”
Stirling nodded. “And he means those words.” The door closed and they were left standing in the early afternoon sun. Stirling faced him. “You had better go. I will call on you in a week.”
Quinn raised a brow. “A week?”
Stirling flashed a smile. “I have another sister to marry off.”
Chapter Seven
L ucy tried not to look at her husband as he stepped into the carriage. To her relief, he pulled the door shut and slid into the seat opposite her. She was embarrassed to admit that while she’d anticipated being held in a man’s arms, now that the moment had arrived and this stranger could lawfully pull her close, she was afraid.
The coach jolted into motion. He’d told her the ride to his home was forty-five minutes. It seemed an interminable amount of time to spend with him alone in such a confined space. What could they possibly talk about? What if he were a bore? What if he found her a bore? Long minutes passed. She wracked her brain for something to say.
“Why did you marry me?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Why did you marry me? You clearly didn’t want a wife. Then you—” Her pulse quickened at the memory of his declaration that he didn’t allow his betrothed to dance the waltz with another man. “For goodness sake, what possessed you to say what you did to Lord Kinlow?”
“Did you wish to dance with him?”
She frowned. “Of course not.”
“Then we are in agreement.”
“We never disagreed,” she said.
“Even better.” He nodded.
What was wrong with him? “Are you ill?”
“Ill? Nae. I’ve never felt better.”
Lucy studied him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
The man was intentionally being obtuse. “Why did you marry me?”
“We were betrothed.”
She gave a soft snort.
He lifted a brow. “Were we not betrothed?
“You did not want to marry me.”
“A man is allowed to change his mind.”
“Rubbish,” she said.
Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “A man isn’t allowed to change his mind?”
“A man doesn’t change his mind about marriage so quickly,” she said.
“Four days ago I would have agreed.”
Lucy considered. “Are you saying you wanted to marry me?”
His expression gentled. “Lass, even Stirling couldn’t have forced me to marry against my will.”
Her throat went dry. “Why then?”
He smiled. “Only God knows why any man wants to marry a woman.”
She stared for an instant, then rolled her eyes. “Heaven help me.”
He grinned and she couldn’t quite prevent an answering half smile.
His expression sobered. “Are you terribly disappointed that your father married you to me?”
“Oh no,” she quickly said. “I am quite pleased, actually.”
A speculative light appeared in his eyes. “Indeed?”
Her cheeks flamed. Why was he looking at her that way? He looked as if he wanted to eat her…or maybe, kiss her. Would she go wild with his kisses?
The carriage lurched. Quinn swung his gaze to the window. The carriage jolted again. Lucy jerked to the side, nearly slamming into the door. Quinn leapt across the seat and dragged her against him an instant before the carriage listed heavily to the left with a loud crack. Lucy was enveloped by the scent of wool, sandalwood soap—and him.
“Whoa!” the coachman shouted.
Lucy buried her face in Quinn’s jacket when the carriage swung perilously to the side. Her heart raced as his arms tightened around her when they slid toward the door. He yanked her onto his lap and twisted in time to shield her as his shoulder struck the side of the carriage. The coach dragged forward another few s
econds, then came to a grinding halt.
“Are you unharmed?” He pulled back and peered down at her.
Lucy nodded, but couldn’t lift her head from his chest. Her heart raced.
The coach tilted slightly and she started.
“It’s just the coachman,” Quinn soothed. “Stay still until he opens the door, love.”
The door opened and the coachman stepped into view. “Are you unharmed, sir?”
Quinn nodded. “Is it safe to move?”
The man nodded. “Aye. The wheel broke, but it’s sitting solidly on the ground now.”
Lucy lifted her head. Her face had gone pale, but otherwise, she appeared, none the worse for wear.
“Are you ready, love?”
Surprise flickered in her eyes and his cock pulsed. He pulled her close and she threw her arms about his neck as he ducked and stepped from the coach. If he wasn’t careful, he would embarrass both of them. How was it possible that she felt so right in his arms? He lowered her feet to the ground. She took a deep breath as she regained her balance and he was certain she clung to him for a heartbeat longer than was necessary.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
She nodded. “Aye.”
“Good.” Quinn turned, took a step to the coach, and inspected the wheel. He squatted for a better look, then frowned. “The wheel simply split apart.” He looked up at Iain. “How deep was the rut we hit?”
“We didnae hit a rut, my lord.” He scratched his chin. “As you say, the wheel just split.”
Quinn ran a finger over the break. “I doubt it can be repaired. We’ll have to replace it.” He rose. They would have to seek help in the nearest village. “Help me disengage the horses from the carriage. We will ride to Ardbuie.”
Once the horses were free and Allen had gotten Lucy’s bags from the coach and tied them to his horse, Quinn returned to her. “I’m sorry, lass, but there are no saddles. You will have to ride with me.”
She smiled and it seemed the world brightened. “It’s no trouble.”
He hoped she would think the same of riding two miles on his lap.
***
Lucy was sure her cheeks were crimson. It had been bad enough when the baron yanked her onto his lap when the carriage broke down. This, however, was far worse. She’d never sat on a man’s lap, and she was surprised at the hard thighs beneath her bottom—and the hard length that pressed against her hip. She kept her gaze on her lap.
