Loved by the Lyon

by Cameron, Collette

  Disappointment dulled the sparkle in her eyes, and he wavered, wanting to see that brilliant smile that warmed and soothed his soul.

  “I shall also break my fast and sup with you.”

  And there was that winsome smile. Swift and freely given, and his heart took to wing.

  Damned stupid thing.

  “But that is all I can compromise. We go our separate ways.” He fisted his hands to keep from drawing her to him and pressing her head against his heart. “Trust me, Vanessa, when I tell you, it is for the best.”

  “You presume to know what is best for me?” A hint of pink touched her cheeks, but her smile remained in place, though sadness seeped into her eyes, turning them a deep umber. She gave a small shake of her head, and a curl that had escaped its confines fluttered by her ear. “I’ll see you below, Kingston. Never fear that I intend to renege on our temporary arrangement.”

  Jesus, how he loathed those last two words.

  Unable to move, Kingston stood there, appreciating the gentle sway of her generous hips as she glided away, wishing she could be his for all time. And knowing he didn’t deserve her. Could never have her. Not after causing Gabriel’s death.

  Madeline stepped into the hallway, and arms crossed, glared at him, suspicion narrowing her blue eyes. “What, exactly, is going on, Kingston? Is Vanessa your wife or not?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Helmstead Gate

  Three and one-half weeks later

  Vanessa hummed to herself as she applied a dab of perfume behind each ear in preparation for dinner. Bending her mouth into a naughty smile, she applied a drop between her breasts, too.

  She wore a new gown—a shimmering green-blue affair with silver threads woven into the material—that reminded her of a warm breeze blowing across the surface of the ocean on a summer day. The unique fabric changed color depending on the light, and she’d never seen anything quite like it.

  Choosing to wear the gown tonight had nothing to do with her desire to impress Kingston or the new course she’d decided upon this very afternoon.

  Liar, chided her bothersome, but rational, self.

  Fine, she did want to see the glow of masculine appreciation in his eyes when he saw her in the garment.

  Was that so very wrong?

  They were husband and wife, after all.

  Yes, but Vanessa was trying to change the terms of their agreement.

  Indeed, she was.

  For, the truth of it was she’d come to an irrefutable conclusion: There could be no better husband for her than Kingston. Not in ten lifetimes. And since she only had the one, she intended to seduce her husband.

  Patient and kind with his family, Kingston was also quick to smile, give praise and encouragement, and on occasion, tease. Even she wasn’t immune from his playful jesting, which wrinkled the corners of his eyes in a disarming fashion.

  If he wasn’t so dashed pleasing to the eye or didn’t send her pulse and heart into a fitful rhythm each time they were together, she might’ve been able to resist him and her growing feelings toward him.

  For a man who’d known the horrors of war, he’d not barricaded his emotions behind an impenetrable wall. Truth be told, he wasn’t the least afraid to show his affection. His sisters received a kiss hello each morning, and a farewell hug and kiss to their foreheads every evening. He’d grasp his brothers’ hands in a firm handshake as he pulled them in for a warm embrace, too.

  Already Vanessa’s servants adored him, and if there was a single merchant or laborer who had cause to find fault with Kingston, she’d not heard a whisper of it.

  In short, he was everything she could desire in a mate.

  Several times, Vanessa had caught a wistful glint in his eyes as he roved his gaze over her and his family when he bid them all good night.

  He wanted to stay.

  She could see the longing and desire in those blue depths, yet he held himself in restraint. And although she respected and admired his discipline in rigidly sticking to their marriage terms, she wished he wasn’t quite so honorable.

  That smoldering kiss…

  Vanessa curled her toes into her satin slippers as a delicious shudder rippled across her bare shoulders, and she touched a fingertip to her lips. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his warm, soft, smooth mouth upon hers.

  Who knew a man’s mouth could evoke such ardent sensations? Such all-consuming feelings?

  She’d relived every moment of that delicious melding of their mouths each night as she lay in her lonely bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the sounds a house makes at night. With each recollection, she’d fallen a little bit more in love with Kingston. Oh, she’d attempted to caution her silly heart to cease with such girlish silliness until, at last, she stopped doing so.

  In the still, dark hours of the night, Vanessa had come to realize an indisputable truth: the heart had a will of its own when it came to whom it chose to love.

  And hers had picked Kingston Barclay. Former soldier. Future duke. Guardian to five delightful siblings.

  Her husband.

  Shaking out the iridescent folds of her skirts, she smiled, well pleased with the overall effect. Denying the fluttering in her tummy was anything other than nerves would make her a liar. It was a far better thing to take a risk on a grand adventure with him as her spouse than play it safe and wonder what could have been.

  And so, she donned this bold confection of a gown, hoping to drive her unsuspecting husband out of his mind with desire.

  Except for her wedding day and her purple traveling costume, tonight was the first time she’d worn bright colors. Vanessa squared her shoulders and gave her head a little toss of defiance. This was a new chapter in her life, and by continuing to wear mourning weeds, she only reminded herself of her losses.

  One had a choice in this life: to look to the future and embrace whatever joy and happiness it might hold, or stay stuck in the past with all of its sorrows and regrets, which far too often morphed into bitterness and resentment.

  Vanessa had chosen the former and hoped—Lord above how she hoped—to convince Kingston to do the same with her. To remain married and experience life’s pleasures and burdens together. They complimented each other in so many ways. How could she not love the man her brother had deemed his best friend since they were in short pants?

  And if Kingston could love Gabriel as he had, why couldn’t he also come to love Vanessa?

  Allowing her eyelids to drift shut, she envisioned holding a chubby, fair-haired boy with his father’s blue eyes and contagious smile. She’d like lots of babies—Kingston’s children.

  For over three weeks, Kingston had been pleasant, cordial even, but he treated her in the manner a wizened monk or ancient eunuch would have done. He only touched her when absolutely necessary, and only as briefly as politesse dictated. It was almost as if he didn’t trust himself, and tonight, she meant to put that theory to the test.

  With the help of this gown, a new hairstyle, and a little harmless flirtation. Well, perhaps not so innocuous flirtation. Vanessa did want to succeed in enticing her handsome husband into her bed, after all.

  These past days had been a whir of continuous activity. The expected journey to London had not manifested as she simply hadn’t had the time. Between refurbishing Quail Hollow, overseeing Helmstead Gate, numerous shopping excursions, and everything else that went along with transforming her new siblings’ lives, she’d scarcely had time to pen a letter to her dearest friends, Rayne, Duchess of Kincade, and Everleigh, Duchess of Sheffield.

  Though slightly older than Vanessa, both women had been unfailingly kind to her and had become as close as sisters.

  Gabriel had been eight years her senior, and after he’d joined the army and while Owen was off being a wastrel, she’d felt much like an only child. The truth of it was, Vanessa wasn’t accustomed to the almost constant commotion that commenced with having five young people about. Make that five young people, two energetic
dalmatian puppies, and six romping kittens.

  Grinning, she shook her head.

  It was a delightful sort of chaos.

  Originally, Vanessa had acquired the dogs as her pets, but Paxton and Gareth had formed such an emotional bond with them, she’d decided to wait to obtain a dog for herself. Besides, the six kittens were always in some sort of mischief.

  Dorena could be credited with the latter. She’d found the mewling litter alone and unattended in the stables. Either their mother had abandoned them, or more likely, she’d met an unfortunate end.

  Dorena had insisted on mothering the foundlings. Such a transformation had occurred in Vanessa’s youngest sister-in-law as she cared for the little orange, white, and black puffs of fur, it was hard to believe that three short weeks ago, she’d been starchy and unfriendly.

  Vanessa’s friendship with Madeline had blossomed once more, and Rebecca had become a dear friend, too. Her impish brothers-in-law, still a bit shy and awkward around her, had won Vanessa’s affections as had the slightly more taciturn Dorena.

  Whenever Vanessa’s thoughts migrated to September when her time with the Barclays was to end—and they invariably did—she ruthlessly quashed them. Instead of regretting that nearly a month had already passed, she instead elected to be optimistic.

  Five months remained in which to woo her husband.

  Every now and again, she’d catch Madeline watching her, a contemplative expression on her pretty face before she’d whisk it away and replace her reverie with a bright smile. And inevitably, Vanessa wondered if her sister-in-law questioned why the newlyweds not only didn’t share a bedchamber, but also didn’t even sleep under the same roof.

  Oh, the excuses Kingston supplied were viable, if not entirely convincing.

  “There’s too much risk in leaving the house unattended,” he’d declared while glancing at his timepiece as if he couldn’t wait to depart. After snapping the pocket watch closed and returning it to his waistcoat, he’d scratched his nose. “Someone might steal the construction materials or sneak into the house and finding it uninhabited, ransack the place.”

  “Couldn’t servants be assigned to guard Quail Hollow?” Dorena had asked when informed of the living arrangements, her keen gaze suspicious as it drifted between her brother and Vanessa.

  “No. They are needed here,” Kingston stated firmly. “Vanessa has a stepbrother who would do her harm.” He’d looked to each of his brothers and sisters in turn, and Madeline’s eyes had gone round as if she’d suddenly comprehended something.

  Did she suspect he’d married Vanessa to protect her?

  “She is part of our family now,” he said without glancing at her. “And we protect our own, don’t we?”

  How Vanessa wished he meant more, felt more than those practical words conveyed. Nevertheless, tears had stung her eyes as the Barclays had heartily affirmed their support.

  Even Dorena.

  That had been the first night at Helmstead Gate, and no one had questioned him since.

  However, tonight, the tide was about to change. She wiped suddenly damp palms down the front of her gown.

  No more demurely nodding a pleasant good night and watching Kingston depart for Quail Hollow before seeking her lonely chamber. Or, as he had on several occasions, closeting himself in Helmstead’s study to deal with business and estate matters since Quail Hollow’s was gutted at present.

  At least the new roof was completed, and according to Kingston, any small furry creatures that had once made the house their home had been sent on their way.

  Having a soft heart toward all God’s creatures, Vanessa hadn’t inquired as to precisely what that meant.

  Still gazing in the long glass, she rotated side to side, admiring the way the gown’s folds swished around her ankles. Never before had she felt so elegant or attractive. She was glad she’d let Madeline talk her into purchasing this fabric, and suspected her sister-in-law was playing fairy godmother or matchmaker.

  A small frown crimped Vanessa’s mouth as she considered her revealing decolletage. Possessing a neckline a trifle lower than she was accustomed to, the bodice emphasized her generous breasts swelling above the bodice. She’d seen far more skin exposed in London, but she’d never dared be so bold.

  Canterbury proved to be a tremendous resource, and while the shops weren’t as prestigious as those on Bond Street, they’d been more than sufficient to outfit the six Barclay siblings in a manner that would no longer cause them chagrin.

  Kingston fussed and huffed he didn’t need any new clothes, but Vanessa had said if he refused to be fitted, she’d simply take his old clothes to the tailor. She needn’t have worried her husband was a fortune hunter.

  The man could stretch a coin farther than anyone she’d ever met, and he made her feel quite the spendthrift when she’d always considered herself quite frugal and wise with funds. True, she’d spent a considerable amount to date. However, considering how insufficient the Barclays’ wardrobes had been and the need to replace practically everything at Quail Hollow, she thought she’d done quite well economizing.

  Kingston needn’t know Vanessa showed him only a portion of the invoices and bills. Naturally, after the tension of renovating was finished, she’d reveal all. She wouldn’t keep secrets from her husband.

  For certain, a few weeks in London were in order before Madeline’s and Rebecca’s come outs. Nevertheless, there was plenty of time to prepare for that momentous occasion.

  Gareth and Paxton required proper togs for Harrow—their choice of school next year.

  Dorena’s wardrobe would also need expanding before she attended Mrs. Avelina Crablace’s School for Young Ladies—also her decision because of the institution’s emphasis on the sciences.

  Nonetheless, there was no rush as the three youngest Barclays wouldn’t start instruction for a few months yet. It was too late to enroll them this year. This meant they had the whole summer before them, and Vanessa had many pleasant outings and events planned. Once the current bustle subsided, that was.

  This morning, during her daily after-breakfast meeting with Kingston in the study, Vanessa had insisted on sponsoring Madeline’s and Rebecca’s Seasons. And, quite naturally, if she did so, it would be most unfair to not also pay for the boys’ and Dorena’s tuition, as well as other expenses required for their education.

  Kingston had been less than receptive to the suggestions.

  Vanessa had also broached the subject of assuming the financial burden for an additional wing at Quail Hollow. After all, shouldn’t those with plenty do for those who lacked?

  Kingston had strenuously objected, stating his family unequivocally would not abuse Vanessa’s generous nature. However, his argument had been cut short when the slight of frame, but garish of attire—burnt orange, squash yellow, and fuchsia were never meant to be worn together, except perhaps as bird s feathers—Monsieur LeTessier arrived for his thrice-weekly dance instruction.

  “This conversation is not over, Vanessa. We shall finish it tonight.” Kingston had gritted out, lowering his head to speak directly into her ear, lest any nearby servant overhear their exchange.

  Instead of being shocked or peeved at the intensity of his tone, she’d only been able to focus on the warmth of his breath teasing her ear, and how utterly delicious he smelled.

  Shaving lather. Horse. Leather. And a hint of mint.

  Gazing into the cheval mirror, Vanessa adjusted a curl, and at last satisfied with her appearance, she left her bedchamber. Not, however, before casting a longing glance toward the door leading to what should’ve been the gentlemen of the house’s bedchamber.

  Soon, she promised herself. Soon Kingston, we will truly be man and wife.

  Chapter Twelve

  Three hours later

  Through half-closed eyes, Kingston observed his wife as, amidst much laughter and light-hearted jesting, she played whist with Madeline, Gareth, and Rebecca. Dorena occupied herself with her rambunctious kittens, and Paxto
n lay upon the floor before the hearth, reading Gulliver’s Travels.

  The boy had his nose in one book or another since moving to Helmstead Gate and availing himself of the substantial library. Remus and Romulus, the fat dalmatian puppies with their needle-like teeth, finally slept on either side of him.

  Kingston’s boots sported several scratches and teeth marks where the little beasts had gleefully chewed upon his footwear when he’d sat down this evening. Precisely why he hadn’t worn the new pair of Hessians delivered last week. Hessians he had no knowledge of until they’d been presented by his wife, two bright patches of color on her porcelain cheeks.

  He suspected she was of the opinion it was better to ask forgiveness for overstepping, rather than permission. A grin pulled the edges of his mouth upward. And by damn, he couldn’t bring himself to be perturbed by her audacity.

  The daring little minx.

  Vanessa reported that in the past fortnight, no less than two and forty items, from shoes to rugs to plants—even a feather duster and three baskets—had met gruesome fates due to the spotted terrors presently curled into slumbering little balls.

  Kingston couldn’t recall ever feeling so content himself.

  No, not content, per se.

  In point of fact, his unappeased sexual desires didn’t lend for any degree of peacefulness or serenity. He was randy as a stag in the rut. He shifted slightly, grateful his crossed legs hid the hard bulge of his arousal. A small groan escaped him, and Madeline speared him a keen, inquisitive look.

  As if he’d choked on his brandy, he pretended to cough behind his hand.

  The corners of her eyes flexed.

  She wasn’t having any of it.

  Christ.

  He lifted his tumbler in mocking salute before taking a healthy swig of the spirit. It was good stuff—a superior French cognac. He was fairly certain Vanessa purchased it as well as the other quality spirits for his enjoyment.