To Tame a Rogue
Page 24
Burke pushed a lock from her cheek. “And you are my heart—and my soul.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I need to get you out of here. Barton could be coming for you. He might blame you for revealing him as a traitor.”
From the doorway, a voice said, “Actually, I blame you both.”
Gemma gazed over Burke’s shoulder and saw Sir William Barton standing there, a gun in his hand. Immediately, Burke pivoted and thrust her behind him. He was tall and broad enough that his frame totally hid her from view.
And Gemma knew exactly what to do.
“Your daughter has nothing to do with this, Barton,” Burke said. “She had no idea I was a crown agent. She only came to visit me last night and was leaving when everyone arrived.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll both die now.”
“You still have time to escape England. Do it,” Burke urged. “I promise I won’t follow you.”
“Your promises mean little to me. I know I’m already a dead man. Every road—every port—will be searched. I will go down fighting. Not swinging from my neck.”
By now, Gemma had lifted her skirts and removed the pistol from where it rested in the strap against her leg. She readied it, placing her finger against the trigger as a calm descended over her. It wouldn’t be as if she shot a man. It would be putting down a rabid dog.
She stepped from behind Burke as her father aimed his weapon. He spotted her and turned slightly, pointing the gun at her.
They fired at the same time—but Gemma felt nothing because Burke turned to block her body. She heard him grunt. He stumbled against her, clutching his shoulder. She dropped her pistol and threw her arms about him but he was too heavy for her to keep upright. She somehow managed to maneuver him to the bed and he collapsed atop it. Blood soaked the left shoulder of his coat.
Pain filled his eye as she brushed his hair back from his brow.
“You’ll be fine,” she said softly. “I’ll go for help.”
“Give me a pillow.”
She reached for one and started to place it behind his head.
“No, put it against my shoulder,” he said gruffly.
She did so and he used his right arm to brace it against the wound.
“Hurry, love,” he said.
Gemma smiled at the endearment. “You’re not getting away from me, Burke Nicholson. Not ever.”
She stepped away and saw her father lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her bullet had pierced his throat. His eyes were wide in death. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she ran from the room, calling for help.
*
Gemma and Burke entered the royal chamber, accompanied by Prime Minister Spencer Perceval and Sir Paxton Morris. They were told to wait. No one said a word. She took in the furnishings of the sumptuous room as Burke’s fingers closed around hers.
Two weeks had passed since the day he’d been shot. Gemma had spent every day nursing him as his shoulder healed. Fortunately, the bullet had entered just below his collarbone and gone straight through. An inch higher and bone would have been shattered. Infection was always a worry but he’d only run a slight fever and no redness appeared after the surgeon stitched him up.
Burke released her hand as the door opened and the king and queen entered, followed by the Prince of Wales. Gemma was pleased to see the monarch looking alert and happy, obviously in one of his good periods. The couple sat and the men bowed as she made a deep curtsey.
“My prime minister tells me you helped bring down the group of traitors, Mr. Nicholson,” the king said, his voice deeper than she would have expected. “That you prevented my death and my son’s. Though you did cause Sir Paxton’s.”
She saw the twinkle in the old man’s eyes.
“I cannot take sole credit, Your Majesty. It was the effort of many in the War Office that led to the traitors’ downfall.”
“Good riddance to them,” the king said as the queen nodded approvingly. “Still, Prime Minister Perceval said you were instrumental in bringing the group to justice. Because of that, you should be rewarded for your service to the crown, as well as Lady Covington.”
Gemma’s heart pounded quickly as the king turned his focus to her.
“I’m told you’re also aiding our fight against Bonaparte, my lady. Codebreaking is a most unusual occupation for a woman. I hear you’ve even created a new cipher for our agents to use.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she said. “I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.”
The monarch turned to his son and motioned for him to step forward.
The prince said, “The royal family is deeply grateful to you, Mr. Nicholson. Sir Paxton has told us of your time in Spain and Portugal, as well as here in London. It is brave men such as you who will help us defeat Bonaparte. In recognition of your extraordinary efforts on your country’s behalf, you are to be named a peer of the realm. The title Earl of Weston is now conferred upon you. You will take your seat in the House of Lords. Your country seat will be Westbrook, a property in Kent.”
Prince George smiled and handed a sheaf of papers to Burke. “Congratulations, my lord.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Burke said, wonder in his voice. “And to you, Your Majesty. My gratitude knows no bounds.”
The king and queen rose and exited the room, followed by their son. The prime minister and Sir Paxton congratulated Burke and remained behind while she and Burke were shown back to their waiting carriage.
“Hyde Park,” he told the driver, no longer Jones but a true coachman. “Stop near the Serpentine.”
They settled against the cushions and Burke took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. Contentment filled Gemma as they rode in companionable silence.
When they arrived a few miles later, the carriage came to a halt. Burke opened the door and a footman helped them both down.
“Wait here,” Burke instructed and tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow.
They strolled in the bright sunshine until they came to a bench and he had them sit. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.
“You are the light of my life, Gemma Covington,” he began. “You cut through all the darkness in my heart and made me whole again.”
She blinked back tears. “You taught me how to feel, Burke. How to want. How to live.”
He grinned. “Good. Because I always want to live with you.”
Slipping from the bench, he rested on bended knee. “Will you be countess to my earl, Gemma? Love me through thick and thin? Be with me every day, as my best friend and lover?”
She cupped his cheek. “You are everything to me, Burke. To be able to share our lives is a dream come true.”
Despite being in the park—with people everywhere—he rose, pulling her to her feet. He embraced her as his mouth came down on hers in a thorough, wonderful, magical kiss. Gemma lost herself in the moment, knowing she had the love of this good man for all time.
Burke finally broke the kiss and smiled. “I was hoping you would say yes.”
“And if I hadn’t?” she asked coyly.
His eye twinkled with mischief. “I would have said I took a bullet for you—and that you owed me marriage, at the very least.”
Gemma laughed and kissed him again, knowing life with the new Earl of Weston would never be dull.
Epilogue
Gemma awoke, a delicious warmth surrounding her. Burke enveloped her, his bare skin against her own, their limbs entwined. She sighed in contentment and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“About time you woke up,” he said, kissing the top of her head, his fingers combing through her hair. “I thought you might sleep through your own wedding.”
“I was up half the night,” she complained. “My fiancé couldn’t stop making love to me. I think it was three times.” She peered up at him through her lashes. “Or perhaps four.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t five?” he asked boldly.
She worried her lip. “It might have been. But i
f it were, I suppose I slept through that time.”
“You little minx,” he growled, covering her body with his and kissing her so thoroughly, she was left breathless.
“I hope you were awake enough for that,” Burke said.
Gemma stroked his cheek. “Very much so. But I should return to my room. What will the maid think, my bed not having been slept in?”
He nibbled on her neck and said, “She’ll think her mistress is a very fortunate woman for having such a virile, doting lover.” He chuckled. “And she’ll be grateful that it’s one less bed to make.”
Sitting up, he brought her with him and continued. “I don’t ever plan for you to sleep anywhere but next to me, Gemma. Your bedchamber can be used for dressing and bathing.” He gave her a devilish grin. “But I reserve the right to come help you with either of those tasks.”
She kissed him and climbed from the bed. “I will see you at the chapel, Lord Weston.”
“I look forward to it, my future countess.”
Gemma slipped on her night rail, making sure to stay out of his reach as he watched lazily from the bed. She cut through his dressing room and hers and arrived back at her own chamber. Gracie awaited her, fighting to keep the smile from her lips.
“Ready for your hot water, my lady?”
She knew she flushed red to her roots. “Yes, please. And send for my lady’s maid, Gracie.”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll fetch Joanie myself.” The maid went to the door and then turned. “My lady, I must thank you and Lord Weston again for taking me on here at Westbrook. I have never been happier than working here for the earl.”
Gemma smiled at the maid. “You did an invaluable service, Gracie. If not for you, I wouldn’t be here, preparing to marry Lord Weston. We will always owe you a debt of gratitude.”
The girl beamed. “Thank you, my lady. I hope you and his lordship will be very happy.” She bobbed a quick curtsey and left the room. Joanie arrived soon after to help Gemma get ready for the ceremony.
Once she was bathed and dressed, Charlotte appeared. Her friend’s baby would come in another six weeks and Gemma hadn’t wanted Charlotte to make the trip in her condition. Fortunately, Gray Manor was only twenty miles away from Westbrook Manor. Charlotte said Gray had made the horses walk the entire way to keep from jarring her, saying neither she nor Gray would have missed this wedding for anything.
As her maid arranged Gemma’s her, Charlotte said, “We are so happy for you and Burke. You are meant to be together, the same as Gray and I are.”
“We both had rocky roads to happiness,” Gemma said. “I’m just glad this day came and that you and Gray are here to celebrate it with us. I only wish the Marquess of Medford could be here, as well.”
Burke’s other close friend, Reid Baker, still commanded troops in Spain but had sent his best wishes. Both Gemma and Charlotte looked forward to meeting the marquess when he eventually returned to England.
The door opened and all of Burke’s female relatives descended. He had two sisters and two sisters-in-law and a mother. After spending the past week with them, she already felt a part of the Nicholson family. Accompanying them was the Duchess of Gilford, Reid’s stepmother.
Burke’s mother pulled her aside. “I want to tell you how fond we’ve already grown of you, Gemma. Burke is our last child to wed and I wasn’t sure this day would ever come. He’s very lucky to have found you, my dear.”
“No, my lady. I am the lucky one,” she proclaimed. “Burke has brought joy—and love—into my life.”
A knock sounded on the door, their new butler letting them know the carriages had arrived to take the ladies to the Westbrook chapel. One of the drivers was Mr. Bosley, who’d told Gemma he was much better suited to driving than serving as a butler. Mrs. Pettigrew had come with them from London and would act as the Westbrook housekeeper.
The coaches pulled up next to the chapel and everyone entered except Gemma. She paused just outside the entrance. Burke’s father stepped through the door.
“It would please me greatly to escort you to my son,” the earl said.
His offer touched her. “Thank you, my lord.”
She took his arm. As the music started and they came down the aisle, Gemma only had eyes for Burke. His gaze met hers and he smiled unabashedly, taking her hands once his father delivered her to the altar.
As they spoke their vows, Gemma knew their love would stand the test of time.
THE END
About the Author
Award-winning and international bestselling author Alexa Aston’s historical romances use history as a backdrop to place her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire for one another grows into the treasured gift of love.
She is the author of Medieval and Regency romance, including The Knights of Honor, The King’s Cousins, The St Clairs, and The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle.
A native Texan, Alexa lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She enjoys reading, Netflix binge-watching, and can’t get enough of Survivor, The Crown, or Game of Thrones.
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