Someone to Wed

by Cheryl Holt

  “We’re not kissing in your garden.” She sounded prim and fussy.

  “Why not? No one can see us in the shadows.”

  “We can’t be sure of who might be spying on us, and your fiancée is inside.” He appeared as if he’d protest her referring to his cousin as his fiancée, and she hurried to add, “I know, I know. You’re not betrothed yet. You’re an unattached bachelor.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said, “and by the way, you are very beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re the most glamorous woman in the room.”

  “That’s not true, so stop trying to charm me. You have dubious motives toward me, and it doesn’t take much calculation to deduce what they are.”

  “Am I a scoundrel at heart?”

  “Yes.”

  “A month ago, I would have huffed with offense at the allegation, but since I met you, I’ve been forced to conclude that I’m a cad after all.”

  “I stand warned, Captain Ralston.”

  “Where is Clara? Who’s minding her?”

  “She’s staying in the village. Her teacher is hosting a birthday party for one of the students.”

  “The timing was lucky for me then. It meant you could attend my party.”

  He touched her throat, sending a shiver down her arms. As her sole piece of jewelry, she’d tied a ribbon around her neck, and there was an ivory broach pinned in the center. There was a woman’s face carved in the ivory.

  “Who is the woman?” he asked as he traced a finger across it.

  “My mother.”

  “Tell me more about her.”

  “I don’t remember much. I was four when she died, but my Aunt Pru claimed we were just alike.”

  “Was she from a common family?”

  “Yes.”

  “But your father was quite high. Who is his family? You can’t keep it a secret from me forever.”

  “Why can’t I?”

  “Your refusal to admit his name has fueled my curiosity. I won’t cease hounding you until you confide in me.”

  “I realize you won’t believe me, but I’m much more stubborn than you are. You can nag to infinity, but it won’t garner you the information you seek.”

  “Why be so furtive about it? Most people who have a grand sire are happy to brag.”

  “If I told you who he is, I’m certain—when you next bumped into him—you’d engage in an entire conversation about me, and I would never give you that sort of ammunition.”

  “You’ve indicated he’s someone I might actually know.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. You top-lofty men live in a small world, and you all seem to be acquainted.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “Never, and I have no desire to. He was horrid to my mother, and there’s not a single topic he and I could ever discuss that wouldn’t infuriate me.”

  “Why didn’t he marry her? Was she too far beneath him? Was he a snob about it?”

  “If you must be apprised, he couldn’t marry her because he was already married.”

  “Oh.” His cheeks reddened with chagrin.

  “His wife was extremely enraged about their affair, and my mother and I suffered greatly because of it. He was a coward who wouldn’t lift a finger to protect us. Why would I boast of a connection to a cretin like that?”

  “How did you and your mother suffer? What did his wife do to you?”

  Joanna studied him, wondering if she should confess to being one of the Lost Girls who’d been rescued by his father in the Caribbean.

  As a child, she’d been notorious for a bit—until Aunt Pru had arrived to claim her. They’d carried on quietly after that, with Pru determined that Joanna’s infamy slide into obscurity. Their home had been located near the estate of Joanna’s father, and Pru had constantly worried his wife might learn that Joanna had returned to the area.

  Pru hadn’t necessarily expected the woman to lash out at Joanna, but she hadn’t been willing to risk it. When Pru had gotten the chance to move them to another part of the country, she’d jumped at it.

  Through the years, Joanna had grown accustomed to burying the past. There was no point in mentioning she was a Lost Girl. It simply generated attention she didn’t care to have focused on her, and because of her odd quirks, she had to be cautious.

  Why talk about it anyway? It left her anxious and edgy, and it dredged up enormous melancholia, both about the tragedy itself, but also about the trauma of being separated from Libby and Caro. She’d start to have nightmares, so it wasn’t worth the cost.

  “I can’t describe that terrible period,” she said. “It haunts me, and I can’t bear to rehash it. Please don’t ask me to.”

  Her old anguish must have been visible because he didn’t press. “I’ll let it go—for now.”

  “You’ll never pry out any details you shouldn’t discover.”

  “Would you do me a favor?”

  “That depends on what it is.”

  “Would you hold my hand again? Palm to palm?”

  “Why would you want that?”

  “You have some strange skills, and they fascinate me. Can you see the future?”

  “No one can see the future. It’s not set in stone, and humans have free will.”

  It was the accepted answer, intended to keep pious vicars satisfied, but she had many disturbing talents. She just didn’t summon them very often.

  She debated forever, then thought, Why not?

  He was eager to have it occur, and she was intrigued too. Before she could dissuade herself, she raised her hand and laid it to his. They sat very still, their gazes locked. Her power stirred, heat flowing from her to him, then a myriad of images flooded into their minds.

  She saw him at his wedding, standing at the altar and waiting for his bride. He looked handsome, dashing, and very happy. She saw him a few years later, with two young boys—his sons. He’d bought them a pony and was teaching them to ride.

  Then, without warning, the perspective shifted from him to her, and she was immersed in the shipwreck. The wind was howling, the ship sinking. There were people in the water, and they were screaming and praying. Her mother was gripping a log, clutching Joanna around the waist as a wave crashed over their heads.

  “Hold on, hold on . . .” her mother was urging, but the tempest whipped her words away.

  Joanna couldn’t abide the deadly scene, and she yanked away. She was breathing hard, her heart hammering so raucously she was amazed it didn’t burst out of her chest.

  “What the bloody hell was that?” he asked. “Were we viewing the same things?”

  “Most likely.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I can’t explain it. I am possessed of several unusual gifts over which I have no control.”

  “How do the visions originate?”

  “I can’t guess.”

  “Did that incident really happen to you? Were you the girl in the waves?”

  “Yes, and with me receiving such a vivid picture of it, I expect I’ll have nightmares for a month.”

  He snorted at that. “It’s why you don’t like ships and sailing.”

  She shrugged. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “When was that? Where was that?”

  “I can’t and won’t discuss it!” She was keen to change the subject. “I saw you at your wedding, and I saw you with your children. I think you’ll have at least two.”

  “I saw them as well, but was it a prophesy? Will it come true?”

  “I would never claim it will.”

  He eased away, as if she’d grown too hot to touch. “You are dangerous, Miss James.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I meant it as a compliment. I’m j
ust flabbergasted. I understood you to be peculiar, but my goodness! Apparently, I had no idea.”

  “Could you promise not to tell anyone about this?”

  “How long have you had such an odd power?”

  “I was born with it. I inherited it from my mother.”

  “I can certainly comprehend why your father was so captivated. Did she cast a spell on him? Is that how he was ensnared?”

  There was a teasing note in his comment that aggravated her. With her mother’s voice still ringing in her ear, she was in no mood to have her denigrated.

  “My mother didn’t practice any magic on him.” Her tone was irked. “My father was a spoiled roué who seized whatever he craved. My mother was foolish enough to oblige him, and I was the result.”

  He was scrutinizing her as if he’d suddenly realized she had a disease that was catching, and she could have clouted him alongside the head.

  “Stop staring at me as if I’m a madwoman,” she said.

  “I don’t believe you’re mad. In my view, you’re the most astounding creature in the kingdom. When I was standing at the altar, were you able to see my bride?”

  “No.”

  “I felt so happy.”

  She wondered if he’d ask her about his marriage, but she wouldn’t parlay over his impending nuptials—that evidently wouldn’t include Roxanne Ralston. She wouldn’t clarify why she suspected that conclusion, and she definitely refused to play a role in what happened among the Ralston family members.

  She merely wanted to slink to her cottage, live quietly with Clara, and hide from any trouble or adversity.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “It has to be nearly midnight.”

  “I should proceed to the manor. If my carriage hasn’t already pulled up in the driveway, it will be there shortly.”

  “Why don’t you tarry? There is no rule declaring you must go at midnight.”

  “Aren’t I Cinderella for the evening? If I don’t flit away before the clock strikes twelve, I might turn into a pumpkin.”

  “I spent the entire party furtively watching you. If you waltz out the door, my fun will waltz out with you.” He scowled. “Are you sad? You can’t be.”

  “I’m not sad. I don’t like to hear that you deem me to be odd. It’s a burden I carry, and I’d rather not carry it.”

  He kissed her urgently, and when he drew away, he said, “Does it feel to you as if we were supposed to meet? Do you ever get the impression that Fate has orchestrated some sort of destiny where we’re concerned?”

  “Fate always provides a destiny.”

  “What will ours be? Can you read your Taro cards, then tell me what you discover?”

  “I never try to divine my own path. I’m content to travel down whatever road opens for me. I don’t need special guidance to find the route.”

  She eased away and stood. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Don’t leave yet.”

  “I have to. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

  “You’re being absurd.”

  He was loafing on the bench like a lazy king, grinning, his legs stretched out, appearing as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And he didn’t really.

  “Shall I walk you out?” he asked.

  “No. I can’t have us observed together. Let me slip into the house, then you can follow in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll visit you tomorrow.”

  She didn’t bother to protest. It was pointless. She hurried away without a goodbye. She went to the verandah, dashed up the stairs, and rushed in to locate the butler so she could inquire about her carriage.

  All the while, she sensed him studying her intently. He was lusting after her in a thrilling way, and she was anxious to go home and calm down so she could brace for when he next arrived.

  Clearly, she had no ability to avoid him or to protect herself and, for once, she wished she wasn’t quite so averse to learning her future. If the universe chose to give her a tiny hint of what was approaching, she wouldn’t complain.

  Joanna sat on a chair in front of the fire. A candle burned on the table next to her. It was very late, but she couldn’t sleep. Her attendance at the party had enlivened her to where it was impossible to relax.

  She’d dined and danced and had even been kissed by a dashing rogue under a rose arbor in the garden. After such a perfect evening, who could rest?

  Clara was gone to her own party, so Joanna was alone in the cottage. She didn’t mind being alone, but she missed Clara’s energy pulsing in the rooms.

  She froze, thinking she’d heard a horse’s hooves on the gravel outside. Mutt lay by the warm hearth, and when she glanced down at him, he woofed softly to say, It’s fine. Don’t fret.

  Ever since she’d arrived home, it had been raining steadily. Lightning flashed occasionally, and every once in awhile, there would be a loud crack of thunder that made her cringe. There was an eerie perception in the air that almost felt like an enchantment.

  She heard a sound outside again, and she was sure it was the gate opening and closing. She looked at Mutt, but he barely raised his head, not even when there was a knock on the door.

  “Some guard dog you are,” she complained, but he simply stood and stretched, his tail wagging ferociously.

  She tiptoed over and peeked out the curtain, and to her great astonishment, the Captain was there. He was wet and bedraggled, and she rushed over and pulled the door wide.

  “You ridiculous man!” she scolded. “Why are you riding about the countryside in the dark and the rain?”

  “I missed you.”

  “You deranged fool! Come in, come in.”

  She grabbed his wrist and led him over to the fire. She pushed him onto a chair, and Mutt hovered at his feet, appearing delighted. She tossed on a log to get the flames burning hotter, then she hurried to the kitchen and returned with a towel and a bottle of brandy.

  She fussed over him, removing his coat and boots, drying his face and hair, pouring him a glass of liquor and urging him to drink it. There was a knitted throw on the sofa, and she draped it over his shoulders.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Definitely.”

  He clasped her arm and tugged her onto his lap, and she nestled with him, the throw folded around them both so they were wrapped in a cozy cocoon.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “I told you: I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, but not enough that I’d have ventured out in a storm to see you again.”

  “After you departed, the weather worsened, and the guests fled. In practically the snap of a finger, the manor emptied, and it seemed so quiet. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “I don’t suppose it would do any good to warn you about catching a chill. Or are you too tough to be felled by a little illness?”

  “I’m much too manly to ever be sick.”

  She scoffed. “I should chastise you for visiting me, but this is a very nice surprise, so I won’t.”

  “Why are you still up? On the trip over, I was calling myself a fool. I was certain you’d be in bed.”

  “It was such a lovely party, and I couldn’t calm down afterward. The thunder and lightning aren’t helping. I keep jumping and cringing.”

  “What time is it?”

  “I can’t imagine. Three? Four?”

  “Dawn will break in a bit.”

  “Let’s enjoy ourselves until it sneaks up on us.”

  He kissed her then, and she leapt into the embrace, feeling wicked and emboldened, and she was starting to want things from him she couldn’t precisely describe. But she wanted them anyway.

  Because she was ready for bed, she was wearing only her nightgown and robe, a pair of floppy wool socks on her feet. The belt on her robe was securely tied, so she was cover
ed from chin to toe, which meant the situation wasn’t exactly risqué, but it wasn’t exactly proper either.

  They were secluded in her cottage, and they might have been the last two people on Earth, and the rules about propriety had flown out the window.

  She’d assumed she was content with her life, but he brought an exhilaration to her small existence that she couldn’t ignore. As she was fully aware, this was how unwary maidens landed themselves in trouble, so she was trying to deduce her purpose. She wasn’t about to ruin herself, as she was positive he’d request, so what was she planning?

  For the moment, she would simply wallow in the pleasurable interlude and not worry about what else might happen.

  Her hair was down and brushed out, and he riffled his fingers through it, then roamed over her torso, touching her everywhere, as if he was imprinting her shape into his palms. Each stroke of his hand was electrifying.

  His tongue was in her mouth, her breasts crushed to his chest, the embrace growing wilder and more passionate by the minute. She began to fear they might ignite from the thrill of it all. Finally, when it seemed that they couldn’t possibly keep on, he slowed and drew away. He pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling, their hearts beating at the same elevated speed.

  “Gad,” he murmured, “what will become of me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Would you take me up to your bed?”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  She chuckled, but miserably. She’d been expecting that very question, and she was fortunate he wasn’t the sort of rogue to force her there, despite her refusal.

  “I realize it’s horridly rude of me to inquire,” he said, “but are you still a maid?”

  “Yes, it’s rude, but I’ll answer truthfully: I’m still a maid. I live an odd life, but it’s a moral, modest life.”

  “I’m a cad to have mentioned it. I apologize.”

  “You’re hoping to entice me sufficiently that I’ll provide you with what you should never have.”

  “Maybe.”

  “If I succumbed, have you pondered the ending? You’d be wed, then gone on your navy ship, and I’d be here, badly used and perhaps even with child. That can’t be the conclusion.”