And her heart tripped. Nate was looking at her with such naked adoration, she had to remind herself to breathe too. Reaching out, she touched his hard chest with trembling fingers. Was that his heartbeat she could feel, crashing against his ribs? Was this wicked, rakish, never-fall-in-love viscount nervous? “Tell me why you are here, Nate. I need to hear you say it.”
He swallowed, and the expression in his brown eyes firmed. “Sophie, ever since you said goodbye, I feel as though I’ve been living in a desolate wasteland. A place bereft of sunlight, and beauty, and hope. A hell of my own making. And it’s all because I’ve been too blind, nay too stubborn to admit to myself that I’ve fallen hopelessly, irrevocably, and passionately in love with you. Sophie, you are everything I want. Everything I dream of. And I would humbly beg your forgiveness.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers as he whispered, “And if perchance, you still loved me, too, I would be a happy man indeed.”
Oh, my goodness. Sophie drew a shaky breath as joy flooded her heart. Nate had just told her that he loved her in the most beautiful, heartfelt way. She could scarcely fathom it. “Of course I forgive you, Nate.” She traced the shape of his lips. His dark eyebrows. His strong, lean jaw. Yes, he was real. This was real. “And yes, I love you. With all my heart. I’ve never stopped loving you. And I know I’ll love you forever and always.”
Nate’s mouth tipped into a crooked smile. “Forever and always. I adore the sound of that, my sweet Sophie.”
All at once, Nate sank to a bended knee before her. Clasping both her hands in his, he raised them to his lips, then his gaze caught and held hers. “Sophie Brightwell, you’ve captured my heart and captivated my soul. I cannot bear the thought of living without you a moment longer. Will you do me the untold honor of consenting to be my wife?”
Sophie’s vision blurred with tears of pure bliss. Her heart sang with joy. “Yes, Nathaniel Hastings,” she whispered, “unequivocally, undeniably, wholeheartedly yes.”
“Oh, God, Sophie.” Nate surged to his feet and caught her to his chest. He spun her around, and when he put her down, he cradled her face. “I never thought I could be so happy. I love you so much.” He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her gently, his lips sliding over hers with such tenderness, Sophie’s breath caught. “I love you.” Nate’s next kiss was deeper, the press of his lips firmer. His fingers slid into her hair, and his tongue slipped into her mouth.
“I love you.” His words were almost a groan when he pulled back to draw breath. And then he kissed her again, his mouth ravishing, his tongue plundering. And she kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands skimmed across her shoulders, down her arms, over her body until they cupped her bottom and pulled her firmly against him. She could already feel the press of his hard manhood against the softness of her belly. Oh, how she wanted him. She wanted—
“Sophie?”
Oh, God. Sophie gasped and Nate dragged his mouth away. She looked up to discover her mother staring at her in openmouthed horror.
She swallowed. “Mama,” she said in a voice that was noticeably husky with emotion and desire. “Mama, this is Lord Malverne. He and I . . . we are to be married. Nate just proposed. And I’ve said yes. We are in love.”
Her mother blinked. “M-married? But . . .” Her forehead creased into a perplexed frown. “Married, you say? You are going to marry Lord Malverne?”
“Yes, Mama,” Sophie said with a smile. “I am.”
Nate, who’d been standing behind her all this time, probably to conceal the suspicious bulge at the front of his breeches, at last stepped forward and bowed. “Mrs. Debenham. How do you do? It is indeed a pleasure to finally meet you. Sophie has told me so much about you.”
Her mother blushed and bobbed a curtsy. “Lord Malverne. It is an honor to meet you. Our family owes you so much . . .” Her forehead knitted into a frown again. “But is it true? What Sophie just said? Have you proposed marriage to my daughter?”
Nate’s mouth curved into a smile that was pure, unadulterated charm. “I have indeed, Mrs. Debenham. And I count myself the luckiest man alive right at this moment because Sophie consented. I love her and I’m overjoyed that her affections are returned with the same degree of ardor.”
“Well, I never!” Her mother’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I cannot believe it. That’s wonderful news.” Her gaze shifted to Sophie. “I think I understand why you turned down Lord Claremont now.”
Before Sophie could respond, her mother exclaimed again, “Sophie! What on earth has happened to your arm? And your sleeve.”
She winced. “Ah, the yellow rosebush attacked me.”
Nate frowned when he examined the scratch too. “You should get this attended to, my love,” he said gently.
“And you should have your knuckles seen to as well.”
“My word, are they bleeding too?” asked her mother. “What happened?”
Sophie traded glances with Nate. She supposed she would need to explain the situation to her mother and stepfather at some stage anyway. “Ah, Lord Buxton was here a short time ago. And he and Nate had a disagreement . . . about me. Lord Buxton won’t be coming for lunch today.”
“Good heavens, Sophie. You’ve got three men fighting over you? And you thought you were going to be an old maid.”
She took Sophie by the arm and continued to prattle away as she ushered her toward the front stairs of the house. “Now come, you two. Let’s go inside. Lord Malverne, I take it you will join us all for luncheon? Mr. Debenham would love to meet you, of course, and I’m sure you would like to discuss your, er, intentions in regard to Sophie with him. And then when you are done, I daresay, luncheon will be on the table. And what a feast it will be! Mrs. Peel—she’s our cook—has baked the most wonderful roast lamb. And then there’s strawberry fool for dessert. If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like you need a bit of fattening up, my lord.”
“Mother!” exclaimed Sophie but Nate laughed.
“I would love to join you for luncheon, Mrs. Debenham. I especially can’t wait for dessert.” He cast Sophie a heated look that made her blush to the roots of her hair. “I particularly love strawberries. The sweeter, the better.”
* * *
* * *
Nate stayed for lunch and, to his surprise, had a most enjoyable time. The company was convivial. Sophie’s stepfather, Mr. Debenham, might have a laconic manner, but he also had a dry wit that brought a smile to Nate’s face on more than one occasion during the simple but delicious meal. Mrs. Debenham was a trifle flighty but undoubtedly of a sweet temperament. And Sophie’s two younger half sisters, Alice and Jane, were both well-spoken, intelligent girls. When they eventually had their Seasons, he didn’t think it would take long at all for them to find suitable matches.
However, by the time dessert arrived, Nate was champing at the bit to leave. To have Sophie all to himself. To make love to her.
Perhaps it was the nature of the strawberry-laden dessert that started to get him all hot and bothered beneath his cravat. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t seen Sophie for over three weeks. Or perhaps it was simply the case that whenever he looked at his beautiful fiancée, she took his breath away. Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes glowed with joy as she chatted and laughed. And then there was the distraction of her glossy black hair; errant, curling strands kept slipping from the loose coil at the back of her head and caressing her face. His fingers twitched with the urge to either brush the stray locks behind her ears or pull the pins out so her hair tumbled about her slender shoulders and the rest of her preferably naked body.
Yes . . . they needed to leave, and soon, before he embarrassed himself by growing an erection at the dinner table.
Decision made, Nate put down his silver spoon and rose from his chair. “Mr. and Mrs. Debenham, would you mind terribly if I took a turn about the garden with your daughter? It’s such a lovely after
noon.”
“Of course not. By all means,” replied Sophie’s stepfather.
“Yes, do take a walk,” added Mrs. Debenham. “Take as long as you like.”
Sophie blushed as she stood. “Thank you, Father. Mama.”
When they reached the front garden, Sophie gave Nate a curious look as he steered her down the path and out the gate. “This isn’t the garden,” she remarked as they followed the lane meandering between the hedgerows. “Are we going to the village instead? And, by the way, how did you get here? You seemed to appear from nowhere. I didn’t hear a horse or a carriage.”
Nate grinned. “To answer your first question, yes we are going to the village. And to answer your second, I came in my carriage. I left it at the inn so the horses could be watered, and then I walked here. It’s less than a mile so I thought, why not?”
“Oh. I really should be wearing my bonnet, spencer, and gloves if we are walking to the village. People will talk.”
“Let them. And besides, you won’t need them,” said Nate.
“Won’t need them?”
Nate cast her a sinful smile. “No. In fact, considering what I have planned for the rest of the afternoon and evening, you won’t need any clothes at all, Miss Brightwell.”
Sophie blushed a delicious shade of pink. “But . . . I can’t. We shouldn’t do anything that would raise eyebrows. Not here in Monkton Green at least.”
“Ah, you see we won’t be staying here. My carriage shall take us to Saxbridge. I’ve already hired a room for the night—the bridal suite—at the Rose and Crown under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Hastings.”
Sophie gasped and stopped in the middle of the lane. “You did?”
“I can see you are shocked, but please don’t worry, darling Sophie. When we arrive in Monkton Green, I shall send a message to Nettlefield to let your parents know there’s been a change of plans to allay any fears. Something along the lines of Charlie and Aunt Tabitha traveling with us so everything appears aboveboard. And then, tomorrow, we shall repair to London. Your family will be more than welcome to follow, of course. There are more than enough rooms at Hastings House or even Chelmsford House for that matter. If that’s all right with you, my love?”
Sophie looked as though she couldn’t quite decide if she wanted to hug him or berate him. “But . . . but what if they find out none of it’s true?”
Nate cocked a brow. “What can your parents really do? Demand that I marry you?”
Sophie laughed then kissed him. “You are an incorrigible rogue, Lord Malverne. But I’ve always loved that about you. All right, we shall run away to Saxbridge together and you can have your wicked way with me.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he murmured in a low velvet voice that he knew would make her shiver with anticipation. “Because before the night is through, I intend to be very wicked indeed.”
CHAPTER 24
Scandal in Saxbridge!
You might need to have the smelling salts at hand before reading further . . .
The Disgraceful Debutante, Miss S. B. from M. G., was sighted in the company of a well-known, thoroughly wicked rakehell . . . at a coaching inn . . .
All alone! The mind boggles!
The Suffolk County Chronicle: Vignettes of Village Life
The Rose and Crown Inn, Saxbridge, Suffolk
June 6, 1818
The five-mile carriage ride to Saxbridge really took no time at all, yet to Nate, it was absolute torture. He was torn between his desire to strip Sophie naked in the carriage so he could make mad passionate love to her then and there, and his desire to treat her with all the tender reverence she should be accorded, this wonderful woman who would soon be his wife. She should be undressed slowly and with care, and he should worship her as she should be worshipped. It was her first time, and he wanted the experience to be beautiful for her.
In the end, he tried to satisfy himself, and her, by kissing her senseless and fondling her delectable breasts through the layers of her clothing. By the time the carriage drew into the yard of the inn, both of them were disheveled and panting with need.
After Sophie had hastily repinned her hair and he’d retied his cravat and buttoned up his waistcoat, he handed her down from the carriage himself, then escorted her inside.
The inn was small, but when he’d inspected it earlier in the day, it looked to be of a superior standard. It was a Tudor-style building with low-beamed ceilings and slightly uneven wooden floors, but all the woodwork gleamed with polish, and the furnishings were of good quality. And the bridal suite—while not fit for a king exactly—was lavish enough, with a large tester bed swathed in rich blue damask curtains, a matching counterpane, and an abundance of fat pillows.
As Nate waited for the innkeeper to check that the room was ready, he noticed Sophie was biting her kiss-bruised lower lip. “Are you nervous, my love?” he murmured in a low voice meant only for her. “We don’t have to do this. We can wait until after we are wed. I’ve just been missing you so desperately, I suppose I’m not acting with the gentlemanly restraint I probably should.”
Sophie shook her head and smiled. “I am a little nervous. But no, I don’t want to wait. I’m desperate for you too.”
He kissed her hand, his tongue touching her satiny skin, and she blushed.
“Miss Brightwell. Goodness gracious me.”
Nate turned his attention to the plump, well-dressed woman bustling into the inn with a bespectacled female companion, possibly her daughter, and a sad-eyed spaniel following in their wake.
A flicker of apprehension crossed Sophie’s face. “Mrs. Danvers. Miss Danvers. Good . . . good afternoon. I did not expect to see you here . . . Are you on your way to London?”
“No. I’m on my way to Bury St. Edmunds, but I shall be returning home tomorrow. I must say, I certainly never expected to see you in Saxbridge, either, with . . .” Mrs. Danvers examined Nate through her gold-rimmed quizzing glass. “I don’t know you. What are you doing with Miss Brightwell?”
Nate summoned a charming smile and bent over the woman’s hand. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mrs. Danvers. Miss Danvers. I am Nathaniel Hastings, Lord Malverne. And Miss Brightwell’s fiancé.”
Mrs. Danvers’s sparse gray eyebrows shot up. “What? You’re engaged to our Miss Brightwell?” The woman blinked at Sophie. “Is this true, Miss Brightwell? Do your parents know?”
“Of course it’s true. And yes, my parents know. They have given us their blessing.”
Mrs. Danvers’s disbelieving gaze traveled over Nate again. “Well, I never . . .”
At that moment, the innkeeper returned. “Mr. Hastings. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Here is the key to your room. I trust you and your charming new wife will enjoy your stay in our bridal suite. Please do not hesitate to ring for anything that you might need during the course of your stay.”
Nate took the brass key and inclined his head. “Thank you.” When he turned around, he wasn’t surprised at all to see Sophie had turned bright red and that Mrs. Danvers was gasping for air. Miss Danvers’s eyes were as round as the lenses of her spectacles. The dog was the only one who looked disinterested.
Not wishing to prolong the awkward encounter, Nate bowed. “Mrs. Danvers. Miss Danvers. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I have other pressing business to attend to. Good day.”
With that, he took Sophie’s arm, and with key in hand, he escorted his betrothed up the wooden staircase to the upper floor where the bridal suite lay.
As soon as they were inside, Sophie clapped her hand over her mouth. Nate wasn’t sure if she was trying to suppress a scream or a fit of giggles.
Unfortunately, her reaction was one of pure horror. “Nate! Oh, my goodness. That was Mrs. Danvers, one of Monkton Green’s worst gossips. The scandal will be all over the village by tomorrow evening. And w
hat will my parents think? When they find out we pretended to be newlyweds, they’ll suspect your aunt and Charlie weren’t here to act as chaperones either.”
Nate shrugged and began tugging at his neck cloth. “Scandal be damned, my darling Sophie. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters.”
She shook her head as though he were an errant child who’d exasperated her and she didn’t quite know what to do about it. But at least she was smiling. “Oh, Nate. I suppose you are right.”
“About this I am.” Nate grinned and threw his neck cloth over a nearby wing chair. “Now come here, my love. Let’s do something that’s really scandalous.”
* * *
* * *
Sophie laughed as delicious anticipation unfurled low in her belly. She was about to make love with her husband-to-be and now, thanks to him, she didn’t give a fig about what anyone else thought.
However, a knock on the door to their room had her jumping.
Nate shrugged out of his swallowtail coat. “It’s all right. I expect it’s our luggage.” He tossed the garment aside as he crossed to the door. “Ah, Nichols, my good man. Just deposit everything on the chest by the foot of the bed, if you’d be so kind.”
Our luggage? Sophie blinked. Sure enough, Nate’s footman carried in two leather valises, a hatbox, and several large parcels tied up with string. When the door clicked shut after the departing servant, Sophie raised a quizzical brow. “What else have you been up to today, Lord Malverne?”
Nate shrugged as he sat down in the bedside wing chair before tugging off one of his boots. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took it upon myself to do a little shopping on your behalf on the way here. Bury St. Edmunds’s shops aren’t a patch on Bond Street’s, but I hope you like the clothes and undergarments I chose for you. I even remembered to purchase a bonnet, gloves, and a hairbrush.”
“Of course I don’t mind. That’s so very sweet of you.” Sophie crossed to the end of the bed and unwrapped one of the parcels. Inside lay a fine linen chemise trimmed with exquisite lace and a pair of gossamer silk stockings. “You chose these undergarments for me? They’re divine”—she threw him a mock frown—“even if they’re shockingly sheer.”
How to Catch a Wicked Viscount Page 29