“Now,” he said to her erstwhile kidnappers, “I want you both to remain here in your carriage. I will retrieve your cohort, and give him into your tender care. Then you are to return to London. At once.”
Turlington huffed, his already pink cheeks growing redder. “I will not be ordered about by a—”
“At once,” Alec said, his hand holding the pistol unwavering, his voice as sharp as a gunshot.
“This is preposterous,” Turlington said with a snarl. “You have no authority here, Deveril.”
“I have no qualms about killing you, Turlington,” Alec said coldly. “The only thing preventing me from doing so now is the presence of Juliet. I would challenge you to a duel, but since you have shown yourself again and again to be anything but a gentleman, I do not feel the need to adhere to the rules of gentlemanly conduct where you are concerned.”
The raw hatred in Turlington’s eyes terrified Juliet on Alec’s behalf. She had little doubt that the man would do his best to harm Deveril at the earliest opportunity. Still, she was grateful to be out of the villain’s clutches for now.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Juliet,” Lady Shelby said, making her disgust apparent. “Do not expect to be welcomed back into the family with open arms.”
Whereas at one time Juliet might have been cowed by her mother’s words, in Alec’s arms she felt none of the old fear as she faced her now. “The only family I need,” she said firmly, “knows of your cruelty and has assured me that they will support me. I have no fear of losing them and they are all that matter now. As for Father, I doubt he’ll even notice I’ve gone.”
Which was little more than the truth. Though she did love her father, Juliet had long ago realized that he was far too concerned with matters of state to trouble himself over his wife’s misdeeds.
Before her mother could protest, Alec said to her, “I would not recommend your recounting this misadventure to your cronies back in London, Lady Shelby. If any word of this gets out I will see to it that your own scheme to marry your daughter off to your lover is known to every gossipmonger in the beau monde. You will be unable to show your face in polite society ever again.”
Lady Shelby glowered at him, but did not speak.
* * *
With a short nod, Alec closed the carriage door on Lady Shelby and Lord Turlington, and led Juliet back to their coach. Their coachman had regained consciousness and had found and untied their outriders, and before long they were under way.
Ensconced once more in their own carriage, Alec eyed Juliet. “Are you all right?” he asked, brushing his hands down her arms as if to reassure himself of her safety. “Did they hurt you?”
“They had no time to hurt me,” she responded truthfully. “They had barely got me away from the carriage when you returned. How on earth did you escape so quickly?”
“I grew up with Devil Deveril,” he said with a slight smile. “I am quite adept at defending myself.”
There was something he wasn’t saying but Juliet didn’t push him. They’d gone through quite enough already this morning.
“Now,” he said with a grin, “let’s go to Gretna and get married.”
* * *
Gretna Green was a town very much aware of its most precious resource. And it wasn’t the scones in the ramshackle tea room at the edge of town.
Rather than retire to the inn to refresh themselves, Alec and Juliet went at once to the blacksmith’s shop which dealt almost exclusively with young couples crossing the border from England to marry. The man who presided over their wedding was, to Juliet’s surprise, not a blacksmith at all, but Robert Elliot, grandson by marriage to the original Gretna blacksmith, Joseph Paisley.
“Now,” the man said, “who have we here?”
Alec quickly told the Scotsman their names, and the man gave a broad grin. “Mother,” he called to his wife, who was seated at the pianoforte in preparation to play a musical accompaniment to the ceremony. “We’ve got ourselves a Romeo and Juliet!”
“Then I shall have to play sommat special for them,” she said, flipping quickly through her stack of sheet music.
“Now then, Romeo,” Mr. Elliot instructed, “you stand here, just so. And you, Juliet, will walk down this short aisle to meet your groom at the altar.”
It was indeed a very short aisle, but Juliet, a posy of violets that had cost Alec an exorbitent amount clutched in one hand and her walking stick in the other, waited in the rear of the shop while Alec followed the blacksmith/minister to the front.
“He’s a handsome laddie,” Mrs. Elliot said to Juliet as they waited for the signal from Mr. Elliot. “It’s plain to see yours is a love match, and no mistaking.”
Before Juliet could correct the woman, she launched into a wretched performance of a popular ballad based on the story of Romeo and Juliet. As neither Mr. Elliot nor his wife seemed to mind the unhappy end that those famous lovers met, Juliet supposed she shouldn’t either.
Her head held high, she walked carefully down the short aisle toward a smiling Alec, and was relieved when Mrs. Elliot brought her song to a premature end.
The ceremony itself borrowed much from the Church of England service—or as far as Juliet could tell it did. When Elliot joined their hands together and Alec slipped his signet ring onto Juliet’s finger and pronounced them married, she felt as much emotion as she might have done had they gone through all the pomp and circumstance of a fancy London wedding. And when Mr. Elliot slipped up and referred to her bridegroom as Romeo, she felt a giggle escape her.
“Och, man, kiss yer bonnie bride!” Mr. Elliot said with a beatific smile. And he didn’t need to say it twice. As Alec touched his lips to hers, Juliet silently vowed to keep him from ever regretting this marriage made in haste.
“Let’s go back to the inn and order luncheon,” Alec said with a crooked grin. “Getting married makes me hungry.”
Juliet’s cheeks heated as she caught the possible double meaning of his words. But he seemed not to notice the entendre. Deciding to go along with the jovial mood, Juliet smiled up at her new husband. “Me too.” And they walked in companionable silence to the inn.
Twelve
Seated across from Alec in the private dining room he’d arranged for their wedding luncheon, Juliet felt the return of her old nervousness around him. After their extended trip to Scotland, she’d thought her anxiety was gone forever. But the weight of his emerald on her finger, coupled with the knowledge that they were now bound to one another, till death did them part, made it impossible for her to eat more than a few bites of the excellent venison pie.
Whereas they’d found plenty to talk about on the journey to Scotland, now the ease between them had been replaced by a tension that had everything to do with the ring now snugly fitted to her ring finger. As if sensing her thoughts, Alec reached across the small table and took her hand in his.
“It’s all right to feel nervous,” he said softly, his thumb caressing the back of her gloveless hand. “New experiences are always a little terrifying, don’t you think?”
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes to see the now familiar crooked smile that gave his perfectly formed features a boyish quality that made him even more handsome.
“But you aren’t anxious,” she couldn’t help pointing out, a shiver running through her at the light touch of his skin on hers. It was hard to imagine this handsome, perfectly mannered gentleman, who seemed to be at ease with everyone he met, feeling out of his depth at all, ever.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, in mock surprise. He raised his left hand as if taking an oath. “I am utterly terrified, I assure you.”
Juliet sighed. “I find it difficult to believe that you’ve never done this before.” She waved a hand in the air to indicate she was speaking of the private parlor, the meal, and not necessarily the circumstances.
“But I’ve never done this with a wife,” he said, his blue eyes serious. “Never with you.”
Her chest
constricted, and she looked away lest he see just how much she’d been affected by his words.
“Juliet,” he continued, “you are not alone in any of this. We are partners now. Partners look after one another.”
She fought a laugh. “You need the least looking after of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I think you have me confused with some other paragon of perfection,” he said with a shake of his head. “I am just a man, my dear. Just like any other. And I shall need your support just as you’ll need mine.”
“Is that how marriage works?” she asked, really wanting to know his opinion on the matter. “I’ve only had my parents’ union as a model,” she said, “and they can hardly stand to be in the same room with one another. I find it difficult to believe that they managed to—” She broke off, a blush stealing into her cheeks.
“Quite,” Alec said. “My own parents were much the same.”
Remembering his father’s reputation for brutality, Juliet felt a stab of sympathy for her new husband. She was going to change the subject but he surprised her by continuing. “Their marriage was arranged, so I don’t believe there was any promise of love between them. But when he wished to be, my father could be quite charming. I have little doubt he worked his wiles on my mother until she adored him. It was his way, you see. I saw it happen enough over the years, and not only with my mother. He would entice her with gifts and kind words and wooing. Then once she was in his thrall, he’d become controlling and cruel. I can’t count the number of times Mama attempted to leave him. In the end, she only found her escape through death.”
“It was a carriage accident?” Juliet asked carefully, not wanting to endanger their rapport, but sensing that he needed to speak of the only parent who had shown him any affection.
Alec blinked, and seemed startled by the question, but then recovered his aplomb. “Yes, a carriage accident. My sisters were still in the nursery. And I was preparing to go up to school. It was…”
There was something about his mother’s death that he wasn’t telling her. Juliet knew this as well as she knew her own soul. But she also knew that pressing him for an answer before he was ready to tell her would only make him loath to speak to her about such things. Taking his hand in hers, she let the moment pass.
“I don’t think Mama and Papa would ever actually live apart,” Juliet said. “They are both too concerned with appearances to do anything so public. Papa has his diplomatic reputation, after all. And Mama enjoys the status his position gives her. They make the occasional public foray to keep the gossips at bay, but for the most part they keep to themselves.”
“The very fact that neither of us has been sent to Bedlam is a miracle, is it not?” Alec asked. He seemed grateful that she hadn’t pressed for more information about his mother. “Between the two of us, we have seen enough of unhappy families to write a slew of Greek tragedies.”
“At least you are a man,” she said with more vehemence than she’d intended. “For ladies, I think there is very little to recommend the married state. Even now that there are fewer arranged marriages, men still have the advantage in most situations.”
“How so?” He leaned back in his chair, seeming genuinely interested to hear her opinion on the matter.
“Well, what options are there for a woman who does not wish to marry? Unless she has an independent fortune, she will need to have some occupation to provide funds to live on. And there are precious few options. Especially for a gentlewoman. There is governessing, which pays precious little, and entails teaching someone else’s children while fending off advances from the gentlemen of the house. Mrs. Turner says that…”
She paused, remembering her friend was still missing. A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized she’d forgotten the search for her friend in the tumult of their elopement and escape from her mother and Turlington.
“We’ll find her,” Alec said, correctly interpreting her silence. “I promise you. And hopefully we will learn from Mr. MacEwan that he has heard from her.”
“Thank you,” she said with relief. “I was wondering just how to remind you in a way that was not too terribly bothersome.”
“Already trying to figure out how to turn me up sweet?” He raised one blond brow. “I am shocked, madam!”
At her guilty expression, he shook his head. “I am only teasing, Juliet,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Though you needn’t cozen me. Simply ask and if it is a reasonable request, I’ll be more than happy to comply.”
“Thank you,” she said again, this time more subdued. “Though I cannot help but worry at the time we’ve lost by coming here.”
“You must take care of yourself.” He reached for her hand again, squeezing it in sympathy. “If Mrs. Turner is your friend, she will understand the need to keep you safe from Turlington. No matter how unusual her opinions on marriage.”
“You are kind,” she said quietly, thinking of the secret she’d yet to share with him. “Perhaps more than I deserve.”
But strangely, he was the one who seemed ill at ease now. “Do not put me on a pedestal, Juliet,” he said. “I am just a man, and certainly not a perfect one. Though I suspect my next request will do well enough to show my clay feet.”
She turned her head, looking at him more closely. She had little doubt that he was uncomfortable now, but why?
“What’s amiss?”
Alec ran a finger beneath his neck cloth, as if it had suddenly become unbearably tight. “First, know that what I am about to ask is not out of any sort of … I mean to say that the irregularity of our marriage … or rather, the haste with which we…”
Juliet stared as the most suave and sophisticated man she’d ever met stammered out an unintelligible explanation. Of what she had no idea.
“Dammit,” Alec said finally, “what I’m trying to say is that I think it would be best if we consummate this marriage and sooner rather than later.”
* * *
As he watched his new bride’s mouth drop open, Alec cursed himself for a fool. He was not a stripling trying to woo his first woman, for God’s sake. If the fellows at his club were privy to this conversation he’d be laughed out of London.
“Not because I am overly eager,” he said hastily, then seeing the hurt in her eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “That came out wrong.”
“No, I think you were perfectly clear,” Juliet said, her face set as she struggled up from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I feel a headache coming on. You will no doubt feel relief at your reprieve.”
“Dammit,” he said in frustration, “no I don’t!”
“So, your sense of duty has overcome your lack of eagerness? Well, pardon me if I do not feel sympathy for your dire circumstances.”
Her back ramrod straight as she turned it to him, she limped to the door.
Before he could think better of it, Alec stalked past her to block the door. Unable to stop in time, Juliet pitched forward until he caught her by the shoulders. For a split second they stared into one another’s eyes. But Juliet’s anger was strong and she broke the contact first.
“Will you please stay here and listen to me?” He dipped his head so that he could regain that connection. “Please.”
“What is there to listen to?” Juliet demanded, her hurt showing in her eyes despite her proud bearing as she tried to push him away from the door. “Protestations that you find me lovely despite my physical flaws? Denials that you just complained about the fact that your duty to consummate this marriage conflicts with your lack of desire for me?”
Tired of her nonsense, he allowed her to move him away from the door, but played the moment to his advantage, using his grip on her shoulders to reverse their positions.
“Lack of desire?” he demanded, stepping close enough to press her back to the door. “Are you mad? I spent the entire drive from London trying not to fall on you like a ravening beast. Are you aware that I will never be able to smell roses again without my body rising to
the occasion like a kite in a strong wind?”
He dipped his head to her neck, inhaling, gratified to see the pulse point there speed up. He leaned in and scraped his teeth against the soft skin there.
“Do you know,” he said in a low voice, kissing his way up the curve of her jaw, “that you’ve got this way of nibbling your lower lip when you’re nervous that makes me want to worship your sweet mouth like a pagan?”
Alec’s mouth hovered over hers, their breaths mingling before he covered her mouth with his, rejoicing at the feel of her lips parting under his to allow the intrusion of his tongue. He tried to be gentle, but after so many days of holding himself back, the leash he’d kept on his desire snapped.
The loud clang of a tray clattering to the floor in the next room recalled him to his senses. With reluctance, he pulled back from her, reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Her expression of wonder was nearly his undoing.
“You see now how wrong you were, don’t you?” he asked, his voice husky.
At her mute nod, he continued. “What I was trying to say, and managed to botch at every turn, was that I think it best if we consummate the marriage now so that there is no question of an annulment.”
He braced himself for her refusal, but even so could not deny he’d be disappointed by it. Especially given how his body even now cried out to complete what they’d just started. Still, he thought wryly, they were in Scotland, where there was no shortage of icy water to dampen his ardor.
To his relief, however, she agreed with him.
“I think it is the only sensible thing to do,” she said, still a little breathless from their kiss.
The tiny furrow between her dark auburn brows, however, made his heart sink. She’s going to change her mind. It is only to be expected. Indeed, it’s a credit to her sensibilities.
“Can one…?” she began. “That is to say, is it quite normal to do…” She swallowed, her fair skin turning deep pink, then finished her thought in a rush. “That? In the daytime, I mean?”
How to Romance a Rake Page 17