Merely the Groom
Book 2 of the “Free Fellows League”
Sneak Peek
Can an English miss tame the wild heart of a Scotsman?
Colin McElreath, Viscount Grantham, has sold his soul to the devil—a devil of an irate English father. The powerful Baron Davies urgently requires a respectable husband for Gillian, his disgraced daughter, and he sees Colin as the perfect candidate. When Colin balks, Davies isn’t above using his daughter’s large dowry as an incentive—or applying a bit of blackmail.
Colin doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at the irony. After a lifetime of avoiding society misses as one of the founding members of the Free Fellows League, he is about to marry one.
Miss Gillian Davies is about to become a blushing bride.
And Colin McElreath is merely the groom…
In this scene, dashing smuggler, spy, and viscount, Colin McElreath, seeks shelter in the bed of abandoned bride and damsel in distress, Gillian Davies…
Colin was tired and bloodied, and he had no choice but to climb back in through the window. Changing back into his smuggler’s clothes was impossible, and returning to the tunnels was equally impossible. He couldn’t risk another foray through the maze of smugglers’ tunnels running beneath the waterfront where he’d spent the major portion of the evening helping his band of smuggling compatriots unload casks of French wines and bolts of brocades and lace.
Colin had slipped away from the smugglers in order to dress for Lord MacMurray’s midnight reception. He’d thought he’d slipped away undetected, but someone had seen him. Someone had paid an assassin to lie in wait for him, and that meant the other man had either followed him or had known where he was going and why.
All in all, it had been one hell of an evening. The night was still young, and he was lucky to be alive. He hoped he could say the same come sunrise.
Colin inched his way along the ledge, past the first window and on to the second. He was almost there when he heard movement inside his room and realized someone was searching it. Pressing his back to the wall, Colin retraced his steps until he reached the first window.
This morning, he’d wondered how the lady inside that room would feel if he slipped inside her window instead of his own.
Now he’d have the chance to find out.
Retrieving his dirk from beneath his coat, Colin slipped the tip of the blade between the lock and the window casement and carefully eased the window open. He knew he was taking an enormous risk, but he meant the lady no harm. All he wanted was safe shelter from the cold. Colin had cheated death once tonight, and he didn’t fancy a confrontation with the men ransacking his room or a tumble from the ledge to the cobblestones below.
The room was pitch black. Colin thought there would be some light from the fireplace, but if there had been a fire in the grate earlier in the day, it had long since burned itself out. The room was almost as cold as the air outside. Colin crawled over the windowsill and closed and locked the window behind him. Biting his bottom lip to keep his teeth from chattering, Colin made his way across the room to the bed, praying all the while that the lady was alone.
Colin briefly considered spending the night in the chair by the window, but he was freezing, and there was no point in suffering the cold any more than he had to. He glanced at the woman on the bed, decided she wasn’t faring much better, and quickly eased himself onto the bed beside her.
She lay curled in a tight ball with her back to the door and the bed coverings pulled tightly around her. Colin relayed cautiously and sent a prayer of thanks heavenward that she was alone. With luck she would sleep until morning, and he’d be gone before she knew he was there.
But good fortune deserted him.
The woman stirred in her sleep, moving closer, seeking warmth as she pressed her back to Colin’s front.
Colin’s body responded immediately. He was fully clothed, down to this tall leather boots, and he lay atop the covers rather than between them, but he felt her through the layers of fabric and instantly regretted his impulsive decision to share his warmth.
“Colin? Is that you?”
Colin nearly leaped from the bed as she called him by name. He knew she couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she had him at a complete disadvantage. She knew his name. And he hadn’t a clue about hers. Who the devil was she? And how in Hades had she come to know his name?
He breathed in the scent of her. The fresh, lemony fragrance emanating from her hair and her skin seemed woefully out of place at the Blue Bottle Inn. The light, delicate scent teased his nostrils and filled his senses, urging him to recall the face of the woman who wore it, but the only impression he had—of a pale, oval face framed by thick, dark hair—came from the glimpse he’d caught of her standing at the window and failed to produce any names or mental images, or memories of intimate moments.
“Colin?” she queried once again.
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were sleeping.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You sound different,” she mumbled sleepily.
Colin cleared his throat and told as much of the truth as he dared. “I’ve caught a chill.” He didn’t like lying to her, but until he knew who she was, Colin couldn’t do otherwise.
“Move closer,” she urged, inhaling his scent. “Hmm…you smell like sandalwood. And something even nicer. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he answered honestly, moving away. “I’ll stir the fire and add some more coal.”
“Don’t bother,” she replied. “The fire’s been out all day, and I haven’t any coal to add.”
No wonder the room was like ice. “Why hasn’t the innkeeper brought coal for the fire?”
“Because I couldn’t pay for it,” she whispered. “I have no money.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “What matters is that you’ve come back.”
Colin took a deep breath and then blew it out. “I haven’t come back to stay.”
She took a moment to digest this information, and when she spoke, Colin heard the disappointment and the resignation in her voice. “When do you leave?”
“I’ll be gone by the time you awake.”
“I see.”
He breathed in the scent of her. “No, I’m afraid you don’t. But at the moment, there’s no other way.”
She recognized a note of what sounded like genuine regret in his voice and swallowed her pride in order to ask, “Can you take me with you? Away from this place?”
She couldn’t see him, but she felt the movement when he shook his head. “I wish I could.”
She sighed. “Will you do something for me before you go?”
“If I can,” he said carefully.
“Don’t leave without saying good-bye.”
It wasn’t very much to ask, and Colin found himself agreeing. “I won’t.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome...” Colin searched his memory for a name to fit the voice and the scent. But no name came to mind, and he was left with a vague sense of loss. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Hold me,” she whispered. “Until I fall asleep.”
The room was still shrouded in darkness when Colin awoke with the young lady in his arms. Her head was pillowed on his chest, and the stab wound he’d suffered earlier in the evening ached like the very devil. Colin didn’t know for sure, but he thought the ache must have awakened him.
He rolled to his side, shifted her weight from his shoulder to the pillow, and left the bed. Leaning down, Colin gently tucked the covers around her shoulders. His breath fanned her cheek moments before he impulsively covered her lips with his.
He meant the kiss to be a mere brush of his lips on hers, but his intent could not contain his sudden urgent need to make it more. Colin ran his tongue over her p
lump bottom lip, savoring the taste and texture of it, teasing her, testing her, seeking permission, asking her to grant him entrance.
She yielded, parting her lips and acquiescing to his silent request. Their breaths mingled as he deepened the kiss, moving his lips on hers, kissing her harder, then softer, then harder once more, testing her response, slipping his tongue past her teeth, exploring the sweet, hot interior of her mouth with practiced finesse.
Colin caressed the interior of her mouth, using his tongue in a provocative imitation of the mating dance. And she followed his lead, returning his kiss with an urgency and hunger that thrilled him as much as it surprised him. He made love to her mouth, and the jolt of pleasure he felt shook him down to his boots. Blood pounded in his head, and his arms trembled from the strain of holding himself above her while every nerve in his body urged him to lower himself to the bed and bury himself in her softness.
Resisting the temptation to wait until dawn in order to get a look at her, Colin pulled his mouth away from hers and pressed a kiss against her hair. “Good-bye,” he murmured, and left.
Sitting in the chair by the window the next morning, Gillian wondered if it had all been a dream. She wondered if the man who had held her in his arms last night had been her husband or a figment of her imagination. And she couldn’t recall Colin feeling or sounding the way he’d sounded last night. He was different from the way she remembered—more thoughtful and gentle. And his kiss… She sighed. His kiss had to be a figment of her imagination, because it was so much better than she remembered. Colin had never kissed her like that before. He had never kissed her with such tenderness or such passion. And although he’d left her once again, there had been nothing hurried or perfunctory about the way his mouth claimed hers. If she hadn’t seen the spot of blood on her nightgown this morning, she would have thought that he was a dream, but there was no doubt that he’d been real.
She started at the sound of a knock on the door. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Gillian scrubbed away all evidence of sleep before answering. “Who is it?”
“Mistress Douglas,” the innkeeper’s wife answered. “I’ve brought your breakfast.”
“I didn’t order breakfast,” Gillian answered, trying hard to ignore the insistent rumbling of her stomach at the mention of food.
“I brought it anyway,” Mistress Douglas explained. Gillian frowned. “I cannot pay you for it,” she admitted reluctantly in a voice tight with pride.
“No need,” the innkeeper’s wife answered. “Meals are included with your bed and board.”
Meals hadn’t been included at supper last night or yesterday’s nooning hour, or at breakfast when Gillian had waited in vain for a meal, hoping the innkeeper or his wife would take pity on her.
“Unless you’ve a mind to go without, I’d open the door,” Mistress Douglas told her. “This tray is heavy, and I’ve customers waiting downstairs.”
Gillian didn’t need further prompting. She unlatched the door and swung it wide, stepping back to allow the innkeeper’s wife to enter. The aroma of eggs and kippers, fresh-baked bread slathered in butter, accompanied by a pot of steaming tea, filled the room. Gillian came close to swooning as she watched Mistress Douglas set the wooden tray on a table near the fireplace. “It smells heavenly.”
Mistress Douglas gave Gillian a dismissive snort, then turned on her on her heel and headed for the door. “Mr. Douglas will bring you a bucket of coal for the fire once we’re done with breakfast.”
Undaunted by the other woman’s rudeness, Gillian tried again. “I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness.”
“It ain’t kindness,” Mistress Douglas said at last. “And there’s no need to thank me. I was only doing what he paid me to do.”
“What my husband paid you to do?” Gillian asked.
Mistress Douglas shook her head.
“Then whom?”
“The smuggler.”
“I don’t know any smugglers.”
The innkeeper’s wife shrugged. “Don’t matter,” she replied. “So long as he knows you.” She nodded toward the wooden tray. “There’s an envelope. He left it for you.”
Gillian waited until the innkeeper’s wife left, then closed the door behind her and secured the latch. She hurried over to her breakfast tray and picked up her fork.
An envelope of cream-colored vellum lay on the tray exactly where Mistress Douglas said it was. Gillian stared at it as she poured a cup of tea. She managed to keep her curiosity about her mysterious benefactor at bay until she’d satisfied her overwhelming hunger, but once she’d finished her eggs and kippers, Gillian lifted the envelope from the tray.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted the heavy cream vellum and turned it over to study the seal. The green wax puddle over the folded edge of the envelope bore the impression of a mounted knight.
Gillian ran the pad of her finger over the impression, intrigued by the choice. The vellum wasn’t the sort of stationery one would expect a smuggler to use; neither was the wax seal.
Seals were personal representations. Before he’d been awarded his title and coat of arms, her father had used gold wax pressed with the symbol of a lion. He’d selected the lion because it reaffirmed what everyone already knew: Carter Davies was the acknowledged king of the silk merchants. So, why would a smuggler choose to use green wax and the figure of a mounted knight? Why not a boat? Or a Jolly Roger? Or a cutlass? Or were those symbols a bit too obvious?
Gillian broke the seal and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She unfolded the sheet of paper and was astonished to find a fifty-pound banknote issued by the Bank of England and three gold sovereigns.
A sheen of unshed tears burned her eyes as Gillian read the note and realized her prayers had been answered:
Madam,
I have taken the liberty of presenting the innkeepers with full payment for your complete room and board until the end of the month.
It is my way of thanking you for allowing me to intrude upon your privacy while I sought shelter from the cold. You gave me refuge when I needed it most, and I’m grateful.
I have also taken the liberty of securing a coach and hiring a driver to take you wherever you wish to go. Please do not hesitate to avail yourself of his services as soon as possible.
I enclose additional funds should you require them for the journey.
The Blue Bottle Inn is no place for a lady.
You needn’t stand watch at the window any longer. The way home is yours.
I am,
Your servant,
Galahad
Gillian’s breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Nor was he her husband. She had shared a bed and an intimate kiss with a stranger. A smuggler. A smuggler who knew she waited at the window and watched. A smuggler who knew she had seen him in the early morning fog and the nighttime shadows. Gillian folded the sheet of paper and returned it to its envelope.
She should be shocked, perhaps, even ashamed. But she was not. She was grateful. She was deeply, profoundly grateful to her mysterious benefactor for coming to her rescue. Gillian hadn’t been alone after all, because the man who called himself Galahad had known she was there.
The original Galahad had been renowned for his purity and virtue. Gillian tucked the envelope and the fifty-pound banknote in the lining of her bodice. She couldn’t vouch for this Galahad’s purity, but Gillian had to commend him on his virtue for, like all true chivalrous knights, he had come to the aid of a damsel in distress. And he kissed like a dream...
Merely the Groom
Book 2 in the “Free Fellows League” Series
Available Now
Hardly a Husband, Book 3 in the “Free Fellows League” Series
Coming August 4th 2015
Truly a Wife, Book 4 in the “Free Fellows League” Series
Coming August 4th 2015
And look for A Bachelor Still, the brand new book in the “Free Fellows League” Series
Coming late August 2015!
Barely a Bride Page 67