Gallant Waif

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Gallant Waif Page 27

by Anne Gracie


  He took a deep breath and shook his head despairingly.

  "I. . .I just thought that if you really had decided to live in rural obscurity. . ."

  "Go on," she prompted.

  He looked deeply uncomfortable. "Well. . .I thought. . . you might. . ."

  "Might what?" she prompted again.

  Suddenly he exploded. “Well, if you must know, I thought that if you wanted to bury yourself in obscurity the least you could do is do it with me! There, now you have it! I am a despicable rogue, am I not? An arrogant fool, who thought you might consent. . ."

  "Consent to what?" Her heart was thudding uncontrolla­bly. This was the crux of the matter. What had he thought she might be willing to do? Consent to be kidnapped? To be his mistress? His doxy? Consent to have her heart broken?

  There was a long silence. Finally he reached into an inner pocket of his coat and drew out a folded document. He stared at it a moment, his mouth twisting ruefully, then tossed it on the grass between them.

  "See for yourself. There it is, documentary evidence of what an arrogant, desperate fool I am. Go on, open it, see for yourself. Just don't laugh in my face."

  With shaking fingers Kate reached out and picked up the parchment. Opening it, she read it several times, her mind struggling to come to terms with the meaning of his having obtained this document.

  "It is a special licence," she said at last. "And not so very new, either." He'd obtained it before she'd been kidnapped by Jeremiah Cole, Kate realised, with a thrill.

  "Yes, fool that I am, I thought I could get you to marry me." He laughed, a harsh, dry laugh that ended abruptly.

  "Why did you not simply ask me?" she said softly.

  "Ask you?" His voice was bitter. "Why ask when there's no possibility of acceptance? What woman would consent to marriage with a fellow like me, a cripple, and a bad­ tempered, ugly one to boot? And with barely a penny to my name. What sort of a bargain is that for a woman?''

  "Some women might think it a very good bargain."

  He looked at her then. "Perhaps. . .if the woman had lost everything—her family, her home, her. . .her good name. Such a woman might have thought it sufficient. She would have had no other options."

  And yet he'd lent her his family, given her a home and saved her good name. Kate felt a spurt of anger grow inside her. How dared he think himself such a poor bargain? And herself so mercenary!

  "But a woman who had been left a fortune?" she said. "A woman whose good name had been retrieved by a bad-tempered, poverty-stricken cripple—such a woman must needs be tricked, kidnapped, coerced?"

  He looked stricken. "Only because you ran away. You didn't seem to want the London life, so I thought. . ."

  "I came down here to redeem the things I sold when I had no money. Some of my mother's jewellery, my father's books, things like that. Lady Cahill knew that very well. She expects me back on Tuesday. I wasn't running away from anyone or anything. You should know me better than that!"

  "I didn't think. . ." He shrugged despairingly.

  "No, you didn't think!" raged Kate. She moved closer and thumped him on the arm. "You are bad-tempered and poor, and also quite stupid! You great brainless clod! You don't talk to me for weeks and weeks—"

  "But you wouldn't—"

  "—and you glare and spit blue fire at me across crowded dance floors—"

  “What do you mean, blue fire?''

  Kate ignored that. If he didn't know the power of his beau­tiful blue eyes, then she wasn't going to enlighten him. She thumped him again, this time on the chest.

  "And then you must drag me up on to your poor, smelly. . ."

  "Smelly?" One arm went around her.

  "Smelly, exhausted horse in front of men who I've known since I was a child, and then, with not a shred of shame about you, you must kiss me in front of—"

  “It seemed to me you were doing a bit of kissing of your own," he said, catching one small fist as it sailed perilously close to his jaw.

  "And then, you great lout, as if that isn't enough, you must bounce me over miles and miles of countryside—"

  "And very beautifully you bounce, too," he interjected wickedly.

  "And then you decide I don't even deserve the courtesy of a proposal! When I'd already told you I loved you!" She collapsed furiously against his chest with a final thump.

  He snatched her away from him and stared into her face.

  "You what? You did no such thing!"

  She blushed. "I did too."

  "When?"

  She blushed a deeper, rosy pink. “When I told you I had everything here I wanted."

  He stared at her, dumbfounded. Then his eyes started to twinkle. "And I was supposed to understand from that that you love me?"

  She nodded, embarrassed.

  Suddenly he laughed, a joyous ringing laugh. "Oh, what a clod I am indeed! So clear you made it, and, stupid great lout that I am, I didn't understand!"

  "I did kiss you back," she mumbled, aggrieved.

  He stopped laughing and she could feel the warmth of his smile as he leaned close and gathered her back in his arms. Kate wouldn't look at him. "Yes, you did, didn't you? And very nice it was too." He bent his head towards her, seeking her lips.

  Kate pouted. "I'm not kissing any horrid kidnapper."

  He laughed and rolled back on to the grass, pulling her down on top of him. “Then, my little spitfire, will you kindly consent to kiss a man who is utterly mad for love of you? A man who has nothing but his heart and a run-down but very clean house to offer you. And, though he does not deserve you, he asks you most humbly and desperately to be his wife."

  She stared down at him for a moment and Jack was hor­rified to see tears welling in her beautiful eyes again. "Oh, no, my love, I'm sorry. Whatever I said or did wrong, I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm such a clumsy fool, but I love you so much. Oh, Kate, darling, please don't cry."

  The tears dripped harder, landing on his face. He kissed her wet cheeks, her wet eyes, her wet mouth. "Don't cry, my little love. I can't bear it."

  She looked at him through the shimmering veil of tears. "I'm sorry. . ."

  His heart contracted unbearably.

  "Sorry, Jack, darling. . . It's just that I'm so happy. . ." she wailed.

  It was so wonderful to be held like this, safe and warm in his arms, her cheek resting against his heart, her head tucked beneath his chin. She rubbed her cheek softly against the rough bristles along his jawline, and sighed with pleasure. She looked up and met his eyes, and the tenderness she saw in them warmed her clear down to her toes. After some time Kate forced herself to push him away. Reluctantly he allowed it. She sat up and straightened her dress. He lay there watch­ing her, a tender, proud smile on his face.

  "I've just thought of another reason for you to marry me," he drawled.

  "Hmm?"

  “Valet service. I never knew a woman who was so good at getting into a mess," he chuckled, picking pieces of grass out of her hair. She slapped his hands away and pushed him back on to the ground. Her hands rested on his chest, partly to ensure he kept his distance, partly so she would not lose the contact with his body.

  Her face grew serious and her eyes darkened with anxiety. “I have to ask this, Jack. Do you truly not mind about what happened to me, in Spain?"

  His eyes softened. "On the contrary, I mind it a great deal. . .but not for the reasons you're worrying about, my love." He pulled her down into the curve of his body. "I mind that you were hurt, that you were frightened and abused, that you were hungry and in danger and that you were alone with no one to protect you. I mind that you did not get the support and assistance you needed, that you were subjected to gossip, cruel impertinence and worse. I mind that you came home to nothing and no one, facing destitution, and I mind that to earn a living you had to scrub my floors and put up with my vile temper. . ."

  His voice came to a shaky halt and he held her tight, trem­bling with emotion. After a time, he stopped shaking, his grip altered an
d his mouth came down over hers, infinitely gentle, infinitely loving. "I give you my word, Kate, that you will never again suffer hunger, fear, pain or loneliness, not while I am alive to prevent it. And I vow to dedicate the rest of my life to loving and protecting you."

  She was weak with relief and joy. "And I to you, my love," she whispered. It was all she had time to say before his mouth came down over hers again.

  After a long, tender interval, he added, “Besides which, it is my firm belief—" he moved against her in an unmistak­ably erotic fashion, his face coming alive with wicked hu­mour "—my very firm belief, that virginity has absolutely no place in marriage."

  Distracted by the feelings engendered by his movement, Kate was a little slow in realising his meaning, but gradually she became aware of his wickedly quizzing look, the laugh­ter, and deep, passionate love and acceptance in his eyes. In relief she began to giggle, and his lazy chuckle joined hers as he swept her into his arms and hugged her tightly against him.

  After a time, Kate pulled his chin down so she could look him in the eye. There was a hint of mischief in the loving look she gave him. "So you promise to love and protect me always. . ."

  "Always, sweetheart."

  "And to make sure I never go hungry again?"

  "Of course."

  "And kill spiders for me."

  "As many as you want."

  "And never make me scrub your floors."

  "Baggage!" He flicked her nose teasingly. "If you recall, it was not my idea in the first place."

  She nodded wisely. "Oh, yes. I recall now. You prefer your floors dirty."

  A low mock-growl and a swift, hard kiss was her only answer.

  "And you promise I will never have to put up with your 'vile temper' again?" She reached up and curled a lock of dark hair around and around her finger until it was held tight. She gave it a little tug to make her point.

  A baleful look from glittering blue eyes made her giggle.

  "That depends," he said sternly.

  "On what, dearest?" she murmured, fluttering her lashes innocently.

  "Oh, on such things as whether coffee pots and vases re­main on tables or come flying through the air."

  She dimpled. “Oh, I do not know if I can possibly promise such a thing. Coffee pots are so unpredictable, you know."

  "Mmm," he agreed dryly. "I see it will take me at least twenty or thirty years to understand the ways of coffee pots."

  "Oh, no," she said dulcetly.

  He looked quizzically down at her. His heart thudded at the blatant adoration that poured from her eyes.

  "Much longer than that, my darling, much, much longer," she murmured, reaching up and pulling his mouth down to hers.

  Epilogue

  "Oh, mind you do not drop me, you wretch!"

  "Silence, baggage! And stop that infernal wriggling or I will!"

  Laughing, Kate was carried over the threshold. Jack kissed her long and hard, and set her on her feet, smiling down at her. His bride of three weeks looked radiant. So radiant, in fact, that he found he had to kiss her again. And then again.

  Carlos, Martha, Millie and Florence looked on, beaming. Eventually Kate became aware of their audience. Blushing, she tugged Jack's sleeve and pointed. Immediately they were surrounded by well-wishers.

  Refreshments were brought in, congratulations were ex­changed and the girls clustered round, admiring Kate's frock. After a time, Martha came forward with a bulky letter, an apologetic look on her face.

  "I'm that sorry to interrupt everything, Mr Jack, but this letter has been here for a couple of weeks now and it's been worrying me. It's from London and looks very important."

  Jack took it and turned it over in his hands, frowning.

  "From lawyers!' said Martha darkly. "Never any good news from lawyers. Sorry, sir." She left, ushering the other servants out of the room.

  Jack opened it and began to read through the papers. After a moment he sat down, an odd look on his face. Kate, wor­ried, ran to him.

  "What is it, Jack? Is it bad news? It's not your grand­mother, is it?"

  "No. Not bad news," said Jack in a strange voice. "Here, read it for yourself."

  Kate took the sheaf of papers. The first was a letter from a solicitor, saying he had instructions to forward this letter when certain conditions had been met. Kate frowned. It was very puzzling. She turned to the next letter and glanced at the opening.

  "Jack!" she gasped.

  "Read it out, love," he said. "I'm not sure I believe it myself yet."

  Kate read:

  Jack, my beloved son,

  When you receive this letter, either my lawyers have been convinced that you have finally and irrevocably broken with Julia Davenport, or it is a year and a day since I have died. I hope it is the former.

  Either way, you will inherit everything you ever ex­pected to. I never intended you to be poor. My will was a dying man's ploy to free you from That Woman.

  My doctors tell me I shall be dead in a matter of weeks, so I have done what I can to give you the best chance of happiness. I know my actions will cause you pain, my son, and I am sorry for it. But I believe it is for the best.

  Julia Davenport is a Harpy, Jack, and a Faithless, Greedy Harpy at that. I am counting on her to abandon you when she discovers you inherit nothing. I hope it does not hurt you too badly, my boy.

  I hope also that you can forgive my apparent rejec­tion. It is cruel, I know, for you have always been a loving son, even when we quarrelled. But I want so much to see you happy, Jack. There is nothing as im­portant as true love—your mother and I were so very happy and my heart went with her when she died. You are the image of her, my beloved son, and I know she would never forgive me if I did not make a push to secure your happiness.

  Find another woman td love, Jack—one with a true and loving heart, who will love you for yourself—not for your fortune or your position. And when you find her, Jack, marry her at once and never let her go.

  I will carry five hundred pounds and this damned deed to Sevenoakes wherever I go from now until my death, so that you will not find yourself entirely destitute. And I know your grandmother and sister will look after you. You are much beloved, my son.

  I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive a fa­ther's meddling. May God protect you.

  Your loving father. . .

  "Oh, Jack, he did love you after all. . ." Kate was in tears.

  Jack could not reply; he just reached out and gathered her into his arms. After a long moment he said in a cracked voice, "I found my true and loving heart, Father. Here she is. . ."

  * * * * *

 

 

 


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