“In this life, one can’t ever be sure of anything.”
“Is that so?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said.
“If that is so does that mean that one can never be sure of the love shared between a husband and wife?”
“No. I was wrong. The love between a husband and a wife—the very bond that they share is sacred.”
“And yet…some men betray those sacred bonds.”
“Some women betray them as well.”
She sighed heavily. “This is why marriage should be a bargain, nothing more, and nothing less. Love complicates matters. Love makes things messy.”
“I disagree. Love simplifies everything. When one has love, they need little else.”
“People can’t live on love. It won’t fill an empty belly or keep the bailiffs at bay.”
“We don’t have to ever worry about that. We are both people of fortune, all we have to fret about is love, my love.”
Sitting up, she pulled her legs up to her chest. “I don’t want to go back to the house. I don’t feel like keeping up a stiff upper lip around my brother.”
“Then don’t,” he shrugged. “We are going back to the house, so you go on your own power or I will carry you back.”
She looked him straight in the eyes. “I want to stay here.”
“I never did carry you over the threshold, did I?” he asked, his voice coloring up slightly. Biting her lip, she braced herself. He was going to scoop her up into his powerful arms, and for some reason—that didn’t frighten her nearly as much as she thought it would.
“I am not moving,” she said stubbornly.
“My darling Lady Northam, fortify yourself. You are about to be carried in the arms of your husband.”
“I doubt you are up to the task.”
“Up to the task, now that my dearest begs for a right and proper spanking.”
“Try it,” she said, jumping to her feet.
“What happened to you were not going to move?”
“I just had the proper motivation,” she said hurriedly.
“I shall give you motivation,” he said. Laughing, she ran away from him, and looked back to see if he was following her. He was. Thank God. Oh, la, but how she adored him. He had captured her heart. If she ended up regretting trusting her heart to him—she would become quite desperate indeed.
*****
It didn’t take long for Archie to catch Gemma.
For daring him so freely, she couldn’t run fast enough to stay out of his reach. Right now, she was dangling over his shoulder in a rather humbling position. He had expected her to start beating him about the back. Instead, she was being surprisingly demure, and dare he say it—submissive.
“I concede,” she said, although her tone still held a mutinous edge.
“I do not believe it. You, my lady, wouldn’t concede to William the Conqueror.”
“Blackguard.”
“Chit,” he responded without missing a beat. “What do you concede?”
“I bow to your physical might. You will always be able to overpower me. I am nothing but your meek and mild wife.”
“With a healthy dose of vinegar,” he said. “Besides, no matter how much you sweet talk me, you still have a few spankings coming to you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I thought that by now you would see how very foolish it is to dare me. I told you I will always rise to a challenge.”
She fell into that silence that told him that she was bloody furious with him. “I can’t believe I married you.”
“You didn’t have to,” he countered.
“I had little choice in the matter and besides, I did it to spite my brother. I also thought that I could…” she stopped, catching herself before she could incriminate herself.
“What did you think you could do?” he asked, drawing closer to the abbey with ever stride he took. Did she think she could gain something by marrying him? He couldn’t make sense of her. Most women confused him but Gemma, she topped them all. She was the most confusing creature he had ever met. Of course, he wasn’t exactly innocent himself.
“I thought I would break your heart,” she said softly.
He stopped suddenly. They were still far enough away from the house not to be spied from anyone that mattered. He placed her back onto the ground, and joined her. Running his hand up her leg, he stopped around her knee. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was open slightly. Her eyes were glazed over with pleasure. She enjoyed his touch. It thrilled him to the core. He could take her so easily right here on the grass. He could relieve her of her maidenly status and consummate their marriage. No one could ever take her away from him then. She would be his for the rest of eternity. She wasn’t wearing nearly enough undergarments. He knew of some women who wore drawers and petticoats.
“You belong to me,” he said, crushing his lips against hers. She writhed beneath him, reached up to snake her hands through his hair. She would make a frightful mess of it, and yet he didn’t give a damn.
“I belong to no man,” she mumbled stubbornly.
“Nay. You belong to no other man. You only belong to me. Say it,” he willed.
“No,” she muttered. “Not unless you say that you belong to me.”
The spell was shattered. “No man belongs to a woman,” he scoffed. “The world doesn’t work that way.”
“And yet, you said that you wouldn’t control me. You told me I wasn’t chattel.”
“That is true.”
“How can I be my own independent woman if you…if you do not think that a man can belong to a woman. You are my lord husband, and I am your lady wife, am I not?”
“Aye,” he said, guessing where she was going with this current dialogue.
“Well, then,” she said matter-of-factly. “We belong to each other.”
He looked down at her. “Charles has found us. That little scamp will be here before we know it. I suppose,” he drawled, “I shall have to save the ravishing for later.”
She looked at him, a hardened glint in her eyes. “I shan’t ever say that I belong to you, sir.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he said a little too harshly. Charles was waving at them. He stopped short, gasping for breath.
“Time to come in for dinner…” he said, looking between them, “Lord Northam, you look suspiciously as if you have just stolen something.”
“He’s no thief, Charles,” Gemma scoffed, standing up and brushing herself off. She took Charles by the arm. “Lead on my little sea scamp.”
“I am not little,” Charles said petulantly.
Archie looked at the innocently sweet picture they painted. He reached for his hat, almost regretting what he had planned for the noble house of St. Martin.
Chapter Fourteen
The next few days were filled with Gemma rediscovering the grand house that she had once loved so much.
For all of his faults, and he had plenty of them, Geoffrey Woodward hadn’t destroyed the house. He hadn’t changed much except to add a few more artistic touches to it. According to the staff, most of which Woodward had kept on after he had taken the house from her father, he had been almost as fond of this residence as she had been.
“You look as if you are dreaming again,” Archie said, his voice slicing into her thoughts. She turned away from where she stood by the window overlooking the back gardens. The shutters had just been opened to reveal the early morning sunlight that was dappling across the dewy grass.
Archie had been a perfect gentleman with her. He hadn’t attempted to encroach upon her personal space again, and she wondered what would become of them. Would they ever get past the cool indifference he seemed to show her since that day out on the lawn?
He held a missive in his hands, and while he had pulled her out of her silent reverie, he now seemed engrossed in one of his own. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he seemed quite vexed.
“Is there something amiss?” she asked softly, strolling over to
his side. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of the writing in the letter but he quickly pocketed it.
“Nothing to concern you, Lady Northam. It’s just a letter from an old friend apprising me of some bad news.”
“How bad?” she asked, her heart doing a little skip.
“As I said,” he said coolly, as if he was deliberately trying to keep her at an arm’s length. “It is only a mere trifle. You needn’t fret.”
“But I do fret. You seemed upset.”
“Upon my soul, madam, you should attempt to keep your nose in your own state of affairs.” His rebuke slapped her hard. She took a few steps backward. Now, she wanted to be rid of him as well.
“I thought…I thought we were going to be friends…”
“Husbands and wives cannot be friends. Now, run along, and do whatever you do during the day.”
His words continued to cut her. He was being deliberately cruel, and she’d had enough of it.
“If anyone is looking for me, I shall spend the day confined to my bedchamber.”
“Aye, your bedchamber,” he muttered, his eyes snapping with fire. “I might have to invade your sanctum at some point in time, madam. I cannot be expected to wait forever for your icy heart to melt.”
She swallowed thickly, and squared her shoulders. How had he altered so? She felt as if she was bloody well looking and talking to a stranger.
With a muffled cry, she dashed from the room. He confounded her. There had to be a way for her to survive this sham of a marriage.
The question was…how?
*****
Gemma kept to her word.
She didn’t emerge from her bedchamber for the rest of the day, and sent her maid down to tell everyone that she would take a tray in her bedroom. It wasn’t all a lie. She did feel quite poorly, and she had an uneasy feeling that she couldn’t shake. A knock at her door made her jump. It sounded quite urgent.
“Enter,” she said.
The person who stepped over the threshold was someone she hadn’t expected to see—no, that wasn’t correct, she hadn’t wanted to see him.
“I would like you to send for your maid and start packing.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I have been called home. As you are my wife, you shall come with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want, Gemma. You are coming with me, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t like it. I am not going anywhere,” she crossed her arms over her chest, and took on a defensive stance. “Besides, this is my house now, and I don’t want to leave it. I just had it returned to me. You are asking too much of me.”
“On the contrary, you ask too much of me, madam. You will come with me. I will take you, willing or unwilling.” His words unsettled her. Did they carry a double meaning?
“You wouldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do.”
“I might not force you to share my bed, but I will force you to go where I lead, and right now, my family needs me, and I need you.”
“I shall go and talk to Mallory right this instant. I do not care if I intrude upon him. He should be in his study at this hour of the night.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be in his study to see you. In fact, he you won’t find him in the house anywhere. A messenger arrived with an urgent missive, calling him, Elizabeth and Susan away, something to do with her cousin, Raleigh falling ill and needing to see her. Charles begged to stay behind. He wanted to stay behind with Seamus. Seamus has found other distractions in the kitchens. It seems he likes a certain cook and right at the moment, he and the indefatigable Mrs. Grant are getting a little steamy in the kitchen. It would seem that their animosity toward each other has transformed into terms of endearment. I don’t think we should have brought her along. She will have to go back to Chichester Castle at some point, anyway, as this house no longer belongs to your brother.”
“This makes…this makes no sense. Mallory wouldn’t go without seeing me first.”
“I told Mallory that I would take good care of you, and he trusts me.” He pulled down his waistcoat and gave her a supremely pleased with himself look.
“What have you done, Archie?” she asked softly. Could she trust the man who had such a cold and calculating gleam in his eyes at the mere mention of her brother’s name? As if he had a veil over his face, he put that veil back in place and gave her a cheeky smile.
“I haven’t done anything, darling. I wish I had. I wish had joined you here in your bedchamber and shown you the carnal delights of the wedding bed.”
“Don’t jest, Archie. What…why did you have my brother and his family called away?”
“Why do you think I had a hand in it?”
“Something in my gut tells me you did.”
“Your womanly intuition is wrong in this case, Gemma. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“I never said you’d hurt me…but something tells me that there is a St. Martin name in your black books.”
“You are no longer a St. Martin,” he hissed, striding toward her and seizing her by the wrists. She tried to wrench away from him, and he held her firm.
“Archie, you are hurting me,” she gasped, feeling overwhelmed by his strength.
All of the color drained from his face. He released her and took a cautionary step back. “Don’t lump yourself in with that lot anymore, do you understand? You joined my family when you married me. You have my name now. You are no longer a St. Martin.”
“I will be a St. Martin until the day I die, Archie Campbell,” she said sadly, wishing that he hadn’t revealed this part of himself to her.
“Make haste to pack your things. I shall return shortly, and I will take you from this place even if I have to take you kicking and screaming.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. Oh, lawks. What was she going to do? How could she escape a man such as him?
He looked at her one last time, his intense gaze searing her skin.
“Don’t try to fight me on this one, Lady Northam. You will lose this battle.” Without another word, he left the room, and she sighed with relief, her shoulders sagging. He returned a moment later, and scared her a little with his swift action. “I shall send your maid up to you. I wouldn’t want you to have it accidentally slip your memory that you had to call her.”
“Yes, sir,” she said obediently, dipping into a curtsy.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, and gripped her chin so she was looking right up into his dark blue eyes. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, and gave her a passionate kiss that rocked her to her core. “I won’t remain patient for long,” he murmured. “If you shan’t invite me into your bed, you shall give me no choice but to seduce you.”
“You said you wouldn’t force me,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, aye, I won’t. When I’m done with you, you will be begging me to take you.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that one, sir.”
“Don’t make bets you cannot win, Lady Northam.” He bowed to her, and turned on his heel and left. She kept her breath sucked in, expecting him to do another hasty return.
But he was gone.
Her stubborn nature reared its ugly head. Sitting calmly down in a chair, she waited. Pack up her belongings, her foot. She would call his bluff. She wouldn’t leave this house no matter what he said or did.
Chapter Fifteen
This wife of his was turning out to be a right and proper pain in his arse.
Archie tried to make her see reason, but she seemed blind to it. He had hoped that his last little chat with her would spark a little bit of sense into her. It had been useless. Her maid had diligently taken to her duties by preparing two trunks filled with what Gemma would need, but Gemma herself was unmoved. He had never seen her so taken with stubbornness. Something would have to shake some sense into her. He couldn’t abide her stubbornness one minute longer.
&n
bsp; Slowly, he walked into her bedchamber and regarded her. “Lady Northam, you do not look as if you are ready for travel,” he observed, his voice severe.
“I am not going anywhere,” she said softly. “This is my house now, and here I shall stay.”
“You are obviously forgetting our wedding vows.”
She jutted her chin out, and looked to the side. “Go away. You tire me.”
“Not half as much as I could,” he said, taking a step toward her and then realizing that his voice was far too harsh. “Fine, you can have your way today. The sun is already setting. We shall set out upon the morrow.”
“I will not leave tomorrow, either,” she said stubbornly.
“You must. You have to follow me where I lead, and I’m leading you away from this house…”
“And my family,” she pointed out angrily.
“Indeed,” he said, just as fervently. “You forget. You have two families now, mine and yours. And right now, my family needs us. You need to learn that you will have to share your life with both the Campbells and the St. Martins.
“If you had it your way, I would never set foot back into this house.”
“Maybe so,” he shot back. “You, my lady, need a firm hand. You require a good taming.”
“I am no shrew,” she screamed, jumping up and lunging at him. He caught her before her open hand connected with his cheek. “I am an angel compared to some women.”
“You aren’t acting like it,” he drawled lazily. They fell deadly silent, each trying to stare the other one down. He had to admire her spunk. Her mettle could hardly be matched by any other women. She was one hell of a spitfire, and she was all his. That warmed him, and the love he had for her swelled up inside of him, almost bringing him to his knees. She made him weak.
Christ Almighty.
The sound of a child’s scream carrying to them through the bedchamber’s open windows, pierced the uneasy silence between them.
“Where is Charles?” she asked anxiously, fear creeping into her heart. At ten years of age, Charles was a cheeky little fellow, and he could be anywhere on the Estate. The scream terrified him, and it seemed to horrify her as well.
His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2) Page 10