She murmured something inaudible in her sleep. He stroked the top of her blonde head. His mother wouldn’t expect him to come home with his wife. He had once vowed that there would never be a Lady Northam. Once she heard the entire story and saw how fiery and passionate Gemma was, she would respect her for that. She definitely wouldn’t carry over her grudge to Mallory’s sister. Nor would his father…who, really didn’t say much these days, Archie feared that he would become the Duke far sooner than he had planned.
In the beginning, she had wanted Mallory dead, but then, she had told Archie that she had rethought her plans of action and decided that there was only one way to properly punish Mallory. They had to take away everything that he cherished the most and put him into his own living hell.
He had done that. And now, his grudge against Mallory was fulfilled. He had taken Gemma, he had taken Mallory’s trust—and with it his peace of mind. His family would be at odds now, no doubt Mallory’s mother would go up one side of him and down the other. For his part in it, Archie never wanted to think of it again. He could only hope that Jamie could rest in peace now.
“It is a mistake I tell you. Malcolm can’t be dead! I don’t believe it, he promised he’d come home—” She moaned and awoke with a start. Confusion shone in her green eyes for a brief second, only to be replaced with cold disdain. “Where are we?” she asked drowsily. “We…we must be close to the coast.” Instinctively, she reached out and rested her hand on his arm. After a few moments, she pulled her hand back as if she’d been burned. Her refusal to let him touch her, stung badly.
“I’m taking you to my ship.” He would take her by sea back to his ancestral lands. Hopefully, she wasn’t a seafaring creature and wouldn’t know where they were sailing. If she traveled by land, she might find a way to send a warning to Archie, and she would know exactly where their destination lay.
“My brother will be following us. He will follow us straight across to the West Indies if need be.”
“Well, he can if he’d like, in fact, that’s what I expect him to do. Alas, we aren’t going to the West Indies.”
“We aren’t?” She straightened up. Her hair was mussed around her face. Her eyelids were slightly swollen, and her pallor was starting to give him concern. She was so white. She looked so weak. So bloody fragile.
“We aren’t,” he confirmed, smiling brilliantly at her. He tried to pull her back toward him.
“Am I allowed to ask where we are going?” she asked slowly.
“When have you ever been worried enough to ask for permission before? Where did the spark go?”
“As much as you might want to think badly of me, I am intelligent enough to realize that before we were on even ground, or at least in my thoughts we were. Now, you have a child to use as leverage against me. I wouldn’t want to overstep my bounds and get Charles killed. What sort of a heartless wretch do you think I am?”
“Stop that!” he raged, surprising himself with his ferocious reaction. “Cease that blatherskite about me being cold blooded enough to kill a child. I would never harm a hair on Charles’s head. You can be as rebellious or as stubborn as you wish, without having to worry about stepping one foot out of line. I will not kill Charles for anything, do you understand me?”
“I understand what you are trying to valiantly convey. And even if I believe you, I do not believe he is safe with that mad half-brother of yours. He is French for goodness sake. Challant will kill if the fancy strikes him. Trust me on that one.”
“You are mistaken. Louis-Daniel has never spilled the blood of a child, he might want you to think he is a malicious man, and yes, he does go about things in such a way I would never even consider when it comes to making an example of someone. I do apologize for him shooting your butler. He did not however serve him a deathblow, he easily could have done that, Gemma. He usually kills without compunction when he thinks it a righteous kill.”
“Make as many justifications or excuses for him as you like—it makes no bloody difference to me. The Marquis is a dirty bastard, and you defending him will not clean his soul. He is rotten to the core, and I pity you for putting any sort of faith in him. If you ever leave me alone with him, I shall endeavor to make an example out of him.”
“I would advise against you crossing him. As long as I lay claim on you, he won’t touch you, and he won’t touch Charles. He is my brother, he will not cross me, no matter what happens.”
“As long as you are faithful to him, I will never be faithful to you.” She turned away from him, and tried her best to plaster herself up against the dark blue satin interior of the carriage. She lurched forward when the carriage came to a sudden stop.
“I am sorry for that, Lady Northam.” He reached out for her, and before she could move away from him, he had grabbed her. Pulling her to him, they locked gazes. “We are going to leave the carriages behind now, and I can’t have you seeing what lies ahead. I do apologize, Gemma, I had hoped you would remain asleep until we arrived at our destination. I am going to have to blindfold you.”
“No. I shan’t allow you to do that.” Pulling her free hand up, she cracked him a good one across his jaw. The ring she wore caught on his lip making him bleed. He winced, and looked back at her.
“Why did you do that? A dutiful wife should never strike her husband. You will not be harmed while you are blindfolded, I promise you that.”
“Bugger your blasted promises. Your word means as much as ashes to me. In fact, you mean as much as ashes to me. I wish I’d never set eyes upon you. Duxford looks like a bloody saint when compared to you. I wish…I wish I had never married you. You…blackguard!”
His eyes flared with anger. “Never again, compare me with Duxford! You will not earn any sort of affection from me when you do that!”
“Affection from you? Perish the thought. I will never give or receive affection from you, even if you are my husband.”
“Nonetheless, I shall have you in my bed. You shall do your duties as my wife, Lady Northam.”
“Then, you will have one unwilling participant.”
“I wouldn’t say that with such conviction when your eyes belie the way that you truly feel. My touch still makes you quiver, it still makes your heart beat faster, and I can feel that it makes your hands clammy.”
“I am exhausted. All of those physical reactions are common in a fagged state.”
“Perhaps,” he chuckled. “You still have not given me enough distraction.” He looked to the carriage window. “The driver is waiting for me to rap the roof of the carriage with my cane, to have the footmen open our doors. I wasn’t planning to do this, but I do believe you shall have to be blindfolded, you are too cunning for your own good, my dear.” He pulled out a silk handkerchief.
“Would you bind my hands, as well?” she asked, extending her hands toward him. He looked at her hands.
“No, indeed, I think I can keep you controlled without having to tie your hands. As I said, I would rather not even blindfold you, but I do recall your brother regaling me with tales of your picture perfect memory. He used to say that you only had to look at something once to remember it right down to the miniscule detail. I can’t have you watching our route to our destination, and memorizing it. You would try to escape me, and you might succeed.”
She swallowed. Fear etched her features. “Can’t we travel by road to our destination?”
“I am afraid not.” He shook his head. “You grew up on an island, in order to travel…” he paused. He looked stricken by the conclusion he’d just reached. “Have you never been away from Britain?”
She shook her head. “I do not care for the sea.”
“Fret not, I shall be with you, giving you comfort, and our journey will be a somewhat short one.” She closed her eyes, suddenly looking quite fatigued.
“Short one, my arse. How long will I be stuck with you? You do know as your captive, I am expected to escape you at any possible chance.”
“As my wife, you will be b
ound to me forever. I will never allow you to escape, and with time, you will never want to be far from my side. I do not want us to be constantly at odds, Gemma. My quarrel is not with you.”
“Our marriage is over, Archie. Somehow…someway, I shall find a way to have it annulled.”
“No,” he said, his voice fierce. “No, you shall not. You shall be my wife until my dying day…and even then…death shall not part us.”
“I can never be your wife. You are related to a Frenchman. You are a nothing but a big fat lie.”
“I never lied to you. Led you astray, mayhap, but I never lied to you, Gemma.”
“You married me to hurt Mallory.”
“At first, maybe. But as I started to know you better, I realized that I married you because I wanted to. You bewitched me, Gemma. Heart and soul.”
“You think too much of yourself, Archie. I am not going to let you seduce me. I shall never become your wife in that sense of the word. I was never a dutiful daughter or sister, you can hardly expect me to be a dutiful wife.”
He smiled at her.
“You will learn to respond to me the way that I wish you to.”
“You are fooling yourself, Archie. I shall never accept you as my husband, I will never be the dutiful loving wife that you think you will find in me. I shall never do your bidding, in or out of the bedchamber.”
“Pray, do not make this any more difficult than it has to be.” He still held the red handkerchief, and she eyed it warily, realizing he would try to blindfold her at any instant.
A chill ran up her spine. She suddenly felt queasy. He reached inside of his coat again.
“Bold words, my dear. However, as soon as we reach our destination, I have full intentions of claiming you in the most thorough sense of the word.”
Her heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe. She placed her hand to her stay. Her cheeks burned, thoughts whirled in her head, and she couldn’t breathe. Leaning forward, she gasped for breath.
“I have smelling salts, if you require them,” he offered. He was grinning with supreme satisfaction in reaction to her discomfort.
“Keep them. I shall take nothing from you.” She once again eyed the blindfold. “Pray do put that on me, I can’t bear the sight of you at the moment, Lord Northam.” She shuddered, when he came toward her.
Gently, he turned her so he could wrap the blindfold around her face. Tears pooled in her eyes. They escaped their watery prison. She said a silent prayer of thanks for the blindfold, for it was the only thing hiding the humiliating evidence of her tears.
“Don’t hate me for this, Gemma,” he implored softly, emotion creeping into his voice. He gently kissed the middle of her forehead, making her feel even fouler.
“Oh, I don’t hate you for this, sir,” she replied, envisioning his face in her mind’s eye. “I hate you just for being who you are, making me who I am.”
Silence engulfed them. She could feel him wrapping something heavy around her. “This greatcoat shall keep you warm against the night air.”
“I would rather freeze, thank you.”
“I would rather you not freeze, wife. I don’t want my men looking at the evidence your body will display to show that you are indeed chilled to the bone.”
She took a shaky breath. He was right. He was only trying to protect her modesty. Then, why was it whenever they were alone together he stripped her of most of her defenses, and made her feel naked to his eyes even if she was fully clothed? She despaired at the thoughts coursing through her head. She allowed him to slip her arms into the greatcoat and waited while he buttoned it up.
“There. You are all set. No one will see your ripped dress, or anything else they needn’t.” Was that the sound of possession she heard in his voice? Whatever happened, she knew he wanted her, and he wouldn’t allow anyone else to take her from him. Mallory was up against a force he would be hard pressed to fight. He was up against a man in love.
“Thank you,” she whispered the words. She could almost feel him smiling at her. Warmth permeated off of him, she’d never felt such sensations emanating from a man before, why oh why did her new husband have to turn out to be such a foul creature?
She could hear him moving to the carriage doors. Then, she heard him stop. She shivered when she felt him close in on her again. His two hands cupped her face. She tried to wrench her face out of his hands.
“Is this what you always planned? To take me while my guard is down, and I am without sight? Go ahead, do as you like, I can’t fight you, if I do, your men will probably bloody well slit Charles’s throat.” She heard him grunt. He still didn’t like it when she accused him of being that hateful of a monster. She could feel his breath on her cheeks. She held her breath. And, then she felt it. She felt his mouth gently brush against hers. He had kissed her before, and this kiss reminded her of their first kiss for it had a hunger in it that was unmistakable, but she had responded then.
This time, she did nothing. She kept her mouth closed, and he didn’t attempt to force it open. Gradually, he drew away from her, and sighed heavily.
“I will make you see reason, Gemma. I will make you see the light.”
“Oh, that is no concern. I already see the light, even with this blasted blindfold on.”
He rapped the top of the carriage, twice. The carriage doors flew open. She could hear him stepping out onto the road. He murmured something to his men so low that she couldn’t quite make out what he said. She strained her hearing to its limit, hoping to catch onto a word or a phrase, but it was lost on the howling night wind, and the wretched gulls screeching around them made her ears hurt.
She felt him reach back inside of the carriage, his large hand gripped hers. She let him guide her forward. His hands encircled her waist, and before she could take in her next breath, she found herself ensconced in his arms. His warmth bled through the greatcoat.
“On second thought, I think I will carry you onto the ship. I wouldn’t want you to trip and hurt yourself, Lady Northam.”
“You are too kind, Lord Northam.” She put a sneer in her voice.
“I regret having to hurt you in any way.”
“And yet, you still wound me,” she countered.
“Your Lordship, we have secured the boy and the dog on the ship. The boy is asleep. Isla gave him a sleeping tonic in his hot chocolate.”
“Who is Isla?” she asked softly.
“She is a friend. I have entrusted her with the boy. When you see her, you will say nothing nasty to her, do you understand? She doesn’t like it when people notice her…her scars. Many have hurt her terribly by attacking that weakness.”
“I won’t.” What did he take her for? Some heartless creature? Again, her heart hardened toward him.
“Apparently, Charles didn’t even start at the sight of it, he was completely accepting. Most children should be like that, but unfortunately they are not.”
“Charles is unique, I shall gladly admit that.”
“You should sleep as well, you are worn out.”
“When shall you sleep?” she asked.
He laughed. “Once we are well underway, I shall retire to my cabin for a few hours.”
“Good. That way, I shall have some peace from you, husband.”
“Oh, you misunderstand. My cabin is your cabin, wife.”
“You are a rat.”
He chuckled. “It brings me comfort to hear your spunkiness returning.”
She clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t say anything else. It only fed into his desires. It was almost as if she titillated him whenever she got her back up. Well, from now on, she would try to be as demure and as quiet as possible. It would be a challenge in character for her. Yet, she would try to withstand it until she met her objective.
She would drive him mad, or drive herself mad trying to drive him mad.
She shivered.
“We will be aboard the ship at any moment now.” She could feel the rhythm of his gait change as he walked up what
was probably the gangplank to the ship. She hated sailing. She loathed it with the very fiber of her being. Despite her better intentions, she felt sluggish. Exhaustion seeped into her pores. She yawned. Why was it that he managed to relax her, despite what she knew and thought of him?
Why couldn’t she just hate him all of the time? Her body betrayed her, and her mind just wanted the time to rest and rejuvenate. She had to be able to endure the rest of the tests that would come her way.
“Lord Northam, I have made your cabin ready. You will find a light repast on the table and I have laid out the lady’s nightgown and dressing gown, just as you asked.”
“Thank you, Isla.”
“Oh, she is a bonny lassie,” Isla said, admiration thick in her voice.
“This bonny lassie is awake,” she yawned again. Her mouth felt dry. She heard him open a door, the floorboards creaked as he moved toward whatever he was taking her to. She felt a soft mattress beneath her when he set her down. He smiled at her as he tenderly removed the blindfold.
“Well, I should have wondered why you had that contraption on her, my lord.”
“You needn’t concern yourself, Isla, the lady required the blindfold, I didn’t want her to memorize the route of our voyage.”
The ship lurched beneath them. They were leaving port. Nausea rolled through her at the thought of a long sea voyage. She moaned.
“Ah, the lass looks a wee bit peaked. She should rest. Perhaps, I should send up Doc.”
Gemma placed a finger to her temple trying to ease the burning pain behind her eyes. She focused her vision on the woman called Isla. One side of her face was slightly disfigured by scars, and her back was hunched. She gave no reaction that she could tell. If Archie thought Isla would repulse her, he couldn’t be further off track. She wasn’t that sort of person.
His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2) Page 14