The Bargain

by Mary J. Putney

  Her eyes slid away from his, her words wrenched from her. “If my life was a fraud, that meant that no man could love me, because none of them knew me. Anyone who claimed to love me must be either a liar after my fortune, or worse, a sincere fool who would come to despise me if he knew me better. I could not allow a man to come close enough to discover my fatal flaws. Only after Sally said you wanted to marry someone else could I start to acknowledge my feelings for you.”

  She gave a humorless smile. “Candover is an attractive man, easy to dream about. But when I kissed him, I realized that what I liked most was that he didn’t love me, which was perfect since I never felt that I deserved to be loved.”

  In the face of her gallant, painful honesty, David’s anger began to dissolve. Abandoned by her mother, terrified of losing anyone else she loved—no wonder that under her serene facade lay fear. The pieces she had revealed came together into the whole Jocelyn, the wounded child as well as the bewitching woman.

  Overwhelmed with love and compassion, he raised one hand to stop the flow of agonized words. “You don’t have to say more, Jocelyn.”

  She shook her head, eyes stark. “The time for hiding from myself is over. When you left me the note saying that you loved me, I was terrified, because if you loved me, it was just a matter of time until you discovered what was wrong with me.” Her voice broke before she finished, “I could survive losing the regard of someone I do not care for deeply, but losing the man I do love would destroy me. So I left . . . before you could send me away.”

  He enfolded her in his arms, wishing he could heal the wounds she had borne all her life. “I’m sorry for all the beastly things I said,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “You did nothing to deserve such cruelty on my part.”

  As she clung to him, trembling, he kneaded her neck and back, trying to soften the taut muscles. “You see why I try to be a cool English gentleman. When the wild, emotional Welshman escapes, I am immune to logic and good sense. I hadn’t known I was capable of such jealousy. But then, I’ve never loved anyone as I love you.” His mouth curved wryly. “It didn’t help that Candover is a wealthy, handsome duke. If you need to sort out your feelings in the future, do you think you could experiment with a short, elderly fishmonger?”

  Between laughter and tears, she finally raised her face to him. “If you’ll give me another chance, there won’t ever be any other experiments.”

  Tears swam in her eyes, but her mouth was warm and welcoming. He embraced her fiercely, using his hands and mouth in a primal need to mark her as his.

  For the first time, she kissed him with her whole self, concealing nothing. With all defenses down, they were joined in an emotional intimacy that came from the soul, leaving them both shaken.

  Reconciliation flared into passion, the need to be as close as humanly possible. With fumbling hands and ripping fabric, they made their way across the room, leaving a trail of hastily discarded garments. This time there was none of the tentativeness of new lovers. They had learned each other on all levels, and the result was an inferno of desire.

  Jocelyn fell back on the bed, pulling him with her. She wanted to absorb every inch of him, to forge a bond that would bind them for a lifetime, and beyond.

  They made love with the desperate hunger of two people who had nearly lost what they valued most, staying tangled together even in the hazy aftermath of loving. David released Jocelyn only long enough to pull a cover over them before once more cradling her close. As bodies cooled and breath returned, they talked as lovers do, of how each had begun to love the other, of the small landmarks and discoveries that laid the foundations of their personal miracle. There was no reason to rush, and every reason in the world to savor that sweet sharing.

  Much, much later, David murmured, “I’m grateful your servants have the sense not to walk in on us without knocking. I would hate to embarrass one of the maids.”

  Jocelyn felt so full of joy that anything would have made her laugh. “If I know anything about my household, they have deduced exactly why we have been closeted in here for hours, and they’re celebrating with a champagne toast in the servants’ hall. From what Marie has said, they’ve been worried about my impending spinsterdom, and had decided you were the perfect solution.”

  Her head was lying on his chest and she could feel as well as hear his laughter. “What excellent servants you have.”

  Looking up at him, she asked, “Is it safe to assume that Jeanette is no longer relevant?”

  The tanned skin around his eyes crinkled mischievously. “To be honest, I’d forgotten that I’d written Sally about Jeanette. It was a lightning-bolt affair that ended when she sorrowfully informed me that a man of greater fortune had offered for her, and she really could not support life on an officer’s salary. After the initial shock wore off, I discovered I didn’t miss her in the least. Jeanette is entirely ancient history, as is our annulment.” He bent to kiss her again. “It’s too late to change your mind, my lady wife. I’m not letting you go again.”

  Jocelyn closed her eyes, hearing once again the echo, “Till death us do part,” this time with a resonance of infinite warmth and protection. Hesitantly she said, “I’ve discovered why I’ve believed myself unworthy of love, but it will be a long time before all of my fears are gone. I hope you will be patient if I cling too closely.”

  David rolled over so that he was above her. “If you have trouble believing that I love you, then I will just have to repeat the words every day for as long as we both shall live. I love you, Jocelyn. Does that help?”

  Warmth kindled in her heart, spreading until every fiber of her being was suffused with the knowledge that she was loved. She pulled his face down to hers, tasting the salty sweetness of his lips. “It certainly does, my dearest love. It certainly does.”

  Epilogue

  Since David and Jocelyn’s wedding had been so hasty and private, they gave a large reception to officially announce the marriage to friends and family. Richard Dalton attended on his crutches, looking justifiably pleased with himself for following his intuition that the two of them belonged together.

  Elvira, Countess of Cromarty, went into a hysterical rage when she learned that her wretched niece had withdrawn the application for an annulment. It was bad enough knowing that Jocelyn’s fortune was forever out of Elvira’s reach. Far worse was discovering that the girl and her husband were besotted with each other. As she told the long-suffering Willoughby, the very least one could have hoped for was that they would be as miserable as most married couples.

  When David’s letter reached his sister on a rainy day in Scotland, Sally happily reported to Ian that her brother and his wife had fallen in love and were now married for real. He looked up from the anatomy text he was browsing with a twinkle in his eyes, agreeing that marriage was a braw good thing—his Scottish accent was in full flower—because it combined temptation with opportunity in a most satisfactory fashion. Taking that as a challenge, Sally set out to tempt him, which led to an applied anatomy lesson that both of them found a good deal more enjoyable than the one Ian had been studying.

  Voice wickedly suggestive, Colonel Andrew Kirkpatrick reminded his wife that he had said the Kendal women were irresistible to army men. She laughed in agreement, and put out the candle.

  Delighted not to have to decide which well-loved employer to serve, Hugh and Marie began to plan their own wedding. Rhys would be his brother’s best man.

  Jocelyn wrote a brief note to the Duke of Candover, thanking him for his forbearance and good advice, and urging him to matrimony as the happiest of all states. He smiled a little sadly when he read her words, drank a solitary toast to the lady and her fortunate husband, then smashed the glass in the fireplace.

  Though she took a dim view of sharing her mistress, Isis continued to sleep on Jocelyn’s bed. After all, she had been there first.

  Author’s Note

  The idea for David’s life-threatening injury came from a Waterloo account th
at described an operation on an officer who had just been paralyzed by a spinal wound. As soon as a shell fragment was removed, the officer promptly scrambled from the table and escaped from the makeshift hospital, as any wise man would in those days.

  Long-time readers will recognize other characters. Richard Dalton is the hero of my very first book, a traditional Regency called The Diabolical Baron, which actually takes place a year later, when Richard has recovered from surgery.

  The Duke of Candover was created because I needed a super-cool Other Man for The Would-Be Widow, the original version of this story. However, Rafe caught my imagination by showing intriguing signs of vulnerability in his last scene, so naturally he had to have a book of his own. Look for Rafe’s story in the historical romance Petals in the Storm (first published as a Signet Regency entitled The Controversial Countess). It’s always great fun to see arrogance humbled!

  This book contains the first appearance of Ian Kinlock, crusty Scot and brilliant surgeon, whom I have since hauled into service every time I needed Regency medical help. He played vital roles in Shattered Rainbows and One Perfect Rose, as well as appearing in the Regency Carousel of Hearts. It’s always nice to see him again.

  Traditionally, British surgeons are called Mister while physicians are called Doctor, a difference which goes back to the fact that physicians were considered gentlemen, while surgeons, who worked with their hands, occupied a lower social rung. Since Ian was qualified in both disciplines, I’ve called him Doctor for simplicity’s sake.

  A note about lawyers. As most people know, in contemporary Britain lawyers are divided into barristers, who appear in court, and solicitors, who do the majority of legal work in their offices and who engage barristers when cases go to trial.

  However, the situation was far more complicated during the Regency, since there were three kinds of law, each with its own court system: equity, common law, and church courts. Worse, each system had two categories of lawyers that dealt with that particular branch of law. This is mind-bogglingly complicated and not especially relevant to my story, so mostly I’ve just used the term lawyer, which like a basic black dress is always suitable.

  I’ve used the 95th Rifles, one of the most renowned British regiments of the Napoleonic wars, over and over again because it was one of the few outfits to fight both on the Peninsula and at Waterloo. And if it seems as if all of my Regency-era characters know each other—well, fashionable London wasn’t too large a place in those days!

  Don’t miss THE LOST LORDS, the fabulous new series from Mary Jo Putney!

  It all starts with LOVING A LOST LORD . . .

  Battered by the sea, Adam remembers nothing of his past, his ducal rank, nor of the shipwreck that almost claimed his life. However, he’s delighted to hear that the golden-haired vision tending his wounds is his wife. Mariah’s name and face may not be familiar, but her touch, her warmth, feel deliciously right.

  When Mariah Clarke prayed for a way to deter a bullying suitor, she didn’t imagine she’d find the answer washed ashore on a desolate beach. Convincing Adam that he is her husband is suprisingly easy. Resisting the temptation to act his wife, in every way, will prove anything but. And now a passion begun in fantasy has become dangerously real—and completely irresistible.

  The next installment in the series is NEVER LESS THAN A LADY . . .

  New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney continues her stunning Lost Lords series with this stirring, sensual story of a rebellious nobleman drawn to a lovely widow with a shocking past.

  As the sole remaining heir to the Earl of Daventry, Alexander Randall knows his duty: find a wife and sire a son of his own. The perfect bride for a man in his position would be a biddable young girl of good breeding. But the woman who haunts his imagination is Julia Bancroft—a village midwife with a dark secret that thrusts her into Randall’s protection.

  Within the space of a day, Julia has been abducted by her first husband’s cronies, rescued, and proposed to by a man she scarcely knows. Stranger still is her urge to say yes. A union with Alexander Randall could benefit them both, but Julia doubts she can ever trust her heart again, or the fervent desire Randall ignites. Yet perhaps only a Lost Lord can show a woman like Julia everything a true marriage can be.

  And be sure to catch the third in the series, NOWHERE NEAR RESPECTABLE, coming next month from Zebra!

  Mary Jo Putney’s riveting Lost Lords series unleashes a high-stakes royal plot—which may prove easier for Damian Mackenzie to handle than his own unruly desire.

  He’s a bastard and a gambler and society’s favorite reprobate. But to Lady Kiri Lawford he’s a hero—braver than the smugglers he rescues her from, more honorable than any lord she’s ever met, and far more attractive than any man has a right to be. How can she not fall in love?

  But Damian Mackenzie has secrets that leave no room in his life for courting high-born young ladies—especially not the sister of one of his oldest friends. Yet when Kiri’s quick thinking reveals a deadly threat to England’s crown, Damian learns that she is nowhere near as prim and respectable as he first assumed . . . and the lady is far too alluring for any man to resist.

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  Copyright © 1988, 1999 by Mary Jo Putney

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  ISBN: 978-1-4201-2243-5