Bedchamber Games

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “You love it. And you’re good at it. And you’re every bit as excellent a barrister as I, and yet you had to give it up and for no better reason than the fact that you’re a woman. If I have to give the law up as well, I will be sorry but it won’t be the end of the world. I don’t need the money and there are a host of other interesting things I can do with my life. The only thing that would be the end of my world is if you tell me you won’t marry me. If you tell me you don’t love me when I ache from loving you.”

  “Not love you?” She freed her hand and laid it against his cheek, finding it warm and memorably rough with a day’s growth of whiskers. “I have loved you from the day we first met, even if I may not have recognized it then for what it was. Why else do you think I let myself be drawn into your web despite all the warnings? What other reason would I have had to give myself to you, an acknowledged rakehell, if not for love? Of course I love you. These past few months haven’t been hell only for you.”

  His eyes glowed from within. “So you’ll marry me?”

  “I will, assuming you’re sure I’ll make you a proper wife. I’m not an aristocrat and your family may object.”

  “My family will adore you. Leo’s been needling me ever since we parted, telling me what an absolute fool I was to let you go and to hurry and get you back.”

  She chuckled. “I like your brother. It’s only that . . .”

  “Yes? Only what?”

  She tucked her hand back into her lap, her forearm resting against the small swell hidden underneath her cloak. “You really don’t know, then? Bertram didn’t tell you?”

  His eyebrows drew tight. “Tell me what?”

  She fidgeted a little in her chair. “Because originally I thought you’d come here strictly out of duty. That you knew the truth and were only trying to do the right thing.”

  “The truth about what? Rosamund, please just tell me what you mean, because at the moment you’re not making a great deal of sense. What is it I don’t know?”

  Reaching for his hand again, she drew it beneath the edges of her cloak, then pressed his palm to her gently rounded stomach. “This.”

  He stiffened, his shock unmistakable. “Rosamund, are you . . .” Pushing open her garment, he stared, moving his hand across the slight bulge as if to better define the shape.

  “Yes,” she said. “I am carrying your child.”

  Myriad emotions flashed across his face—surprise and confusion warring with pleasure and elation before moving on to frustration, then anger.

  He got to his feet, towering above her. “You weren’t going to tell me.” It was a statement rather than a question. “Didn’t you think I had a right to know?”

  “Of course you did and I thought about telling you. You don’t know how badly I wanted to tell you. But by the time I became aware of my condition, you were engaged. I didn’t see the point in telling you then. In coming back into your life only to ruin it again. You made it clear you didn’t want a baby. I couldn’t shackle you to me like that, couldn’t force you to give up everything you held dear just so you could do the honorable thing.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “So you were going to keep me from my child? Never even let me know of its existence?”

  Sadness fell upon her again as she shook her head. “I fear I’m the one who must beg your forgiveness now. If you no longer wish to marry me, I’ll understand. Even if you do, it will cause a dreadful scandal. I’m nearly six months along, so there’ll be no hiding it and no claim of a premature birth. Your family will be justifiably appalled.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Please don’t hate me, Lawrence. I’m sorry. I only did what I thought best. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Silence fell. Then before she knew what to expect, he reached down and pulled her up and into his arms. “Don’t be a goose. As if I could ever hate you. It’s impossible or haven’t you realized that by now? I love you and I love our child and I am only sorry that you’ve had to bear this burden alone all these many months. I should have been with you. Then again, I should never have let you go in the first place.”

  Gathering her even closer, he crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her. She kissed him back, putting everything into their joining as she let all her love and longing pour forth, her worry and heartache, her joy and relief, as their touch formed the bridge that healed the pain of their separation.

  At length, he drew away, untying her cloak and tossing it aside before taking her place in the chair and nestling her gently across his lap.

  His mouth found hers again and neither of them came up for air for quite some time.

  “A baby, hmm?” he said, running his hand over her stomach again in slow circles. “Of all the things I expected, that wasn’t one of them.”

  “I may have forgotten the herbs a few times there at the end,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. “Well, at least we won’t have to blame the chemist.”

  “So you aren’t angry?”

  “About the baby? Not a bit. As for what my family will think, they’ll be delighted.” At her doubtful look, he laughed. “Believe me, you don’t know the Byrons well enough. We all thrive on scandal. It’s about time we had some fresh fodder with which to shock the Ton.”

  She couldn’t help laughing in return, then sobered as a new thought occurred. “Heavens, what am I going to tell my cousins? They both think I’m a respectable widow, not the pregnant lover of a wicked aristocrat.”

  “Shortly to be his wife. I plan to wed you as soon as I can lay hands on a special license.”

  “Bertram will be relieved.”

  “I think that’s the only reason he didn’t kill me when I showed up on his doorstep. I told him I loved you and planned to marry you as soon as I could convince you to have me.”

  “There was never any doubt about my answer.”

  “Oh, I’m not so certain. I think he thought it could go either way.”

  She grinned again and kissed him. “But about my cousins. I suppose we’ll have to tell them the truth. They’ve both been so good to me. It seems only fair.”

  “Leave it to me. We’ll tell them enough. I presume you don’t want to admit to your cousin Ross that you borrowed his name and bar affiliation for a few months of exceptional legal work in London over the summer.”

  “No, I’d rather not. I think he and Susan will be dismayed enough by news of you and the baby without heaping on more.”

  “Then me and the baby it is. I had wondered about this Paul Jones fellow. Seemed rather shabby of the man to marry you, get you with child, then stick his spoon in the wall all within a couple of weeks.”

  “Two months.”

  “Ah, that long, was it? Maybe Leo can use the idea in his next novel.”

  “I think Bertram has beat him to it.”

  “Your brother is writing? Good God, how many novelists will there be in the family?”

  “More, it would seem, than lawyers.”

  His expression grew serious. “Do you miss it? The law?”

  “Sometimes. It was exciting and I’m glad to have done it. But I missed you so much more.”

  “I meant it when I said there’s nothing and no one more important to me than you. You’re my heart, Rosamund Carrow. My very breath of life. Now kiss me again before your cousin Susan comes in, worried I’m holding you for ransom.”

  She threaded her fingers into his hair to bring him close. “You can hold me for ransom anytime you like, my lord, because I never want you to let me go.”

  “And I never will.” He grazed his lips against hers. “I promise.”

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  Lady Esme Byron hiked her sky blue muslin skirts up past her stocki
ng-clad calves and climbed onto the wooden stile that divided the vast Braebourne estate from land owned to the east by her family’s nearest neighbor, Mr. Cray.

  Cray, a widower near her eldest brother Edward’s age of forty, was rarely in residence and never complained about her trespassing on his land; since her childhood, he’d let her traipse across it almost as if it were her own. Not that Braebourne didn’t provide plenty of beautiful vistas to explore—it did, especially considering that her brother owned nearly half the county and more besides—it was just that Cray’s land possessed a lovely natural freshwater lake that sat at a perfect walking distance from the house. The lake attracted a rich variety of wildlife, so there was always something fascinating to sketch. Plus, no one ever bothered her there; it was quite her favorite secret place when she was looking for an escape.

  She jumped down onto the other side of the stile, taking far more care of the satchel of drawing supplies slung over her shoulder than she did of her fine leather half boots. She wobbled slightly as they sank ankle-deep into the mud, then stared at her ruined boots for a few seconds, knowing her maid would give her a scold for sure. But as she was always able to talk dear Grumbly around, she shrugged away any concern.

  Grabbing hold of the fence, she unstuck herself one boot at a time, then scraped the worst of the mess off into the nearby grass. Turning with a swirl of her skirts, she continued on to her destination.

  As she walked, she angled her face up to the sun and sighed blissfully.

  How good it was to be home again after weeks in London.

  How wonderful to be out in the open once more, free to roam wherever she liked, whenever she liked.

  A tiny frown of guilt wrinkled her dark brows, since technically she was supposed to be back at the estate helping entertain the houseguests visiting Braebourne. But all seven of her siblings and their families were in residence, even Leo and his new bride, Thalia, who had just returned with celebratory fanfare from their honeymoon trip to Italy. With so many Byrons available to make merry, she would hardly be missed.

  Besides, they were used to her penchant for disappearing by herself for hours at a time as she roamed the nearby woods and hills and fields. She would be back in time for dinner; that would have to be enough.

  An exuberant bark sounded behind her and she glanced around to see her dog Burr leap the stile and race toward her. She bent down and gave his shaggy golden head a scratch. “So, you’re back, are you? Done chasing rabbits?”

  He waved his bright flag of a tail in a wide arc, his pink tongue lolling out in a happy grin. Clearly, he was unapologetic for having deserted her a short while ago so he could hunt game in the bushes.

  “Well, come along,” she told him before continuing toward a stand of trees in the distance.

  Burr trotted enthusiastically at her side.

  Nearly ten minutes later, they reached the copse of trees that led to the lake. She was just about to step out of their protective green shelter when she heard a splash.

  She stopped and motioned for Burr to do the same.

  Someone, she realized, was swimming in the lake. Was it Mr. Cray? Had he returned home unexpectedly?

  Soundlessly, she peered through the leaves and watched a man emerge from the water—a man who most definitely was not Mr. Cray.

  But who was most definitely naked.

  Her eyes widened as she drank in the sight of his long, powerfully graceful form, his pale skin glistening wetly in the sunlight.

  A quiet sigh of wonder slid from between her parted lips, her senses awash with the same kind of reverence she felt whenever she beheld something of pure, unadorned beauty.

  Not that his face was the handsomest she had ever glimpsed—his features were far too strong and angular for ordinary attractiveness. Yet there was something majestic about him, as if a dark angel had fallen to earth. His tall body was exquisitely proportioned: wide shoulders, sculpted chest, long arms, narrow hips and sinewy legs, even the unmentionable male part of him that hung impressively between his heavily muscled thighs.

  Clearly unaware that he was being observed, he casually slicked the water from his dark hair, then walked deeper into the surrounding area of short grass, which she knew was periodically trimmed by the groundskeepers.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her heart pounding wildly as she watched him stretch out on his back across the soft green carpet of grass. With a hand, she motioned again for Burr to remain quiet. She did the same, knowing that if she moved now, the mystery man would surely hear her.

  One minute melted into two, then three.

  Quite unexpectedly, she heard the soft yet unmistakable sound of a snore.

  Is he asleep?

  She smiled, realizing that was exactly what he must be.

  Of course she knew she ought to leave. But even as she began to ease away, he shifted, his face turning toward her. One of his hands lay on his flat stomach, one ankle tucked under the other at an elegant angle.

  And suddenly she couldn’t leave.

  Not when she was in the presence of such splendor and grace; it was as if the universe had decided to give her a gift.

  I simply have to draw him.

  Without considering her decision any further, she sank quietly onto a fallen log nearby that provided her with a sheltered, yet excellent view of her subject. Burr settled down at her side, laying his chin on his paws as she extracted her pencil and sketchbook from her bag and set to work.

  • • •

  Gabriel Landsdowne came abruptly awake, the late-afternoon sun strong in his eyes. He blinked and sat up, giving his head a slight shake to clear out the last of the drowsy cobwebs.

  He’d fallen asleep without even realizing. Apparently, he was more tired than he’d thought. Then again, that was why he’d come here to Cray’s, so he could spend a little time alone, doing nothing more strenuous than taking a leisurely swim and lazing away the day. He could have done the same at his own estate, of course, but visiting Ten Elms always put him in a foul humor.

  Too many bad memories.

  Too many unwanted responsibilities on behalf of a place that had never brought him anything but pain. For the most part, he left Ten Elms’ management to his steward, since he rarely set foot over the threshold, but invariably there was some matter or other that would crop up requiring his attention. There was also his house in Cornwall and his town house in London, both of which put claims on his time and attention, but he never minded seeing to those properties. They were his and his alone, with none of the taint of the past to sour his habitation.

  Yet he’d grown tired of his usual haunts of late—and his usual companions and their seemingly insatiable craving for debauchery.

  Even the devil needed a holiday every once in a while.

  When his old, and far more respectable, friend Cray mentioned that he was going hunting in Scotland—an activity Gabriel did not enjoy—Cray offered Gabriel the use of his house in his absence. Knowing that Cray House was a place none of his regular crowd would ever think to find him, Gabriel had accepted. He’d actually left London without so much as a word to anyone, instructing his butler to take the knocker off the door and say only that the master was away at present and not receiving.

  Wouldn’t his ribald set of cronies laugh now to see him doing something as prosaic as taking a solitary afternoon nap? Then again, he was out of doors, stark naked, so they would most certainly approve of that.

  Smirking, he stood up, brushing an errant blade of grass from his bare buttocks. He was about to cross to the stand of bushes where he’d left his clothes when he heard a faint rustling sound behind him. He turned and stared into the foliage.

  “Who is it? Is someone there?” he demanded.

  The only answer was silence.

  He looked again, scanning the area, but nothing moved; no one spoke.

&n
bsp; Maybe it had been the wind? Or an animal foraging in the woods?

  Suddenly a dog burst from the concealment of the trees, its shaggy wheaten coat gleaming warmly in the sun. He was a medium-sized mix of no particular breed, part hound, possibly, or maybe retriever. He seemed well fed, so it was doubtful that he was a stray. Then again, mayhap he was skilled at poaching birds and rabbits from the bountiful reserves of game in the area.

  The dog stopped and looked at him, eyes bright and inquiring but not unfriendly.

  “Who might you be, fellow?” Gabriel asked.

  The animal wagged his tail and barked twice. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he spun and disappeared into the trees once more.

  In that instant, Gabriel thought he spied a flash of blue in the woods.

  A bird?

  The dog must have sensed it and gone off to chase.

  Gabriel stared for one last long moment, then shrugged and turned to gather his clothes.

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