Saying I Do to the Scoundrel

by Liz Tyner

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Brandt decided not to be so smug. ‘The woman with me has offered me coin.’

  Adam’s eyebrows rose and his chin moved forward. ‘She is paying you for what?’

  ‘Just to keep her from her stepfather. Although it is a bit more than merely a run to the country for the air.’

  Adam’s lips almost disappeared, but the sides moved up. ‘At least this time, I suppose we will not have to listen to Father rattle the windows with curses.’

  ‘He calmed.’

  ‘I regretted telling,’ Adam admitted, his head moving to the side. ‘I thought I’d have to live with Mother forever blaming me because the two of you had killed each other.’

  ‘Good enough for you.’

  Adam gave a grunt. ‘We will do our best to see that only family is aware of your movements—if that’s what you wish.’

  ‘Will you both be here tomorrow to watch over her? I want to go to London to make sure Mr Fillmore stays away. And I don’t want to risk taking her with me.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Adam said.

  He looked to the road, knowing he had to leave to make sure Katherine wasn’t discovered. And knowing, just beyond the turn in the road, one could take a few steps to the side and be standing at a cemetery.

  Mary and Nathan’s last home. And the baby’s.

  *

  The door opened, and Katherine stepped out.

  ‘Katherine, my brothers Adam and Harlan. My cousin Jefferson.’

  She stopped for a half-breath and stared at him, then she greeted his brothers.

  ‘And this is Chaser,’ Harlan spoke up. He looked at the dog. ‘Welcome her, Chaser.’ He held his hand up and clasped his fingers several times, and the dog barked once for each flash of Harlan’s fist.

  ‘That’s a well-trained dog.’ Katherine admired the animal.

  He reached over and scratched her behind the ears. ‘Pick of several litters and brings me my hat every morning.’ He took off the hat and put his fingers through the holes in it. Then plopped it back on his head. ‘And like having the brother I’d always wanted.’

  Katherine interrupted and indicated Adam and Brandt with her hand. ‘You are brothers?’

  Adam and Harlan nodded.

  ‘And your last name is?’ she asked.

  ‘Radcliffe,’ Adam spoke easily.

  ‘Is Brandt’s the same?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. We prefer to think otherwise, but our mother insists she didn’t find him abandoned by the side of the road and take him in because he looked so pitiful.’

  ‘Will the two of you be visiting Mother today?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Certainly,’ Brandt said. He knew he needed to discuss his future plans with his mother. His mother would need to help Katherine set up a household.

  ‘We will be happy to introduce you to our mother as Brandt’s betrothed.’ Adam smiled in Katherine’s direction.

  ‘No.’ Brandt shook his head. ‘Out of the question. It is ridiculous.’

  ‘You can both decide to part directions later. This way it will set her mind at ease about you.’ Adam glared at his younger brother. ‘Could you not do this one thing to make Mother happy as you have caused her a bit of grief over the past few years?’

  ‘She’s not going to live for ever,’ Harlan added, shaking his head.

  Brandt ground his teeth together before answering. He checked Katherine’s eyes.

  ‘Oh, I will be so happy to call it off later.’ She looked at his brothers and smiled.

  ‘Tell Mother. But tell her she must keep it a secret we’re in the area,’ Brandt said.

  Adam gave a bow to his brother as he turned away. ‘I’ll send the carriage and make sure the path is clear of servants except the most trusted.’

  *

  Katherine watched the little dog bound away behind the men as they rode away.

  The more she thought about it she was fairly certain Brandt owned the manor house and planned to let her stay there. His brothers hadn’t asked him one question about it while in her presence. No one had mentioned it to him while she was in the room.

  So everyone knew.

  ‘You own the carriage house. Don’t you?’

  Eyes turned to stone. No one had ever looked at her with such distance in his eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was your wife like?’

  The air changed. The elixir left.

  ‘Alive.’

  He opened the door to the carriage house. ‘After you,’ he said, holding it open.

  She went inside and watched as he heated water to shave. The steam rose from the bowl as he sat it on a stand. He gave her a glance before unbuttoning his shirt and she turned her eyes modestly away, moved out of the reflection of the mirror, and watched him.

  ‘Would you like me to help?’ she asked.

  ‘Take off my shirt, or shave?’ he asked, a smile crinkling his eyes.

  He glanced her way, holding the wet cloth to his neck. Warmth flooded her cheeks.

  ‘Taking off your clothes seems easier for you than keeping them on.’

  ‘And not shaving is easier than shaving. But the blade’s sharp. I would have let you heat the water, but I think this is a job for someone who has done it before. Why don’t you just watch?’

  He stood as if he were alone and moved the blade with a flick here and a flick there, the razor sliding across his skin, never pausing, never wavering as it navigated the contours of his jaw.

  ‘Well?’ he asked, turning when he finished shaving, still holding the razor. ‘Do I look presentable?’

  ‘You clean up very well.’ She wasn’t surprised to see a strong jaw—a strong pale jaw as it had not been touched by much sun. ‘You shave so quickly, I’m surprised you don’t do it more often.’

  He put down the blade. ‘The barmaids. You ask for a mug and they bring it and think they can give you an opinion on the length of your hair. I left the whiskers to irritate them.’ He picked up the towel, looking in the mirror, wiping a few spots on his face. ‘Shaving almost reminds me of the past. Of the house. I preferred the tavern look, particularly when it irked Rose, the barmaid.’

  ‘Did you like the women at the tavern?’

  ‘I suppose. Annie lives in the back and she’s got a big heart that’s always getting broken. Rose has no heart, but she has to walk home. So on nights when she didn’t leave earlier with a friend…’ he paused, letting her know it was a male ‘…I’d stay until she was ready to leave and see that she was home safe. The ale was always free after everyone left and on a slow night Mashburn would let them cook whatever they wished.’

  ‘It sounds pleasant.’

  ‘Not Rose’s cooking. She liked everything overdone.’ He touched his chin again. ‘Surprised she didn’t figure out a way to burn the ale.’

  She stepped sideways, leaned around and studied his hair.

  He pulled her hand to his face and her palm went out, and he held her wrist and moved her arm so her touch caressed his cheek.

  ‘Smooth as a babe’s bottom.’ His eyes sparkled.

  She smiled. ‘Looks a bit like a plump rump to me, too.’

  He breathed again and breathed strongly. She felt it cover her—the elixir—slipping down her body, cloaking her with a sensation so strong her whole body reacted.

  ‘I thought of how you sneaked to my bed in the night. And, if it happened again, I did want to look better for you while you pushed yourself closer.’ His voice and eyes held exaggerated innocence.

  ‘Sir, you forget…’ she forced herself to look into those teasing eyes, even though she thought she saw something more intense behind them ‘…I may have been asleep in your bed, but I was tossed from it. That’s not something a woman forgets easily.’

  ‘I was asleep.’ He winked at her. ‘A mistake and one should never repeat mistakes.’

  She looked away from his face. ‘In your sleep, you show your true feelings and I respect them.’

  ‘My true feeling is that you’re not m
uch better with your hair than Rose is with her cooking.’

  Her lips parted.

  ‘You do not have to look at me quite so amazed,’ he said. ‘I can twist it up for you.’

  ‘You’re willing to—’ She raised her hand and brushed it over her hair. ‘The maid always did it for me.’

  He frowned. ‘It doesn’t seem that difficult. Easier than shaving.’

  She waited, hoping he’d say something more, but he didn’t. ‘There’s no brush.’

  ‘I’ve a comb. I’ll twist your hair into a knot. I’ve seen it done.’

  She sat, back straight in the chair. He walked behind her, took out the pins, moving slowly so it didn’t hurt her.

  He slipped the ribbon from the braid. Gentle tugs let her know he removed the plaits, taking his time, as if he were memorising the strands, and then, with his fingers spread, he started at the temples and threaded his fingers through the hair, while he brought the comb behind his movements, sliding his hands above her ears and down the length to her back. With each slow touch her heart sped. Her breathing heightened and his fingers held her in a waking dream.

  ‘A bit more,’ he said, his voice rough to her ears. He held her head, tilting it down. Sliding his hand up the back of her neck, he gathered the hair in one hand and wound it around itself, moving to tighten it at the top of her head. She felt the pin glide against her skin, holding the hair in place, and another traced her head, before securing the locks. He dropped one and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. Then he leaned down to lift the clasp and his breath heated the back of her neck when he stood.

  ‘I let a wisp out,’ he said. His hand skimmed her skin and he nestled the lock against the bun he’d made.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘See how you like it.’

  She looked around and up at him and touched where his hand had heated her skin. ‘It’ll do.’

  ‘Does it feel better?’

  ‘Much,’ she said, her fingers still resting at the back of her neck.

  ‘Good. Then we can be on our way faster.’

  *

  Brandt walked into his brother’s house. The sofa fabric had changed. The arm no longer had the mend spot from the candle burn. But, the portrait Thomas Lawrence had rendered of his father still gazed over the room with a wistful look in the wise eyes. The paint had barely been dry when his father passed away and Brandt believed his father had wanted the canvas done so when he was gone, he could be in their midst.

  His mother sniffled when she hugged Brandt and he thought she felt frail. His sister cried on his shoulder and then looked him up and down and said, ‘My tears have obviously ruined your clothing.’

  Then, a moment later his sister darted away with Katherine and Adam’s wife to get the children so they could see their uncle.

  ‘Are you going to marry again and return home?’ his mother asked and he saw the hope in her eyes.

  ‘I’ve really no plans to marry again, Mother.’ He gave her another hug. ‘I just didn’t want you to have the wrong opinion of the woman I’m with. She doesn’t deserve it. I was hoping you’d tell everyone you’ve hired staff to set my house in order and that she could be in charge of the duties there, as Mary would have if I had died.’

  ‘Mary would understand if you married.’ She brushed her handkerchief across her nose. ‘And…well, you don’t seem to be alone. She looked at him closely. ‘And this woman?’

  ‘We have only recently met. And she needs a home.’

  ‘You’re sure—certain—’ he saw the hesitancy in his mother’s face ‘—certain you would not wish to stay?’

  He shook his head and his eyes met hers. ‘I can’t, Mother. I can never again live there.’

  She opened her mouth to speak—to argue, he knew. But she closed it again and leaned forward. ‘Son, are you rescuing a fallen woman?’ She rotated her hand. ‘You do tend to like… I mean, Mary, who was a dear, dear, woman, wasn’t exactly of our social standing.’

  Fury spiked inside him, but he kept his words even. He wanted no disagreement. No memories that might cause him to need to make amends. ‘I did not rescue Mary. I loved her.’

  ‘I know. I know you loved her. I do not doubt that.’

  He shot a look at Adam, who shrugged as if to say it wasn’t his fault he’d raised her hopes. But then, Adam had never been as quiet as Brandt would have preferred.

  ‘I always have you close at heart as well, Mother.’ He took her hand and brought it to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

  Then his sister-in-law returned with his infant niece and he saw his nephew again, surprised to see the lad sprouted tall and lean.

  And all the happiness he felt around him showed him what he had lost. Katherine seemed so fascinated with the children. She discussed the little girl, Gussie, with his sister, making it sound as if she spoke of her own child.

  The sight of his brother’s children and the way his sister-in-law tended her family brought back to his memory the times Mary and Ione had sat at the table and compared babies while the men talked of tenants and crops and horses.

  Before, Mary would have made sure Nathan did not get too lively with his cousins and she would have told Ione about Nathan’s latest escapade and listened at the mischief of his cousins and they would have probably whispered about ‘our rascals’ and they would not have been talking about the children.

  He didn’t even remember the first time he saw Mary. He’d paid no attention to her. Another female servant.

  Usually, Mary had done the scullery work while her mother cooked. He didn’t remember when he noticed her. And he wished he could remember what he’d done to her on the freezing day he’d walked outside and she’d taken revenge by dousing him from behind with a glass of cold water. Then she’d dashed inside and hidden in the servants’ quarters. He’d known his father would have had a fit to catch him there, so he’d had to be careful.

  It hadn’t been long after when he’d begun sneaking down the stairs, outside and around to her window in the night. Going straight to her room involved too many hallways with too many doors.

  And now Mary lay in a grave while he sat with his family—and wished he’d never returned.

  He knew he cared for his mother and brothers. Knew it. And he wanted to be happy to see them. But everything reminded him of what was gone.

  He smiled, feeling each jagged edge of the place where his heart had been.

  He loved his mother. No question of that. He loved his brothers, no question of that. At least his mind told him he did. But his heart had been buried with Mary. He’d thought time would soften the memories and he thought it had. But he’d seen the empty house and it was nothing more than a shell that had once held his wife and child close.

  He wanted to return to the tavern—not to the house. Not to the rooms which held the last traces of his happiness and now mocked him. But to his world which gave him a diversion and stood filled with people drinking to the demons which haunted them and laughing at the scars they carried.

  But, he had to get Katherine taken care of and then he would go back. He would drink and laugh and curse at the daylight.

  He’d never again crawl into a woman’s window or kidnap one.

  Adam’s shoulder dipped to one side and his head followed the tilt when he asked a question. ‘So—should we get the fatted calf and the worst ale? I seem to remember that Brandt could drink the worst swamp water and call it fine.’

  ‘I’ve got the worst brother and I call him fine,’ Brandt muttered. ‘And I am not talking about Harlan.’

  ‘I knew that,’ Harlan spoke when he and Jefferson stepped behind Adam. ‘But we are pleased you returned—so you must count us as a bit off in our thoughts, I suppose.’

  ‘Boys,’ his mother interrupted. ‘Please try to show a good example for the children. Pretend you are no longer in leading strings.’

  ‘Have we reached that point yet, in your mind, Mother?’ Adam asked.

  She shook her head, then reached to p
at Brandt’s arm. ‘Every day—I hope it will happen.’

  ‘It might some day,’ he said. ‘Just don’t count on it.’ He gave her a kiss to the cheek, told them goodbye and walked out the door with Katherine.

  ‘You seemed quiet at your family’s house,’ Katherine said. ‘As if you didn’t feel at ease.’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘I don’t belong there any more. I’m not a part of them.’ He stopped. ‘Now that I think back, I never was. I didn’t want to go to university. I felt more comfortable with Mary’s family.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps the way I feel more comfortable with the people of the tavern.’

  ‘I’m sure they wish for you to be a part of the family.’ She put a hand on his arm.

  ‘They don’t know. They think it is all grief for my wife. I hope they always believe that.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time they returned to the carriage house, Katherine would have liked nothing better than a warm bath and a well-made bed.

  ‘I’ll be outside,’ Brandt said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Bar the windows and doors. If anyone is searching for you here, I’ll be there to see him. I’ll be watching the door from outside with my back against a tree. Besides, they would think you’re in the main house. My brothers discovered us too easily. I don’t want anyone else doing the same.’

  ‘You can be inside with me.’

  He acted as if she’d not spoken for a second, then he said, ‘It doesn’t seem safe to me tonight.’

  She remembered the way he’d touched her hair and the kiss, and she didn’t think it was only the chance of someone finding them keeping him outside.

  ‘My brother Harlan will be bringing his dogs and we’ll all be keeping watch. Nothing can get by his dogs without us knowing.’ He stood at the doorway, his hand on the frame. ‘Remember, bolt the door behind me.’ He closed the door as he finished speaking.

  She walked to the door, putting the bar over it as he’d asked. If he was that determined to stay on the outside, she’d let him.

  He wanted to live the rest of his life alone. He had no idea how fortunate he was to have a mother and brothers, a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews. No idea.