by Lydia Dare
Wes had grown up in a home full of boys. There was constant fighting, constant laughter, and constant pleasurable enjoyment. Not to mention, his gender afforded him some luxuries Madeline didn’t have. She had to be a paragon of virtue. He didn’t. And couldn’t if he tried. But she could learn to enjoy herself. Couldn’t she? He could teach her.
“Madeline,” he whispered close to her ear. She brushed at his head like he was a pesky fly. “Please don’t be angry at me.”
“I’m not angry,” she murmured back.
“Whisper, dearest, so Dovenby can’t hear you.”
“I don’t care if he hears me,” she hissed back. “I have every right to be angry at you.”
She did. True. “How long do you think you’ll remain angry?”
She shrugged. Then she arched a brow at him. “Until you’ve learned your lesson?” she asked most pleasantly.
Dovenby laughed into his closed fist from across the coach. Madeline shot him a look, and he instantly pretended to be absorbed in the scenery.
Madeline let her gaze run from the top of Lucy Reed’s head to the bottom of her feet. “I can’t compete with someone like her,” she finally said in a heavy whisper.
“It’s not a competition, Madeline,” he said, trying to soothe her.
“She’s everything I’m not.” Maddie sniffed. “And you obviously wanted her at one point.”
“I’m not an innocent, darling. Most men aren’t. And I feel certain you wouldn’t want one who was.”
“I don’t want you, either,” she murmured.
“I highly doubt that’s true.” He lifted one hand to cup the side of her face. “You want me. You just don’t want to want me.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She finally looked at him. Not toward him or around him. But looked at him. “Do you still want her?”
“The only woman I want is you,” he confessed. She was the only woman he’d wanted for quite some time. The others were simply distractions from what he couldn’t have.
“You’re going to have to ask the driver to stop so I can cast up my accounts if you two don’t stop your blathering,” Lucy Reed said with more than a bit of censure in her tone. Then she looked at Madeline, her eyes softer than he’d ever seen them. “He’s head over heels for you, love. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be trying so damned hard.” Madeline’s face colored at the actress’ curse. “That’s something I never got from him. So, take it at face value.”
Wes leaned over Madeline and let his lips graze her cheek.
“Is she right, Weston?” Madeline asked.
Good God, the woman needed more assurance than anyone he’d ever met. “I’ll show you tonight.”
“But tonight we’ll be married,” she said, her brow furrowing.
“Exactly.” Wes settled back to enjoy the scenery with Dovenby. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw the earl reach out and take Lucy Reed’s hand in his, and draw it beneath her skirts so no one could see the gesture of affection. And she let him.
Seventeen
Maddie watched the quaint village of Gretna Green come into view just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. She had begun to think they might never reach their destination. She still wasn’t certain she was making the best decision, but she truly had very little choice in the matter.
She glanced at Wes beside her and noticed the way the shadow in the carriage’s waning light hid the scar that had once frightened her. Funny, now that she’d spent days in his presence, she barely noticed the slash unless he was particularly angry.
“I suppose this is it,” Lord Dovenby remarked cheerfully. “Your last chance to bolt and pray for an escape.”
Wes stiffened at her side, and Maddie glared at the interfering werewolf. “Are you speaking to Weston or to me?”
Dovenby laughed. “Well, you, of course, my lady. Certainly you realize that no matter what you’ve seen or haven’t seen, you can do better.”
“What did she see?” Lucy Reed asked, a look of confusion marring her pretty face.
Wes growled deep in his throat. A warning if Maddie had ever heard one.
“I can’t imagine why you think I would bolt, my lord.” Besides, if the way the two Lycans had caught up to her when she’d left them on the side of the road was any indication, she doubted she could run fast enough for an escape. Not that she was of a mind to do so. “I accepted Weston’s proposal and have no intention of changing my mind.”
Dovenby’s blue eyes twinkled. “As you say, my dear.”
“Some witness,” Wes grumbled, which only made the earl laugh. Dovenby might as well have been Brutus to Wes’ Caesar. “Remind me to return the favor sometime.”
“Ah, when I am finally leg-shackled, Hadley, it will be in front of God and all of society in St. George’s. I will have my pick of witnesses, all of whom with standings much more exalted than yours.”
Comparing Dovenby to Brutus seemed too kind all of a sudden.
“Leave him alone, Dove,” Lucy Reed chided. “You really can be an obnoxious arse.”
“I can handle my own affairs, Lucy.” Wes scowled at the actress.
Lucy sniffed indignantly and folded her arms across her chest. “I know that, Hadley. I’ve seen you handle fellows worse than Dovenby before. But if you’re trying to be on your best behavior to impress your prim and oh-so-proper bride, I can assure you that you’re really looking like a dolt.”
Maddie sucked in a breath. Why did Lucy Reed find a way to insult her every time she opened her mouth? And she’d insulted Wes, too. “Behaving like a gentleman is to be commended, Miss Reed.”
The actress smirked. “Spoken by a lady who doesn’t know otherwise. You may take my word for it, Lady Madeline. No woman wants a gentleman in her bedchamber.”
Maddie was certain her face was as red as a tomato. The things the woman said!
“Enough, Lucy!” Wes barked just as the coach crawled to a stop. “Wonderful as it’s been having the two of you along on this journey, we must part ways now that we’ve arrived.” He nodded in Lucy’s direction. “Godspeed on your return to London.” Then he glanced at Dovenby, “Best of luck with your own upcoming nuptials.”
The earl chuckled. “You keep trying to get rid of me, Hadley. I’m starting to take it personally.”
“Perhaps you should,” Wes remarked.
Dovenby gestured toward the door with a sweep of his hand. “Do hop out. A Scottish blacksmith awaits.”
Wes glared at the other Lycan, but he did open the door. Then he offered his hand to Maddie. “My lady.”
His hand enveloped Maddie’s smaller one as his dark eyes locked with hers. In that instant, Dovenby and Lucy Reed seemed to fade into the background along with all of Maddie’s wits. Wes would let her go if she wanted it. She could see it in his eyes. Despite that beseeching stare that begged her to come with him, he would let her go in an instant if she asked it of him.
But she didn’t want to be let go. She’d come this far. She’d left her home and her father behind. She’d jumped out an inn window, for heaven’s sake. Maddie smiled at him as a rush of excitement washed over her. Marriage to Weston Hadley would be an adventure. A passionate, fun adventure. With a man who had the potential to love her. It was more than she’d hoped for. More than she’d been schooled for her whole life.
He smiled back. “Are you ready, my lady?”
Maddie’s heart pounded in her chest. Was she ready? Really ready? She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Not trusting her voice not to crack, Maddie nodded her answer.
Wes helped her alight from the carriage and then scooped her up in his arms. Her bare feet tingled in the cool Scottish breeze as his boots crunched along a path to the entrance of a white stone blacksmith’s shop.
A young lass was sweeping the floor and looked up at their approach. “Are ye here for a weddin’?” She swiped at her cheek and left a black smudge across her face.
Wes nodded. “We are indeed, and we’re
in a bit of a hurry.”
“Someone chasin’ ye, huh?” The lass shook her head as though she’d seen it all in her short years. “Papa!” she called loudly. “Ye’ve got more customers.”
A moment later, a man dressed in all black, and looking more like a vicar than a blacksmith, appeared in the doorway. “Ye’re lookin’ ta get married?”
“And they’ve got someone chasin’ them,” his daughter informed him.
The blacksmith grinned. “Well, then let’s get on with it, shall we?”
“Thank you,” Wes replied.
“Ye can put the lass down, sir.”
Maddie looked at the dirty ground and tightened her grip around Wes’ neck.
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll hold her.”
The blacksmith shrugged. “Suit yerself. Have ye got a ring?”
Wes’ body stiffened at the question. He had nothing, she well knew. It wasn’t as though this impromptu rush north had been planned with great care. She squeezed his shoulder and then cleared her throat. “I’m already wearing it. Just a moment.” Maddie tugged off the emerald ring she’d worn since her mother’s passing a decade earlier. The stone glittered in the waning light as she held it out to Wes.
He looked so sad all of a sudden, as though he regretted the fact that he had nothing to give her, but he could give her something more precious than jewelry. He could give her the passion he’d promised, an adventure she would never forget, and the possibility of having a good marriage.
“Ye really should wait until ye’re wed ta wear the ring.” The blacksmith frowned at her.
But Maddie shook off the censure. The last person she was going to let pass judgment on her was an anvil preacher who knew nothing of her standing. “May we get on with it, sir?”
The blacksmith’s frown deepened, but he said to his daughter, “Fetch me a couple of bodies, lass, and be quick about it.”
“Only need to fetch one,” Lord Dovenby said from behind them. “I’ll serve as a witness.”
The lass made a quick exit to do her father’s bidding, brushing past the earl in her haste.
“Thank you, sir.” The blacksmith nodded in Dovenby’s direction, then turned his attention back to Wes and Maddie. “All right. Yer names, please?”
Wes puffed out his chest proudly. “Weston Hadley and my bride is Lady Madeline Hayburn.”
“About the payment, Mr. Hadley…” the man’s voice trailed off.
“I’ll be paying,” Dovenby replied. “My little wedding gift to the newlyweds.”
Wes growled. “I have the funds, Dove.”
The earl grinned. “I’m sure you do. But I think I’ll enjoy having you owe me, Hadley.” He glanced back at the blacksmith. “You may proceed, sir.”
“Just as soon as…” The blacksmith looked at someone behind them.
Maddie’s heart jumped to her throat. Certainly Papa hadn’t caught up to them. She glanced over Wes’s shoulder to see who was behind them and breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on a brawny Scot instead of her father. “Fi said ye needed a witness.”
“Thank ye, Hamish.” The blacksmith gestured Wes and Maddie closer. “We may begin now, Mr. Hadley, Lady Madeline.”
Wes stepped closer to the anvil in the middle of the shop.
“Ye really should put her on her feet for the ceremony.”
It would only be for a few seconds. She could stand on a dirty floor for a few seconds. Maddie nodded quickly. Wes placed her gently on her feet. Her toes curled from touching the chilled Scottish ground.
Then the blacksmith pulled a golden cord from his pocket and grasped Wes’ right hand and Maddie’s left. So that’s why he wanted her on her feet. The gesture was quite sweet really, so Maddie pushed the thoughts of dirty, cold floors out of her mind. The blacksmith began to wind the cord around their wrists, binding them together. “Repeat after me, Mr. Hadley. I, Weston Hadley, take ye, Lady Madeline Hayburn, ta be my wife before God and these witnesses.”
“I, Weston Hadley, take you, Lady Madeline Hayburn, to be my wife before God and these witnesses.” His dark eyes sparkled as he repeated the words, a promise of more to come.
Warmth shot to Maddie’s belly.
“All right, Lady Madeline, yer turn. I, Lady Madeline Hayburn, take ye, Weston Hadley, ta be my husband before God and these witnesses.”
Maddie tipped back her head proudly. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, she’d only get married once. She was going to do this right. “I, Lady Madeline Hayburn, take you, Weston Hadley, to be my husband before God and these witnesses.”
“Ye’ve got the ring, Mr. Hadley?”
“Yes, of course.” Wes fumbled around in his pocket before retrieving Maddie’s emerald ring and then he slid it back on her finger. But this time, it slid onto her hand with a promise of the future, rather than a remembrance of the past.
The blacksmith gestured to the two of them. “Ye may kiss yer wife now, sir.”
Wes wasted no time drawing Maddie to himself, wrapping his unbound hand around her waist and pulling her flush against him. Then he slowly dipped his head and captured her lips with his. His kiss tasted of desperation. Of comfort. Of something she didn’t even understand. It was sweet and kind and hot enough to melt her toes. She stepped up onto her tiptoes to press her lips more firmly to his. But Wes broke the kiss and raised his head.
“Just in time,” Dovenby remarked.
Wes took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Your father has arrived.”
The earl grinned as though he had a secret no one else knew. Like he was the happiest man in existence. “You should probably spirit your lovely wife off to the closest inn and climb into bed before he reaches you. I’ll stall him as long as I can.”
“Are you ready to run again, Madeline?” her husband asked.
Was she? She was. “I’m ready, Wes,” she replied.
Once again, he scooped her up in his arms and fled into the darkness of the night, into their unknown future.
***
Wes let his new wife slide down his front until her toes landed on the clean floor of their tiny rented room. Her hair hung about her shoulders in wild disarray, and he’d never seen her look more lovely. Madeline fell against him like she was meant to be there.
“Do you hate me for doing this to you?” he asked as he nuzzled the side of her neck.
“I’m not very fond of the room,” she began with a nervous giggle, “but I can accept my circumstances.”
“Someday, Lady Madeline, I will get you the best room at the best inn, and then we’ll recreate this night.” He could do that, couldn’t he? Certainly, he could. But for now, her father was nearby, and if they didn’t hurry, he’d have an opportunity to snatch Madeline right out of Wes’ grasp. Hurrying was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to savor every moment. To taste every part of her. To tempt her with passion like she’d never imagined.
“We should hurry,” she said as she turned and presented her back to him. Before she turned, though, he saw the rosy blush that crept up her cheeks. And the way that her hand trembled. Wes worked at the fastenings of her gown with nimble fingers, slowing only momentarily to press his lips to the skin he bared.
“I don’t want to hurry,” he breathed against her back, just as he reached the last fastening. He held her hips in his hands and squeezed, perhaps a bit too roughly with his frustration, but she didn’t complain. “But if we don’t seal this, he could take you from me.” He stood up and spun her in his arms, then tipped her chin up so that she looked into his face. “You understand, don’t you?”
But she was already tugging at the sleeves of her gown, pulling them down. She was naked beneath the gown, having left her chemise at the last inn. He probably looked like a complete dolt staring at her. “Could you turn down the light? Just a little?” she asked hesitantly.
Wes ran a hand through his hair as he crossed the small room, then doused the light. He turned back to face his bride, the only illuminatio
n in the room was the light from the waning moon that streamed through the window. The same moon that had started this journey. The same moon that had forced her into his path. God bless the moon.
Madeline was willing to forgo any hint of passion and get this over with quickly. But was he? He wasn’t. He wanted her first time to be perfect. He wanted to make love to her, not tumble her like a whore. He wanted to feel her around him, near him, inside his heart.
“Stop,” he said. Her head jerked up as she looked at him with curiosity.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, clutching the bodice of her gown against her breasts.
Wes groaned. “Everything.” He threw up his hands and began to pace. “This isn’t how I want this to be.”
“How do you want it?” Her voice quavered. “I must admit that I have no idea of what’s supposed to happen.” She looked as lost as he did, he was sure.
He’d bungled this. Bungled it badly. Wes might have to hurry, but he’d make this wonderful for her if it was the last thing he ever did. He tore his own clothes off with haste and didn’t stop until he wore nothing but his smallclothes. And the only reason he didn’t remove those was because he didn’t want to frighten her.
“Come here,” he said quietly. She took one hesitant step toward him, still clutching her gown against her breasts. Wes could only hope that Dovenby could hold off the duke long enough.
Wes dropped to one knee in front of her. Then he tugged at her gown. She covered her breasts with her arm as the gown fell to her hips. As he tugged the gown lower, he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her belly. It fluttered beneath his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured against her skin.
Madeline’s free hand touched the top of his head and then settled in his hair. She touched him. Dear God, she’d touched him. She’d touched him of her own free will. He hadn’t asked for it. He hadn’t begged or pleaded or forced it. She’d just done it.
Wes pushed her gown down over her hips and stood quickly, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her in the center, shucked his smallclothes, and crawled atop her in one swift move. This might not be the marriage she’d wanted, but he’d make it the marriage that pleased her. At least in this moment.