“You are very arrogant.”
“Perhaps, but this cannot continue, Molly. You must know that.”
“I . . . oh, blast.” With a jerky motion, she pulled from his touch and turned her back to him. Maybe he was right. It might be best for both of them if they made a clean break of it. If nothing else he deserved an apology for the trouble she had caused him, intentional or otherwise. “Of course I know. I was a fool to ever begin this ridiculous charade.”
“Molly . . .”
“No please, let me finish.”
There was a moment before she heard him heave a faint sigh. “Very well.”
Clenching her hands together, Molly sightlessly gazed toward the distant river. Even without glancing at Hart she could sense him standing behind her. It was in the goose bumps that feathered over her skin and the scent of male cologne that teased her nose.
Only with an effort did she keep herself from being distracted.
“There is no true excuse for my behavior,” she at last began. “When I learned of your grandmother’s will, I considered it a gift from heaven. I did not allow myself to question why she might have wished me to be a part of her inheritance, and certainly not why she would desire the two of us to wed. All that mattered was that I could rescue Andrew and return to my life at Oakgrove.”
“Hardly surprising,” he murmured.
“I also thrust you into the role of villain. I told myself you were arrogant and ruthless, and in dire need of a lesson in humility.”
She could feel him stiffen at her blunt honesty. “Because I held you in such suspicion?”
“No, because it offered me the opportunity to ease my guilt. I could tell myself that stealing a fortune from you to save my brother from his own rash stupidity could surely not be so bad.”
“You were desperate,” he said softly, revealing that innate kindness she found so disconcerting.
She gave a shake of her head as she turned to meet his narrowed gaze. It was tempting to allow him to brush aside her guilt so easily, but in her heart she knew she had to offer full honesty. Now that she had begun, her conscience longed to be rid of its lingering shadows.
“No, I was as selfish as Andrew ever was. I wanted to grasp at the swiftest and easiest means of rescuing myself. Even if it meant sacrificing you to do so.”
Surprisingly he did not appear shocked, or even disgusted by her stark confession. Instead his expression merely softened as he reached out to grasp her hands.
“And now?”
A lump threatened to form in her throat. “Now I realize it is not at all fair to punish you for Andrew’s sins.”
“Just as it was not fair of me to punish you for Victoria’s sins. We have both made mistakes, Molly, but it is my hope we can put them behind us and begin again.”
She frowned, not at all certain what he desired of her.
“For what purpose? You must return to London and I must seek a new position. There is little chance we will ever meet again.”
His grasp abruptly tightened upon her fingers as if he were caught off guard by her response.
“And is that what you desire?” he demanded in harsh tones. “Never to see me again?”
She flinched from the pain that raced through her. “It is simply destiny.”
“Only if we allow it to be so.” His gaze swept over her pale countenance, seeking some indication of her inner emotions. “Molly, you must know that I love you. And that I want to spend the rest of my life with you at my side.”
A panic raced through her. Why was he saying such things to her? Even if it were true he must know that she could never become his Viscountess. Not when she could bring him nothing but shame.
“Please, no,” she whispered. “It is impossible.”
His brows snapped together with impatience. “Why? Do you not return my feelings?”
“Of course I do,” she retorted, shocked that he could doubt for a moment the love that shimmered through her. “That is precisely why we cannot wed.”
His low growl echoed through the air. “You are making no sense.”
Molly squeezed his fingers, determined to make him understand. “It is precisely because I love you that I wish to see you wed to a woman who will bring you only pride. Not a penniless spinster whose brother is stained with scandal.”
Oddly, her logical explanation only deepened his frown.
“You listen to me, Miss Conwell,” he said sternly. “No one was a higher stickler than my grandmother and if she thought you proper to become Viscountess Woodhart, then nothing and no one would dare to gainsay her. Especially not me.”
His reprimand forced her to waver. Dear heavens, she had never actually considered Lady Woodhart’s opinion. It was certainly true her ladyship was a high stickler. Was it possible the older woman considered Molly a suitable bride for her grandson?
She gave a slow shake of her head. “I cannot imagine what she was thinking when she made that will.”
A wry smile touched his lips. “I can tell you precisely. She noticed a grandson who was fascinated by her paid companion despite his most fierce determination to remain indifferent, and a young lady who was slowly sinking beneath the heavy burdens she carried. And of course, the cunning old dragon could not possibly have missed the violent sparks that we set off together.”
A cautious, but undeniable hope began to bloom within her heart. “You believe she truly hoped we would wed?”
Slowly, he shifted to surround her in the warmth of his embrace, the midnight eyes glowing in the moonlight.
“Yes, I do, but to be honest with you it would not matter a farthing to me. Nothing matters beyond the fact that for too long I have allowed myself to merely endure the passing days. It was not until you entered my life that I awoke from my self-imposed prison and started to experience the world again. You have filled my heart with love, but more than that, you have given my life purpose. You would not be so cruel as to take that away from me, would you?”
Nearly overcome by his gentle plea, Molly impetuously tossed her arms about his neck and pressed herself to his hard form.
“Oh, Hart.”
With a laugh of pure joy, he lowered his head to press his lips to her own, the magic flaring between them banishing the lingering doubts that had haunted her for days.
This could not be wrong, her heart whispered. She may not be capable of offering this glorious man wealth or a pristine reputation, but she could give him an undying love that was surely worth more than all the gold in England.
Pulling back he regarded her with a knowing smile. “Tell me that you love me.”
She framed his beautiful face with shaky hands. “I love you. I adore you. And I cannot imagine a life without you in it.”
“That is well since there is no means possible of being rid of me now,” he warned in only half teasing tones.
A joyful smile lit her countenance. “Rather like the plague, eh?”
He laughed as she tossed his long ago words back into his teeth. “Precisely. Do you mind?”
Molly lifted herself onto her toes to offer a tender kiss. “I cannot conceive of a more glorious future.”
Epilogue
Much to the chagrin of London society, the wedding of the elusive Heartless Viscount to Miss Molly Conwell was a private affair held in the small chapel at the Woodhart estate. Only a handful were invited to attend the ceremony and even fewer the wedding breakfast to toast the newly married couple.
Of course the papers were filled with speculation. Not only because the Viscount had so determinedly avoided the altar for so long, but it was rumored that the long absent Lord Canfield had returned from the continent to take his place at his ancestral home. With the other illustrious guests to include the dashing Lady Falker and the always desired Lord Thorpe there was bound to be more than a bit of curiosity, combined with downright chagrin among those aristocrats who feared they had been slighted from the social event of the year.
Hart along with his
beautiful bride were indifferent to the flutter they created.
Indeed, most watching the couple would concede that the two were indifferent to anything beyond each other.
Remaining arm in arm throughout the long morning, they absently performed their parts and managed to endure the numerous toasts and well wishes before Hart was impatiently calling for his groom and whisking Molly away from the sweeping Queen Anne home to the seclusion of his carriage. A seclusion shared by a tiny monkey attired in wedding finery.
Once alone, he tucked her close to his side and stretched out his legs in sheer relief.
He had done it. Despite the inner demons he had been forced to battle, despite the charades and devious manipulations, despite his bride’s own ridiculous fears, he had at last captured his elusive angel. The woman of his dreams.
They were well and truly wed now. And nothing could come between them.
Unwittingly, a smile of pleasure curved his lips as he breathed deeply of the lavender-scented air.
At his side Molly turned so that she could study his relaxed profile, perhaps sensing his inner contentment.
“You are appearing rather smug,” she murmured.
His arm tightened about her shoulders. “Why should I not? I at last have the woman I love irrevocably bound to me, and best of all we are rid of all those pesky relatives who refused to allow me a moment alone with you.”
He turned to catch a glimpse of the soft blush that stained her cheeks. “Yes, well, Andrew thought it best to avoid any hint of scandal considering our already strange courtship.”
A no doubt wise decision, Hart grudgingly conceded. Molly was already anxious enough at taking on the role of Viscountess Woodhart without risking gossip. Still, there had been more than one occasion he had longed to strangle the overly protective puppy when he had remained bristling in the background during Hart’s visits.
“Thankfully we are now wed and he can turn his attentions to his own tangled future.”
She grimaced, no doubt recalling her latest battle with Lord Canfield over his stubborn refusal to accept Hart’s financial assistance.
“He can be utterly exasperating,” she muttered, then a faint smile touched her lips. “At least he and Georgie seem to have mended their relationship. Indeed, I have high hopes that in time she will one day be my sister in truth.”
Hart dropped a kiss atop her golden curls, as always amazed by her incredible optimism.
“It will not be easy, my sweet. Lady Falker is a shrewd woman who will not hastily rush into marriage unless she is certain your brother has truly changed his ways.”
“I suppose you are right,” she reluctantly agreed.
“Still, we both know that the most difficult paths lead to the greatest treasure.”
“Mmm.” She snuggled even closer causing a most heated reaction within Hart. “You have not yet revealed where we are going to enjoy our honeymoon.”
The heat became more pronounced as Hart swallowed heavily. “Does it matter?”
She shifted her head to offer him a sweetly enticing smile. “Not in the least. As long as we are together, I am satisfied.”
Yes. Together. His heart seemed ready to burst with pure joy.
“In that case, I shall tell you that we are going to fulfill a fantasy that has plagued me to near insanity,” he confessed in husky tones.
Her brows lifted. “What fantasy?”
“The two of us very much alone at our hunting lodge.”
The blush deepened to a near crimson, but her eyes flashed with an undeniable promise of pleasure.
“Why, Hart.”
“After that you can choose wherever you might wish to go,” he promised. “Paris. Rome. Brussels.”
Astonishingly, she managed to press herself even closer making Hart vibrantly aware of every soft, scented curve of her.
“Actually a few days at the hunting lodge sounds perfect.”
He closed his eyes to battle the rising tide of passion. “A few days. Or weeks. Or months.”
Both intent on the thickening atmosphere in the carriage, neither noticed when they turned off the main path and headed up a winding trail toward a brick building set in a copse of trees. Not at least until the groom brought the pair of restless horses to a halt.
With a blink Molly pulled away to peer out the window. “Why ever are we stopping here?”
With a shake of his head to clear his foggy brain, Hart sat up straight and reached into his jacket to remove an official slip of paper.
“You distracted me so that I nearly forgot our first mission,” he ruefully admitted.
Not surprisingly she offered him a puzzled frown. He was uncertain why, but he had wished to keep his wedding present for his bride a secret. Now he could only hope that it wasn’t a disappointment.
“And what mission might that be?” she demanded.
Almost sheepishly, he handed her the paper. “This.”
She quickly scanned the writing, her brow remaining furrowed in confusion. “A bank draft for thirty thousand pounds? What are you planning to do with this?”
“We are delivering it to the Woodhart Charity for the Disadvantaged.”
“Even though we fulfilled the terms of your grandmother’s will?”
He shifted uncomfortably upon the leather seat. “Well, the money has already achieved its purpose in bringing us together. Now it seems only fair to offer it to those who are in true need.”
There was a long, unnerving silence and then Molly’s beautiful eyes filled with tears.
“You just proved me wrong,” she managed to choke out.
Genuinely alarmed, Hart regarded his bride with a searching gaze. Good God, what had he done? He had been so certain she would be pleased with his offering.
“What is it?” he managed to rasp.
Without warning, she flung herself against his chest, knocking the wind and all thoughts out of him.
“I thought when we stood at the altar and said our vows that I could not be happier,” she said through the watery tears. “It seems that I shall have to become accustomed to tumbling deeper in love with you with every passing moment.”
Light-headed with relief, Hart wrapped his arms about his bride, silently sending up a prayer of thanks to his clever grandmother who managed to bring about this miracle.
“An arduous duty, I fear,” he murmured softly.
“No.” She pressed her lips to his own. “A wondrous dream.”
Hart returned the kiss with gentle contentment. “A dream complete with my very own angel.”
Five brave military heroes have survived the hell of a Taliban prison to return home—and take on civilian missions no one else can. They’re the men of ARES Security. Highly skilled, intimidating, invincible, and one by one, tested again and again . . .
Lucas St. Clair’s prestigious family had a political future neatly planned out for him—one that didn’t include his high school sweetheart, Mia Ramon. Under their pressure, Lucas gave her up. But since surviving captivity, he’s a changed man—and a crucial member of ARES Security. When he discovers a dead man clutching a picture of Mia that bears a threatening message, his fiercest protective instincts kick in, and he knows he must go to her.
Mia has never forgiven Lucas for breaking her heart, and she’s convinced her feelings for him are in the past. But it’s soon clear that isn’t true for either of them. Now, determined to solve the crime and keep Mia safe, with his ARES buddies backing him up, Lucas will have to reconstruct the murder victim’s last days—and follow a lethal trail that leads right back to the fate of the woman he still loves . . .
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Alexander Ivy’s
KILL WITHOUT SHAME
now on sale wherever print and e-books are sold!
PROLOGUE
The worst part of being held in a Taliban prison was the nightmares. At least as far as Lucas St. Clair was concerned.
No matter how many years
passed, his nights were still plagued with memories of being trapped in the smothering darkness of the caves. He could smell the stench of unwashed bodies and undiluted fear. He could hear the muffled sounds of men praying for death.
He knew that his parents assumed that his biggest regret was the derailment of his political aspirations. After all, his military career was intended to be the first step in his climb to a position as a diplomat.
From there . . . well, his family was nothing if not ambitious. They’d no doubt seen the White House in his future.
But there were few things that could make a man view his life with the stark clarity of five weeks of brutal torture.
By the time he’d managed to escape the caves, he’d known he was done living his life to please the precious St. Clair clan.
Instead he’d banded together with his friends; Rafe Vargas, a covert ops specialist; Max Grayson, who was trained in forensics; Hauk Laurensen, a sniper; and Teagan Moore, a computer wizard, to create ARES Security.
He’d wasted too much of his life.
He intended to leave the past behind and concentrate on his future.
Of course, there was an old saying about “the best laid plans of mice and men. . .”
CHAPTER ONE
The Saloon was the sort of bar that catered to the locals in the quiet Houston neighborhood.
It was small, with lots of polished wood and an open-beam ceiling. On the weekends they invited a jazz band to play on the narrow stage.
Lucas spent most Friday evenings at a table tucked in the back corner. It was unofficially reserved for the five men who ran ARES Security.
They liked the quiet ambiance, the communal agreement that everyone should mind their own fucking business, and the fact that the table was situated so no one could sneak up from behind.
Trained soldiers didn’t want surprises.
The Wedding Clause Page 17