Fighting the urge to squirm, she forced herself to stand acquiescent for another long pair of moments. “See?” she murmured with false brightness. “I am quite well. Now, let me go, Lance. We are in company.”
He dismissed her request. “Everyone here is family. No one can object if we share an embrace. We are an engaged couple, after all. Allowances are always made for engaged couples.”
She could think of at least one person who must be dying to object. Once again, she did not glance his way. “Yes, but—”
“But what?” A slight line creased Brevard’s patrician forehead. “What is it, Eliza. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
On an inward sigh, she met his gaze. “Let us go into the other room, where we can be private.”
The lines on his forehead deepened to a heavy frown. “Why do we need privacy? What is it you must tell me so urgently?”
A silence descended over the room, everyone else—save one—clearly wanting to know the answer as well. A leaden lump of panic settled in her throat, her heart suddenly beating as frantically as the wings of a small, caged bird. Needing reassurance, her gaze finally darted up and across to Kit, seeking his strength and guidance. His eyes locked with hers, conveying a silent message of resilient calm.
The brief contact was obviously enough to alert Brevard, whose muscles stiffened. The viscount flicked a long, inquiring glance between her and Kit. Slowly, his arms slid away, finally setting her free.
“Just what exactly is going on here?” Brevard asked.
“Come out into the hall. Please, Lance,” she beseeched, a bitter shower of guilt raining upon her.
Kit strode forward. After a brief moment of hesitation, he laid what could only be seen as a proprietary hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s a little too late for secrecy. I believe he already knows the truth.”
Brevard stared for another long moment before his eyes narrowed upon Kit, turning vicious. “Why, you contemptible blackguard! You’ve compromised her, haven’t you?”
Gasps echoed around the room.
Eliza extended a hand. “Lance, it isn’t what you think.”
“It’s exactly what he thinks, sweetheart,” Kit declared in a soft, pragmatic tone.
“I’ll kill you!”
In a blink, Brevard’s fist shot out and connected squarely with Kit’s chin.
Kit’s head snapped back, more gasps filling the room, along with a few wincing oohs.
Eliza cried out and reached for Kit.
Shaking his head to clear out the stars, Kit stood his ground. Slowly, he reached up to rub a hand over his abused jaw. “I suppose I deserved that punch,” he told the viscount, “but if you want to try for another, we’ll have to take this to an alternate location.”
Eliza laid a restraining hand on his arm. “You will do nothing of the kind. I will not have you fighting, either of you. And certainly not over me.”
“Sorry, Brevard. Eliza and I didn’t want to tell you this way, not so openly and with so little finesse.” Kit paused, then looped an arm around Eliza’s waist. “But the lady and I are in love. Whatever may have happened between us over the past few days was born of that love. And just so there are no misunderstandings, Eliza has agreed to be my wife.”
Brevard’s skin paled, his gaze shooting to her. “Is this true, what he says? Have you promised to marry him?”
Remorse stung her as she read the abject pain in the viscount’s eyes, along with a measure of his rising anger. “Yes.”
“Is it because the two of you were alone? Because you feel you must wed him?”
Part of her wished she could salve his pride, wished she could soften his hurt and let him believe a lie. But such dishonesty seemed wrong, seemed unworthy of them all.
Slowly she shook her head. “No. I love him. Oh, Lance, I am so dreadfully sorry.”
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” Brevard sent a curt nod toward Kit.
She nodded.
“I thought you said it was over.”
“I thought it was. Please, you must believe me, I never intended to hurt you.”
His shoulders lowered in sudden resignation. “No, I suppose you did not.”
Not knowing what else to do, she twisted off her engagement ring and held it out to him. “Lance, I…forgive me.”
His anguished blue eyes met hers for a long moment before he took the ring. “Be happy, Eliza.”
Gripping the stone tightly inside his palm, Brevard turned and strode from the room.
Trembling, Eliza let Kit draw her close. Dusting a kiss over her cheek, he stroked a palm in soothing arcs across her back. They remained silent, both sad and awash in regrets.
“It had to be done,” he murmured against her ear.
“I know, but did you see his face? He was so hurt.”
“Yes, but he’ll heal in time.”
“I suppose. I feel so very dreadful. He didn’t deserve this.”
“No, but there was no alternative.”
She sighed. “I only hope he finds someone else someday. Someone who will love him with all her heart.”
“I hope so too.” Dismissing the avid interest of their audience, Kit bent and kissed her. “I love you.”
Her arms crept around his waist and squeezed. “I love you too, so very much.”
Leaning back, she studied the bruise beginning to color his jaw. “Oh, darling, just look at your poor face. You’re going to need an herb poultice and a fresh piece of steak for that wound.”
“And here I was looking forward to eating dinner, not wearing it on my face.” He laughed, then groaned, grimacing against the pain.
“So, do I presume there is a wedding in the offing?” Adrian interrupted, crossing the room toward them.
Eliza huddled against Kit as he turned them to face his brother. “There certainly is, as soon as the ceremony can be arranged. Eliza has made me the happiest of men by agreeing to be my bride.”
When Adrian fixed a stern gaze upon Kit, Eliza stiffened and raised her chin.
“She has done you a great honor, agreeing to put up with you and your antics,” Adrian said. “A gift I trust you will not soon forget.”
“Never,” Kit promised.
A wide grin stretched across Adrian’s mouth, his gaze shifting to her. “Welcome to the family, Eliza. I can’t think of another girl I would rather have as my sister.”
She beamed and stepped forward for a familial buss on the cheek. “And thank you for searching for me.”
“You are entirely welcome.”
Having restrained herself long enough, Violet rushed forward, squealing out her delight. The two women hugged, jumping up and down like giddy schoolgirls.
“Are you angry?” Eliza asked.
Violet raised a golden brow. “About what?”
“My not telling you. Were you shockingly surprised?”
“A little shocked but not all that surprised. I’ve always known you carried a secret tendre for Kit.”
“You did?”
“Of course. I’m not blind.”
“Neither am I,” Jeannette piped.
Eliza’s lips parted, a frisson of astonishment tingling through her as she stared at Jeannette. “What?”
“Well, your adoration was plain to see, if one only cared to look,” Jeannette said. “I am just glad Christopher finally decided to come to his senses. I was worried he was actually going to let you marry Lord Brevard.”
“Good heavens,” Eliza exclaimed. “Did you all know?”
Darragh and Adrian had the grace to glance at their shoes, while Darragh’s four siblings observed the proceedings with great interest and rounded eyes.
“Seems we’ve both been deluded, sweetheart.” Kit hugged her to him again. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve found each other now and we’ll never be apart again.”
“No. Never, ever again, my love,” she murmured, smiling as she gazed into his eyes.
Jeannette cleared her throat. “Well, now that we’re al
l in agreement that the two of you belong together, we must discuss this wedding. It simply will not do for you to rush to the altar.”
“I planned to procure a special license,” Kit stated.
Jeannette made a noise of dismissal. “Eliza must have a church ceremony and a beautiful gown, nothing less will do. I have already been in talks with Madame Thibodaux about her dress, so that is already under way. The banns must be read, which means you will need to decide whether you wish to be married here in Town or at Winterlea. Personally, I think the country would be far nicer now that the Season is nearly finished.”
Kit scowled.
Eliza sighed.
Violet grinned and leaned near. “You might as well give in. You know how she loves to plan festive events.”
Eliza exchanged a look with Kit.
Moments later, they began to laugh.
Epilogue
“Oooh, that was lovely.” Eliza fought to catch her breath as she fell back against the sheets next to Kit.
He angled his head toward her, his own lungs pumping for air. “Lovely? It was better than lovely. It was fantastic.”
A happy smile teased across her lips. “You’re right. It was fantastic. Stupendous, actually.”
“Magnificent, especially there at the last.”
She laughed and rolled over to lean against his chest. “Yes, that last was quite delicious. You nearly made me faint.”
His large palm came down across her bare buttocks in a playful swat. “Perhaps next time, I shall.”
If he gave as splendid a performance as the one just past, she decided, he had an awfully good chance of achieving his aim. She shivered with anticipation.
“I’m glad we decided to spend our honeymoon here in Scotland.” She gazed at the gleaming gold band and the accompanying emerald that graced her ring finger, a fresh thrill running through her to know she and Kit were actually married.
“Hmm, I thought you’d love this house. It’s quiet and secluded, with only a pair of servants to cook and clean. If we want, we don’t have to leave this room except for food.”
“Well, we didn’t leave yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten dinner in bed before.”
“But you liked it, I could tell. Most particularly dessert.”
Her cheeks heated, recalling the dollops of beaten cream he’d coaxed her to let him eat off her naked breasts and belly and thighs. She had to admit, she’d ended up liking it very much. Very much indeed.
He gave her a devilish grin. “Besides, we needed to make up for lost time.”
“Are you still lamenting our decision to wait until our wedding night to make love again?”
“Your decision. I would have been perfectly happy to sneak down the hall to your bedroom every night. I’ve never taken so many cold baths in my life as I did over the past three months.”
“It was hard for me too, but I thought it would be better if our first child was actually conceived after we took our vows. Besides, I had that specially designed wedding gown to consider. What if it had no longer fit?”
“It would have fit, a couple months gone or not. But this will save us the trouble of making up claims of an early birth.” He brushed a curl off her forehead. “And though it pains me to confess, the results were well worth the wait, both in bed and out. You were beautiful. The most perfect bride I have ever seen.”
“The power of our love made me that way. In those moments when I stood next to you at the altar, I felt truly beautiful.”
He cupped his hands against her cheeks and urged her to meet his gaze. “Because you are truly beautiful. I don’t know how I could ever have thought you anything else, since every time I see you, you quite simply take my breath.”
“Oh, Kit.”
His lips met hers—slow and dreamy. She kissed him back, melting like steamed chocolate into his embrace. Eyes closed, she trailed her hand along the smooth skin and firm muscles of his body, pausing in her exploration when she encountered a firmness of another sort. “I see you’ve recovered your strength.”
He chuckled. “How could I not with that wandering hand of yours. But don’t stop now. Please, keep wandering.”
She laughed and did exactly as she was instructed.
When they surfaced a long, long while later, Eliza cuddled in repletion against him, her head pillowed comfortably on the breadth of his naked shoulder. Despite a slight nip in the early autumn air, they’d kicked all the covers to the foot of the bed.
One thing she knew for sure, she would never be cold at night again. The man was like a furnace.
“Eliza?” He played his fingers over her arm.
“Hmm?”
“There’s something about which I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Remember your suggestions?”
“What suggestions?”
“About my future, our future now. I’ve been thinking about what you said. Actually I’ve done a bit more than think, I’ve been talking to a few people.”
Her interest piqued, she opened her eyes. “Really? Which people?”
“A couple of lords and a government minister attached to the foreign service. I understand there’s an interesting assignment available, a liaison of sorts. If I put in the word, the position could be mine.”
She sat up. “Really? What would you be doing?”
“Assisting with the postwar rebuilding efforts, coordinating between the British and the French.”
“Oh, it sounds exciting, if you think you’d like it.”
“I think I would, at least enough to give it a try. But it means we would have to move to France, perhaps for several years. I know it’s asking a lot of you, giving up your home and your friends. I know how close you and Violet are.”
Catching her lip between her teeth, she gave the matter a moment of thought. But only a moment. “Of course we shall go.” Leaning down, she kissed him. “Without question, I shall miss Violet and Adrian and the children, but I want to do what’s best for us. Anyway, France isn’t so far, they can come visit.”
Kit smiled, eyes lighting at the idea. “You’re right. With the war done, it’s not such a great journey these days. They can be across the Channel in a thrice.”
“And surely you will get an occasional leave, so we can come home to England.”
“Yes, I am sure I shall. A couple months a year, I believe.”
“If you want the assignment, then all you need do is say yes.”
“All right, then, yes! I shall write to Lord Exmeyer to accept directly when we return home.”
They cheered each other with an exuberant kiss.
“Paris,” she mused. “I’ve never been to Paris. Oh, just think of all the books. Why, there are texts there that have been inaccessible to the rest of the world since before the Revolution. It’s simply thrilling. Violet will be quite jealous.”
“Jealous, is it?” he teased. “I see I shall have to work hard to get you with child.”
“I can still study and have babies, you know.” She paused. “Unless you dislike the notion of having a scholarly wife.”
With a gentle hand, he tumbled her across him. “Of course I do not dislike the idea, not since scholarly pursuits make you happy. Just be available for the occasional dinner party.”
Delight spread through her like rays of morning sun. “I shall accompany you to all the dinner parties of your choosing.” She kissed him. “You are my heart.”
He kissed her back. “And you are my soul. Which means, I guess, that neither of us can do without the other.”
“Quite right.”
He claimed her mouth again, to her immense enjoyment.
“Speaking of books,” he said at length. “I brought one along I thought we might enjoy.”
“Oh, what is that?”
Climbing out of bed, he strolled across the room and reached inside a travel valise. Her eyes widened when she saw what he held, recognizing the familiar green binding. He waggled the volume between his fingers. “I suppose you m
ight call it an old friend. In a way, this helped bring us together.”
Albanino’s Postures.
“But I put that back in the drawing room escritoire,” she sputtered.
“Not this copy. I went to Jeannette’s bookseller and had him locate one just for us. The other volume must still be where you left it, unless Violet decided to retrieve it for her and Adrian’s use, after all.”
“Mercy me.” A rush of color stained her cheeks.
He winked and handed her the book. “Consider this a little wedding present. Not that we actually need the help, but I thought it might be fun.”
“Fun, hmm?” Unable to resist, she opened the book and began to leaf through. She paused at a particularly contorted position. “Do you really think that looks fun?”
He peered over her shoulder. “It might, if I were an acrobat. Pick another, then.”
She thumbed through the pages, then thumbed back. “Well, I have to admit number nine looks intriguing.”
He studied the drawing and grinned. “Is that your choice?”
“It is.” She nodded, abruptly shy.
Setting the book onto the nightstand, he opened his arms. “Then come get me, my love.”
On a laugh, she dived toward him, and together they gave number nine a very fine try.
Also by Tracy Anne Warren
The Husband Trap
The Wife Trap
“Eliza.”
“Yes?”
“One last thing,” Kit said. “If your curiosity persists and you find yourself tempted to experiment further in the realm of the physical, don’t go to any of your other suitors. I am still your mentor.” Reaching out, he stroked the edge of a knuckle over the delicate curve of her cheek. “If you wish to have more lessons in love, you need only say. I shall teach you whatever it is you care to learn.”
With a last smile, he strode toward the door, leaving Eliza stock-still in the center of the room.
The Wedding Trap is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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