by Brenda Hiatt
* * *
CHAPTER 17
"Miss Clayton?" asked the acerbic clergyman with increasing annoyance.
Azalea knew she was supposed to be repeating his words at this point in the ceremony, but could not bring herself to speak, regardless of the threat Kayce held over Christian. Instead, she looked first pleadingly, then defiantly at her uncle. He could force her to stand here, but not to repeat wedding vows!
Kayce returned her look with a frown. "She does," he said firmly.
The harassed cleric looked from the defiant girl before him to the man who had paid him so well to perform this wedding. Really, this was most irregular! Still, for fifty pounds... "Very well," he said. "And do you, Lord Drowling—"
"I do not!" broke in Azalea, speaking just as firmly as her uncle had.
"A moment, please," said Kayce with deceptive pleasantness. He pulled his niece aside and beckoned to Mrs. Melkin, who had been standing unobtrusively in the background. "Must we drug you again, my dear? I had thought concern for young Glaedon would ensure your cooperation, but I am prepared to take other measures."
"What I told you is true, Uncle," said Azalea grimly. "Even if I say the vows, this marriage will not be legal. I swear it upon my life."
Kayce glanced over at Drowling, who was watching them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "If Glaedon were to die, then the point would be academic, would it not?" he asked in low tones.
Azalea gasped at this bald threat. "You would not!"
"My dear, you have no idea what is at stake here. There is very little I would not do to achieve my ends." Kayce watched her face shrewdly and nodded in satisfaction when he saw that she was finally defeated.
While Azalea was convinced that Christian would have no trouble besting Kayce, Drowling, or even both of them together in a fair fight, she knew that her uncle would never engage in one. What chance could even the bravest, most skilled man have against a paid assassin striking unexpectedly from behind?
Slowly, she resumed her place and the ceremony continued. As the clergyman droned on and on, she closed her eyes, praying for the miracle she knew was not to be. The service was nearly over.
"By the power vested in me—" the pastor was saying, when he was interrupted by a resounding crash from the other end of the room as the door to the kitchen slammed open.
"There will be no marriage!" proclaimed Lord Glaedon loudly, striding into the room and effectively halting the proceedings.
The clergyman's mouth dropped open. Even fifty pounds was surely not worth this kind of agitation to his nerves!
"Christian!" gasped Azalea, starting toward him. Then, at a sudden, violent movement on the part of Lord Kayce, she cried, "Watch out!"
Glaedon turned to face the older man, his anger at what he had tried to do to Azalea matching Kayce's obvious fury at being thwarted. Almost without thinking, Christian felled Lord Kayce with a single blow from his fist before turning to face Drowling, who was now also advancing menacingly, having recovered from his surprise at the intrusion.
"By what right do you come bursting in here, Glaedon?" he demanded. "This is my wedding! "
"I think not, Drowling." Glaedon's voice was as cold and sharp as steel. "I am here by right of being the lawful husband of this lady. Do you care to name your seconds?"
Drowling's face became a study in astonishment. "Husband? Are you serious? Why was nothing said about this?" He looked accusingly at Kayce, who was struggling to rise, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding mouth.
"There is no proof!" shouted Kayce hoarsely. "The girl all but admitted it!"
"You are mistaken, Kayce," said Christian calmly. "I have the proof in my pocket. Your thugs did not do a thorough enough job on Mr. Timmons, I regret to tell you, and he is very much on the mend. He told me where the papers were hidden." At his words, Kayce paled visibly.
"By the way," Christian continued, "you may be interested to know that one of his assailants has been apprehended and has named you as his employer on this and one or two other occasions. I believe a magistrate is likely on his way here at this moment."
With a wild look, Kayce darted from the room.
Christian turned to Lord Drowling.
"'Twas all Kayce's idea, Glaedon," the Viscount said, shrinking back from what he saw in the other man's eyes. "He thought that if I married into the family, I would remain silent about the trick he played on his brother Walter, back in '91."
"And what trick was that?"
"The duel he was goaded into fighting. He thought he'd killed his man, but it was all a sham. The pistols had been tampered with and the surgeon paid off. Walter fled the country, which was what Kayce wanted." He glanced at Azalea, who was regarding him incredulously, then back at Christian. "I never knew a thing about a previous marriage, though, I swear it!"
Christian regarded him coldly. "That may well be, but I cannot think you believed Miss Clayton amenable to the match. Get out of my sight, you piece of filth."
Drowling's life was infinitely dearer to him than his honour. He left nearly as quickly as Kayce had done.
"Just as well," said Christian, turning at last to Azalea. "I had no desire to flee the country myself just at present."
He opened his arms and she ran to him without a word.
During the short walk to Christian's waiting carriage, Azalea managed to find her voice. She was still shaking from the ordeal she had been through, as well as from the after-effects of the drug, but she felt it was imperative that she speak.
"I was never so happy to see anyone in my life, Christian," she began in a trembling voice, "but I don't understand—"
"Shh!" He laid a finger on her lips. "There will be time enough later for explanations. Right now, I intend to restore you to Lady Beauforth so that you can recover from this very disagreeable experience."
In fact, Azalea did feel unequal to any lengthy conversation, and it was obvious that a short one would never do. Since she had not yet had time to organize the chaos of her thoughts and emotions, she lapsed gratefully into silence.
Christian helped her into the carriage, where she nestled comfortably against him, to his complete satisfaction. By the time they reached the Beauforth mansion, she was sound asleep.
* * *
Azalea awoke to find herself back in her own cozy green-and-gold chamber, the sunlight of early afternoon streaming through the half-open curtains. She smiled and stretched lazily, enveloped in a glorious sense of well-being. What a dream she'd had!
The door opened as she sat up to admit the ever-vigilant Junie, breakfast tray in hand.
"Good morning, miss—or, should I say, good afternoon. It's a treat to have you back with us, I must say! I trust you slept well?"
Full recollection flooded back, and Azalea's smile broadened. So it hadn't been a dream! "Marvellously, Junie, thank you," she said. "That breakfast smells delicious. I declare I am ravenous!"
"Cook thought you might be, so he fixed you up something special," said Junie, placing a tray bearing hot chocolate, creamed sole, ham and popovers for her mistress. "Ring when you want me, and I'll help you to dress."
A short while later, Azalea descended to the front parlour to find Lord Glaedon and Lady Beauforth deep in animated conversation. Seeing her in the doorway, Christian rose. She came forward hesitantly, looking from one to the other questioningly. Lady Beauforth spoke first.
"Oh, my dear, dear Azalea, it is wonderful to see you looking so refreshed! Christian has just been telling me the most extraordinary tale… I vow, I don't know what to think! Are my wits addled, or is it true?"
Azalea glanced shyly at Christian, who smiled down at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. "Yes, Cousin Alice, it is all true," she admitted. "I am sorry that you had to learn of it in this way. Pray believe I never meant to hurt you—or Marilyn. Especially when you have both been so good to me."
But Lady Beauforth was smiling, though she still looked thoroughly bemused. "Well, you have been t
he sly one! But there, I mustn't scold, for Christian here has been telling me why you never dropped a word about it before. And to think that I was in alt over the idea of a match with Lord Drowling!" Her ladyship dismissed that previous favourite with a flick of her fingers.
"But we have many, many plans to make if this information is to be made public without a scandal! However, we can discuss that later. Christian tells me you were too tired last night for any talk, and, indeed, I believe him, for you could scarcely stand when he brought you home. So I'll leave you two alone for a few moments —not that it will be improper, I suppose, under the circumstances." She shook her head again. "But you must have quite a lot to say to each other. My, my, what an amazing turn of events... "Her voice trailing behind her, she bustled out of the room.
Christian led Azalea to the white-velvet sofa and seated himself next to her. She thought he had never looked so handsome, with his dark hair curling around his ears— curls she longed to touch. With him beside her, as she had feared he never would be again, a storm of emotion swept over her. But first, the explanations.
She met his eyes then, to discover that he had been regarding her intently.
"Can you ever forgive me?" they both asked abruptly, then laughed uncertainly.
"Christian, can you possibly understand why I said nothing to you at the start?" asked Azalea after a moment. His very nearness seemed to be affecting her ability to speak, or even to think.
"I think so," he answered with a gentle smile. "Are you certain you still wish to acknowledge me after the way I treated you?"
Azalea nodded silently, her confused spirits rising. "How did you find out? I know you honestly did not remember anything of your visit to Virginia. Do you now?"
"I remember everything." Christian told her about the old sailor who had visited him at the Oaks and how his memory had suddenly returned as a result.
"No wonder you seemed familiar to me from the first," he concluded, winding one of her auburn curls around his finger. "And to think that that familiarity was a part of what fascinated me about you when we first met— here in England."
He was openly laughing at himself now, and Azalea's last fear evaporated. Miraculously, Christian seemed to be again the carefree young man she remembered from Williamsburg rather than the moody stranger he had been in England.
Impishly, she reached up to touch the dark curl that had been intriguing her, and their eyes met again. Her breathing quickened as he bent his head towards hers.
His kiss, deep and passionate, brought back vivid memories of earlier caresses here in this very same room. She felt that she was being transported on a golden cloud to heavenly regions undreamed of.
She responded eagerly, wanting Christian to have no doubt of the true state of her feelings —or desires.
"So where do we go from here?" he asked huskily at length. Before Azalea could answer, Lady Beauforth bustled back into the room.
"I have been thinking, my dears, and I have a plan to put before you. What would you say to another wedding ceremony, this time in St. George's, Hanover Square? That way we need say nothing about your having been married all this time, for you must realize that it will look excessively odd to everyone."
She gazed pleadingly at them. Azalea knew that her cousin really did want them happy and was delighted that they had reached an understanding, but that her horror of scandal could not be overcome.
"Dear Cousin Alice, what a lovely idea," said Azalea, rising to embrace her. "If Christian agrees, that is."
"On two conditions." Both ladies turned to look at him questioningly. "That it can be arranged within the month, and that we spend the intervening period at Glaedon Oaks. My grandmother has expressed a strong desire to meet my Countess."
Azalea agreed readily and they all fell to discussing wedding plans. In the midst of arguing the merits of lilies over white roses, a topic Christian could not find as interesting as his bride apparently did, Marilyn and Jonathan walked in, flushed from a walk in the Park. Both looked extremely pleased with themselves.
"Might we make it a double ceremony?" asked Jonathan when all had been explained to them. Lady Beauforth, open-mouthed, looked at Marilyn, who nodded happily. "If you approve, that is, my lady," he concluded more formally.
"Approve?" exclaimed Lady Beauforth. "My dear boy, you are already like one of the family. I am only surprised that you waited this long."
"There was the small matter of her previous commitment, if you recall," he reminded her. "In addition, I wanted to be sure of my prospects first. Lord Holte has made me his legal heir, as of yesterday, so I am now a man of substance both in England and America." He smiled fondly down at Marilyn.
"But we are to honeymoon in Virginia, as you promised," she reminded him.
"That I did," he returned. "Did you by chance plan on a wedding trip there as well?" he asked, turning to Azalea and Christian.
"No, I had something else in mind," replied Christian, grinning with delight at their news, "but I have yet to discuss it with my bride." He turned to Azalea. "Would you care to take a drive? My carriage is at the door."
She nodded, too happy to speak.
He took her firmly by the hand and led her outside to his waiting carriage. "Care to take a guess where we're going?" he asked. The intensity of the gaze he turned on her made her heart flip over.
"To the Park?" she asked shyly.
"No, to my Town house. It occurs to me that my Countess might care to see the place, as she will have the managing of it shortly."
Azalea felt as if she were melting in the warmth of his regard. "Yes. Yes I would," she agreed.
On the way there, Christian told her about his arrival at Beauforth House the afternoon before and Marilyn's timely request. They chuckled together as they climbed down from the carriage, but when they stepped into the house, their laughter stilled. No servants were in evidence, by prior arrangement. Silently, hand in hand, they mounted the stairs.
Once in his own bedchamber, Christian closed the door softly and held out his arms. She came to him willingly, with no reservations. This was Christian, the man she had loved for so very long —and her husband.
"To think I was consumed by guilt for kissing my own wife," he said, echoing her thoughts. "Were you very angry?"
"Only that you stopped. I shall remember that time always, Christian." She smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes.
"I won't hold back this time," he warned her. "Prepare yourself for something even more memorable."
Azalea doubted that could be possible, but she soon found that she was wrong. Thoroughly, without any indication of haste, he kissed her, running his hands over her body. She returned his kiss passionately, the fire that he kindled within her suddenly bursting into roaring flame.
He chuckled deep in his throat as he sensed her response. She fumbled at his clothes, eager to have his skin against hers. What she had felt before was as nothing compared to the rage of desire that now had her in its grip.
Christian fastened his mouth on hers again and with eager hands began to strip away her gown. Azalea unhesitatingly responded to his ardour, opening to his kiss. She continued to fumble with his cravat, and in a moment had it undone. Her nimble fingers went on to the studs of his shirt, finally baring his chest even as he released her from the bodice of her gown. He ran his hands down her back, the sensation of her nipples against his bare chest nearly driving him mad.
Softly, wonderingly, Azalea's hands explored the contours of his torso, her fingers combing through the hair on his chest, sliding down the plane of his hard stomach. Christian untied the sash of her gown and slid the garment down past her hips until it lay in a shimmering heap at her feet. For a moment, he pulled back to feast his eyes upon her lush curves.
She did not cease her explorations, but slid one finger beneath the waistband of his breeches, which were now stretched tight over his straining arousal. Quickly, he helped her to unfasten them and a moment later stood as free of encumbr
ance as she.
Kissing her deeply again, he lowered himself onto the bed, drawing her with him, his whole length pressed against hers. This time there was no stiffening in her, no hesitancy, as he traced the curves and hollows of her body with his hands and then his mouth.
Azalea had never dreamed such sensations could exist. As his hands stroked and caressed, lower and lower, she arched her back to greet them. Heat pulsed between her thighs, spreading, licking over her until her whole body was aflame. Slowly, maddeningly, his fingers approached the source of the inferno.
She gasped as he fastened his mouth over one of her breasts, teasing and tantalizing the nipple with his tongue. At the same time, he inched his hand lower, into the curly tangle between her legs. One finger stroked the spot that had become the very centre of her being and waves of pleasure and insatiable need washed over her. Without fully understanding why, she slid her hands around to his back to pull his lower body to hers.
Releasing her breast with a final, lingering kiss, he obliged her, allowing his hardness to slide up her thigh until it just rested against the fiery spot his finger had been massaging. Arching again, she pressed herself against him.
He moved from beside her to above, supporting himself on his arms, and slowly, gently rocked back and forth, barely grazing the place where her sensations were focused. Arching higher, she felt him slide inside her, into the void that cried out to be filled.
"Oh, Chris, yes!" she breathed.
He rocked faster, each movement now thrusting him deeper. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain, a stretching, tearing sensation inside her, and then it was gone.
He had slowed for a moment, but now thrust with renewed vigour. Azalea wrapped her legs around his to pull him in further. Her ability to think was gone—her whole world was a kaleidoscope of emotions and senses. She rocked with his rhythm, her passions rising to a dizzying crescendo until they exploded in a rush of pleasure so intense that she cried out in ecstasy.