Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  Her throat closed with emotion. “I’ll cherish it always,” she whispered.

  It was all she could manage.

  Still…when he reached for her stomacher tabs again, she pushed at his hands. “Not here,” she said, not an outright rejection nor an unreasonable one, either. The summerhouse had a brick floor and only the narrowest of wooden benches. “This is all so sudden and unbelievable to me, Rand. I want to hear how you convinced your father.”

  He drew a deep breath, clearly struggling for control, glancing around as though he felt trapped. “All right, then. But let’s walk.”

  They strolled across the wide lawn and over the bridge and along the Thames. As his story poured out, Lily felt his hand in hers slowly relax.

  “You were brilliant,” she said when he’d told her everything.

  “I was desperate.” He squeezed her hand and smiled.

  “And how has your father taken it?”

  “We spent over an hour riding here—maybe the longest time alone together ever. He expressed regret that he’d never seen Alban for the evil man he was. He seems…repentant.”

  “You like him more than you thought.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say like. We’ve a long history between us. But the idea of living with him isn’t nearly as repugnant as I would have thought last month.”

  “Will we have to? Live with him, I mean?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. “Do you imagine we have a choice? He’s certainly assuming we will. Hawkridge will someday be mine, and I’ve a lot to learn about handling it.”

  “Oh, Rand, you can handle anything you put your mind to. Your father has years left to live. Why should you give up the life you love now?”

  He looked as though he wanted to believe her—but couldn’t. “It’s a matter of responsibility. Once I would have agreed with you, but now that I’ve been home…well, there’s Margery—”

  “Margery will be with Bennett.”

  “There’s Etta and all the others. They’re depending on me, and I cannot let them down. Oxford…” His voice turned wistful for a moment before he straightened his shoulders, his hand gripping hers tighter. “This is the way it must be.”

  “But your professorship, your house.”

  “There’s nothing for it. I’ll have to sell the house.”

  “After you worked months designing it with Kit? The two of you put your hearts and souls into that house.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “Kit liked some of my ideas so much, he’s planning changes to his own home in Windsor.”

  “You cannot just sell it, Rand.”

  “Well, it makes no sense to keep it if I’ll never be using it, does it? I can put the money into Hawkridge, help it recover from the loss of Margery’s land that much sooner. Or…wait…”

  A light had entered his intense gray eyes. “What?” Lily asked.

  “The money can be yours,” he said softly, looking pleased with himself. “For your animal home.”

  It would mean she’d have the best of both worlds—Rand and her dream—but she said, “No.”

  “Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “It’s my house, after all, built with income that had nothing to do with Hawkridge. My father and the estate have no claim on it whatsoever.”

  “No, Rand.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him give up his house in Oxford—and the life he’d made for himself there—for an old childhood dream. “I won’t hear of it.”

  It was a silly dream, anyway, a childish dream for a child. Her strays had no need of a fancy, custom-built home and a staff of trained caretakers. She’d done just fine by them so far, all by herself with makeshift pens in a corner of a barn, and surely the marquess would have no objection to her doing the same at Hawkridge.

  True, she dreamed of helping more animals—hundreds more, possibly even in several homes spread across the country—but who knew if she’d ever find such a large number of needful creatures? Her strays had always found her.

  They’d reached the woods, and Rand apparently decided not to argue, instead pulling her into his arms. “Are you really going to make me wait two weeks for you?” he asked. “I’m burning for you, Lily. All these days and hours…”

  She was burning for him, too. He felt so warm and solid against her body, she could almost believe they really would stay together forever.

  She sighed against his mouth. “Let’s go back,” she said. “There’s much to settle. Our wedding date, for one.”

  “And then?”

  “And then maybe I’ll believe it.”

  “If you don’t,” he warned playfully, “I’ll wear you down anyway.”

  Since that wasn’t an altogether unpleasing idea, she let it slide by without a retort.

  Sixty-Nine

  THE NEGOTIATIONS took place over a dinner that had gone cold while waiting for their return.

  “Two weeks,” Lily told her mother.

  “Two weeks! I cannot plan a wedding in two weeks.”

  “You did for Violet and Ford,” Lily reminded her, and that was that.

  Looking victorious, Lily turned to Rand’s father. “Now I would like to discuss our living arrangements.”

  His gaze landed on the diamond pendant she wore. Though he’d granted Rand permission to give it to her, Rand still held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

  At last the marquess nodded his approval, a small smile curving his lips. “I realize Randal’s chamber is small,” he told her. “Perhaps we can refurbish—”

  “That would be nice, but I meant where we will live and when.”

  The man picked up his fork, his smile becoming a slight frown. “You’ll live at Hawkridge, of course. Where did you think you would live?”

  “Oxford, at least part of the year. Rand’s position there is important to him. The research—”

  “Lily,” Rand started.

  “He can research at home,” his father cut in. “He’ll be the marquess someday, which means he has responsibilities.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Certainly he does—”

  “Lily,” Rand interrupted.

  “—but that doesn’t mean he must be at Hawkridge all the time. Many men own more than one estate, and a man cannot be two or three places at once. Why, Father visits Tremayne but once a year, and it thrives quite well without his constant presence.”

  “Lily,” Rand tried to put in.

  But she wasn’t finished. “Oxford has three terms a year of eight weeks each. Twenty-four weeks out of fifty-two. There are long breaks between those terms and the whole summer free…if Rand agrees to spend the remaining twenty-eight weeks at Hawkridge learning his responsibilities, surely you can survive without him during term times.”

  “Lily—”

  “Just until he’s needed at Hawkridge year-round,” she said by way of conclusion. “But given your excellent state of health, we’re both hoping that won’t be for a long, long time.”

  She topped off her arguments with a sweet smile that the marquess apparently found bemusing, given he seemed to be frozen in place with his fork halfway to his mouth.

  But Rand was not similarly charmed. “Lily,” he repeated and paused for a moment, expecting her to interrupt. When she didn’t, he sighed. “I truly want to sell my house so you’ll have the money for your animal home. It’s the least I can do after you so generously offered to save my family.”

  Rose clapped. Lady Trentingham smiled.

  The marquess came to life. “Animal home?”

  “Lily’s childhood dream,” Lily’s mother explained. “She’s rather fond of animals—”

  “This isn’t news to me,” the man said with a grin that looked out of place on his face.

  “And she had planned, upon coming into her inheritance, to build a home where strays could be sheltered and, if necessary, nursed to health.”

  “With a staff,” Lily added. “But truly, my lord, I don’t mind investing in Hawkridge instead. It will be my children’s leg
acy, after all. And I especially don’t want Rand to sell his Oxford house. As proud as you are of building Hawkridge, he feels the same of his home. And—”

  “Enough.” The marquess waved his fork. “You will talk my ear off, child. Randal shall keep his house, and if his responsibilities at Oxford can be fulfilled in twenty-four weeks a year, they may have him for that time. But I get him the rest,” he warned.

  “Of course.”

  His jaw set, Rand shook his head. “No. I said—”

  “She shall have her animal home,” the marquess interrupted, “at Hawkridge. I have staff enough to spare, and if nothing else, it will ensure you two stay there on a regular basis. Now, if everyone’s concerns have been addressed to their satisfaction, I need to go home. Margery’s wedding day approaches, and although it surely won’t be the extravaganza Lady Trentingham has in mind for yours, there are details to which I must attend.”

  Half an hour later, Rand found himself dragged out of the house, drafted into helping his father, since, as Lily’s mother pointed out, it wasn’t term time at Oxford.

  No sooner was he riding away than Chrystabel started a guest list.

  “WELL, DARLING,” Joseph said that night, “that was very cleanly done, although I suspect the poor lad might die of longing if there were such a disease. And I don’t expect our daughter was very happy, either.”

  “Nonsense,” Chrystabel said as she climbed into bed. “They can survive two weeks.”

  “I feel for the boy. Before, you were only too happy to push them together, and—”

  “There was good reason then. Lily was all too concerned about Rose, and—”

  “But they’ve already been together—”

  “That doesn’t matter. I won’t make the mistake again of allowing our children to risk conception before they’re safely wed.”

  “The date has been set, so this makes no sense, my pretty Chrysanthemum. But not to worry, I love you anyway.” He kissed her soundly; then his lips trailed lower, tasting the skin revealed by her night rail’s low neckline. “I shudder to think of that boy alone in his bed tonight,” he added, his breath warm on her breast where he’d pushed the fabric down farther. “And I thank God I’m not in that same place.”

  As his mouth closed over her, Chrystabel thanked God, too…and not only because her daughter’s happiness was finally secured.

  Seventy

  “SOON,” RAND whispered, “it will be our turn.”

  Lily watched the starry-eyed bride and groom exit Hawkridge’s grand red-and-gold private chapel as though they were walking on air. Tears had welled in her eyes more than once during the romantic ceremony. “I cannot wait,” she whispered back, reaching up to touch the pendant Rand had given her.

  The past few days without him had felt so empty.

  Holding his hand, she walked sedately from the chapel, following the other guests to the great hall. Once there, she rushed to hug her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “The wedding was beautiful! You both look so happy.”

  “We are,” Margery and Bennett said together, sharing a joyful smile.

  Rand hugged Margery, too, while Lily watched, not at all jealous this time.

  “Your gown is gorgeous,” she told her.

  “Thank you.” Margery’s fingers skimmed the pearls and embroidery that covered her pale green satin overskirt. “It’s my best.”

  Standing nearby, the marquess narrowed his eyes. “What happened to the gown you ordered in Windsor?”

  “Oh.” Color flooded her cheeks. “Well. I—I…it wasn’t quite ready, after all. You didn’t give the seamstress much time, Uncle William.”

  “Hmmph,” he said and walked away.

  Rand waited until the man was out of earshot and then grinned at his foster sister. “You never ordered a wedding gown, did you? I suspected you were with Bennett that night.”

  “It’s the vows that count,” she said evasively. “Not the clothes.”

  Her groom laughed and gave her a kiss. As other guests pressed close to offer felicitations, Rand turned to Lily, a silvery glint in his eyes. “Come. I have something to show you.”

  He led her from the great hall, grabbing a pewter goblet off a sideboard and handing it to her as they went.

  She sipped, then smiled when she tasted what was in it. “Your father poured the champagne my parents brought.”

  “He likes your parents.” His shrug encompassed all the bafflement she knew he felt at his father’s recent behavior. Beatrix appeared and padded at their heels as Rand entered the corridor that led to his room. But instead of turning left, he walked straight ahead into Alban’s bedchamber.

  Only it wasn’t Alban’s bedchamber anymore. It wasn’t a bedchamber at all.

  She stared. “What happened?”

  “You’ll be living here the week after next. I told my father we needed more room. He didn’t argue, so I sent a message to Kit. The day after that, a crew of men showed up to begin the remodel. They’ll resume tomorrow, once all the wedding guests go home.”

  The dark paneling had been stripped and was half refinished in a warm, honey tone that lightened the whole chamber. The door to the secret space stood open, and she could see it had been emptied. The rest of the room was empty, too.

  “Even the bed is gone,” she said.

  “This will be our sitting room.” The drapes had been removed, and soft summer rain blew against the naked windows. Taking her hand, Rand drew her into Alban’s old sitting room, now dominated by a huge four-poster bed draped in yellow silk. “I had it brought from another chamber. Just until you choose a new one. Something without a history. I thought we could go to London, and—”

  “Thank you,” she whispered past a sudden lump in her throat. She knew Rand didn’t care whether he slept in the same room that Alban had, or even in the same bed. He’d done this for her. “Where are Alban’s things?”

  “I had them sent to a foundling home. Every last item. I asked Father, and he didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either. I think he wants to forget that Alban ever existed. He even had his portrait removed from the long gallery.”

  In an effort to steady herself, she took a sip of champagne. “Did he send that to the foundling home, too?”

  “No.” Again, that baffled shrug. “He burned it.”

  “Maybe he’ll have one painted of you to replace it.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to assume that.” He gave a strangled laugh. “But I’m not dreading living here half the year quite as much as I thought I would.”

  Beatrix followed them back through the sitting room and into Alban’s old dressing room, and it was empty, too. The clothes presses were gone, the walls stripped and waiting to be finished. “Kit is arranging for someone to build cabinets.” Rand took the goblet from Lily’s hand. “Newfangled ones with drawers.”

  She turned to him. “It all sounds wonderful. I love you.”

  “And I love you.” A smile lit his eyes as he sipped, regarding her over the rim. Without swallowing, he bent and put his mouth to hers, giving her a sweet, cold, sparkly kiss as he shared the bubbly beverage.

  She swallowed and laughed. “Eleven more days and we’ll be together for good.”

  “Too long.” He took another sip and gave her another effervescent kiss, the champagne still fizzing in her mouth when he pulled back to skim his knuckles along her cheek. “You’re not going to make me wait that long, are you?”

  She remembered, vaguely, that she’d decided they really should wait. But the kiss had made her light-headed, and her skin tingled wherever he touched, so she couldn’t remember why.

  When Beatrix began hiccuping, Lily leaned to pick her up, cradling the cat in her arms. Protection from Rand and her own weakening resolve. She mustered a teasing smile. “Did you bring me in here to show me the renovations or to get me into that big yellow bed?”

  “Both,” he answered with a grin. He took another sip and leaned over Beatrix, meeting Lily’s lips once again. The
bubbles tickled her throat as Rand tickled her senses.

  The idea of making love right now was absurd, but she sighed longingly as she licked the remnants of champagne off her lips. Delicious. Rand’s kisses were delicious.

  “Not here, during the wedding.”

  “Here. Now.” He didn’t look at all concerned with propriety. “The wedding is over.”

  “But not the wedding supper. There are guests in the house,” she reminded him, the protest faint to her own ears.

  “We’re in here. The guests are out there.” His voice was husky and low, filled with the pent-up frustration of desire unfulfilled. “Eleven more days, Lily…and all the days before now…”

  His words made heat shimmer through her. What he was proposing was surely wicked, here at a wedding.

  Wickedly tempting.

  And a weakness in Lily’s knees told her she was all too close to surrendering.

  It had been so long. So many days of yearning need…so many nights living with that low-burning heat…lying chastely with him here at Hawkridge and then alone in her bed at Trentingham…

  When she swayed toward him involuntarily, he laughed and swung her up into his arms.

  “Rand!” she squealed, barely holding on to the cat. “We cannot!”

  “Oh, I think we can,” he said, striding into the sitting room.

  Beatrix leapt to the floor as Rand kicked the door shut and set Lily on her feet. “See?” He threw the bolt. “There are no guests in here.”

  He was impossible. And irresistible. His mouth covered hers, and despite her misgivings, her arms wound around his neck. Now-familiar feelings began coursing through her, building a heat centered low in her middle. She pressed herself close, wishing desperately that she and Rand weren’t wearing so many clothes.

  A small sound of satisfaction rose from his throat. “I knew I could wear you down.”

  “A kiss,” she said with mock indignation. “I’ve only assented to a kiss.”