Gareth stood in the corner of his chamber, arms folded, watching silently as the doctor fussed over Beatrice. At least she was awake again. When she had col apsed into a faint he had been terrified that her life was close to an end, but the doctor reassured him it was only pain and high emotion that had brought her to that state.
Now she sat in his bed, propped up on white pil ows, her blond hair around her shoulders, one of which was bandaged, her arm gathered close to her chest in a sling. The bastard who had taken her had dislocated it.
But it would heal. She would heal, the doctor insisted.
“There is nothing I despise more than fainting women,” Beatrice snapped. “Except, perhaps, fawning doctors.”
The doctor scowled at her, but Gareth couldn’t help but smile. Beatrice’s return to her normal, prickly self was the first indication that she wasn’t permanently harmed by what she had endured.
Miranda, who was sitting beside her sister on the edge of the bed, shook her head. “He is only trying to help, dearest.”
Beatrice rol ed her eyes, but then her gaze darted to Gareth. When their gazes met, he saw what a front her attitude was. Unshed tears stil shone in her stare. She was fragile, even if no one else could see it. He moved forward. “Is that al , Doctor?”
The physician turned toward him. “Yes, though I do have a few instructions.”
He motioned to the door. “Give them to her sister. Outside. I wish for al of you to leave us.”
Miranda was on her feet in an instant, her eyes wide and outraged. “Absolutely not! I wil not leave my sister—”
Before she could finish, her husband stepped toward her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
“Miranda,” Ethan said softly.
That one word stopped her. She glanced briefly at Beatrice. Beatrice nodded slightly and Miranda frowned, but then she moved toward the door where a moment before, the doctor had departed muttering to himself in disapproval.
When they were alone, the door closed, Gareth turned toward Beatrice again. In her face, he saw her weakness, her softness, her vulnerability. But he also saw her strength. Not the kind that made her difficult and what others cal ed a shrew, but something more.
“May I get you anything?” he asked, suddenly awkward.
She held his gaze for a long time before she shook her head slightly.
He moved toward her, hesitant as a bridegroom who had never lain with his bride. Because, despite al the physical pleasures they had shared, this was uncharted territory for him. He had never loved a woman. Now he felt uncertain of what to do.
“I–I said something to you when I found you,” he said softly.
She squeezed her eyes shut and a little shiver rocked her. “Your emotion was high, Gareth, I know that. I wouldn’t hold you to words you said in that moment.”
He stared at her. “You think I didn’t mean what I said to you?”
She swal owed hard and her blue eyes came open slowly. “Did you?”
He nodded as he moved toward her. He caught one hand, careful not to jostle her injured arm.
“I meant them with al my heart, Beatrice,” Gareth whispered. “Dear God, I have never said such a thing to anyone before. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Her lips parted slightly. “You love me?”
He nodded. “With everything I am, with everything I want to be. I love you.”
She pul ed her hand from his, but it was only to lift it to his cheek. With tears streaming down her face, she touched him, cupping his chin, stroking his cheek.
“Do you know what I thought of when I believed that man…Hodges…would kil me?”
Gareth shook his head slowly, trying not to be overwhelmed with anger at the thought of her torment.
“No.”
“I thought of you,” she whispered. “I thought of how sad I was that I would never get to tel you how much I appreciated that you fought to see me for who and what I real y am. And how much I love you.”
Drawing back a fraction, Gareth stared at her. He knew Beatrice, he knew why she shied away from emotions, from dependence on any other person. Her frank honesty, her open emotion, those things meant the world to him. They were special gifts, things she did not readily share.
“You love me?” he whispered.
“With everything I am, with everything I want to be,”
she repeated his earlier words with a slow nod. “And you are certain you love me, even though I am difficult
…a shrew?”
Gareth couldn’t help but grin. His joy was too intense, too powerful not to show. “You are so much more than that, Beatrice. Even if no one else ever sees it, I see it. I see you and your heart.”
Now she smiled. A broad, happy expression that lightened her face and made her even more beautiful to him. “What am I?”
He cupped her chin and moved in for a kiss. “Mine. You are mine.”
And as he brought his lips to hers, she whispered,
“Always.”
Epilogue
Five Years Later
B eatrice watched as her twin sons raced down the hil , their chubby, toddler legs barely keeping them upright as they struggled to keep up with their older cousins, the children of Penelope and Winifred. The children’s shrieks of laughter floated up from below and brought a smile to her face before she turned back to her family. The sisters al sat together, enjoying their children and the bright sun of a summer’s mid-morning. The only one missing from their gathering was their mother. Beatrice frowned. It had been a year since Dorthea passed on, peaceful y in her sleep. Despite al the trouble their mother had caused, Beatrice stil found herself missing her. After al her daughters were married, Dorthea had actual y calmed slightly. And as the grandchildren arrived, she had become even happier, loving them with a ful acceptance she had never been capable of giving her own girls. Al the Albright daughters appreciated that and often commented on Dorthea as time passed.
Blinking back tears, Beatrice let her gaze fal to each sister. Time and children had not lessened any of their beauty. The jealous harpies of the ton complained of it endlessly and nothing gave Beatrice more pleasure.
Miranda glowed as she rested her hand on the swel of her bel y. After years of painful y unsuccessful trying, she was nearing the end of her first confinement.
“Are you wel ?” Beatrice asked softly when her sister exhaled a breath softly.
Winifred and Penelope both stopped their quiet conversation and turned toward their eldest sister. Al of them had been worried about Miranda in the last nine months. After seeing her struggles, it was difficult not to be.
But Miranda laughed. “I’m very wel . But I think you had better send one of the men for the doctor, as I believe this little one is final y ready to join his cousins.”
Winifred was on her feet first. “I’l send Milo right away.”
Penelope was fast on her heels. “And I’l have Jeremy stand by with Ethan. You know he’l be impossible until he knows you and the babe are wel .”
Once the two other sisters were gone, Miranda turned on Beatrice with a smile. “How did you know?”
She shrugged. “I saw it in your eyes.”
Miranda held her gaze for a long time and Beatrice let her. For so long, she would have flinched away from her sister’s regard, but now…after years of feeling just how right and powerful love could be, she no longer feared her own vulnerability. And while the ton might stil cal her a bitch behind her back, and perhaps she took some pleasure in acting the part, her family no longer steered away from her wrath.
For that she was very glad.
The terrace doors flew open and Ethan stepped out, his eyes wide and his expression utterly terrified. Behind him stood Jeremy, Penelope and Gareth. Even after al these years, Beatrice’s heart stil leaped as her husband met her gaze.
“It’s time?” Ethan asked, his tone breathless and tense with anxiety. Beatrice rol ed her eyes. Before the day was over, the men would likely have to get
him drunk to keep him from having an apoplexy.
Miranda got to her feet slowly. “Indeed. Wil you take me upstairs?”
Ethan caught her arm and they moved slowly inside, with Penelope and Jeremy close behind. Beatrice smiled as her own husband stepped out and put his arms around her.
“You look happy,” he whispered.
She slipped her arms around his waist. “I am happy, my lord,” she whispered. “I am here with you, with my family. I have everything I could ever want. How could I be anything but happy?”
He kissed her gently before they turned toward the hil where the children played. The place where she belonged.
About the Author
Although JESS MICHAELS came to romance novels later in life than most, she always knew what she liked: ultrasexy, emotional reads. Now she writes them from her purple office in central Il inois. She lives with her high school sweetheart husband and two supportive cats.
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Also by Jess Michaels
TABOO
A RED HOT VALENTINE’S DAY (anthology)
SOMETHING RECKLESS
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PARLOR GAMES (anthology)
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
NOTHING DENIED. Copyright © 2010 by Jesse Petersen. Al rights reserved under International and PanAmerican Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCol ins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
EPub Edition © December 2009 ISBN: 978-0-06196823-5
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