The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy)

by Geralyn Dawson

  She patted his arm. "I am certain Lady Iron is a fine choice."

  Nick looked down at her hand. Then he lifted his gaze back to her face. His pulse thrummed in his veins. "Steele. Lady Steele."

  "Yes. A good fit for you, then."

  Nick stared deep into her eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. Dammit, she looked as if she meant it. Didn't she care?

  He wanted her to care.

  He wanted her to refuse the annulment.

  How foolish is that, anyway?

  "Well now, I'm glad you told me, Nick. I'm glad it's settled." She idly ran a finger down the hilt of a thirteenth-century dagger. "How long will the annulment process take? Do you truly want me to help with Charlotte's wedding and befriend Aurora, or were those only excuses?"

  Her ready acceptance of the ending of their marriage left him feeling thoroughly annoyed. "No, I would appreciate your help while you are here."

  "Very well. Why don't you set up a meeting with your attorney as soon as possible?" Her tone was slightly chastising as she added, "And, Nick, you didn't need to go to such lengths. I have no desire to stand in your way."

  She excused herself and left him alone in the muniment room. Nick lifted the jewel-encrusted dagger she'd fondled moments before and tested it for its balance. "A nice weapon," he murmured. He tested the blade, felt its bite. "Still sharp."

  Not nearly as sharp, however, as the weapon Sarah wielded every time she opened her mouth. The woman had a tongue to slice a man to ribbons. "What a shame."

  Nick could think of a dozen different ways to put her tongue to better use.

  Emeralds in an engagement ring bring bad luck.

  Chapter 8

  Sarah dressed for luncheon as though she were going to war.

  After the humiliating encounter at breakfast, it had taken all her thespian talents to act nonchalant when Nick trailed her to the room full of swords and armor. Immediately afterward she'd retreated to her bedchamber, where she indulged in a quiet temper tantrum interspersed with a bout of tears.

  She felt like such a fool. She'd known that someday this day would come. She had even suspected this might be the reason why Nick had summoned her to Scotland to begin with. So why had it upset her so to hear him talk about marrying another woman?

  It wasn't fair for her to act the offended wife. Except for a few brief hours, they'd never had a true marriage. It wouldn't be right of her to sit here now and pretend they had more between them than a legal entanglement, one which she herself had considered ending on more than one occasion. So why the upset? Why the tears? Why the anger?

  Why the kiss?

  For a little while last night, he'd turned back the clock with his kiss. All the feelings she'd once harbored for him had been reborn with the touch of his lips against hers. She'd always been susceptible to his kisses, and—hang the man—that hadn't changed. It had taken her months to forget how his kisses made her feel. Years. And now she'd have to go and fight that fight all over again.

  The louse. If he wanted an annulment, fine. She'd be happy to do whatever was necessary. But he shouldn't have touched her, should never have kissed her. Especially when he had plans to marry another woman. "The cad."

  Sarah's pride wouldn't allow her to hide in her room any longer, so she mustered her defenses. First she donned her mental armor by recalling the hurt of his betrayal and desertion. She even went so far as to brush upon painful memories she ordinarily left locked away tight—those of her horrible wedding night.

  Thus fortified, she called for a maid to help her slip into the second layer of protection, an attractive Fortune's Design day dress cut in the popular and appropriate military style. Gazing at her reflection in a mirror, she reached up to straighten the gold braid trim and muttered, "If he tries to touch me again, I'll pull out a gun and shoot him."

  Of course, first she'd have to find a gun. Maybe she should detour back to that weapons room and grab one of those wicked-looking daggers. She'd show him if he tried anything funny.

  "But that's just it," she grumbled to herself. "He isn't going to try anything funny. 'It's time I had a wife,' he said. 'One with whom I share a continent. A house. A bed.' It's not you he wants, Sarah, it's Lady Brass."

  Reminding herself that was a good thing, she took a deep, bracing breath, then exited her room.

  Downstairs, she followed the scent of roasted chicken to the dining room. As she approached, she heard the unmistakable sounds of an argument taking place inside. Sarah's steps slowed as she sought to survey the lay of the land before committing herself.

  "Rodney, it is just as I suspected. Lady Charlotte is not worthy of you. One marries more than a person, one marries a family. I'll not see you linked with a family the likes of this one."

  Sarah scowled as she stepped closer to hear better. Rodney and Lady Charlotte. Theirs was the wedding Nick had wanted her to plan.

  "Now wait one moment, Mother."

  Mother plowed on without pause. "I share some responsibility, I'll admit, for remaining abroad so long and not being here to put a stop to this nonsense sooner. However, all is not lost. We can find an honorable way out of this mess. It is a lucky thing you insisted we make this trip north to spend time with Lord Weston's family. Normal social occasions fail to provide the level of intimacy required to sufficiently judge a prospective spouse. However, after spending almost a week with these people, culminating in the arrival last night of a female I can only assume is Weston's paramour, it is clear that Lady Charlotte is a totally inappropriate choice as your wife."

  "I do not agree," the young man insisted. "Charlotte will make a lovely wife. I quite adore her. I love her."

  The harridan sniffed loudly. "Love has little enough to do with marriage. No, we shall find someone more suitable. Someone whose guardian is not so peculiar as Weston. The man might be a marquess, but I don't trust him. He's not like us."

  And that, Sarah thought, was the first kind thing she'd heard the old battle-ax say.

  Rodney's mother continued, "In fact, after seeing the way this household is run, the way those girls are allowed such liberties, I feel I should give my circle fair warning to keep their sons away from all these girls. Beauty cannot overcome bad blood."

  "And ugliness in the mind is so much more hideous than unattractive features," Sarah murmured. She had heard enough. People like this truly got her back up, and since she was properly dressed for battle and in just the right mood, she decided to launch her own attack. Squaring her shoulders, she swept into the room. "Good morning. Isn't it a most beautiful day? Crisp and clear and clean. Don't you adore the way the sun shines off the snowcapped mountains?"

  Rodney's mother puffed out her enormous bosom and glared, "You!"

  "Mother," protested the handsome young man.

  Sarah warmed the smile she turned his way. "I would imagine the day looks especially bright to you, sir, since you'll spend at least part of it with such a sweet and lovely young woman as Lady Charlotte."

  Rodney blinked hard, obviously taken aback. Then his expression melted to something soft and wistful. "Um, yes. It is a glorious day for that reason alone."

  Sarah decided she liked the fellow in that instant.

  His mother, however, was a different kettle of chili. The harridan's eyes rounded and her mouth gaped. In a stiff brittle tone she asked, "Have we met?"

  Sarah took a moment to lay another sin at Nick's door. They'd never decided on a story. He'd spent the time kissing her instead, and now she didn't have a clue as to how she should introduce herself.

  She decided to keep her reply vague—and maybe help out the young lovers while she was about it. "Possibly. You do look familiar. Of course, I've done so many weddings of late, and I've met so very many people. It's a failing of mine, I'm afraid. I can remember details about flowers and gowns and breakfast menus for every wedding I've planned for the past five years, but I'm a dreadful failure when it comes to names. Mrs. Astor completely lost her patience with me when I forgot Se
nator Hollingsworth's name, and I won't even mention the faux pas concerning President Cleveland at the Hilliard-Landsdowne wedding. You are the mother of the groom in this wedding, are you not? Mrs...." She snapped her fingers. "Mrs. Bratts."

  "Lady Pratt."

  "Yes. That's right. Lady Pratt. It's these English titles. They constantly trip me up. I apologize for the mistake, especially considering the compliments Lord Weston has paid you in my presence."

  "Compliments?"

  "He told me you would be a great help to me in discovering the best local suppliers. I know where to buy the freshest flowers in Washington and who is the most talented chef in Boston, and as far as New York goes, well I know everyone in New York. I'll import whatever I feel is necessary, but I always like to include some local sources. I'm excited about expanding my consultancy to London, and I intend for my first wedding here to be the grandest ever seen. Why, Society will be pea green on both sides of the Atlantic by the time Lord Pratt and Lady Charlotte depart for their honeymoon. This will be the most talked-about wedding of the Season. Of a decade of Seasons. A century of Seasons!"

  Interest lit the harridan's eyes. "Who did you say you are?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry." She gave a good imitation of an embarrassed laugh. "I am Sarah of Lucky in Love Weddings, of course. Lord Weston lured me away from America because he wants every detail to be perfect for your son's wedding to his sister. At the risk of sounding boastful, I am the best woman for the job."

  Then, smiling sweetly, Sarah played her trump card. "And you, Lady Pratt, will be the envy of every mama in Town."

  "How lovely!" The sour face beamed.

  Sarah took a seat at the table, snapped open her napkin, and spread it across her lap. I'd like to see Nick's Lady Lead do any better.

  * * *

  Out in the hallway, a wide-eyed Charlotte turned to her brother and whispered, "Is any of that true?"

  Nick rolled his tongue around his mouth. "The part about you being sweet and lovely is true. As for the rest..."

  He finished with a shrug.

  Her murmur brimming with admiration, Gillian said, "She won the Dragon Lady over."

  Aurora nodded. "Played her like a violin."

  Melanie clicked her tongue, then glanced at her brother. "You intend to rid yourself of this wife so you can have Lady Steele? Nicholas, did you bring home one of those special pipes from the Orient?"

  "What special pipes?" Robyn asked.

  "She's teasing, Robbie," Nick said, sending Melanie a scolding glare. He motioned his sisters to proceed him into the dining room. He made quick work of formally introducing Sarah to the Pratts, and soon the conversation bubbled with talk of guest lists, gowns, and party favors. During the middle of it, Gillian's husband, Jake Delaney, wandered into the room. After perusing the buffet and pouring himself a cup of coffee, he ruffled Robyn's hair before taking a seat beside Gillian. He pressed a quick kiss to his wife's cheek, then winked at Sarah and observed, "You're becoming quite the traveler, gal."

  The next half hour proved illuminating. In the time it took to consume a light luncheon, Nick watched the females in his family get to know his wife. They made friends over salads, cold meat, and sliced bread, then bonded over dessert. By the time the last crumb of chocolate cake was consumed, his sisters and his wife were bosom buddies, in a manner of speaking.

  He found the development more than a little disconcerting. When women put their heads together, a man never knew what sort of mischief they might cook up.

  They had certainly won the day where Lady Pratt was concerned. On a dining table battlefield, dressed in gold buttons and braid, Sarah marshaled her troops against Charlotte's prospective mother-in-law like a female Napoleon with a Texas drawl. She led her women in a war of words that used Society names as bullets and wedding plans for cannonballs. When conversation worked its way around to Lady Pratt's mother-of-the-groom attire, Nick knew victory was won. The old battle-ax all but waved a lace-trimmed handkerchief in defeat.

  Observing the satisfied pleasure in his sisters' expressions and basking in the glow of Rodney and Charlotte's mutual devotion, Nick felt a niggling sense of concern.

  He was fairly certain Sarah had lied about her social ties. She might be well connected in Texas and elsewhere in the South, but he didn't think she'd actually had dealings with the president of the United States. Surely she'd have mentioned that sort of detail in her letters. So why had Sarah jumped to Charlotte's defense that way? She'd never met the girl. What were her motives?

  Did the cute little general think to muster his family against him?

  His wife wouldn't meet his gaze. Oh, she'd speak to him, smile at him, and include him in the conversation—in a brother-of-the-bride manner. Never once did she refer to him as her husband, brushing off the Dragon Lady's veiled question about her arrival at Glencoltran Castle with a chagrined smile and an apologetic "travel-weary temper" explanation. Nick didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed about her reticence.

  He was halfway tempted to spill the news himself just to witness her reaction. But that would create a whole set of problems he was ill-prepared to deal with at the moment.

  No, he'd keep to his original plan. They'd stay in Scotland until the marriage was legally ended, and Society need never know he'd been married to the beautiful baggage.

  She'd called herself Sarah of Lucky in Love Weddings, but she would still need an identity to go with the name. She couldn't be Lady Innsbruck, because that would raise too many questions. He didn't care what name she used in Texas. In fact, he wondered if there was a way she could legitimately keep that minor title following the annulment. He seemed to remember that in the case of divorce, such a boon could be granted a former wife.

  His lips quirked with a self-deprecating smile as the thought occurred that if not for the certain scandal and its reflection upon his sisters, he wouldn't mind going the route of divorce over annulment.

  He'd love to take the opportunity to consummate the marriage, to put to use the training he'd received during his visits to the sultan's seraglio. The need to redeem himself for his wedding night had eaten at him since the day he left Fort Worth.

  At that point, Nick's thoughts turned distinctly sexual. While the women talked about possible wedding dates and bridal bouquets, he mentally divested the general of her uniform, substituting a harem dancer's veils in its place.

  Leaning one shoulder against the dining room wall, his arms folded, his legs crossed casually at the ankles, Nick sank into the fantasy. Instead of the lingering aroma of roasted chicken, he smelled the sweet bite of incense on the air. Rather than the chatter of feminine voices, he heard the beat of drums and chink of finger cymbals. He imagined a soft rug beneath him, a cup of wine, and a plate filled with pomegranates and grapes at his side. In front of him, her body veiled in such a way that it revealed more than it concealed, Sarah danced.

  Her long, golden hair hung free, swinging with the sensuality of her movement. Through the gauzy silk that draped her body, he could see the round, dusky shadows that tipped her high, full breasts. His stare slid lower, drinking in the vision of her undulating torso, pausing to put a jewel—a sapphire; no, a brilliant ruby—in her navel. His mouth grew dry as his gaze found her hips, adorned with a belt of clinking gold coins, beckoning with slow figure eights that gradually increased in speed, moving faster and faster and...

  "Nicholas? Nicholas!"

  Charlotte's insistent voice broke through his daydream and Nick stood up straight to find a whole roomful of women staring expectantly his way. A flush of embarrassment stole up his neck, and he glowered at Rodney—just because it felt like the thing to do—before addressing his sister. "What?"

  Charlotte gestured toward the mantel clock. "We lost track of the time, and Lady Pratt is concerned she might miss her train."

  Now that would be disaster.

  Nick checked his pocket watch, calculated the time required to transport the Dragon Lady to the railway station in Nairn
, then heaved a mental sigh of relief and smiled at his guests. "I believe you have sufficient time left, Lady Pratt. I'll call for my fastest coach to take you to the station. If you will excuse me, I shall see to the arrangements now."

  A short time later his family gathered in front of the castle to see Rodney and the Dragon Lady off. Nick tried not to notice that Melanie, Robyn, and Aurora ran interference with the old shrew to allow Charlotte and Rodney time for a private good-bye. He knew a few kisses weren't inappropriate at this point, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

  When the coach bearing Lady Pratt finally clattered away from Glencoltran, Nick joined his sisters in a round of relieved applause.

  "Charlotte, I hope Rodney appreciates the depths of your love," Nick said as they turned back toward the castle.

  Buoyed by her fiancé's promise to visit her immediately upon the family's return to London or Hunterbourne, whichever came first, Charlotte threw her arms around her brother and offered a squeeze of a hug. "He is not blind to his mother's faults. Not at all. In fact, he has a plan for dealing with her."

  "What's that?"

  The sparkle in her eyes brought a smile to Nick's face as she said, "He's matchmaking. He is promoting a romance with an old acquaintance of Lady Pratt's—a widower—who lives in Ireland."

  Nick's smile broadened into laughter. "Ah, posy, I think your man Rodney is growing on me."

  * * *

  "I think I like Sarah," Melanie said as she hurried into Aurora's bedchamber late that night. "Isn't she beautiful?"

  "I adore her," Charlotte declared as she followed her younger sister. "The way she won over Lady Pratt was incredible."

  "Shush." Aurora held her finger up to her mouth as she waved Robyn in behind the others. "When I sneaked into the kitchen for biscuits and milk, Nicholas was prowling around downstairs. We don't want him to hear any noise and come check on us."

  "I still say we should have had this meeting in my room," Melanie said. She kicked off her slippers and sat cross-legged on her sister's bed. "If Nicholas checks on anyone, it will be you, since you're the wicked sister."