Rogue in My Arms: The Runaway Brides

by Celeste Bradley

  He drew back, startled. “It isn’t a matter of wanting. It simply is. My father always expected it. Now the world expects something more, some brilliant new work to top the last.”

  “You expect it.” She shook her head. “You’re clever and you saw his mistake, but your heart is not in it. To you it’s a chore, isn’t it? Like sewing is to me. I can do it, but I despise it so that I do not do it well.”

  He gazed down at her, about to explain that it was nothing like that, that sewing costumes in the dank cellar of a tawdry theater was nothing at all like blazing a new trail in the statistical social sciences.

  Sitting at a desk. Totting up research numbers. Counting and rearranging and counting again. And again. And again.

  While all along he knew that his latest theory was nothing but the most godawful rubbish—and that he was clever enough that he could likely shove it down the Bathgate Scholars’ collective throat and make them like it.

  “I loathe it,” he heard himself say out loud. “It makes me want to run screaming down Pall Mall, foaming at the mouth.” His startled gaze met hers. “I don’t know why I said that.”

  She smiled. “Because I ordered you to tell me the truth.”

  “Now tell me the truth.”

  She blinked at him. “I already did. You know all about me.”

  “Your past, but not your future.” He held her gaze, not releasing her so easily. “You are about to disappear, aren’t you? You and Evan are going to slip away again, forever.”

  She met his gaze and did not falter. “In six years Evan will have what is rightfully his. He will not need me anymore. I do not plan to stay in London or Brighton or anywhere that will—”

  “That will remind you of me.”

  She lifted her chin. “Can you blame me? Would you wish that pain on me? Am I to spot you in Covent Garden and feel your loss anew, like a knife in my heart? And what would you do if you saw me on Bond Street as you walked with your wife and daughter? You would look away and then you would keep walking.”

  I would die inside. And then I would keep walking.

  She cupped his jaw in her hands and pinned him with those beautiful eyes. “That is how it should be. How it must be. I must go and live another life so that it can be.”

  “What of me? Am I to wonder forever what became of you? Am I to hear of a fire in a house two counties off and worry that you were in it? Am I to read of a ship sinking off the coast and fear for your drowning? Am I to stare at every auburn-haired woman that crosses my path for the rest of my life and wonder, ‘Is that she?’ ”

  She smiled, a sad little tilt of her lips. “I promise not to burn or drown. I’d rather not change my hair, thank you.”

  Abruptly he could not bear it. He could not play this civilized game of letting her go. He pulled her close and rolled into the pillows with her, kissing her desperately, pressing her down, pinning her, keeping her.

  I will not let this happen. I will not.

  She gave in to him, submitting to his will, refusing him nothing, not even when his now rigid erection probed her tender slit. Her only protest was a tiny flinch.

  He knew what to do. Hurrying, he kissed his way down her body, stroking her thighs apart with his palms, gently spreading her inner lips with his tongue. Ignoring her dismayed cry, he immobilized her with his hands as he licked her.

  At first he soothed and stroked and eased her, softly laving at her soreness and helping her relax. Then he caught at her clitoris with the tip of his tongue and began to tease. He knew what he was about and he meant to make her beg, to make her need, to make her want to stay near him forever.

  Pru could not bear the conflict between the pleasure in her body and the pain in her heart. She could feel his need. She could hear the question unasked, the proposal undared.

  Stay with me. Be mine, outside my marriage, outside my vows. Love me in the dark and secret and hidden moments and then kiss me good-bye to return to my family.

  She knew that he wanted to trap her, to trick her, to bind her to a life without hope or honor. She would not let him do that to her, nor to himself. He was not a man who could live with that sort of betrayal, not without becoming a different man altogether.

  And that she could never, ever allow.

  So she took his tongue and his need and his silent, begging question and she came again at the demands of his mouth. And when he moved up her body to wrap his arms about her and bury his face in her hair and penetrate her again to thrust slowly and skillfully until she quivered and cried out in his grasp, she took him into her arms and into her aching body and into her broken, mourning heart.

  And all the while, in her heart she knew she would leave him in the morning.

  CHAPTER 40

  When Colin woke the next morning it was to find Pru gone and Bailiwick in the room doing his best to lay out some sort of decent suit from the clothing Colin had carried in his valise for a week.

  The big footman was red-faced with frustration. “I’m that sorry, Sir Colin, but I ain’t a real valet.”

  Wearily, Colin only clapped a hand on the fellow’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter how I look today, Bailiwick.”

  “But it’s yer weddin’ day! Mr. Wilberforce wouldn’t want ye to go about such an important day lookin’ like a ragman!”

  Colin felt lower than that, actually. He’d thrown all honor out the window last night for the simple selfish joy of possessing the woman he loved, just for a few sweet hours. The fact that he would never, ever regret it made him think even less of himself, if that were possible.

  He dressed in the least wrinkled of his clothing and allowed Bailiwick to fuss clumsily over his appearance for only a few minutes. Then he left the fellow to pack up their belongings and let himself out of the hotel room into the hall.

  The sight of Pru leaving her room at the same instant brought him up short. He watched her as she ushered the children from the room and as she spent a moment trying to tame Evan’s rebellious hair and futilely trying to improve the appearance of Gordy Ann by the application of a little spit on a handkerchief.

  As Colin stood there, the ever-expanding hole in his heart grew fresh and dreadful depths. These three might have been his family for the rest of his life. He might have become father to Evan, or at least elder brother, helping to guide him into his future as a gentleman. Melody might have had a mother worthy of her, a mother who would encourage her bravery and educate her spirit. He might have had more children with Pru, enough to fill the silent halls of Tamsinwood with shrieks and giggles and running feet. Playmates for Melody and fond nuisances for Evan.

  Then Pru lifted her gaze and saw him standing there. Surprised, her first expression was one of startled joy, swiftly darkened. She turned to Evan and whispered something to him.

  Evan turned a gaze of burning betrayal on Colin.

  He knows. He hates me.

  Quite right, too.

  He nodded acknowledgment of Evan’s rage, unwilling to deny the boy his due fury. Evan had evidently been told to bring Melody to Colin, for he walked the little girl forward, gray eyes flashing.

  Colin knelt before his tiny daughter. She blinked big blue eyes at him expectantly.

  “Mellie, Bailiwick is going to take you back to Brown’s. You’ll be home tomorrow, with Wilberforce and Grampapa Aldrich and everyone.”

  Melody, already cheerful, widened her eyes in ecstasy. “Wibbly-force! And Maddie and Uncle Aidan!”

  Colin smoothed her gleaming dark curls. “They’ll be there very soon as well.” How much should he tell her now? How much could she even understand?

  “Mellie, my love, you’ll be riding with Bailiwick and Pru and Evan back to London. I can’t come with you today, but I’ll be following very soon. Is that all right?”

  “And then you’ll tell me a story?”

  He smiled. “Always.”

  She considered his offer for a moment, then nodded decisively. “All right. You follow fast.”

  “As
quickly as I can, milady.”

  She threw her arms around his neck, slapping Gordy Ann into his spine, and planted a smeary kiss on his cheek. “Byebye!”

  Holding her close, he apologized to her silently. He was a coward for not telling her more, but why not let her have the next few days with Pru and Evan and a happy journey? There would be plenty of time to break her heart later.

  At Colin’s nod, Evan took Melody’s hand and marched her away down the hall, oversized feet clomping even on the carpeted floor as Melody danced lightly alongside, already beginning her day’s chatter, Gordy Ann swinging from her other hand. Pru watched them go and only faced Colin when the children had turned the corner.

  As she walked toward him, her features lighted by the window behind him, he wondered that he’d ever thought her plain. Her elfin face was now softened by a healthy diet, which only made it a perfect canvas for her lustrous eyes. Her shimmering auburn hair was pinned up in the manner of a lady, not capped and hidden like a servant’s. She wore her good gown. Colin had the impression that the servant disguise had been abandoned forever.

  Her steps faltered as she came closer and she stopped a bit farther away than he would have liked, but he made no move to close the distance. It stretched between them, a lasting and forever distance.

  Quite right, too.

  Her hands were clasped before her, her knuckles whitened, but when she spoke her beautiful voice was smooth and controlled. “How are you today, Sir Colin?”

  He gave her a very correct nod. “I am completely undone, Miss Filby. And you?”

  She blinked and her storm-gray gaze dampened. “Entirely, sir.”

  Colin swallowed. “Bailiwick will take you and Evan to London as promised. I would ask you to remain with Melody until you reach Brown’s.”

  “Of course. Bailiwick is a miracle, but even he cannot mind a child and drive at the same time.”

  Colin’s lips twitched. “Wait until you meet Wilberforce.”

  Her mouth quirked sadly. “I look forward to it. After Melody’s tales, I shall not be surprised if that man takes wing before my eyes.”

  Colin ached to reach for her. “I am saying nothing I really wish to say.”

  She tilted her head. “I would thank you not to. Did we not say everything last night?”

  “You would not allow it.”

  I love you. I want to say it every day for the rest of my life.

  Her eyes saw it all. I know.

  “There is something I wish you to have.” He reached into his breast pocket and removed a sheaf of foolscap, folded in half. He handed it to her.

  She took a bare step forward, just enough to reach the papers with her arm extended. When she had them, she stepped back once more.

  I am not a wild animal.

  Agony raged in his heart, shaking the bars of its cage. Then again perhaps I am.

  She opened the fold and gazed down at the top sheet. “Once upon a time on the high seas . . .” she read, then glanced up at him in surprise. “You wrote it down!”

  “Just the story about Captain Jack and the Spanish princess. I don’t think Evan ever managed to stay up until the end.”

  A short sound escaped her, a lost little laugh. Tenderly, she folded the story again and pressed it to her bosom, her hands crossed protectively over it. When her gaze lifted to his, her eyes shone like silver. “I shall read it to him every night.”

  “I think he might rather you burned it.”

  She shook her head. “He will understand. Someday.”

  Really? Then perhaps he can explain it to me. “On the last sheet, I wrote the names of several solicitors in London. They are all trustworthy fellows who could help your case against the Trotters.”

  She lifted her chin. “I have not made a decision about that yet.”

  “Stubborn woman.” He would not smile at her independence. It was too hard-won. “At the very least, they might know of appropriate employment for you. I’ve included a letter of reference as well.”

  She nodded. “For that I thank you.”

  He thought about asking her to wait for him. Chantal was not well. He might very well be a widower before the year was out.

  Then a year of mourning. Then another of half-mourning. And what if Chantal lived on? The doctor had said there was no way to predict her health.

  How long will you make Pru wait, hanging on when she could make a new life for herself? How ghoulish are you, to wish your own wife a speedy death?

  Not selfish or ghoulish enough, apparently, for he could not ask it.

  The door behind him opened and Bailiwick came out, ducking his great height apologetically. “Pardon me, Sir Colin, but I could see outside that the carriage is ready and the children are waitin’ inside.”

  “Thank you, Bailiwick. Please take Miss Filby’s things down to the carriage and wait for her there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bailiwick lifted the valises without effort and trotted down the hall, obviously eager to be out of the way.

  Colin couldn’t take his gaze from Pru. She is going to leave now and you will never see her again.

  Kiss her. If he did, he would never stop.

  Hold her. He dared not, for fear he’d never let go.

  Ask her to stay with you anyway. He would not, for it would only dishonor her.

  Pru shifted uncomfortably beneath the intensity of his gaze.

  Kiss me.

  She had to leave at once.

  Hold me.

  If he so much as touched her, she would throw everything away and beg him to keep her forever.

  Ask me to stay.

  Stay? As what?

  Mistress, whore, bedwarmer—sounds good to me, guv!

  His beautiful face was set like stone. His body held straight as a soldier. Only his green eyes, those laughing eyes that no longer laughed, swam with a sea’s worth of anguish.

  He loves me. No one will ever love me like this again.

  Then love him enough to let him go.

  With jerky movements, for her body had gone stiff with pain, she turned her back on the only man she could ever love. Take a step. Now take another.

  The silvery threads broke, one by one, as she slowly walked away, each sending a jolt of agony through her heart.

  “Pru!”

  She should not stop, she should not turn. Yet the harsh misery uttered in the single syllable of her name halted her in her tracks. She looked back at him, so tall and golden and handsome. So alone.

  His shoulders heaved as if he’d run a great distance. “On this day, every year for the rest of my life, I shall remember you. I will not forget a moment. Every year, on this day, I swear to it.”

  Oh, my love, I will remember every second. I will polish them daily, like jewels in my heart.

  But she only said, “This is your wedding day, sir. You must think of your wife on this day.”

  Then, because she could not leave him thus, she cast him one last flashing smile. “You may remember me yesterday.”

  Then she picked up her skirts and ran down the hall, as fast as she could with her throat closed in pain and her eyes swimming in tears. Her ears were clear enough to hear his single gasp of damp laughter as she turned the corner and left him forever.

  The mumsy carriage pulled away from the hotel entrance and into Brighton traffic, Bailiwick at the reins, driving his enormous white horse. However, the city was not large and they were soon traveling through the rolling green hills of the Avon Valley. Pru sat facing forward with Melody on her lap. Opposite, Evan looked out the window with his chin on his folded arms, pointedly ignoring them both.

  “Ev.”

  He turned to give her a filthy look over his shoulder, then turned back to the view outside. “Don’t want t’talk to you,” he said shortly.

  “Ev, I know you’re upset. It’s been an upsetting time all round, but—”

  He flung himself back on his seat opposite to glare at her full on. “Ain’t upset. Girls get u
pset.”

  She lifted a brow. “What are you, then?”

  “It’s him. Rotten old Lambert.”

  Pru saw it coming and clapped her hands over Melody’s ears just in time.

  “Bastard!”

  Melody perked up and tugged Pru’s hands away. “What did Evan say?” Eager curiosity blazed. “Evan, what did you say?”

  Pru reached into her pocket and pulled out an old hair ribbon she’d kept for just such emergencies. “Melody, look what I have for Gordy Ann!”

  Melody was soon absorbed in fashioning a noose for her poor little rag doll. Pru slid her gaze to meet Evan’s rebellious one. “He isn’t, you know,” she said softly. “It is I who left him behind.”

  “I heard Bailiwick. He’s gettin’ married! To her!”

  “Yes, he is. He was always going to. I knew that.”

  Evan gaped. “You knew? All the time? Then what did you go and start huggin’ and kissin’ him for?”

  Yes, tell. We all want to know the answer to that one.

  Instead, she decided to invoke her rights as elder sister. “I shall tell you someday when you’re old enough to understand.”

  “I understand. You’re just a—”

  Pru held up one hand sharply. “Evan Filby, if you finish that sentence you’ll find your mouth washed out with soap. Is that entirely clear?”

  Evan blinked in surprise. “You wouldn’t!”

  “I certainly will. It is high time you began to behave like the gentleman you were born to be. From this moment onward you will cease cursing entirely, or the soap will appear instantly!”

  Evan stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. However, she saw some old tension leave his shoulders as he gazed at her with new respect. For the first time in his memory, there was an adult in the room and it was Pru. She shook her head as she smiled at him with fond exasperation. “You and I will be fine. I am going to find respectable employment in London now that I have such an excellent reference. We will take a nice room this time. No more starving and no more running mad through the streets. You will study and I will work and when you are eighteen we will descend upon the Trotters with a solicitor of our own in tow.”