Here Comes the Bride

by Alexandra Ivy

  She gave a sudden shrug. “It hardly matters now.”

  Instinctively, his hand raised to brush her soft cheek. “Bella . . .”

  With a jerky movement she stepped away. “I am tired, sir. Please excuse me.”

  She slipped away before he could halt her, and with a heavy sigh, Philip turned toward the dark garden.

  Colonel Lowe had a great deal to answer for.

  * * *

  Awakening early the next morning, Bella deliberately chose the servant’s stairs to make her way out of the house. It was not that she feared encountering Lord Brasleigh, she assured herself. She simply wished to enjoy a walk without the company of her guardian or even Andre. And of course, no one could fault her for wishing to avoid the poisonous company of Madam LeMont.

  Entering the kitchen garden, Bella made a direct path toward the distant woods. Thankfully, it was another lovely day, and she soon found her spirits lifting as she strolled through the outdoors, sunshine warming her skin.

  How could anyone fail to appreciate the deep blue of the sky and the warmth of the morning sun—even if she had lain awake most of the long night? Determined to enjoy her brief privacy, Bella absently began to gather the wildflowers along the path. Suddenly, a faint sound behind a nearby bush caught her attention.

  Attempting to convince herself that it was nothing more sinister than a small animal, she pushed her way forward only to halt in horror.

  Lord Brasleigh. Heaven above, was he everywhere?

  Quite prepared to turn and flee, she was halted as he lifted his head and stabbed her with a glittering gaze. “Come here,” he commanded.

  At first she had presumed that he had been sitting upon the mossy ground to enjoy the tranquil morning, but Bella slowly realized that he was leaning over something on the ground. A flare of curiosity made her ignore the tiny voice that warned her to dismiss his imperative order. “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Someone has laid a trap,” he informed her in clipped tones.

  With a puzzled frown, she slowly rounded his form to discover a large hound stretched upon the ground with his back leg caught in a savage trap.

  “Oh.” She gave a small cry and sank to her knees. “The poor dog.”

  “I want you to try to keep him calm while I free him.”

  Bella for once offered no arguments. Instead, she reached out her hands to gently stroke the dog’s head. Her heart twisted with pain as the animal attempted to give a wag of his tail.

  “Such a good boy,” she murmured, her fear deepening as the dog barely moved despite Lord Brasleigh’s efforts to pry open the trap. “He is so weak.”

  “A curse upon poachers,” Lord Brasleigh muttered as he struggled with the trap. ‘’Just one more moment.”

  “Please hurry.”

  “I do not wish to injure him further,” he warned.

  She held her breath as Lord Brasleigh battled the evil trap. For the moment, she forgot that she intensely disliked the man at her side. Nothing mattered but that they save the poor creature. “Who would do such a thing?” she demanded.

  “I shall certainly be sure the magistrate discovers that with all possible speed.” He gave a sudden murmur of satisfaction as the trap sprang free. “There.”

  Bella studied the battered leg that was seeping blood in an alarming quantity.

  “Will he live?” she whispered.

  “I do not know.” Shrugging out of his coat, he handed it toward her; then with a rueful smile, he determinedly began unfastening his linen shirt. “Forgive me, but I must stop the bleeding.”

  “Of course.”

  Bella attempted to concentrate on the dog that lay dangerously still on the ground, as Philip tugged off his shirt and gently tied it about the wounded leg. Not that she was wholly successful. How did any maiden ignore a large male form stripped to the waist? Particularly when those firm muscles rippled in such a disturbing fashion beneath the silken skin.

  Still, her concern for the dog allowed her to rise to her feet as Lord Brasleigh gathered the animal in his arms and straightened.

  “We must get him to the stables,” he commanded, already thrusting his way through the bushes and onto the path.

  Bella was swift to follow in his wake. Together they silently moved toward the main building, skirting the house and heading directly for the stables. They had barely stepped into the shadowed interior when the head groom met them.

  “My lord.” The rather battered old servant with gray hair and a heavily lined face regarded them with a frown.

  “He was caught in a trap,” Lord Brasleigh said in clipped tones as he brushed past the groom to place the dog upon a pile of straw in an empty stall.

  Bella and the servant followed the distracted lord.

  “A trap?” the groom growled, his frown only deepening. He lifted a hand toward a hovering groom who instantly hurried forward. “Duncan, go fetch the magistrate and then organize a search of the grounds. I won’t have a bloody poacher on my land.”

  “At once.” The under groom gave a nod of his head before turning and hurrying out of the stables.

  Clearly satisfied that his commands would be obeyed, the groom kneeled beside the dog and carefully removed Lord Brasleigh’s hasty binding.

  “A nasty wound,” he muttered.

  “He has lost a lot of blood,” Lord Brasleigh agreed.

  Once again rising to his feet, the groom scratched his head. “We’ll wrap the wound with a poultice. There is little more we can do.”

  He left the stall to retrieve the wrapping, and Bella moved to kneel beside Lord Brasleigh. Her arm brushed the silken heat of his bare skin, but she grimly ignored the tiny shivers it sent through her blood.

  Turning his head, he regarded her with a faint sense of surprise, as if he presumed she had scurried from him the moment she was able. “You should return to the house,” he murmured.

  Her expression became stubborn. “I want to stay.”

  He arched a raven brow. “I did not think you wished to spend a moment more in my company than absolutely necessary.”

  “I am not remaining for you. My only concern is for this dog.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I am flattered.”

  Before she could retort, the groom was returning and efficiently kneeling down to grasp the wounded leg. The dog stirred enough to try to kick from his grasp.

  “Hold him steady, my lord.”

  Lord Brasleigh pushed gently on the dog’s side. “Bella, talk to him.”

  Leaning down, Bella began to coo soft words into the dog’s ear, feeling a pang of sympathy at the faint whines that drifted through the straw-scented air.

  At last the groom sat back on his heels. “It’s done.”

  Lord Brasleigh gave a nod of his head. “If we can avoid an infection, I believe it will heal.”

  “Aye, although I be more worried about his loss of blood.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll go to the kitchen and get some scraps from Cook to tempt him,” the groom offered, rising to his feet and once again disappearing from the stall.

  With the immediate danger over, Bella was suddenly conscious she was quite alone with Lord Brasleigh. And more disturbing—he was nearly half naked. A most potent combination.

  She straightened, feeling strangely awkward.

  “You did well,” Lord Brasleigh commended, his gaze stroking over her pale features.

  “So did you,” she grudgingly conceded. Whatever her feelings for this gentleman, she could not deny that he had reacted with more gentle concern for the dog than any other gentleman she knew. “If he lives, it will be because of you.”

  His hand slowly rose to stroke the full curve of her lower lip. “Perhaps I am not the unfeeling beast you have labeled me.”

  A scalding heat raced through her body and with awkward haste Bella surged to her feet.

  Why, oh, why did she long to trace the firm line of his broad chest? To press her lips to the heat of his mouth? It made
no sense. No sense at all.

  “I am not so easily convinced, my lord,” she assured him in breathless tones.

  Then, turning on her heel, she forced herself to march away without a backward glance.

  Thirteen

  Feeling far too restless to return to the house, Bella instead angled toward the newly scythed grounds. Her feet instinctively carried her toward the pretty grotto, even as her thoughts remained firmly centered on the gentleman she had left in the stables. What an aggravating mystery he was. One moment arrogant, the next a playful tease, and then without warning, unnervingly tender.

  He had not pretended his concern for the injured dog. He had clearly been distraught at the grievous injury the animal had received and equally furious at the poacher who had left the trap. Such gentle concern was echoed in his treatment of poor Miss Summers. As well as in his patience with his supposedly overbearing mother.

  So why then did he treat her with such a boorish indifference to her feelings?

  She clenched her teeth in frustration.

  It should not concern her how he treated her. He was nothing more than an unwelcome intruder in her life, and soon she would discover a means of ridding herself of his annoying presence once and for all.

  The thought should have brought a smile to her face. Instead her heart felt heavier than ever.

  Exasperated at her unpredictable emotions, she climbed the steps to the grotto, only to discover Andre already seated on a marble bench inside. “Andre. May I join you?”

  He politely rose to his feet with a smile. “Of course.”

  Waiting for Bella to take her seat, Andre lowered himself beside her.

  “It is a lovely view, is it not?” she inquired as she gazed at the terraced garden and sparkling fountains spread before them.

  “Yes, it is,” Andre agreed.

  “Lady Stenhold claims that she encountered Lord Stenhold for the first time at this precise location. She had come to visit his sister, and when they met, they fell instantly in love. He later had this grotto built to honor that moment.”

  “Very romantic,” Andre murmured.

  It was romantic, Bella acknowledged. How would it feel to glance into a gentleman’s eyes and know in a heartbeat that he was the man she wished to wed?

  For no reason at all, the dark countenance of Lord Brasleigh seared through her thoughts. She hurriedly thrust it aside.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” She turned to glance at Andre, speaking more out of a desire to keep her renegade thoughts at bay than to pry into her companion’s private affairs.

  Surprisingly, his thin features hardened at her question. “Yes.”

  “You sound very certain.”

  “Because it happened to me.”

  “Really?” she breathed, instantly intrigued. “Who is she?”

  Andre grimaced, his eyes darkening with remembered loss. “You cannot wish to hear the tragic tale of my lost love.”

  Shoving aside her inner troubles, Bella reached out to grasp his hand with an expression of concern. “I do want to hear it, very much,” she assured him. “What is her name?”

  He paused before a reminiscent smile curved his lips. “Claudette Movane. We met in London after Mother and I left France. Like us, she comes from a family that was forced to flee the ravages of war. And like us, she was left with little more than the memories of her family’s past glory.”

  Bella felt a tiny pang of sympathy. How difficult it must be to leave behind family and friends. It was little wonder Andre would find himself drawn to a young maiden who reminded him of his past. “Is she very beautiful?”

  “Not as beautiful as you.” His expression became whimsical. “But she is sweet and kind and always wishing to make others happy.”

  “She sounds delightful,” Bella said sincerely, unfortunately aware that no one could describe her in such all admirable manner. She seemed perfect for the sensitive Andre. “Why did you not wed?”

  His smile slowly fled. “Because our families forbade the match.”

  “But why?”

  “We are expected to replenish our families’ coffers.”

  Bella had no difficulty in imagining Madam LeMont’s shrill demands that her son provide her with suitable comfort. She would never consider for a moment Andre’s own happiness. It would be his duty to make whatever sacrifices necessary.

  “I see,” she said quietly.

  Clearly misunderstanding her faint frown, Andre was swift to dismiss any hint of insult. “Forgive me, Bella. It is not that I do not find you a most beautiful and charming maiden. Indeed, I find that I like you far more than I could ever have expected. And if not for Claudette, I might even have come to love you.”

  Bella gave a soft laugh. “Please do not apologize, Andre. I believe that we have become friends enough for the truth between us.”

  He heaved a grateful sigh. “I like to hope we are friends.”

  She turned her thoughts back to his obvious troubles. “Is there no hope for you?”

  “No.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “Mother is determined to see that I acquire a dowry and, of course, Claudette’s family is anxiously searching for a title and fortune to restore their place in society.”

  “It is all so unfair,” Bella blurted out, unable to bear the thought of Andre being shoved into a loveless marriage, even with herself. How could those who were suppose to care for them be so heartless?

  “What of you?”

  Momentarily lost in thought, Bella was unprepared for the abrupt question. “What?”

  “Is there someone you love?”

  For no reason at all, Bella felt a blush crawl beneath her cheeks. “No. I have met very few gentlemen.“

  Andre regarded her for a long moment. “What of Lord Brasleigh?”

  “Lord Brasleigh?” She instinctively stiffened. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Andre shrugged. “He is very possessive of you.”

  “He is my guardian,” she pointed out with unnecessary force.

  “When he is gazing at you, I do not believe he is recalling that he is your guardian.”

  Bella abruptly pulled her hand from his fingers. Heavens above, was Andre implying that Lord Brasleigh possessed an . . . interest in her? Surely Andre had bumped his head or eaten a bad piece of meat. That could be the only excuse for such a ludicrous accusation. “That is absurd.”

  Undaunted, Andre shifted so that he could more easily study her heated countenance. “Is it? Tell me, Bella, has he ever kissed you?”

  Bella swallowed an hysterical urge to laugh. The chaste meeting of lips that she had once considered to be kisses had nothing at all in common with the fiercely exciting embraces that Lord Brasleigh had bestowed upon her. Not that she was about to make such a confession to anyone. Nor the fact that those embraces were never far from her thoughts.

  “Yes, but not because he wanted to,” she reluctantly muttered.

  Andre’s laughter floated through the grotto.

  “Oh, Bella, for all your spirit, you are remarkably innocent. No man kisses a maiden unless he wishes to.”

  Bella stubbornly gazed at the fingers clenched in her lap. She did not want to ponder why she was avoiding his probing glance.

  “I do not understand what you are attempting to imply.”

  “I cannot help but wonder if a portion of the turmoil between you and Lord Brasleigh is not from an unwanted attraction.”

  A tiny shiver inched down her spine. “You could not be further from the truth.”

  “No?”

  “No,” she insisted, refusing to consider the notion. She had already accepted that she was far too aware of Lord Brasleigh than was reasonable; she would not push herself any further. “Lord Brasleigh has never considered me as anything more than an unwelcome burden. Why else would he have offered you such a large dowry to be rid of me?”

  Andre was indifferent to her logic. “Perhaps he is beginning to regret his offer.”

  Bella
awkwardly surged to her feet. She might genuinely like Andre, but she could not discuss the peculiar tension between herself and Lord Brasleigh. “You clearly are determined to be a tease.”

  With a rueful smile, Andre rose to his feet. “I am sorry, Bella.”

  She shrugged, anxious to divert his thoughts to less troublesome matters. “Shall we take a stroll about the lake?”

  * * *

  The silence of the stables was a welcome relief after an hour of enduring Madam LeMont’s shrill conversation. Really, the woman was enough to make a saint long to throttle her, Bella thought as she crossed to enter the stall and kneel beside the waiting dog. Throughout the tedious lunch, the large woman had tortured them with a droning lecture on the evils of the Almack’s patronesses who had refused to offer her vouchers, and the dastardly landlord who possessed the audacity to demand rent from his social betters. It had been all Bella could do to resist pointing out that the landlord no doubt had a family to feed, and unlike her, did not depend upon others to pamper to his selfish needs.

  Instead, she had turned her thoughts to Andre’s outrageous suggestions that there was more between herself and Lord Brasleigh than angry discord. Why could she not laugh it aside? It was ridiculous, of course. Beyond ridiculous.

  And yet, her every attempt to thrust aside the absurd thought was thwarted as it niggled its way firmly back to the surface, regardless of her efforts.

  It had been a decided relief when the meal came to an end and she was free to quietly slip from the room. Lady Stenhold was far too perceptive not to eventually notice her uncommon silence. She did not want the older woman probing for explanations.

  Bella absently stroked the soft fur of the dog, smiling as his tail thumped upon the straw in happiness. At least this poor beast appeared to be on the mend. Nothing short of a miracle, considering he had been but a breath from dying.