Blackthorne's Bride

by Joan Johnston

  He moved inside her and saw her eyes go wide with amazement. He felt the corners of his mouth curve upward in the beginning of a smile, as her hands threaded into his hair and drew his mouth down to hers. Her eyes slid closed again, as her hips thrust upward, and her tongue came searching. She slid her fingernails down his nape, as her body arched against his. He made a guttural sound as he thrust deep, deeper, until he spilled his seed, and they became one body, one soul, finding a haven of bliss.

  Blackthorne slid onto his side next to her, and she rolled into him. He reached for the sheets and covered their sweat-slick, heaving bodies. He pulled her close to his pounding heart, then reached over and extinguished the lamp on the table beside the bed.

  He was nearly asleep when she said, “I was worried when you didn’t come back. I thought you might have gone without me.”

  He kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter. “I think it’s what I should do tomorrow morning. Leave you here, I mean, while I go ahead on horseback. You can come on the train, once it’s repaired.”

  He wanted time to deal with whatever he found when he arrived at the Black Swan, without his wife there to ameliorate the situation. He wanted the chance to yell at his sister like a big brother, rather than treat her with the calm expected of the head of the family. He wanted to confront Seaton with all the fury he felt toward a man who’d been his friend and confidant for most of his life, before betraying him so heinously.

  “All right,” she said, snuggling against him. “I’ll wait here. I know you’ll do what’s right, whatever you find when you get there.”

  He hugged her close, but he said nothing. His throat was too swollen with emotion to speak.

  LYING IN BED alone the next morning, Blackthorne having departed sometime during the night for Berwick-upon-Tweed, Josie stretched, groaning as she raised her arms high and extended her toes toward the foot of the bed. Then she snuggled back down under the warm covers, pulling them close and smelling the disconcerting scent of the man she’d made love with last night.

  It had been a strange interlude, but no stranger than most of their marriage so far. She’d felt Blackthorne’s need and responded to it by holding him close. In the dark of night, after they’d made love, she’d felt his hands trace the scars on her back, before he’d turned her in his arms and kissed the length of each weal, where the lash had bit her flesh. Between kisses, he’d whispered, “You should be proud of these scars. Each one is proof of your courage.”

  It was something Josie had never considered. It made her see herself differently. Not as the coward who’d hidden under the bed and kept her parents from escaping the fire, but as someone who had the ability to be strong for herself and for those weaker than herself, like Spencer and Clay.

  Josie might have the courage to escape with Blackthorne’s nephews, but after the night just past, she no longer had the will. She didn’t want to leave the Dastardly Duke. She wanted the chance to see whether he could ever come to admire her as much as he did her single act of valor. She crossed her arms behind her head and settled more comfortably into the valley in the center of the mattress.

  More importantly, did she have the courage to stay?

  Why did she suddenly yearn to be loved by a man she’d hated for years? How had everything changed in such a short time? She wasn’t going anywhere until she’d figured it all out, even if that meant spending the entire day in bed.

  After her ordeal over the past two years, it was a luxury to be able to simply do nothing. Unfortunately, although her body was relaxed, her mind kept spinning out of control, like a child’s top gone wild.

  Josie wondered if her three married sisters had ever felt as confused, after marrying perfect strangers, as she felt this morning. She wished they were closer, so she could talk to them. She missed them terribly. Maybe they could make some sense of her feelings for her husband. It was hard to believe she still hadn’t told them she wasn’t on that ship bound for Charleston, but she’d thought she’d be long gone by now. She supposed she’d better get a telegram off today to let them know she was going to be delayed for…How long?

  She had no idea.

  Blackthorne’s property in Northumberland was close enough to Berwick-upon-Tweed that she believed she could get him to visit his nephews, after he’d dealt with Seaton and his sister, and see their situation for himself. Josie thought it would take a harder heart than Blackthorne had shown so far to keep him from bringing them back to the Abbey to live.

  Unless…Josie was forced to admit there was a very real possibility that Blackthorne had ignored his nephews because he simply didn’t want the daily responsibility for taking care of two rambunctious children.

  Josie growled low in her throat with frustration. Her thoughts kept going around in circles. She had no way of knowing the truth, since she’d been married to the man for too short a time to really know him.

  If Blackthorne agreed to bring his nephews to live with them at the Abbey, it would assuage her concern for the boys. But Josie still felt torn in two, because she missed her family and wanted to see them again. It had been so long! She needed to hug her sisters and laugh with them and share stories of everything that had happened to everyone over the past two years.

  What should she do? Stay? Or take the boys and go? Which choice was the right one?

  Josie was startled by a knock at the door and got caught in the covers trying to leap out of bed to answer it. Blackthorne wouldn’t have knocked, so it wasn’t him. It might be the innkeeper wanting to know when she would be leaving, although she thought Blackthorne had probably given him that information, since he’d said he would pay in advance for the room, until the tracks were cleared and the train was running again. Or it might be a maid coming to clean the room. It was even possible the Pinkerton had found her, with news about Spencer and Clay.

  She scrambled out of bed and grabbed the quilt to wrap around herself before she opened the door.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace. I got worried when you didn’t come down for luncheon.”

  Josie stared at the innkeeper, shocked to realize how much of the day she’d worried away. “I was resting.” It was the best excuse she could come up with.

  “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I thought you should know the track has been repaired. The damage wasn’t as bad as they thought. The wagons and coaches will be loading up shortly to take everyone back to the train.”

  Josie thought of the grueling ride Blackthorne was making to reach his sister, when a few hours’ delay would have allowed him to arrive in an hour or two, depending on how many more stops the train had to make before it reached Berwick-upon-Tweed. It was possible she would be there before him, which would give her time to sneak in a visit with the boys and discover whether they were over the measles.

  “I’ll be ready shortly,” Josie said. “Would you send someone up here to collect our bags?” Blackthorne had left everything except a single change of clothing with her.

  It took very little time to dress, and because the rain had stopped, the trip back to the train was made without even getting wet. Perhaps because of the delay, or a fear of further sabotage, the train steamed straight through to Berwick-upon-Tweed without stopping.

  Josie wasn’t even surprised when the first person she saw when she stepped off the train was Miranda’s Pinkerton detective.

  “Mr. Thompson. Why am I not surprised?” Josie said with a smile. “How on earth did you get here before me?”

  He winked and said, “A Pinkerton never sleeps.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I have news that couldn’t wait.”

  Josie’s heart jumped to her throat. “Blackthorne?”

  She saw the surprise in the Pinkerton’s eyes and realized that her first concern had been for her husband, not for the two boys she loved as much as her brothers. That told her something about herself that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Does it have to do with Spencer or Clay?”

 
“No, ma’am.”

  Josie’s heart began pounding hard enough to break her rib cage. She realized she’d grasped the lapels on the Pinkerton’s black duster and forced herself to let go. “Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “It’s your sister Miranda, ma’am. She’s very ill. She may be dying as we speak.”

  Josie thought she might faint. She reached out a hand and caught the Pinkerton’s arm for support. “Dying? Miranda?”

  “Her babe came early. She has childbed fever.”

  “I have to get to her. I have to see her. She can’t die before—” Fear choked off Josie’s voice. “How fast can I get to her? How many days will it take?”

  Josie felt frantic, panicked by the thought that she had been found at last, only to arrive too late to thank her sister for never having given up the search. “Oh, God. It might already be too late. I should have gone home. I should never have stayed and married the duke. And now…”

  She crossed her arms over her body to hold herself together, when it felt like she might fly into a million pieces. “If you knew I would be on that train, then you must have known I would want to go home immediately. Are the travel arrangements made?”

  “Almost.”

  “What’s causing the delay?”

  “I didn’t know whether to buy passage for one. Or for three.”

  Josie gave a cry of anguish. It was too late to ask Blackthorne why he’d never visited his nephews. Too late to be frank and honest and probe his heart for the truth about his feelings for Spencer and Clay. What a fool she’d been! She should have broached the subject sooner. She should have told Blackthorne exactly how much she loved the boys—and worried about their happiness. She should have made it clear that she wanted his nephews to come and live with them—not sometime in the future, but right now.

  She’d done none of that. During the brief time she’d spent with the duke, she’d skirted the subject. She wasn’t sure she could trust Blackthorne to do the right thing where Spencer and Clay were concerned. And since she didn’t know her husband’s true feelings about the two boys, she didn’t dare leave them behind after she was gone. However mistaken she’d been about Blackthorne when it came to her own incarceration at Tearlach Castle, the same might not be true regarding his abandonment of his nephews.

  Josie had no idea exactly when Blackthorne had left Ashington, no idea when he might be arriving in Berwick-upon-Tweed. She had no choice. Even a day’s delay might result in her reaching her sister too late. She had to leave with the evening tide, and she had to take Spencer and Clay with her.

  BLACKTHORNE WAS COLD and wet and tired, but his journey was nearly done. His horse hadn’t thrown a shoe—or him—and he’d made good time from Ashington to Berwick-upon-Tweed. But despite leaving in the middle of the night, the journey had taken him the entire day. It was late in the afternoon by the time he hit the outskirts of town and found his way to the Black Swan. He’d been grinding his teeth for the better part of the past hour, imagining Seaton’s bones between them.

  The blackguard! Where did he get the gall to steal Lark from under my nose? Why did he keep Josie in England against her will? Why did he pretend to be my friend, when his actions were those of a scoundrel?

  Blackthorne made sure his mount was comfortably bedded down in the stable, before he headed into the Black Swan. He half expected one of Mr. Thompson’s agents to be waiting to greet him, but he didn’t see anyone wearing a black duster and bowler hat on the porch of the Black Swan or inside the taproom. Thompson’s man likely hadn’t expected Blackthorne to arrive as soon as he had. The ride had been brutal for man and beast.

  Blackthorne rang the bell at the counter, and when the innkeeper showed up, announced, “I’m looking for the Earl of Seaton. I believe he’s staying here.”

  The innkeeper smiled. “Yes. He’s here with his wife. But you don’t want to go up there.”

  “Why not?”

  “The young lady has contracted the measles.”

  “I’ve had measles. Which room is it?”

  “Why don’t I send for the gentleman—”

  Blackthorne grabbed the innkeeper by the throat. “Which room?”

  “The bridal suite. Last door on the right at—” He stopped speaking abruptly when Blackthorne let go and headed for the stairs.

  When he got to the bridal suite, Blackthorne didn’t knock on the door, he simply put a booted foot to the area near the knob and kicked it open. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but it wasn’t what he found.

  His sister’s hands rose to the throat of her nightgown. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her elbow perched on a table that had been situated nearby with a chessboard on it. Several pieces had already been moved from the board to the table. Seaton leapt up from a chair that had been squeezed into the space between the wall and the table. Both of them stared at him with frightened eyes.

  “Marcus! What’s wrong?” his sister cried.

  “What’s wrong?” he roared. “Are you purposely trying to drive me mad? Your being in this room in your nightgown with Seaton is what’s wrong!”

  “Let me explain,” Seaton said.

  Blackthorne sneered. “I can see for myself what’s going on here.”

  “It isn’t what it looks like,” Lark said.

  Blackthorne lifted an aristocratic brow. “You’re married to him? And this is a friendly game of chess between husband and wife?”

  “Well, no, I’m not,” Lark said. “But we will be when—”

  “When hell freezes over!” Blackthorne turned to his former best friend and said in a deadly voice, “I demand satisfaction.”

  Blackthorne watched all the blood drain from Seaton’s face. His sister’s face might have blanched as well, but since it was covered in red spots, it was hard to tell.

  “None of this is David’s fault,” Lark protested, crawling across the bed toward him. “I’m the one who left home without telling anyone where I was going. I took the train to Berwick-upon-Tweed without David’s knowledge or consent.”

  “David? Now Seaton is David?” Blackthorne jeered.

  Lark winced. “I wanted…” She lifted her chin and looked disdainfully down her nose at him, a pose he’d seen his grandmother use to great effect. “If you must know, I wanted an adventure. It isn’t David’s fault the train arrived so late in the evening. All he did was try to protect my reputation.”

  Blackthorne focused his gaze on Seaton. “By bringing an unmarried lady to an inn and registering as husband and wife?”

  The blood rushed back to Seaton’s face. “Lark wasn’t feeling well, which turned out to be measles. It was too late to take her to the Courts’ home, so I thought—”

  “You thought you’d take advantage of an innocent girl?”

  “You know me better than that,” Seaton shot back.

  “Do I? Tell me about Josephine Wentworth.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you took Josie to Tearlach Castle and kept her confined there for two long years.”

  Seaton’s mouth dropped open. “That was Josie? The girl I took to the castle was the heiress you married?”

  To give him credit, Seaton appeared genuinely astonished, but Blackthorne wasn’t going to be fooled again. “You’re a better actor than I thought. Of course it was Josie!”

  “Good lord,” Seaton said, running a nervous hand through his hair. “No, that’s not possible.”

  “Josie said you arranged for her to go to Tearlach Castle.”

  “I arranged for the girl you rescued to go to Tearlach Castle. Or rather, my sister did. Are you saying Josie and that girl are one and the same?”

  “Wait a minute. Just wait!” Blackthorne’s mind was whirling. “Are you suggesting Fanny is responsible for Josie spending the past two years as a maid at one of my properties?”

  “Who else would do something as fanciful as hide the girl away somewhere so you could meet her again at some point in the futur
e? That was Fanny from start to finish. She used my solicitor to arrange everything. I never knew the girl’s name. I made it a point not to find out, so I wouldn’t slip when I was in my cups. Fanny kept you from visiting Spencer and Clay so you wouldn’t discover the American’s presence before the time was right.

  “And I didn’t say anything in the year after Fanny died, because I knew you needed to marry an heiress to save Blackthorne Abbey. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

  Blackthorne was stunned into speechlessness. He sank onto the bed and stared out the window. He felt Lark’s hand on his shoulder and turned a blind eye to her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Blackthorne took a deep breath and let it out. “Not really. What am I to do with you?” His gaze shifted from his sister to his friend. “With both of you?”

  Seaton took a step forward, reached for Lark’s hand, and held it in his. “I’ve gotten a special license, but we have to wait for Lark to recover from the measles before we can say the words to a cleric.”

  “You planned to marry without her grandmother or her sister or me, the head of the family, present?”

  “I realize it wasn’t a well-thought-out plan,” Seaton conceded, “but it was all I could think of to prove my intentions toward Lark are honorable.”

  “You want to marry my idiot sister?”

  “I’ll thank you not to speak of my fiancée in those terms,” Seaton said, his shoulders squaring.

  “Thank you, David,” Lark said. “And I’m not an idiot, Marcus. I’m in love with David.”

  “And I’m in love with your sister,” Seaton said.

  Blackthorne shook his head in disbelief. “You are?”

  “I have been these past six months,” Seaton replied.

  “Oh, David,” Lark said. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “Because he wasn’t in any hurry to get married,” Blackthorne said sardonically. He quirked a brow and asked his friend, “Why the sudden change of heart?”