The Viscount's Bride (Love's Pride Book 2)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Caroline’s eyes shifted back and forth between her attacker and her husband. What were they talking about?

  The man’s knife shifted away from her throat. Just a hair. Alex made a slight move forward but halted when the Demon pinned him with his eyes.

  Her husband was still too far away.

  She needed to stall. To slow things down until Alexander could get to him. Besides, her curiosity was eating at her. She did not want to die without knowing the truth about her father.

  “Will someone please explain,” she mumbled through the hand around her mouth.

  Alexander’s eyes crinkled in sympathy. “Your father wasn’t a traitor,” he said. “He was working for the British government.”

  “He stole our shipment. Pushed me overboard and killed my men,” De Paul said.

  “Single handedly, I might add,” Alexander said with an admiring smirk. “Summerset told me,” he said to Caroline as if that would explain everything.

  “But the money. Where did he get the money?”

  “Payment for French spies, Gold Bullion sent over to pay for informants, sew discontent, and buy information, that kind of thing.”

  “It could have changed the war. If the British rebelled against their government. Became upset at the war. It could have changed things.”

  Caroline twisted to look at Count De Paul. Did the man know so little about her countrymen?

  Had her father really been working for the government? But the money. How did he get so rich? A government employee didn’t become rich like that overnight.

  Alexander saw the expression on her face. “The Letter of Marque. That was how he got to keep the money. Or at least half of it. The rest went to the crown of course. It really was brilliant.”

  Seeing her confusion he went on, “A letter of Marque grants the captain of a vessel permission to attack ships and agents of another country. Many a pirate has become honorable that way. At least if they are attacking His Majesty’s enemies.”

  Caroline’s mind spun. Was this true. Was her father a hero? Not a traitor? She noticed Alex take another step towards her. He was almost close enough. She must be ready. How to distract De Paul?

  A sense of guilt washed through her. She had assumed her own father was a traitor. How could she judge him so harshly? The man had worked his entire life for her and her sisters. How could she think so little of him?

  “He lied to us,” De Paul said. “Tricked us. We thought … He killed Pierre and Henry.”

  “It was war,” Alex said. “They were spies, you would have done the same.

  One more step, one more step was all it would take. Her heart raced as her muscles tensed, ready to react.

  De Paul’s eyes had lost focus. He was back on the fishing boat.

  Caroline glanced up into Alex’s eyes. He was ready. She prepared herself and nodded her head.

  Alex jumped. De Paul yelled and tried to bring the knife back to her throat, but Alex had him. Twisting the weapon away from her with both hands.

  The Frenchman let go of her and used his free hand to strike at Alex. Repeatedly hitting him in the face. Her husband’s handsome nose erupted into a crimson shower of blood when a fist connected.

  Even under the on slot of punches, Alex refused to let go. He continually twisted and turned until the knife was fully away from her then brought his elbow sharply into the Frenchman's chest.

  Caroline heard the man grunt, then twist away.

  Alex let him go as he stepped in front of her. Placing himself between the attacker’s knife and her.

  She held her breath as her pulse pounded. Pulling at the ropes that bound her she twisted to get free. Desperate to help him. She couldn’t let anything happen to him. Not now.

  The Frenchman parried with the knife, thrusting it towards Alex’s chest. Alex easily dodged, knocking the attackers arm aside each time.

  “You made one mistake, De Paul.”

  The other man remained silent but raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “You should have killed me when you had the chance.” The words had no sooner left his mouth when he attacked the man with the knife.

  Caroline screamed to distract her captor. The man had a knife. A long, sharp one. How could Alex rush in like that without being hurt.

  Alex’s hand shot out of nowhere to grab the knife holding wrist. Locking it into a vice. His other hand took the man by the neck and pushed him up against the door. Slamming him back into the wood so hard that the entire house shook.

  Slowly, Alex lifted the man up until his feet were a good six inches off the floor. Dangling in mid-air, kicking to try and find purchase. His face began to turn purple. His feet continually kicking at nothingness.

  The Frenchman tried to twist the knife towards his nemesis, but Alex held him in place. Refusing to allow any movement.

  Alex stood there like a mountain. Holding him against the wall. Squeezing the life out of him.

  “No, Alex,” she screamed. She couldn’t allow him to kill this man for her. She wouldn’t have it resting on his eternal soul. God would never forgive her.

  He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Are you sure?” he asked calmly.

  “Yes, please, don’t kill him.”

  Her husband shrugged his shoulders then allowed the man to drop to the floor.

  The Frenchman fell into a lump at the base of the door. Unmoving, she wondered if he was still alive.

  As she watched his face grew less blue and slowly returned to a pink color. Two ugly black bruises framed his throat. But the man lived.

  She sent up a silent prayer of thank you.

  “I think you’re wrong. Letting him live. He’ll be sentenced to hang anyway,” he said as he used the knife to cut her bonds.

  “I don’t care,” she said as she threw herself into his arms. “I don’t care about anything. The only important thing is that you are still alive.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Caroline was cold. A bone-deep chill that made her think she would never be warm again. She sat alone before the fire in her study. A blanket across her knees.

  The day's events continually ran through her mind. The knife at her throat. The fear that had coursed through her when Count De Paul had charged Alex.

  Alex, her hero. Her heart melted with love. He had saved her. Again. So big and strong. So handsome. Her husband. All any woman could ever ask for.

  Yet, a sadness washed over her. She wanted more. So much more. She wanted to be loved as she loved him. Wanted him to see her as the center of his universe. To be cherished and cared for as if his world depended upon it.

  Was it too much to ask? Shivering, she pulled her chair a little closer to the fire.

  Once he had assured himself that she was uninjured. He had turned the attacker over to Middleton to hold for the King’s men. Then hurried her home.

  The girls had both been overjoyed to see her safe return. Their eyes red with crying. She had wanted to chastise them for showing weakness but couldn’t restrain herself from holding them and soothing their worries.

  Within a short time, life had returned to normal. She here, in her study. Johnson seeing the house ran smoothly. The girls, upstairs, safe. Alex?

  Alex, off doing whatever Alex did. The man had seen to her safe return. Then disappeared. It was enough to make a woman incensed.

  A burning need to care for him consumed her. She needed to treat his broken nose and bruised knuckles. Needed to ensure that he was all right.

  Instead, he had disappeared before she could administer to him. Before she could smooth his worried brow or simply touch him to assure herself he was well.

  It wasn’t right. A man and wife should take care of each other. Not treat each other as mere acquaintances. Coming in and out of each other’s lives like passing comets.

  As she had hugged her sisters, he had looked at her strangely. His eyes lost in some faraway world. What was he thinking about, she wondered?

  Her heart broke wi
th the realization of what she would never have. She would never be close enough to him to know what he thought. Never share his inner mind. They would never have that kind of relationship.

  Instead, their agreement would keep them apart.

  Sniffling a little. She wiped her eyes and stared into the fire. She wanted more. But she could never demand it. He had given so much already. How could she ask him for more?

  The soft click of the parlor door made her head snap up. Her heart jumped when Alex stepped into the room. Would her body always react this way, she wondered. Would a smile always leap to her face every time she saw him?

  He had changed, she saw. No longer wearing workman’s clothes. He was attired in his best evening wear. Was he going out? Tonight. After all that had happened today. Was he leaving her alone? Again, alone.

  He smiled gently at her as he walked to the mantle for a decanter of whiskey. He poured himself a drink then raised his glass to her in a silent toast.

  She wished she could join him. What would he think if she marched over to take a sip of his drink? Probably laugh and pour one for her, she thought.

  Smiling up at him she waited for him to tell her of his plans. Was he off to Armherst? She didn’t think so. Not dressed like that. To a lover perhaps. If so, he wouldn’t tell her. Instead, he would simply disappear into the night.

  Sighing to herself she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  She watched quietly as he pulled a chair over to the fire across from her. Her curiosity rose as he sat, stretching his longs legs out in front of them.

  The man seemed to take up half the room. She looked at his scraped knuckles that held his glass. Then glanced up to examine his face. His nose looked slightly bent.

  Her heart went out to him. Someone had put it back into position. That must have hurt. They hadn’t been perfect, she feared his nose would always show the flaw.

  “I hope you are well?” he asked, interrupting her drifting mind. “Are you sure you don’t wish to be resting? It has been a very exciting day.”

  Caroline half smiled and shook her head. “No, I am fine here.”

  A silence descended over them. She wondered how long he would be able to sit there without moving. The inaction must be driving him insane.

  Still the silence continued. Each of them lost in their own thoughts. Caroline became determined not to speak first. She didn’t know why, it was just one of those petulant feelings.

  At last Alexander could take it no more and stood. Walking to the decanter to replenish his drink.

  Instead of returning to his chair he began to pace. Sighing heavily he stopped in mid-stride and turned to her.

  “We have a problem Caroline,” he said.

  Her heart skipped a beat. What? Was he upset with her? He hadn’t said a word about ignoring his orders to remain in the house. Was this to be it?

  The tension in her stomach made her physically ill. If he wanted to yell at her, she had a few things she wanted to tell him as well. The first being that no one was allowed to threaten him. That if she ever thought he was in trouble she would react the same way again. If he didn’t like it, then he would have to learn how to deal with it.

  She looked up at him but didn’t say a word. Simple raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

  He refused to meet her eyes and the tips of his ears were turning red. He’s nervous she realized. Why? Her big strong hero was afraid. A man who could ride for two days straight. Disarm crazed killers like troublesome puppies and he was nervous.

  Her heart melted. She decided to help him.

  “Why Alex, What problem?” she asked.

  He frowned and studied the floor.

  “Our arrangement. I no longer care for it.”

  She gasped. Her chest pounded and her hands clenched each other as a bolt of fear raced through her. What now? He no longer wished to be married to her.

  Was he tired of constantly having to come to her rescue? Was she interfering with his business? Taking him away from important matters?

  “What have I done? Perhaps I can repair it.” she said, her voice breaking. She realized that there were worse things than not being loved. Not being allowed to love.

  He grumbled under his breath.

  “What was that?” she asked

  He sighed and said. “The spell you have cast over me cannot so easily be undone.”

  Her brow narrowed in confusion. What was he talking about?

  Seeing her confusion, he turned to her and placed his hands behind his back. As if afraid they might act on their own without his consent.

  “You have bewitched me, woman. I can no longer live like this.”

  “I don’t understand,” Caroline said.

  “Our arrangement. The fact that we have a marriage in name only. The promise I made not to bother you. To make no demands of you,” he said, his cheeks blushing slightly.

  It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the two of them in bed. Together.

  “But I thought that is what you wanted. No demands. Each of us living our lives.”

  He hesitated for a moment.

  “Yes, well, a man can change his mind can’t he?”

  “But …” she was confused. What was he saying? Did he want to change the arrangement or simply discard the marriage itself and move on to other things?

  Seeing her confusion, he sat down on the chair across from her and took her hands in his. The rough, callused fingers rubbed against hers, sending warm shivers of pleasure up her arms directly to her heart.

  “What I mean, Mrs. Vessey, is that I can no longer live without you. Separate. Me at Armherst, you, here in London. I do not want you sleeping in your own bed. I want you in mine, every night.”

  Caroline stared back at him, her mouth open in wonder as she tried to decipher what he meant.

  “What I mean,” he continued. “Is that I wish a true marriage. Not one of convenience. I want all the inconvenience in the world. I want us to argue and discuss. I want to wake up in the morning knowing I have to be a better person because you expect it. I want it all Caroline. And I want to share it with you?”

  Her heart stopped. It literally stopped beating for a moment. Her dreams. Her every desire was before her. All she had to do was accept it.

  “But, I don’t understand,” she said. “What of … other women. Does that mean …”

  He smiled slightly. “I’ve been with no other woman since I pulled you from that damn river. Don’t you realize what you’ve done to me, woman? I am besotted with you.”

  Caroline’s heart exploded, making up for lost time. He loved her. This man, this glorious hero loved her and wanted her to be his wife. His true wife.

  There comes a time in every woman’s life, if she is lucky when she must take the dream offered her. Caroline knew this was her moment. Her dream come true.

  “Alex, being your wife, really a wife, is my strongest wish,” she said. “I will love you always. I will make demands of you, I promise to be a pest and a hindrance. To make you second guess yourself a dozen times a day. But most of all. I promise to make you love every moment of it.

  Her hero smiled at her then pulled her onto his lap. Caroline melted into his arms. This was where she belonged. It was where she would always belong. In her hero’s arms.

  Epilogue

  Countess Beachmont, Lady Caroline Vessey, studied her daughter with a critical eye. Everything was perfect. As always when it came to Victoria. The girl’s long gleaming blond hair hadn’t fallen, it wouldn’t dare. Her dress hung exactly so. Every fold placed to perfections.

  Yes, she would do. It was not every day that a girl was introduced to a queen. Today was her day. Her coming out.

  Caroline glanced at her three strapping sons. Each of them here today to support their little sister. Thomas, the future Viscount. Tall and straight.

  He stood to the side with his new wife, Lady Amelia. Lord Summerset's daughter. The two of them had grown up crawli
ng around the parlor floor together. Each fighting for supremacy until they fell in love and realized there were more important things than playing jacks and make-believe sword fights.

  Her second son, John, dressed in his Regimental uniform. So strong, so proud to be serving in his father’s former Regiment. He was off to Canada later this year. She bit the inside of her lip to hide her fear. He must never know how much she worried about him.

  Young Roland. Named for her father. Fresh from Cambridge. He was to start his medical practice soon. He would work with his godfather Thomas Chase here in London. Would probably assume the whole practice in a few years.

  Last but never least, her Victoria. She had feared never having a daughter. Feared she would have to be content with three strong boys. But god had rewarded her patience. A late child. They had named her after Princess Victoria.

  And here today, she would be presented to that very queen. Caroline sighed with contentment. It was as she had planned.

  Turning, her heart jumped and the butterflies in her stomach came awake. Her husband had returned to the anti-chamber. He was as handsome as ever. Dressed, like young Thomas in his regimental uniform. Tall, straight, a little gray. A woman couldn’t be luckier.

  “It will just be a moment more,” he said as he smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and soaked in his strength. This was where she belonged. Next to him.

  The man was her hero. He would always be her hero

  The End

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading ‘The Viscount’s Bride.' I would love to know what you think of it. My readers make it possible for me to do what I love so I am always grateful and excited to hear from you. Please stop by my website GLSnodgrass.com or send me an Email at GL@GLSnodgrass.com. Feel free to sign up for my newsletter. I use my newsletter to announce new releases and give away free books. I also post on my Facebook page

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