The Scarlet Bride

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “Nonsense.” Kathleen stepped in front of her. The countess was wearing mourning black. “You will soon be Simon’s wife and my daughter. Hold your head high. If you want to wear red every day for the rest of your life, I will see to it that every bolt of red cloth from here to China is at your disposal.”

  Laura blinked to keep back tears. “Thank you.” She hugged Kathleen tightly, then stood straight and confident. With the Harrington family’s support, she could face any challenge. “I think we should hurry. Your son is waiting.”

  The look in Simon’s eyes as she walked down the staircase was the final encouragement she needed. Her breath caught at the heat in his eyes. She barely noticed Kathleen leaving them as she ran an appreciative gaze over him. He was dressed in a black coat and trousers, a gray and white waistcoat, and a white shirt and cravat. He was most handsome.

  “You are beautiful.” He took her gloved hand and pressed it to his mouth. A twitter went up among the guests who loitered in the foyer. Clearly she’d caused a stir.

  “It is you who are beautiful, my love,” she replied and smiled when he made a face. “I shall have to keep you locked at my side all evening lest another woman try to steal you away.”

  “They can try all they wish, but my heart is taken.” He reluctantly released her hand. “Come, we are late. There is a matter that needs immediate attention.”

  Curious, Laura took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the ballroom. The guests parted and Simon grinned as he handed her off to his father without explanation, then promptly vanished into the crowd.

  Thoroughly befuddled as the earl led her forward, she was halfway through the room before she realized what was happening when Brenna stepped into her path with a bouquet of white roses.

  “She is not quite ready, Father.” She handed Laura the roses as the countess’s lady’s maid placed a veil over her upswept hair. In seconds, she was transformed into a bride. “Now, she is ready.”

  Brenna smiled and stepped back. The earl led Laura forward. Her steps faltered.

  “Steady, Laura,” the earl whispered. “There will be no fainting at your wedding.”

  Stunned, Laura found the duchess and Lady Noelle in the crowd. They smiled happily, as if they’d had a direct hand in the surprise. Kathleen dabbed her eyes and Aunt Bernie sniffed loudly as Walter handed Laura back to Simon at the end of the room. Flowers covered a makeshift altar.

  “When did you plan this?” she whispered.

  “I’ve had the special license since the day I purchased the ring. After you expressed your eagerness to bed me this afternoon, I knew I could wait no longer.”

  “Simon, shush.” Laura’s face burned as she looked over at the man she assumed was a priest or parson. The man winked and she wanted to cover her face with her hands. Instead she glared at Simon. “You are terrible.”

  “Yes, but will you marry me now? The guests are waiting.”

  She indicated the dress with her hand. “This dress is inappropriate wedding attire. I should be wearing something sedate. White, blue…brown.”

  “Then you will start a new fashion—red wedding gowns.” He took her hands and pressed his mouth on her knuckles. “Marry me, Laura, here and now.”

  With a backward glance at the gathered company, she nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

  Later, during a quiet moment in their bed, Laura, sprawled on his bare chest, settled her head on her crossed hands and looked into his blue eyes. Her body was sated and her heart full. Never had she felt such wondrous joy and contentment.

  He’d kissed her and loved her with all the tenderness reserved for a cherished new wife. He’d whispered things that made her blush, did things to her that she didn’t know a man could do to a woman, and taught her how to pleasure him, too.

  She loved him so.

  “What are you thinking, Wife?” He slid his hands over her rump and up her back to weave his fingers in her tangled hair.

  “I was thinking of how you managed such an elaborate surprise without me suspecting anything. Even your mother gave no indication that she was hiding a secret.”

  Simon grinned. “There was very little to do to carry it off. The party was in place and I didn’t think you’d miss not marrying in a church. My biggest challenge was finding a parson willing to perform a last-minute ceremony. Once I told him that you were with child, he was all too happy to oblige.”

  An outraged sound escaped Laura and she pushed herself up to face him. He winced when she dug her elbows into his ribs. “You did not tell him such a thing.”

  “I did. He raced to Collingwood House.” He winced when she playfully socked him in the shoulder.

  “I cannot believe I married you,” she said with mocking-serious outrage. “You are horrible. By morning, half of society will be atwitter about how you had to rush the marriage before the baby arrived.”

  Simon chuckled. “It will be scandalous. Thankfully, we Harringtons do enjoy a good scandal.”

  Laughing, Laura scrambled up to straddle his hips. She felt his cock stir against her. She smiled wickedly and leaned to kiss his chest. “I thought you wanted to positively alter the family reputation? You cannot do so if you continue with your scandalous behavior.”

  “True. Thankfully, I’ve changed my mind.” He shifted her to press his hardening erection against her core. “It is much more exciting to embrace scandal than to be dull.”

  Laura laughed, remembering their long-ago conversation on the day of her adventure into the country with Muffin. “’Tis true. I despise dull.” She covered his chest with kisses. “What about the baby? Everyone will be disappointed when the little mite doesn’t make an appearance next spring.”

  He pondered her comment for a moment. “I was thinking the very same thing. We should start making a new little Harrington immediately.”

  Laura gasped with shocked laughter as he rolled her onto her back and pressed her down on the bed.

  Read on for a special preview of

  the next School for Brides romance

  A Convenient Bride

  Coming January 2013 from Berkley Sensation!

  The first thing Lady Brenna Harrington noticed was the pistol. The second was the unusual shade of blue eyes of the man holding the pistol. The third was the way those eyes bore into her with such an intensity that her heart beat at a rapid clip.

  Then, without warning, the highwayman cursed, lowered the pistol, and slammed the coach door shut without demanding either bauble or coin.

  It took a few deep breaths for her heart to stop pounding in her ears and to recover her senses.

  “That was odd,” she said, screwing up her face. “I may not know all the particulars of coach robberies, but I am certain highwaymen always steal valuables.”

  Her new maid, Tippy, let out a whimper of relief.

  Brenna had the opposite reaction. “What sort of thief steals nothing?” As puzzled as she was, it was her next thought that forced her out of her seat with a burning sense of urgency. The solution to her woes had appeared in front of her, complete with a pair of bright blue eyes, and she was not about to let him get away.

  He would make a perfect substitute suitor! If she pretended to be smitten with an unsuitable stranger, he’d provide the distraction needed to put off Father until she could find a way out of a marriage to the dreadful Chester Abbot.

  If she could get the highwayman bathed, buy him some decent clothing, and teach him a few phrases of proper English, she might be able to successfully fool Father into believing she was deeply infatuated with a handsome stranger.

  Father would be outraged, believing the man was a rogue, out for her fortune, and would be fit to kill. Who knew better how to keep his neck safe from an irate father than a highwayman?

  Taking a deep breath, she carefully pushed the door open and peeked out. The thief was urging the coachman to continue their journey with clipped words and a wave.

  The coachman, Fletcher, an elderly man who’d served the famil
y for as long as she could remember, was obviously in the throes of his first robbery, too. He sat frozen, with his hands still uplifted over his head, in spite of the highwayman’s insistence that all was well.

  Her mouth twitched at the corners. Lud, the fact that he’d not shot Fletcher made him perfect. A killer of coachmen just would not do.

  She gathered her skirt in one fist and clutched the doorframe with the other.

  Taking advantage of her coachman’s temporary paralysis, she made a hasty climb from the coach in a flurry of gray muslin and white petticoats. Mud squished beneath her boots from an earlier rain, but she ignored the possible ruination of the fine leather and focused instead on the back of the retreating thief.

  “Pardon me. Sir?” Soiling her hem in her haste, she rushed over to him as he collected his waiting horse. She kept her eyes averted from the pistol in his waistband, so as not to lose her courage, and boldly faced him, close enough to touch his dusty coat. “Sir, if I could have a moment.”

  The highwayman paused and scowled down at her. He was tall, not overly so, and unshaven, with several days of beard growth marking his hard jaw. His clothes were those of a laboring man, though cleaner than most. He smelled better than a groom or farmer, too, like strong soap, leather, and rain.

  Most important, though, was his clear lack of wealth: worn gloves, scuffed boots, not a bit of lace on his cuffs. He was likely without the means to give up his life of thievery, even though he didn’t steal her jewels. That information worked well in her favor.

  “Please, I must speak to you privately.” Emboldened by desperation, she pressed ahead. “I’d like to propose a financially beneficial arrangement between us that will thicken your purse and keep my life from ruin.”

  His icy glare set her back on her heels. Why did he not seem intrigued with the offer?

  He was an odd fellow. Perhaps he was new to thievery and inexperienced? She needed to do something to pique his interest.

  Brenna tucked the stray hairs on either side of her face behind her ears so that the diamond earbobs were clearly visible for his inspection. The pair, and her pearl necklace, were worth a tidy sum; certainly enough to intrigue a thief.

  She braced herself and waited for him to pluck the necklace from her neck.

  He ignored the expensive items and held his angry expression.

  “Young lady, return to your coach.” He claimed the loose reins and walked around the horse. Brenna stepped back as he passed her. Her baubles were as uninteresting to him as stones on the muddy road.

  “Wait, I beg of you,” she continued, ducking under the horse’s neck. “I am in a dire situation and am desperate for help. My father and brother intend to marry me off to a man I find unfavorable. I cannot be his wife.”

  His expression didn’t improve. “Perhaps your father and brother know what’s best for you.” He removed his gloves and jerked the stirrup into place. “Women often let emotion muddle their judgment.”

  Brenna grabbed the bridle and ignored the insulting comment. She wasn’t about to chase this thief off by arguing with him.

  Without the highwayman, she’d need weeks, maybe months, to find another disreputable character that wouldn’t be intimidated by her father’s title. By then, she could be Lord Chester’s new marchioness.

  “Release my horse,” he demanded. She shook her head.

  “Not until you listen to my proposal.” She tightened her grip on the bay gelding. Even if he shot her, it would be preferable to wedding Chester Abbot.

  His exasperated sigh must have carried all the way to London. He briefly closed his eyes—she hoped for patience and not because he was about to shoot her—and crossed his arms across his chest.

  “State your business,” he said gruffly. “I do not have time to waste while you whine about the unfairness of your life. If you need a sympathetic ear, look elsewhere.”

  Brenna’s back stiffened. If she had any other choice, she’d tell this arrogant clod where to take his boorish manners and be done with him. But desperation held her tongue.

  She pulled in a deep breath, knowing that what she did in these next few moments could either save or ruin her.

  “As I previously explained, my family intends for me to marry this man, a dolt of high standing. He is dull and weak and about as exciting as the mud currently wetting my feet. I would rather throw myself under the hooves of your horse than to suffer that fate.”

  His jaw clenched. “What has this to do with me?”

  Clearly his controlled temper was faltering. She rushed on, “The wedding cannot happen. I need you to compromise me.”

  The stranger twitched and his brows shot up.

  Brenna’s heart raced at the shocked surprise in his eyes. Finally, she had his full attention. She prayed she’d not just made a grave mistake.

  “Have you lost your senses, young lady?” He shook his head slowly and stared as if she’d sprouted horns. “You think that my tossing up your skirts and violating you on this sodden ground will be a superior choice over wedding the man your family has chosen? Are you mad?”

  The words and the way he looked at her left her feeling foolish and a bit childish. Still, Brenna held fast. Simon was already making overtures to Abbot. This man was her only option. It mattered not what he thought of her, only that he’d help her.

  She fingered her expensive necklace. “You will not actually take my innocence,” she clarified, her body recoiling at the thought of him touching her intimately. “You need only misbehave just enough to convince my father and brother that you are a cad, a bounder, out to ruin me. While they are focused on trying to rid me of you, I will be free to choose my own husband.”