by Gayle Eden
Bloody hell, she thought this morning. The heart thing again. The heart that feels even when she told herself it would not. Even when, it was supposed to be bodies only. The heart cared that he tried so hard. It cared—that he had been so discomforted by the shape of the estate. It cared, that he spent his childhood dreaming and reading out in some lovely old ruin. It cared, that he was not rich yet, that he gave with every fiber of his being. It cared—he let himself be vulnerable, even though his exterior was rugged and hard.
His damned eyes. Those lime eyes, that both looked deep inside of her, and searched, that showed her his passion, his hunger—and his need.
Her stupid heart had not listened one bit.
A sound near the house drew her gaze from the lake. It was some time before Jo could make out the two on the lawn. Aric, barefoot and in trousers, loose shirt. Megan in a robe that scarcely was one, her hair down. They were arguing by their posture. Aric grabbed her arm. Megan kicked him…in a place certain to smart.
Brow raised, Jo watched it, wishing she could hear what was being said. She had never in her life seen Megan with a temper, and there was no doubt from the hair flinging and hand gestures, she was in one. Not to mention that kick.
It never did however, to underestimate her cousin. Jo snorted out a laugh, watching Megan lift one of the cushions off a cane chair and whack the giant with it. Her cousin then took off toward the barns.
Jo could hear Aric cursing as he went back inside. She got to her feet, jogging toward the stable, in search of Megan.
She heard her just inside the earthy structure, growling in a mixture of Gaelic and English, “Bloody clod head. Bloody stupid giant. The horse’s ass! I should have kicked him harder.”
Following that voice, she found Megan pacing between the stalls. So caught up in her rant and with that hair down, face furious, she apparently did not notice her nudity was almost exposed in that linen robe. It was slit to the thigh and down to the breastbone.
“It was the ball, he says. All the excitement. Ye caught me unawares, he says. I shouldna taken it. Ooooh, the bloody insult in that. As if, I was not giving myself and getting too. I am sorry, he says! Of all the—”
Jo opened her mouth to call her attention, but the sound of boot heels ringing had her rushing to the nearest stall with a grimace, and hiding herself.
There was no mistaking Aric’s voice as he roared rather loudly, Megan’s name.
“Don’t ye be yelling at me, you big olf! I’m as like to stab you with that pitch fork as look at you, right now.”
“You misunderstood, woman!”
“Oh. So 'tis a woman I am now? A moment ago I was a helpless ninny who would—”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes. You did. You may as well.”
“By—God!” Jo could almost see the man running his hands through his hair. Aric growled. “You think this is easy is for me? I’ve got to look your overprotective brother’s in the face, knowing I’ve deflowered their sister!”
“Deflowered! Jesus Christ above, you dare insult me again.”
“I’m not insulting you! I’ve tried to apologize, to explain…”
“Why! Why must you! Do you even have a memory of what we did in that coach? Do you reckon I was forced into it?”
“I am stronger, bigger, I’m a man!”
Jo mentally groaned, feeling it coming before Megan let loose a stream of Gaelic curses.
She said, “Of course. We females are naught but weak vessels who melt at your feet. Ye bloody horse’s arse! How dare you imply I do not know my own body, my own wants, and am old enough to give myself if I want? Which I did. And up till the moment, I wasna a bit sorry. Then you had to go and apologize! You had to bloody act as if it was the biggest regret of your life!”
“You were a virgin!”
“Well what did you expect me to be?”
“Resistant, dammit!”
Silence fell and Jo closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wood and mentally shaking it. Aric had most certainly said the wrong thing.
Quiet but intense, she finally heard Megan rasp, “I see.”
“Megan.
“No. Do not say anything more. Now—we are both sorry. Me, most of all. I thought…well, I thought more of you than that.”
“Christ. I did not mean you—”
“Yes, you did. And you can go to the bloody devil. If you did want me to want you, you shouldna’ been…oh, just go away.”
“I mean, I counted on you to keep me in check.”
Megan laughed coolly. “And I was a wanton?”
“No! No. That is not what I mean. But…Holy hell! I don’t know what to say anymore.”
“Say nothing. Say goodbye. I hope I never see you again.”
There was scuffling, a small omf, before Jo heard Aric growl, “Be still, lass. You are going to listen to me whether I make any sense or not. Either we get married or—”
“Marry you! When bloody hell freezes over! I will have no man wedding me who thinks the way you do. And for those reasons. I don’t—bloody need you!”
“Stubborn….What if there’s a child?”
“I’ll raise it on my own. With my family.”
“If you’re having my child, then we’re getting married.”
Megan spat, “There’s no child.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m not going to wed you. In fact, after we leave this stable, I’m not even going to look at you.”
“I could make you.”
“Oh, Je-zus! Enough with the, I am a man and you are a woman. I could trim your bloody hair with a sword or pistol. I’m not helpless by any means.”
“You’re going to wed me.”
“You don’t bloody want me!” Megan nearly screamed.
Another silence came before Jo heard a compete change in Aric’s tone. It deepened like honey, “Now who is daft? I never said that before, and I cannot say it now. You know I want you.”
“Well, that’s too bloody bad.”
Jo smiled and suppressed a giggle.
Aric murmured, “If that’s all that’s keeping you from marrying me, I’ll prove it.”
Eyes rounding, Jo heard a thump and then a few breathless protests from Megan. There was rustling, a few do not and stop, in between Aric calling her beautiful and praising everything from navel to nipples.
Jo started to slip out, but from the slam, slam, she could tell they were merely up against the stalls somewhere. Hard breathing, whispers and intimacy that should not be overheard had her covering her ears.
She stayed that way for some time, and then lowered them to hear Aric groan, “I love you, Megan.”
“You don’t.”
“By God, but you’re stubborn as your cousin.”
“We want each other. Fine. We can have the same as my cousin. An affair—”
“With your family and brothers!” He choked on a laugh. “No. Besides that, Johanna and Sascha are simply playing games. She loves him. She has loved him from the moment they met. He is mad for her. The only reason they don’t wed, is because Jo is determined to be blind and stubborn.”
“I’m neither. I’m simply not going to tie my life with yours forever, because of this.”
“You mean this?”
Jo rolled her eyes as the sounds started again. She got up and crept out of the stall, hurrying to the doorway without looking back. Passing one of the grooms she said, “Wait a bit before you enter, and make some noise."
His gray brows shot up, he wheeled round and headed the other direction.
She strolled the lawn thinking about Aric’s assessment of her feelings for Sascha.
“Does it help?”
Jo looked up to see the duchess sitting there calmly with coffee. Her jet hair down and tied at the side below her ear, she wore a lovely muslin gown and wrap.
“No.” Johanna joined her on the bench.
As a distraction, she began telling about Megan instead.<
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“Oh—dear.” Sonja nudged her, and then motioned with the cup.
Jo shot to her feet, seeing the Campbell men headed toward the stable, apparently going for a ride.
“You’d better go get your father,” the duchess suggested.
Jo took off running, calling her father as she did so.
* * * *
It was hours after the chaos. The whole house was up and Alex and Edmund were at the table with the Marquis and Sonja. Jo sat across from Sascha.
The silence came from the absence of Campbell’s, who had escorted Aric and Megan—over the border.
There would be a wedding.
Sneaking a look at her father, Jo found him pensive rather than upset. He had tried, but the couple had been found in a rather embarrassing position. Megan had protested, cursed her brothers, and ranted. Aric had gone calmly, wearing a wry smile and only asking that they be allowed to bathe and change. The brothers chaperoned that bath and the dressing while one guarded Megan’s door, until she emerged in a lovely green silk gown and carriage coat, a pert hat.
She was seething all the way to the coach—and even tried to run. It was Aric who caught her, and she was on his lap as the coach left.
Several more guests were expected, so the Marquis excused himself and Alex did likewise afterwards, to take the baby out in the carriage for an airing.
Lady Summerton was talking to Edmund as they too left the table.
Rising, Jo watched Sascha slide his chair back. His gaze touched her before he came around the table and invited, “Take a ride with me.”
She did, changing first into trousers. They left even as the servants were preparing tables outside and hauling wood for the bonfire. Riding in the opposite direction than she and her sister’s usually took. Jo stopped with him on a rise, looking down on a meadow dotted with stock.
In his linen shirt, buff trousers and wine boots, Sascha looked relaxed, but Jo felt the tension in him.
He finally looked at her. Gazing over her, down and up, in a thoughtful way, he murmured, “I’ll never be satisfied just being your lover, Johanna.”
She swallowed against a sudden knot in her throat.
His lime gaze did not waver. “I’ll wake up aching for you like I have for months. I will wish you were there at breakfast and dinner. I will wish you were there so that I could watch men make fools of themselves to keep your attention, to watch you laugh and see you sleeping.”
“Sascha.”
He shook his head slowly, his gaze searing hers. “I’ll want you to have my children. If you cannot… I will still want you with me. I will wish that every time I leave you that you were going with me. I will wish that I could see you look at me just the way you do when you let down all your defenses. I’ll ache to my very bones, for you.”
Strangely, she felt her eyes watering, although her body felt tingly, light, and her head a little dizzy.
He said softly, “I’ll wish I’d told you—that I’m in love with you. That being your lover is a privilege, a pleasure. But being your husband would make my life complete.”
She swallowed again watching him look away a moment before that gaze was back, his small smile a little bitter, a lot resigned. “I’ll be your lover if that’s all that you ever offer, but in your heart, know this…you are the only woman for me, Johanna. I love you, have loved you, and will love you, for the rest of our lives.”
Her throat locked, Jo rode back with him, struggling in her mind even while her body felt surreal. She was in a muse, a daze even, as they reached the stables.
All he did was kiss her, take her in his arms and cup her face, kissing her tenderly before he left.
Much after she had bathed and changed into a skirt and blouse, Jo sat in the window seat of her rooms, replaying his words over and over. Finally accepting it was not a dream. It was not something to take lightly. It was the heartfelt words of a man who needed to speak them.
* * * *
Alexander took time out from the planning, to play with his grandson. He had stolen him from Alex long enough to spread a blanket on the lawn. In his casual shirt and trousers, the Marquis took off his boots and lay with the fellow, letting him grasp his finger and smiling as he watched those strong little hands already trying to pull himself up.
It was busy inside and outside of the house, but in this quiet dappled spot, the Marquis could muse and reflect on the years he had missed fathering his grown daughters. He sighed as he often did, wondering what they were like running around in pigtails and ruffles, getting up to mischief.
The breeze ruffled his silver mane and he saw the child yawn. Lying on his back, he let the babe rest on his chest whilst he soothed and hummed to him. He could not wait to hold the other, little Holly. He would hopefully see her by the holidays. A girl to spoil rotten. Alexander could hardly wait.
Such tenderness, such comfort, such awe he felt at the tiny body resting and finally slumbering on his chest, that Alexander didn’t hear his name being softly called, until a shadow fell over him.
He slowly lifted his lashes.
Sonja stood there.
Changed from her morning gown, into a deep bronze one with shoulder edging sleeves, a shawl of some sheer stuff embroidered with humming birds was around her shoulders. His mind still fanciful, he watched the sunrays bathe her raven hair. She had it up in a twist with several fat curls over her shoulder.
Pressing his palm to the babe, he sat up and then cradled the child, handing it to her as she bent down. Their hands brushed, eyes touching for seconds before she stood with the babe in her arms.
He felt her gaze on him while he pulled on boots and folded the blanket. She was a tall woman, full figured and graceful. He was glad he was taller. Fit and certainly healthy, given that his heart was pounding in his ears.
She wore the most alluring perfume….
“Alex is putting him down early for a nap.”
Alexander checked his pocket watch, surprised at how long he had lain there.
They were walking back toward the courtyard.
“I’ve likely spoiled it.”
“He seems to be slumbering deep enough,” she murmured, “the trip and all this fresh air.”
Alexander detained her with a touch on her arm, before she went in. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the babe’s cheek, an innocent enough action, and not at all redesigned for anything else in his mind. Yet…he was raising his head, the babe cradled in her arms, and having breathed in Sonja’s perfume, his body ultra-aware of her, Alexander turned his face toward her instead of away—so that his mouth brushed hers, feather light.
He got only a quick flash of her velvet brown eyes, the half stunned expression, before he turned and walked the opposite way—not giving her the chance to express outrage or whatever. In his study, he laved his lips lightly and tasted her, still feeling the smooth softness.
Alexander’s hands were not steady as he poured a finger of brandy. He did not have the humor at the moment to mock himself for it. He sat on the edge of his desk, because his knees were not steady either.
* * * *
By evening, Roth had arrived, along with several guests her father had invited. Roth of course, was flirting and keeping the ladies amused whilst they filled plates from the long tables, and beer and wine was served.
Johanna lingered as long as she could and barely missed the coach with Aric and Megan arriving. She did however witness the whoops and celebrations her male cousins put on, whilst the newlyweds apparently changed clothing.
As if the wedding had not transpired as it had, her Campbell cousins were raising their tankards to Megan and Aric, slapping anyone on the back who came within inches. Jo exchanged a dry smile with Alex as she and Edmund toasted, but saw Aric arrive first, relaxed looking in leathers and boots, a jumper. He took all the well-wishing in stride, even grinning at the new kinsmen who all but dragged him across the border.
When Megan appeared, Jo went to her whilst she was far enough
away not to be noticed by everyone else. Megan had on a plaid skirt and buttery blouse, her hair was half up and swept back in the front.
“Are you all right?” Jo put an arm around her.
“It is, what it is.” Megan’s smile was stiff, her gaze finding Aric apparently.
“I’m sorry. We never got a chance to talk. I feel dreadful that I—”
“Don’t. I was blissfully hopeful about it. At least until he started apologizing.” Megan glanced at her. “You’d think he ravished me instead.”
“How did it happen?”
Megan sighed. “The usual, I suppose. We enjoyed the Masque ball, flirted, and drank too much champagne. Not—that there was not always tension. At least I assumed. But as soon as the coach door closed, he was kissing me and I melted…positively melted.”
Jo opened her mouth, but Megan looked away and added, “Not that I was passive, you understand. I fair tore his shirt beyond repair. And he was…rather large.” Her cheeks flushed. “But we were lost in the moment.”
“I think he loves you.”
“I don’t.” Megan smiled short. “Not the way Sascha loves you.”
“I can’t deny that. In fact—he told me he did.”
Megan took her hand. “Don’t toss it back at him. I know you. He is not rich yet. He is not a typical Viscount. Moreover, everything in you is drawn to him. You would be perfect for him. Together, the two of you, make such good sense.”
“Perhaps.”
Megan squeezed her hand then sucked in her breath. Jo followed her stare, seeing by the bonfire light that Aric was striding toward her.
He stopped a bit away and stared, then looked at Jo and said, “Stubbornness is in your blood. Your man loves you.” He looked at Megan. “And I love her, although she won’t believe me.”
“I guess you’ll have to prove it.” Jo smiled slightly.
His brow arched and his gaze remained on Megan. “I guess she’s going to make me.”
“Serves you right.”
He grunted and then stepped up and took Megan’s hand. “I’ll make you happy. I will keep you satisfied in bed. And you’ll never regret this hasty wedding.”