Miss Sophia Hart said she would not marry a man who was addicted to such vices.
Lyon argued with Sophia that as many times as he spilled his seed inside her, it was probable she carried his child and heir, and there would be a wedding!
Realizing she might very likely be with child, Sophia broken-heartedly agreed.
Newt fulfilled Lyon’s wishes and saw to it Sophia and her grandmother enjoyed a safe home, had the money necessary for them to live comfortably, and provided servants and guards.
Sophia insisted she would not marry him for several weeks until she knew his demons were defeated.
Now Lyon was atoning for his sins, and working on making things right with Sophia, his family and the Avalon Society.
The Brown Coats converged on them in London. They needed to join their colleagues in Templecombe for there was strength in numbers.
Sophia remained in danger. Her grandmother was frail and voiced her concerns about traveling. She stayed behind in London at the home of an old friend. Lyon hired two guards to protect the elderly woman. Sophia agreed to marry Lyon and travel to Horethorne Hall with him. Lyon reasoned Sophia might hate him, but she was an intelligent woman and knew she would be safer from the Brown Coats staying with him and his friends than remaining on her own.
Now the newly wedded couple sat within a carriage alone, side by side. They were strangers to one another, save they knew each other’s bodies well. Cleve and Lachlan rode outside along with five of Newt’s men to keep watch. They were expecting an attack by Brown Coats at some point in their journey. If not along the road, then they could expect an attack when they neared Horethorne Hall just outside Templecombe.
Lyon started when he felt Sophia’s head slump onto his shoulder. She slept.
He put his arm around her and moved her head to a more comfortable position against his chest. He gazed upon her beautiful face. A knife cut his heart when he wondered if she would ever look upon him without hatred in her eyes. He could not help himself. He reached to smooth a coppery curl from her forehead. He bent and lovingly kissed her cheek. He let his thumb skim her jaw line. He whispered, “Sophia. I wish we could have met under normal circumstances. I wish you could look at me with happiness instead of anger and sorrow in your eyes.”
Sophia was already awake, but hadn’t opened her eyes. She woke when her husband moved her head to his chest. She would have to gaze at him if she opened her eyes. She knew he watched her. She felt it. She feared seeing disappointment in his blue eyes; as she often did. When she felt his kiss and heard his loving words, she melted. She knew for days now that she could no longer blame him. She was frightened initially and felt so violated, she blamed him for everything.
In truth, Lyon was as much a pawn in Mr. Crow’s dangerous schemes as she was. Lyon treated her with nothing but gentleness and kindness once he realized she was a virgin and a lady. Yet she felt he did not want to marry her, that he did so out of honor and duty. Perhaps she was mistaken?
A sob escaped her then.
“Sophia? Dear?” Lyon feared she dreamt again. It crushed him to know how terrified and unhappy she was. And he was the cause of it all, her pain, humiliation, and her nightmares. Sophia cried out in her dreams often in those days in the beginning. Even last night, weeks later on their wedding night she was restless, tossing, turning and even sobbing in her dreams. He came late to her bed, unsure of what to do, so he did nothing. He did not wake her. He made no advances. He merely held her and comforted her when her dreams frightened her or saddened her.
“Shh. It’s all right, Sophia. No one shall harm you again.” His hand rubbed her shoulder and arm. His lips grazed her temple.
“I’m not asleep anymore. I’m awake.” She opened her eyes and gazed into eyes of striking, brilliant blue. She did not sit up or pull away. She saw pain cloud his eyes as he expected her to remove herself from his embrace. He expected her to lash out at him, or cut him with hurtful words. “I do not hate you, my Lord. You have been nothing but kind since…since that night. I owe you a great deal. You could have left me there.”
“Never would I have left you there, Sophia,” Lyon was almost afraid to breathe. He waited for her to berate him. To remind him what a monster he was. He expected to see hatred burning vivid green in her gorgeous eyes.
“No you would not, I know this now. You are a man of honor, my Lord. I am sorry you felt you must marry me to prove that. I know I cannot be the kind of wife you wanted for your Countess.”
“I did not plan to marry for some years, Sophia, ‘tis true. However, I consider you the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance. You will make a perfect Countess of Amesbury. I am quite happy to have you for my wife. My only regret is that you do not find it a happy situation to be in.”
He thought her beautiful? Sophia blushed. Wished she could be happy? “Perhaps we could start afresh, my Lord. Begin anew. For, I too would very much like us both to be happy with our situation.” His free hand rested upon his thigh, the part of his body that caused him so much pain. Sophia reached over. She tentatively placed her hand on his. She looked up to him with hope-filled eyes.
Lyon entwined his fingers with hers. He looked into eyes that did not hold anger. He saw her smile. At him! Her smile entranced him. He realized at that moment he never before witnessed her smile. He lowered his head. Lyon placed a tender kiss to her lips. “A truce and a new beginning for us then, my fair Sophia.”
“When shall we arrive at Horethorne Hall?” Sophia asked, feeling suddenly unsure. Her hand was still encased in her husbands’.
“Tonight. We cannot take a chance and stop along the way except for necessities, we are too few. And they need us there at Templecombe just as we need them,” Lyon explained to his wife.
“Will they all know…what happened between us?” Sophia swallowed hard.
“I honestly can’t say,” Lyon answered truthfully. “I don’t know what Newt has told them. But I assure you, Sophia, there will be no censure or judgment toward you. You are an innocent in all of this, my darling. I shall have to atone for all my sins. For my loose mouth caused Lady Elizabeth, sister to the Earl of Fitzlewis, to be kidnapped, just as you were. Fortunately, my friend and colleague, Lord Wincanton intercepted her in Andover quite by accident. He rescued her from her captors and subsequently offered for her. They spent time together alone and without a chaperone. Now they are married. My selfish actions have affected and hurt so many, Sophia, you included. I will spend the rest of my life making up what I did to you if necessary, Sophia.”
“My Lord, you were swindled. I do not believe you would have taken my innocence if you knew I was a virgin, and a gentleman’s daughter. You cannot blame yourself for that,” Sophia protested.
“Please, Sophia, call me Lyon,” he said softly. “If I was not out of my mind, drunk, and in an opium haze, I would have noticed before I took you that something was wrong.”
“Lyon, I have thought about this often over the last three weeks. I realized had you not been in a drug induced haze you would not have been in such a place, nor come up those stairs. And I might very well be dead today. Or a slave in some far away land. Regardless of what happened, you removed me from that horrible place. You saved my life. You treated me gently after you realized who I was. You’ve kept me and my grandmother safe. You married me. You have behaved honorably and as a gentleman on all accounts afterward.”
Sophia took a deep breath and straightened. “We will deal with the rest of this together. I feel certain your friends will forgive you. I will help you with the pain in your leg, so it never becomes so unbearable that you feel you need drugs or spirits to ease it. I made a salve for you, I brought it with me. It will help ease your pain. I apologize for being so hateful to you these past weeks, Lyon. I thought only of myself. I was being quite selfish. You have been harmed by these men as well.” A tear slid down her cheek. She watched the handsome man who was now her husband. His sandy hair was neatly combed. His eyes so bright and vivid blu
e they reminded her of still pools in a fine garden. His handsomeness took her breath away every time she gazed upon him.
“Sophia!” Lyon wiped her tear away. “I fear I do not deserve you.” There was a lump in his throat. He smiled. He felt his eyes mist.
It was Sophia who kissed him this time. Her kiss was like a balm to his tortured soul, warm, sweet, tender. He felt the beginnings of lust beginning to burgeon within him. He fought to suppress such base feelings.
For Lyon could not kiss her without remembering all of the sex they shared in their drug induced state. The drug heated their blood, left them both in a frenzied fever, caught in the throes of passion for well over thirty hours, removing all inhibitions.
He still felt shame when he thought of the things he did to her. Some things meant to be done to a whore, not a gently bred lady, such as his beautiful Sophia. And he remembered how she begged him to do some of those things to her over and over as she burned, the fire of her need for him never abating. Nor his for her as he did those things she begged for and many more.
Even after he took her to his home, Sophia burned with the fever still. His passion calmed more than hers by that time. So he tried to love her the way a gentleman should love a lady. It proved difficult at times to stick to his intentions when she bucked and gyrated wildly beneath him. When carried away with the lust her begging and pleading for certain acts aroused in him, he behaved as a libertine a few times and used Sophia as a whore, merely a vessel to appease his lust. He did remind himself, that for the most part, her needs were sated without letting his baser self come to the fore.
Lyon suppressed the rising lust that stirred within him at the memories of their first and rather tragic union. He pushed the memories to the back of his mind. He would always treat his wife, Sophia, as a lady; nothing less than. He did deepen the kiss, but eventually pulled away. He would never dishonor her again, the way he did that night and the day after. He would let things remain as they were between them. He would never force her, never try to seduce her. He would wait until he knew she truly wanted him in that way.
Eventually his wife did sleep again. He continued to caress her fingers and study her beautiful features as she slumbered. His heart felt somewhat lighter as he realized that there might just be a chance for him and Sophia to know happiness.
They were five miles out of Templecombe when the attack came.
“Lyon, Brown Coats ahead and up on the rise. They’re coming straight toward us,” Lachlan Douglas called out loudly.
Immediately, Lyon began to pull out his pistols and knives. “Can you fire a pistol, Sophia?” He asked his wife.
She shook her head.
“Take these knives. If someone comes for you jab at them anywhere it will slow them down. When there is time in the near future, I shall teach you to fire a pistol, Sophia.”
Sophia was sleeping when Lachlan Douglas, the Earl of Gryfe, sounded the alarm. She still felt a little groggy. She simply nodded and accepted the knives her husband held out to her.
It was dark outside, yet there was some moonlight. Gunshots boomed and men shouted beyond the carriage. Sophia watched as Lyon dropped the window and leaned out on his side of the carriage to fire his pistols.
She cried out when a hand came from the opening carriage door on her side and roughly grabbed her arm. She turned to see a man, his face shadowed by the large brim of a brown hat. “Come with me,” he growled. He raised his pistol to aim it at Lyon’s back.
“Lyon, Watch out! Brown Coat at this window, he’s got a gun!” Sophia picked up one of her knives and raised it up. She brought it down as hard as she could into the man’s arm.
He howled in pain and released his hold on her. Lyon turned. He squeezed the trigger of his pistol. His shot shattered the window and caught the Brown Coat in the chest. Lyon leaned across his wife and lifted the man’s limp torso which now hung over the door. The body slid free down the side of the carriage and fell to the ground. The carriage lurched as the rear wheel rolled over him.
Lyon took Sophia by the shoulders, “Are you harmed, darling? Did he hurt you?”
Sophia shook her head. “I’m fine, Lyon.”
Lyon pulled her to the center of the seat. “Stay here. Be careful of all that glass. Lean against my back, Sophia, hold on to my coat. Keep your eye on that window and tell me if another one shows up.”
She nodded. Her heart pounded frantically and she trembled as she clung to her husband’s coat. Minutes later she saw a Brown Coat rider outside the window again. “Lyon there’s another one at the window!”
Lyon turned and fired. The rider slumped over. He slid sideways off his horse and disappeared from view. Lyon set to reloading his pistols. Only one of his pistols remained loaded.
Sophia sat with her back against her husband’s, her knees bent and her feet upon the seat. She started when a hand came through the carriage window and grabbed her calf. A head crowned with a brown hat appeared. Sophia screamed, kicked, and tried to pull away. She managed to kick the man’s throat with her free foot. She repeatedly kicked at the man’s fingers grasping the ledge of the carriage door.
Lyon lunged toward the man trying to pull himself through the open window. He reached to the seat beside Sophia and grabbed one of the knives he gave her earlier. He slid it across the Brown Coat’s throat. Sophia was pulled roughly toward that side as the man began to fall backwards. Lyon lunged and removed the man’s hand from her calf. He landed on top of his wife as the carriage lurched again. He didn’t get up right away. “Are you all right darling?” He searched her green eyes.
“Yes. I-I’m fine.”
Lyon rose to a sitting position as he heard Lachlan’s voice from outside. “We got them. Two rode off, the rest are dead!”
The Scotsman came beside the carriage and peered in the window. “You all right?”
“Yes.” Lyon nodded. “We got both of them that tried to come in.”
“We’re nearly there. Stay alert! We may run into more at the turnoff for Horethorne Hall, it’s just a mile ahead.” Lachlan called out loudly to the others.
“Did we lose anyone?” Lyon asked him.
“No. We are still seven outside, hale and whole.” Lachlan turned away from the window.
Lyon nodded. He turned his full attention to his trembling wife. He embraced her. “Are you certain you are unharmed, Sophia?” He kissed her temple. He felt her nod as he held her tightly against him.
“Yes. A little shaken, but I’m fine, Lyon.”
“Good.” He pulled back and searched her face. He grinned broadly then, “I didn’t know I married a hell-cat! I’m going to have to watch my steps around you, Sophia!” He laughed when she smiled up at him.
“You would do well to remember that, my Lord!” Sophia nodded and grinned. It made her happy to know she pleased her husband in some way.
Lyon couldn’t stop himself. He bent his head and kissed his wife quite passionately. He wished to do more but dared not. Besides, he needed to re-load. He pulled away from her and concentrated on loading the rest of his pistols.
Lachlan and Cleve took out two Brown Coats on watch as they came up the drive to the Hall.
It was a weary party who entered the drawing room at Horethorne Hall late that evening.
Introductions were made for Sophia’s sake, a table and chairs were brought into the drawing room for the new arrivals. They were served a cold meal. The rest of the party, who dined hours earlier, sat about the drawing room, talking casually until the others finished their meal.
“Despite our problems on the road we made good time,” the Scotsman, Lachlan Douglas, the Earl of Gryfe, remarked.
“We saw only the eight Brown Coats we took out five miles back plus the two in the drive,” Cleve Griffith, Lord Templeton informed them.
“The journey was easy until the attack upon us,” Lyon commented. He took a sip of the watered down wine he requested. He noticed his wife pushing her food about her plate. He whispered near her ea
r, “Eat, Sophia. Please?”
Sophia met his gaze. She smiled wanly. She took one bite, then another. She smiled sweetly at her husband.
Lyon found himself smiling back at his copper-haired Lady. His wife did not hate him any longer. It was such a relief to him, such a boon. He felt himself relax. At least in regards to his marriage, there might be hope.
None of his colleagues behaved as though they were waiting to cut his throat either. Still Lyon reminded himself if any of them endangered his family in the same manner, he would not let it pass. They would not either. Perhaps he would be expelled from their society. He didn’t know. He suspected they would meet in private later, after the ladies retired.
Soon after they finished the meal the ladies did retire. Lady Wincanton and Lady Glaston escorted his wife, the new Lady Amesbury, up to their chamber so she could bathe and retire.
Lyon was escorted to the library.
Sophia was weary. She genuinely liked Lady Glaston and Lady Wincanton, and welcomed their company in the sitting room of the bedchamber she would share with Lyon. Her nerves were getting the better of her. Lyon faced his colleagues downstairs. She wondered if he would share her bed as a true husband tonight. They kissed in the carriage, several times but he pulled away. She wondered if he meant their marriage to be in name only. Sophia realized days ago she wanted more than that from her marriage to Lord Amesbury.
“We are so happy you and Lyon have come to Horethorne Hall,” Libby said as she placed her teacup on the table. They were having tea while Sophia’s bath was prepared.
Libby looked to Rowena questioningly when Sophia did not answer. The new Lady Amesbury seemed troubled and lost in her thoughts.
“Sophia, dear? Are you well?” Rowena asked in a kind tone.
“Oh, I apologize. I am a little nervous. I know Lyon dreaded meeting with his colleagues, and I – I,” Sophia gulped in a breath, “I am worried about my marriage, a little. Not that I don’t want to be married; I do. I mean, I didn’t plan on marrying, but things happened. I’m certain you know something of it…oh, dear,” she began to tear up. “I can’t help but wonder if Lyon is sorry now that we are married.” There was no one for Sophia to talk to about the incident since it happened. Unexplainably she began to weep. It was as if a damn broke inside her. “I think he married me as a matter of honor, and I suspect after what happened, he does not desire me as a true wife…” Sophia began to cry harder. She refused to cry since the night of the incident with Lyon. She remained angry but did not give in to tears after leaving Lyon’s London house.
Lords of Honor Page 16