"Mr. Fennington! Remove yourself! This is most improper."
"Improper? I thought it rather cozy myself."
Emily froze at the sound of the silky, baritone voice caressing her right ear. "Jared?"
"Mr. Fennington? I am most offended." There was a trace of laughter in his voice, and he rolled off her and stood.
Emily raised a disbelieving gaze. He took her breath away. "What are you doing here? I am to be married within minutes!"
Deep set amber eyes locked onto hers in a gentle but firm warning. "Is it so surprising that I have come for my wedding?"
"Y-your wedding?"
He let out a deep, rumbling laugh, bent down and scooped her into his arms, embracing her like a babe to his breast. The shock of him holding her ran through her body like liquid fire. He smelled of fine soap and very, very male. She wanted to cling to him forever, but she was no longer the girl he remembered from three years ago and her heart ached with regret.
She pushed her hands against his chest. "Put me down."
"No," came the husky reply.
"No?" she swallowed and felt his chest rumble. Why, the man was laughing at her. "I said put me down."
Paying no heed to her plea, Jared carried her to the window and peered over the ledge. "Put you down?" He repeated her words in a mocking, but amused tone.
Emily closed her eyes and tightened her hold on his arms. "What are you doing?" she screeched. "Not out there!"
The gentle kiss to her forehead caught her by surprise. "I won't drop you out there. I'm going to carry you out instead."
She stared back at him, the blood pounding in her veins. "Carry me out?" There was a devilish gleam in his eyes that told her he was not lying.
"You don't believe me?" he said dryly. "You, of all people, must know the means Black Wolf used to disappear from an enemy's home."
Emily found herself speechless when he lifted her closer toward the opening. She tightened her grip. "Jared!"
"Take a look into the courtyard, sweetheart."
"You are not going to throw me out?" she asked, enjoying the sound of his heart beating against her ear.
"Well, perhaps . . ." He sounded amused as he tipped her toward the courtyard below.
Emily squeezed her eyes tight, her body melting at his touch. But she had to remember Lord Bringston. She was pledged to him, not Jared.
"Now, what do you see?" he whispered close to her ear.
"Nothing, now put me down. You . . . we . . . well, you must see this is most improper."
"You see nothing?"
Had the man heard a word she'd said? "Nothing but black."
His laughter wrapped around her heart like a fur-lined cloak on a winter day. "Then open your eyes, sweetheart, or I will drop you out that window."
Emily opened her eyes. "You would not, would you?"
"Look down," he commanded.
"Very well, but on one condition."
"What?"
"That after I do, you will leave."
His eyes studied her with an intensity that burned through her very soul. "There is only one way I am going to leave here, Emily." Her heart gave a sudden lurch. "And that's with you."
Before she could reply, he tipped her farther toward the courtyard where a sea of yellow flowers fluttered about the grounds like golden butterflies flitting in the wind.
She gasped. "Daffodils. There must be hundreds of them." Her throat tightened with emotion. "They're beautiful."
He pressed his lips against hers, then pulled away. "As your man Wordsworth would say, my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils. I love you, Emily. Marry me, sweetheart. I was wrong to have kept the truth from you."
"Oh, Jared."
"Ah, sweetheart. I have been such a fool keeping my life from you. My pride almost killed our love. Marry me and my daughter. Take us all. I need you." There was a strangled sound to his voice when he spoke. "Desperately."
Tears pricked her eyes. "But what of Lord Bringston?"
His face went taut. "The man will survive. I heard his brother is to marry soon. His obligation for an heir should ease. But never mind Bringston, I must warn you that if you do not accept my proposal, your good friend Agatha suggested kidnapping as an alternative."
A smile pulled at her mouth. "Kidnapping?"
His brows raised in a challenging stare. "You think I jest? I will have you know there is a post chaise and four near the stables awaiting my command at this very moment."
He let her feet slip to the floor, keeping her body pressed close to his, and his gaze softened. "So I ask you, my love, will you go with me on a journey that will last you a lifetime?"
A wave of happiness flowed through her. "I do love you, Jared. With all my heart."
"And I love you, my dear, sweet Emily." He slid his hand behind the windowsill and smiled. "I have something for you."
When he placed a bright yellow daffodil in her hand and closed his strong, tapered fingers over hers, Emily swallowed, too emotional to speak. Tears flooded her eyes.
He brought their binding grip against her breast and gazed into her eyes. "Let your heart no longer hold the shadows of yesterday, but only the promise of tomorrow."
She leaned toward him and, standing on tiptoe, kissed him, reclaiming his lips, his heart, his love. All that she had hoped to ever hold was now hers. She lifted her mouth the exact moment the door whipped open, sounding like cannon fire. Her jaw dropped in shock at the sight of her four brothers and Lord Bringston walking stiffly into the room.
"Morning, gentlemen." Jared's voice was loud and clear as he possessively slipped his hand around her waist.
Emily never loved him more than at that moment. And to think she had called him a coward.
"What the devil is going on here?" Roderick asked, his eyes snapping at Jared's possessive hold on his sister.
Without hesitation, Jared stepped toward the five gentlemen, allowing his hold on Emily to ease. Not to be left behind, she followed, sliding her hand in Jared's. Strong fingers engulfed hers in a feeling so wonderful she felt the world spinning out of control, and she loved every minute of it.
Roderick raised his right brow in accusation. "What do you have to say for yourself, Stonebridge?"
"Say for myself?" Jared's sardonic expression worried Emily. This was not the way to go about appeasing her brothers.
"Jared," she said nervously.
"Hush, love." He smiled at the gentlemen. "Does this answer your question?" He swiftly swung Emily into his arms and kissed her soundly.
Her body molded to his. She became lost in his touch, oblivious to the horrified expressions of her onlookers.
The kiss was so thorough that even Stephen had turned around in embarrassment. "By Jove, have you no decency?"
Jared pulled back at the remark, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Not where your sister is concerned."
Roderick's hands clenched, but before he could move, a soft wind blew through the bedchamber windows bringing in a stream of bright yellow petals floating like a whisper from heaven.
"What the devil?" Roderick glared at the petals surrounding his feet.
Emily raised her head to the sweet smell of the flowers and lifted a hand to the locket resting on her neck. "Papa loved daffodils, too, you know," she said to Jared.
Jared's smile reached deep into her heart. "I know."
Emily's throat ached with love for this man, for she knew without a doubt that Jared had finally forgiven her father for his part in their separation.
"Emily, pay attention here." Roderick slapped the palm of his hand to his hip. "Because of this compromising position we find you in, you have no choice but to marry Lord Stonebridge."
Emily stiffened at the command. She would no longer have Roderick or any man demand her to do anything ever again. "How dare you tell me what to do. I will not m—"
Jared stopped her tirade by placing his lips against hers in another demanding kiss. After what seemed too short by E
mily's standards, Jared pulled away and turned toward her brothers. "I agree. We should marry immediately."
Emily stared, tongue-tied. In fact, she almost completely forgot about Lord Bringston until he stepped forward and gently took hold of her hand, his eyes smiling. "Lady Emily, I feel our future is not to be, is it? But I believe this is best."
Emily kissed the marquess on the cheek. "I am certain you will find someone else, William."
Scowling, Jared pulled the two apart. "William? Now, that is improper."
Stephen snorted. "Hell's Bells. William, Bringston, stepfather, whatever we call him, it will be all in the family."
"Stepfather?" Emily looked at Stephen and frowned. "What are you babbling about now?"
Stephen put a hand to his mouth and yawned. "This plan of yours, Roderick, is going extremely slow. Should have done things my way. Let us get on with it, shall we?"
"What plan?" Emily asked, but no one seemed to be listening to her, least of all Stephen, who kept talking about plans and Gentleman Jackson's and special licenses.
"I daresay," Stephen said, "if everything is set, we can all venture out of this room and see to the double wedding in no time." He eyed Roderick. "We can fill Emily in downstairs."
Emily caught the wink Stephen sent Jared, and a disturbing suspicion took hold of her. "For some reason I feel I have been had." She glared at the five men retreating from her room.
Jared laughed, wrapping a strong arm around her waist, jerking her toward him. "Not had, just overpowered. I have a special license in my pocket. We can be married today. Good thing your family is friends with the archbishop."
Emily's heart skipped a beat. "Today?" She stared into twinkling amber eyes and could barely speak from the happy tears that clogged her throat.
Chuckling, Jared fingered the flower in her hand and swept her like a feather into his arms. "I will love you longer than forever. I believe from the first day I saw you, I loved you."
Overcome with emotion, Emily buried her face against his cravat. "Oh, Jared, you say the sweetest things." And then she started to giggle.
He stared back, confused. "Are you laughing at me?"
She looked up, horrified. "Oh, no."
He frowned. "What? Tell me?" He stretched his neck. "Is my cravat soaked from your tears?"
Emily's eyes danced with amusement. "No, but I do believe Mr. Fennington may need a hand at the window."
Jared spun around, dropping Emily to her feet. "The devil, I will kill that man!"
Emily bent over and laughed. Jared stopped in midstride and spun back around. "Why, you little vixen. There is no Mr. Fennington, is there?"
Emily staggered back. "Now, Jared, 'twas only a jest. We are even now. You with the license, me with Mr. Fennington."
He marched toward her, seeming to enjoy her struggle. "You call that even? There is no even here, madam."
Laughing, she backed up toward the open door and ran into the hall, her wedding dress rustling against her legs. Before she could go three steps, a strong arm lifted her high into the air, spinning her around to face him.
"You, my Silver Fox, will never be boring."
She fell against him, his lips recapturing hers, sending her pulse pounding.
At the foot of the stairs, Stephen glanced up at the kissing couple and smiled. He turned to Roderick and jabbed the duke in the ribs. "You planning to leave old Fennington tied up in the pantry the entire day?"
Roderick narrowed his eyes at the struggling man being dragged down the hall, his mouth stuffed with a wedding napkin and his hands and feet tied like a cooked pig, a trail of daffodils lingering in his wake.
"If I let the stupid chap out, Jared might shoot him this time. Stroke of luck he missed seeing the fool only minutes ago."
Stephen dropped his gaze, flipping Fennington's opulent quizzing glass from palm to palm. "Monstrous piece of glass. The man is more of a nuisance than Beau Brummell."
"Who? Stonebridge or Fennington?"
Stephen laughed. "I daresay, we will find out soon enough." Cupping his hands around his mouth, Stephen shouted up the stairs at the kissing couple. "Vicar is waiting in the chapel! As is my bet at White's. Hurry up you two, so I may collect! "
Roderick stood back, horrified. "Your bet at White's?"
A pair of twinkling brown eyes laughed back at Roderick. "Quite so. If those two marry by tomorrow, I will be twenty thousand pounds richer. All the merrier for me, I daresay."
Roderick looked ready to spit fire. "You traitor. You had this all planned out from the very start."
Stephen backed up against the wall, his gaze alight with amusement. "Now, now, your mighty dukeness, you might want to consider marrying Miss Greenwell in the next two weeks, for if you do, I could make another ten thousand pounds. Think of it as helping out your younger brother. What say you to that?"
Roderick grabbed Stephen by the cravat. "I'll have your hide when this is over."
"Ah, here come the lovebirds now." Stephen rolled his eyes toward the stairs and lowered his voice. "Better drop the dukie act."
Eyes burning with rage, Roderick released him as Jane came into the hall. "We are not done with this, little brother."
"Good gracious, he's only jesting, Roderick," Emily said with a laugh as she hurried down the stairs with Jared by her side. "Don't be so dukie."
"Yes, Roderick," Jared said sternly, "Don't be so dukie."
"Thunder and turf! I am not dukie!"
Laughing, Jared swept Emily into his arms and strode into the courtyard of Elbourne Hall, where a trail of soft, yellow petals led the way to the rest of their lives.
A dog barked. A little girl squealed. And Fennington was gagged in the pantry. Jared felt his heart swell. All was right with the world.
THE WAGERED BRIDE
-Book 2-
The Clearbrook Series
Excerpt, Copyright © Teresa McCarthy, 2004
All rights reserved
Chapter One
Lord Stephen Clearbrook leaned back in his chair, studying the cards on the leather-topped table before him, when suddenly the hint of rich tobacco teased his nostrils. Irritation spurted through his veins at the pungent odor.
The smell had never bothered him before, but the Spanish cigar habit had gained momentum in London Society ever since the war with Napoleon, and blast it all, the wartime vice resurrected memories Stephen would rather forget.
With the grace of a gentleman about to win a good deal of money, Stephen casually gathered his hand and raised his wineglass to his lips. He tipped the drink back, letting the sweet red liquid trickle down his throat as if he had not a care in the world. And if that were the cursed truth, Napoleon was the sainted king of England.
As Stephen dared another glance at his cards, his hand tightened on his empty glass.
"More wine, my lord?" the cheerful voice uttered from across the table that was tucked in a darkened corner at Baxley's Gaming Hell.
Lifting a cool brown gaze, Stephen eyed William Shelby's fat white hands tapping against the table while a neatly rolled cigar hung carelessly between the man's stubby fingers.
"I am immune to wine, Shelby. Two bottles or three, I am as sane as when I walked in here."
Two shaggy white brows drew together in thought. "Certainly, my lord. Certainly. Ain't wanting you to lose on account of a few drinks, now, would we?"
Ignoring the comment, Stephen followed through with his discards, playing out his hand.
The ticking of the mantel clock was barely heard over the murmur of the gaming tables spread throughout the room. Faro, piquet, whist, vingt-et-un, and a variety of other amusements hovered in the distance, but every bit of Stephen's concentration was on the two-man game being played at his table.
When the last of the cards were laid to rest, Stephen showed no outward sign of disgust.
Across from him, Shelby shook his head regretfully and sighed. "Ain't one to take things from a lord, don't you know, but the game was as fair as any
gentleman could want."
Stephen calmly slipped the deed from his coat pocket and handed it to the man without a word. Earlier this week, Stephen's solicitor had thought to take a look at the deed to make certain all was in order, and now, it seemed Stephen would no longer be depositing the papers in the family vault as planned.
It surprised Stephen the way Shelby seemed to relish the win, as if the man had secured his entire fortune in one sweep of his hand. But the cit was as rich as Croesus. He didn't need a pound of Stephen's money or his land.
"Hear tell Creighton Hall is a prime estate." Shelby's eyes gleamed with appreciation as he pressed the papers to his protruding stomach. "Good hunting, they say."
The man's fleshy lips suddenly took a downward turn. "See here, the duke ain't going to come after me, now, will he?"
Stephen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "My brother is not the owner of my life or Creighton Hall, Shelby. The property is not entailed. It belonged to me through my maternal grandmother, if that is what you fear."
Shelby clapped his hands together and patted his prominent belly. "Then, I daresay it will make a nice addition to my holdings, now, won't it?"
It was all Stephen could do to hold his tongue. How the man knew Stephen was carrying the papers to the family property he would never know. Had he made mention of it at the club, or perhaps Newmarket? He had no idea, but somehow Shelby had already been informed of the fact when they sat down to play. But it was Stephen who had made the stupid wager and lost, not Shelby.
"Your lordship ain't going to call me out or something like that, are you?"
Stephen cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs beneath the table. It was amusing that Shelby harbored thoughts of a duel between the two of them. It was absurd, really.
At four and twenty, Stephen was known to be the most carefree of all the Clearbrook males. It could almost be said that his easygoing nature was epitomized by the casual manner in which he wore his cravat. Nothing mathematical about it. Even his wavy chestnut hair fell over one eye, suggesting his approach to life. Simple and relaxed.
The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Page 21