“You know, on more than one occasion, I have declared you the bravest man of my acquaintance, because you survived what no man should have had to endure.” Dragging the backs of her knuckles across her face, she sat upright. “But that description does not do justice to your character, and words are grossly inadequate to convey the depth of my sincere admiration, so I am left to find some way to pay tribute to your remarkable courage.”
“Am I that worthy?” With his hand, he caressed her breast, and she sighed and favored him with her singular shy smile. “Are you not recompense enough for my travails, because I consider myself a most fortunate man, to be Lady Arabella’s husband?”
“I thought I was Lord Anthony’s wife.” She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, when he flicked a taut nipple with his thumb. “And I am content to exist as such.”
“But you are so much more, Arabella.” When she brushed aside the sheet and straddled his hips, he groaned and relaxed atop the down mattress. Sighing in unutterable contentment, he admired the subtle bounce of her breasts as she moved on him. “While I never lived for anyone or anything, I live for you and our babe. Indeed, you are everything, and I should declare my appreciation, that you may never doubt my devotion.”
“My lord, that is lovely, and I should be delighted to hear it, in the morning, but no more talking, for now.” As she rocked her hips, she closed her eyes, dropped back her head, and gave vent to a soft moan. “I wish to make love to my man.”
*
Humming her customary flirty little ditty, Arabella strolled down the hall and walked straight into the study, where Anthony, fully recovered from the ghastly confinement at the asylum, held court with the Mad Matchmakers, while they plotted their next successful, if less than elegant, courtship. While he included her in every aspect of his business, she preferred to forgo the meetings with his friends, which often devolved into boisterous, altogether humorous discussions unfit for a lady of character.
“Ah, there is my beautiful bride.” Anthony’s expression lit up, as it always did when he met her gaze, and he his patted his thigh. “Join us, my darling, because we decide which of my fellow soldiers should benefit from our matchmaking skills, and I would have your input.”
“Must we choose now?” Beaulieu crossed and then uncrossed his legs, in unveiled discomfort, and she bit her tongue against laughter. “Can we not wait, and just see what develops?”
“I, for one, volunteer.” Lord Michael perched on the edge of his seat. “Because I am more than ready to marry and start a family.”
“I second Lord Michael as our next groom, because you need not put yourself out on my account, given I have no intention of taking a wife.” Warrington folded his arms in unmasked disdain, which did not quite convince her of his position. “I am here for moral support and to provide assistance, as needed, but naught more.”
“And I am not sure I am meant for that sort of happiness.” Greyson rubbed his chin. “Indeed, I am not half so confident as the rest of you, so we may begin with Lord Michael, because he is amenable, and we have much to learn of the shark infested waters known as courtship.”
“I concur.” Beaulieu nodded, yet Arabella reflected on her husband’s half-smile. Something in his expression gave her pause. Indeed, Anthony had other plans, and he flicked his fingers in a telltale sign of unrest. She would give anything to know his thoughts, which she expected he would share, later. “But I don’t understand why some refer to the marriage mart as a game of love, when it is truly war unlike any other, and those who stir the pot should know what they cook, else they might get burned.”
“I agree.” Warrington arched a brow, when Arabella crossed the room and planted herself firmly in Anthony’s lap. “Lord Michael should offer much easier sport, given we have an obliging candidate.”
Anthony wrapped his arm about her waist and anchored her firmly in his grasp. When he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, Beaulieu cleared his throat.
“Are we delaying something of importance?” Beaulieu stood and stretched. “If you wish, we can continue strategizing Lord Michael’s courtship and potential targets—er, I meant brides, tomorrow.”
“Actually, I have an urgent engagement with my wife.” When she met Anthony’s gaze, he winked, and she understood too well the so-called engagement he referenced, because he made no secret of his preferred pastime, which involved the inventive exercise of his tongue and her body. “Shall we, my dear?”
“What about our guests?” She peered at her co-conspirators, and they feigned ignorance, because once again they extended their aid in a noble mission. “I would not ignore the Mad Matchmakers, given the aid they offered me, in your absence.”
“Oh, I say, we can manage without you for, what does it take Rockingham, ten or fifteen minutes? Hardly enough time to enjoy a brandy.” Beaulieu snickered, and he ushered the Mad Matchmakers from the study. “Besides, I believe I need to relieve Greyson of more of his inheritance, and we never finished our card game, last night.”
“Very funny,” Greyson replied, from the hall.
“What?” Chuckling, Beaulieu exited the study. “I am nothing if not brutally honest.”
The house quieted, and Arabella prepared to launch her scheme.
“Alone, at last, Lady Rockingham.” As she anticipated, Anthony initiated the prelude of his favored activity, and he trailed his tongue along the curve of her jaw. “Shall we adjourn to our chamber?”
“My lord, that sounds lovely, but I have a surprise for you.” She gasped when he squeezed her bottom, leaving her in no doubt of his intentions. “Perhaps, I might persuade you to accompany me to the courtyard, before we retire for the afternoon, because I have a gift for you?”
“I have a gift for you, too.” He nuzzled her neck, drew her closer, and tempted her with his tender touch. “And it is ready to burst for want of you.”
“Anthony, you are insatiable.” Determined not to encourage him, she brushed aside his hand and eased from his lap. Soon, he would understand. “And I shall be too happy to accommodate you, if you indulge me.”
“Now?” He pouted, and she almost relented. “Can it not wait until I have expressed my appreciation of your most delectable bottom?”
“My lord, you do that every morning and night, such that I am assured of your unwavering dedication to my posterior.” With fists on hips, she inclined her head. “But if it will sway you to do my bidding, I shall permit you free reign of my person, to your heart’s content, for the remainder of the day, if you will accompany me to the courtyard this instant.”
“Without benefit of clothing?” Anthony narrowed his stare, and she giggled at the burn of a blush, as she indicated the affirmative. “Until dinner and, possibly, beyond, because I am quite aroused, in light of your oh so delicious offer.”
“So I gather.” She bit her lip, when he stood and buttoned his coat, to conceal the evidence of his desire.
“All right. I bend to your will, Lady Rockingham, but I warn you I shall exact recompense in equal measure.”
“Is that a promise?” She took his arm in hers. “Because I shall be vexed if you disappoint me.”
“Indeed, my cherished bride.” Together, they strolled into the hall. “What say we have dinner served in our sitting room?”
“But we host the Mad Matchmakers, and it would be the height of rudeness were we to abandon our guests.” All manner of mischief flitted through her brain, and she would never hear the end of it if they did not make an appearance, given the eccentric veterans had become like brothers to her. “And I suspect you enacted that brilliant flanking maneuver between the sheets in the wee hours, for their benefit, because I could not contain my response. I suspect I woke the entire household with my roof-rattling approbation of your ravishment.”
“In truth, I did, and I shall do it again, tonight,” Anthony responded, with a self-satisfied smirk to which she would have taken exception if she did not require his cooperation. “While you are the queen of the h
ouse, and no one disputes your reign, it is good to remind my friends that I am the king, and the men can entertain themselves, this evening.”
“Then I shall occupy you, my lord and master.” In the foyer, they turned left, where the butler lingered, and the manservant set wide the double doors. The sun spilled into the entry, and Anthony let go her arm and shielded his eyes.
She clutched his elbow and led him down the stairs, and the gravel crunched beneath his boots, as they crossed the courtyard. A telltale nicker caught his attention, and he came to an abrupt halt, when he spied her present.
That was the moment she had to stand for him, once again.
“No.” Standing ramrod straight, he shook his head. “Arabella, what have you done?”
“I beg you, my lord, do not deny me.” When he tried to pull free, she held fast, because he could not run from his fears. “I selected a white Andalusian, because I would never try to replace Hesperus. This resplendent creature is sweet-tempered and eager to make your acquaintance. Will you not come and meet him? Will you not give him a chance?”
“My angel, I know what you want, but I cannot do this.” When he closed his eyes, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. While she hated causing him unrest, he could not spend his life forever longing for his past self. He had to look to the future. “Please, ask anything of me, but do not ask this.”
“Trust me, you can do it, my darling.” Framing his face, she pressed her lips to his, ever so briefly. “Anthony, I know you are afraid. I do so wish you could see yourself as I see you, because you are the strongest, bravest man of my acquaintance, and I shall go to my grave, declaring it for all to hear.” With care, she slipped her arms about his waist and hugged him. “You have endured and survived unspeakable horrors, yet you remain the gentlest soul, unspoiled by the cruelties inflicted upon you. You work to ensure those about you are protected, without concern for yourself, and you are generous, to a fault. Will you not let me do something for you? Will you not let me help ease your last gaping wound?” Again, she kissed him. “Please, my love. If he does not suit you, we can return him to Tattersalls, but I ask that you give him a chance. Just come and meet him. If you will not do it for yourself, do it for me and our unborn child.”
A war of emotions invested his handsome visage, and she bit her tongue against further encouragement. He had to make the decision for himself. To her relief, when he noted the presence of his friends, he advanced two steps.
“Major.” Beaulieu held the lead of the impressive stallion she purchased for her husband. “We stand at the ready, sir.”
“You conspired with my men?” Anthony turned to her, and she could not miss the hurt in his expression. “Why did you not discuss your plan with me, because you know how I feel?”
“It is because I know of your affliction that I did not consult you.” Little by little, she coaxed him, with a caress here and a gentle nudge there, and he did not resist her. Slowly, the lines of strain about his mouth relaxed, and he exhaled audibly. “But you cannot let your fears keep you from moving forward, my love. For good or ill, you must get back on a horse, else you risk remaining a prisoner to the past, and I will not allow that.”
“What if I am not ready to let go? What if I need my pain?” When her husband spoke, the beautiful steed flicked his ears and peered in Anthony’s direction. “Well, hello there.” He paused just at the stallion’s head. “Do you have a name?”
“I suppose I should leave that to you, if you keep him.” Arabella anchored at his side. “But I thought we might select something Greek, in keeping with our tradition.”
“Our tradition?” Anthony blinked. “Ah, yes. You have Astraea.”
When she dipped her chin, Beaulieu pried open the creature’s lips, that Anthony might inspect the teeth. For a while, her courageous soldier simply stood there. Then, to her surprise, Anthony bent and ran his hand down the cannon bones, one after the other.
“What solid, sturdy legs you have.” Anthony chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, and the horse whinnied a reply. Arabella uttered a prayer. “You have a muscular chest, too, and a chiseled jaw, with wide-set, intelligent eyes, which I would do well to heed, I suspect. I should give you free rein at my own peril.” He continued his inspection, running his palm along the prominent withers, the strong back, and the powerful haunches. “He is blessed with a perfectly balanced conformation. Superb, Arabella. I could not have chosen a better specimen.”
“I did so wish to please you.” She caught Beaulieu’s stare, and he signaled the stable hand, who saddled the stallion. “Shall we venture into the north field?”
“I am not sure.” Anthony retreated and stiffened. “What if it rains?”
“My lord, there is not a cloud in the sky.” After waving to the stablemaster, who brought forth Astraea, Arabella tugged on her kidskin gloves. “If it makes you feel better, we need not ride far. Please, Anthony.” Leaning forward, on tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, “I will do anything.”
“I will hold you to it,” he replied, in a low voice. “If I am to make a fool of myself, I expect a reward. Now then, let us get this insanity over with, because I would not waste my time on useless endeavors.”
Moving slow and steady, and with Beaulieu’s assistance, Anthony grasped the reins and eased his left foot into the stirrup. With a half-hearted leap, he tried to gain the saddle. On his first attempt, he tripped and almost fell flat on his arse. His second try landed Anthony in Beaulieu’s arms, and she swallowed a snort of laughter. For the third effort, the stable hand set a mounting block on the ground and gave Anthony a boost.
With her man secure in the saddle, Beaulieu lifted Arabella atop Astraea and urged the elegant mare into an easy trot. Following in her wake, in a less than inspiring sight, Anthony bobbled and bounced, and she feared her grand scheme just might break something of importance. Or worse, widow her. Still, she persevered.
Trailing the path, they cleared the formal grounds, and her husband pulled beside her. Together, they proceeded to the lea and veered into the verdant meadow dotted with clusters of wildflowers. In an encouraging sign, he rode past her, and she urged Astraea into a gallop.
Faster and faster, they drove their mounts, and her heart raced, as the wind whispered and thrummed in her hair. Charging a rise, her husband exhibited confidence, yet she checked her enthusiasm. He sped forth and drew back, and she followed his lead.
And then it happened.
In the wide, open space of flat earth, Anthony let go the reins. Closing his eyes, he flung back his head, and splayed his arm. In that instant, she steered Astraea to the shadows of a crescent of mighty oaks, where they stopped, because she would not intrude on the intimate moment.
It was a rare bit of magic, when the immediate surroundings faded to black, and horse and rider merged into complete oneness. The birds ceased their lilting singsong and the breeze stilled, as all of nature roused to attention, to witness the great beast yielding to human fragility. Man and horse moved as one, such that the distinctions between them all but disappeared, and they soared across the land with speed and precision. The delicate ballet, unique in its combination of incomparable grace and raw power, posed an awe-inspiring sight to behold, and she would not have missed it for the world.
At the verge, Anthony reined in and walked the stallion in a straight line. Then he cantered in circles to the left and the right, taking the horse through its paces. It was more than she could have hoped for, and she wiped more than a few happy tears from her cheeks.
After a few additional turns, he glanced over his shoulder and searched for her. When he spied her, she smiled, and he waved. In play, she blew him a kiss, which he pretended to catch. At last, he urged the horse into a trot and joined her, near a copse of trees.
“I have given some thought to a name.” Anthony leaned forward and patted the horse. “How does Aeolus strike you?”
“Well, that depends.” She shrugged and struggled to contain her excitement mix
ed with reticence. Her belly flip-flopped, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Does he resemble the god of the winds and air?”
“In truth, he rides like the wind.” Her husband chuckled but then sobered, and he studied her. “What troubles you, my darling, when this is a glorious day?”
“You are not angry with me?” It was then she realized she had been holding her breath. “You are not vexed that I purchased the stallion without consulting you?” she blurted.
“No.” He shook his head. “To be honest, I never would have done it, had you left the decision to me, so it appears I am in your debt, again.”
“My lord, you are absolutely resplendent, and you belong on a horse.” She raised a hand. “Before you protest, I am not just saying that because you are my cherished husband, and you owe me nothing. Indeed, you were to the saddle born.”
Yet, there was something else that caught her attention. A miraculous transformation overtook her husband, and she admired the playful dance of mischief in his beautiful blue eyes and his carefree expression.
“Thank you, love.” Grasping the reins, he clucked his tongue and drew Aeolus near, and Astraea shifted but displayed no apprehension. With telltale hunger dancing in his gaze, Anthony beckoned, and she met him halfway. The first touch of their lips ignited her flesh, and she nibbled playfully at his tongue. When Aeolus nickered, Anthony and Arabella parted. “I believe you promised me a boon, Lady Rockingham.”
“I did.” She sat upright and cast him a come-hither glance. “And I fully intend to honor the bargain, to equal benefit, Lord Rockingham.”
“You pledged anything I require. What say we place another wager?” His voice grew husky with the promise of unspoken pleasures, when he narrowed his stare and waggled his brows. “First one to the stable gets to undress the other.”
The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) Page 30