His riding clothes became him, his long legs encased in brown breeches and glossy black boots, his hat and crop in his gloved hands.
Horace gave a bark and jumped up to place his muddy paws on Marcus’ immaculate clothes. “Get down, Horace!” Beth ordered.
“You’re a good fellow.” Marcus bent and gently pulled the dog’s ears.
Straightening, Marcus’ warm brown eyes smiled into hers. “What have you there?”
“A bird has hurt its wing. It will have to be braced and allowed to heal.”
“Might I help you?”
“I could use another pair of hands.” She was pleased that she sounded so calm, so unaffected when her emotions were tumultuous.
He walked with her along the drive toward the stables.
“When you left London, I was worried that you might be unwell.”
“I am quite well, thank you. Have you come to see Andrew? I believe he’s in the library. Or have you already seen him?”
He laughed. “No, to your first question, and yes to the second. I wish to speak to you, Beth.”
“Oh?” Beth’s heart leapt.
“But first, I must tell you of Andrew’s news. He has received word from the magistrate. Sir Lionel Carr writes of what he has learned from Ramsey’s doctor.”
They continued to walk along the drive to the stables. “Was it enlightening?”
“I believe so. It is not well known, but Ramsey’s mother died in an asylum. According to the doctor, insanity has blighted every generation. But only the female family members suffered from it.”
“Then Ramsey did not?”
“He believed he did and could not be convinced otherwise.”
“Oh, then that explains his behavior,” Beth said thoughtfully. “I doubt an insane person could carry out such a clever plan.”
“His behavior was hardly what one might call sound and reasonable.”
“I think he wanted Andrew or you to kill him,” Beth said quietly.
“Yes, I believe you’re right,” Marcus said heavily.
Beth led him to the small shed at the rear of the stables where she worked with animals.
Marcus opened the door for her.
In his cage, the badger with a damaged foot, darted about in excitement. He showed no signs of discomfort. She would release him tomorrow.
“I was told you rescue animals and now I can see it for myself,” Marcus said as she placed the bird into a large box lined with a soft cloth. After a feeble flutter, the bird lay still watching them with a beady eye.
“Yes. I want to learn more, but women can’t go to university, so I read all the books on animal husbandry I can find.” She smiled while trying to order her breathing. Marcus seemed so large and male in the small space. And so dear to her. “I fear I annoy the local veterinarian with my endless questions.”
“Beth,” Marcus said softly. “I’d like very much to aid you in these endeavors.”
“That might be difficult, Marcus. But I do appreciate the offer.” She turned back to the table searching for a suitable brace. Finding one small enough, she began to apply it.
Marcus handed her the scissors, and she carefully cut the string. He was going to ask her to marry him. It would be so very hard to say no. After his post in Greece ended what then? Where would they send him?
“That should be all right,” she said surveying her work. She stroked the bird’s feathery head, and it settled down and closed it eyes.
Marcus took her arm and drew her around to him. His eyes searched hers. “I love you, Beth. I think I fell in love with you the first time we danced.”
“We’ve only danced once,” she said aware how inane that sounded.
“You will need more time to get to know me. I understand that. But I remain hopeful that you will agree to marry me.”
She should explain why she must refuse him, but the words wouldn’t come. Her mind was woolly with distress. If only she didn’t want to marry him so very much. But she could not endure the sort of life he lived. She was not afraid of going to dangerous places, but her soul needed to be here in England where she could be herself and pursue her interests. And of course, there would be children. She wouldn’t leave them. But her worst fear was that she would be a hindrance to him, that she would hold him back in his career.
She saw vulnerability in his gaze. His attractive mouth smiled in appeal. “I can’t conceive of a life without you, Beth. Do you feel as I do?”
“I can’t live the way you do, Marcus,” she said at last. She gestured at the small space where she kept her things. “This is the kind of life I want. It’s always been this.” She sighed. “I am a very dull person. You must meet such exciting ladies in the social sphere you inhabit.”
“I plan to leave the service, sweetheart. I want a quieter life now.”
Beth drew in a deep shaky breath. Did he really want that, or would he do it for her? “But your career! When did you make this decision?”
“When I thought I would be offered a posting in Greece, I found I didn’t have my usual zeal. I have been growing tired of the life.”
“They aren’t sending you there?”
Marcus’ eyes dark with passion searched her face. “No, I am no longer needed.”
His ardent gaze thrilled her. Beth felt vital and alive as she never had before. She realized in that moment that the steady pace of her life would change. That she would do anything he asked of her. Longing to be close to him, she sighed. “I love you, Marcus.”
She was in his arms, his mouth on hers with a surging tide of warmth. Marcus inhaled sharply. As his soft kisses grew deeper she clung to him, held close against his chest, his heart beating in tune with hers. Her fingers entwined in the silky hair at the nape of his neck to hold him close as her breath deserted her, and her knees weakened. His mouth parted her lips evoking sensations she had not thought herself capable of feeling. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. But he murmured, “I love you, Beth,” against her lips and drew reluctantly away.
She gazed up at him and said shyly, “I will marry you, Marcus.”
“Beth, my love!” Jubilant, he picked her up and swung her around.
The door opened admitting Horace with an indignant bark. Jenny stood and watched them a smile tugging her lips.
Marcus placed Beth back on her feet.
“Andrew has told me the exciting news.” Jenny hurried over to kiss Beth. She held Marcus’ hands in hers. “Congratulations. I hope you realize you’re getting the sweetest girl in the world. Take good care of her.”
Marcus kissed Jenny’s cheek. “I am the luckiest of men. But I must first go to York to gain your father’s consent.”
“Papa will make no objection,” Jenny said. “He has relinquished Beth’s care into Andrew’s hands.”
“How did Andrew know I would say yes?” Beth asked.
Jenny laughed. “Let’s just say he was quite confident.”
Beth smiled radiantly. “Marcus is resigning from the foreign office.”
“I couldn’t be more pleased. We must plan the wedding. We’ll hold an engagement ball.”
As they followed Jenny from the hut, Beth watched her sister ticking off a list in her mind. She looked at Marcus who appeared as reluctant as she. “Jenny, would you mind if we made it a quiet affair?” Beth loathed crowds of people and lavish balls, but she had never been able to explain it to her sister.
“Should anything surface about Ramsey, I would prefer us to be married. If Beth agrees I see no reason to delay,” Marcus said, his arm around Beth’s waist pulling her close.
“Neither do I,” Beth said, wanting to be with him.
“I have engaged my solicitor to notify my tenant,” he said. “I plan for us to take up residency in my house in the Cotswolds.” He smiled at her. “It’s a pretty place, I’m sure you’ll like it, Beth.”
“The Cotswolds? Why that’s no more than an hour’s journey from here,” Jenny said gleefully. She hurried ahead of th
em down the path. “But, of course! A small discreet engagement party, and the wedding here in the chapel at Castlebridge where Andrew and I were married. Quite perfect. I must tell him the news.”
Beth’s gallant lover seized the opportunity. He pulled her behind a flowering hedge and kissed her again.
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Maggi Andersen
Dangerous Lords Series
The Baron’s Betrothal
Seducing the Earl
The Viscount’s Widowed Lady
Governess to the Duke’s Heir
Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle (A Novella)
Once a Wallflower Series
Presenting Miss Letitia
Also from Maggi Andersen
The Marquess Meets His Match
Hyacinth
Chasity Bowlin
Chapter One
Hyacinth stretched and let the wind buffet her. It was a singular sensation, really, to hear the sound of the waves crashing and feel the wind tugging at her clothes. But it was the scent of it all that had her lips curving upward in a half-smile. The saltiness of the sea air was unlike anything else really, and she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it. There was something about the vastness of it all that made her feel, not insignificant necessarily, but it reminded her that there were things in the universe so much greater than herself.
No sooner had that thought occurred than lightning split the sky and thunder crashed all around. Yes, there were indeed things much greater than herself.
“Hyacinth! Dear girl, you must hurry! The rain is coming!” Lady Arabella called from within the confines of the coach.
Hyacinth was already scrambling back up the beach and toward the ancient wooden stairs that she’d taken to get down to the sandy expanse from the road above. Lady Arabella was a fusspot, as Rowan liked to call her. They’d corrected him for it countless times, yet he continued. It might not have been a flattering assessment of the elderly woman, but it was an accurate one and he always uttered it with affection.
“I’m coming, Arabella!” she called out as she climbed the stairs. She’d no sooner placed her foot on the first step than the rain began in earnest. It wasn’t simply a few drops. There was no build up. The sky simply opened and buckets of it fell upon them. Her gown was instantly soaked, her bonnet drooping over her eyes and her hair plastered to her quickly chilling skin. As she reached the top of the stairs, lightning crashed once more, far closer to them. She could smell it. And from the way the horses pranced in their harnesses, their massive hooves shifting nervously about, it was apparent they could as well.
Lady Arabella was peering out through the carriage window. “Good heavens, girl! You are soaked through. Get in, get in!”
Hyacinth closed the distance between them. The driver could not help her in because the horses clearly could not be left unattended for him to do so. Opening the door herself, she pulled the strap to lower the steps. The horses whinnied in protest, attuned to even the slightest change.
Hyacinth placed one booted foot on the step and paused to push her ruined bonnet back as it was obscuring her vision. Another crack of lightning, this one near enough that a tree on the opposite side of the road fell with a loud crash that was echoed by the thunder that followed.
The horses simply took off. There was no warning, no chance to prepare. Hyacinth was clinging to the side of the coach, the open door striking her repeatedly as the vehicle rumbled over the road at an alarming speed. The steps snapped off at the first rut. Even then, terrified and quite potentially facing her own untimely death, she couldn’t not appreciate the ridiculousness of it. Lady Arabella, elderly and frail as she was, could offer no assistance. All Hyacinth could do was hang on for dear life and pray that the coachman would get the horses under control.
But it wasn’t to be. The coach careened wildly, and as it did, Hyacinth tumbled from it, unable to sustain her grip. Luckily, she fell free of the coach and its dangerous wheels, but she landed at the side of the road and rolled toward the sheer drop to the rocky beach below. She twisted her fingers into the wet grass, trying to find some purchase, but it was not to be. Hyacinth screamed as she fell, the sound carrying above the rain and the thunder.
Ian Blake, Lord Dumbarton, was riding hell bent for leather toward home, but as he rounded a bend in the road, he pulled his mount up sharply. Having been caught in the rain, he was eager to be shed of his sodden clothes and to warm himself with a liberal helping of brandy while sitting before a fire. But the sight before him had effectively put such pleasant pastimes from his mind. Indeed, his heart had leapt in his chest as he took in the scene before him.
There was a girl clinging to the side of the vehicle in the open doorway of a carriage as it careened wildly. It was clear to him that the horses were out of control. Of course, they were approaching a rather steep hill and hauling the heavy conveyance up such an incline would likely slow them down quite readily. The occupants of the carriage would be safe enough shortly, but the girl was another matter.
Just then, the carriage hit a rut, jolting the vehicle terribly. The girl was thrown free of the wheels, but she tumbled endlessly and then vanished from sight. Spurring his mount forward, Ian raced to the point where he’d last seen her. His heart was in his throat as he climbed down and tethered his mount to a branch. Quickly, he shrugged out of his heavy cloak as it would only be in his way. Getting down in the wet, soggy ground, he inched forward until he could peer over the edge. Relief struck him immediately.
The beach was a good twenty feet below him, but she’d landed on a narrow outcropping. The small shelf of land, coated in lush grass, jutted out from the side of the rocky cliff and had formed a bower of sorts for her. Easing himself carefully over the side, he dropped into a crouch next to her.
She wasn’t a child as he’d first thought, simply a very petite woman. She was young, but not a girl. Taking her chilled hand in his, he tapped it gently. “Miss? Miss, you must wake up. Can you hear me?”
A soft groan escaped her and her lashes fluttered until, at last, her eyes opened. Light in color, they seemed to reflect every shade around them from the dark, stormy skies above to the green grass upon which she lay. They were changeable and entrancing.
“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, finding his voice after being momentarily robbed of all sense.
“Not terribly, I do not think. Bumps and bruises… I struck my head,” she said, sounding somewhat confused.
Ian watched as she lifted her hand to the back of her head and brought it away sticky with blood.
“If you can stand, I’ll lift you up and get you onto firmer soil. Then we’ll see about getting you to my home where you can get proper care.”
“I’m expected at Dubhmara,” she said. “Oh! Lady Arabella is in the coach! Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Her heart—I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to her!”
“You are Miss Collier?” he asked. It was a connection he should have made, of course, but they were not expecting his cousin for days yet.
“Yes! How do you know?”
“Because I am Lord Dumbarton, Miss Collier. Lady Arabella is my cousin.”
Rising from his crouch, Ian offered her his hand. When she placed her small hand in his, he felt a frisson of something that he would not name. It could not be attraction. That was not something permitted to him in his current state of limbo. Protectiveness, perhaps. She was to be his guest, after all. He had a responsibility to see to her welfare.
Placing his hands on the narrowest part of her waist, he lifted her easily and held her there as she climbed up and onto the grassy stretch of land above. It was still wet, still raining, still muddy and yet, somehow, through sheer dent of will, she managed to claw her way onto solid ground. She might be small, Ian thought, but she was far from fragile. It was clear to him that she was a woman of considerable spirit and mettle.
Ian hoisted himself up behind her. By the time they were both standing at the side of the r
oad, they were covered in mud and muck. “I must say, Miss Collier, you make an interesting first impression.”
She didn’t laugh, but she did smile, her full lips curving upward in a way that made his heart race for entirely different reasons.
“So do you, Lord Dumbarton. So do you.”
Chapter Two
Riding pillion on Lord Dumbarton’s terrifying beast of a horse, Hyacinth could feel the firmness of his well-muscled frame as it surrounded her. Bracketed by strong arms and strong thighs that she truly should not think of, it was impossible to miss that he was not simply a terribly handsome man, but also a man that was the very picture of masculine vigor. His was not a physique crafted from the gentlemanly pursuits of fencing and riding. No, he had the broad chest and heavy muscles of a laborer, despite bearing a title.
Hyacinth shivered against him and he pulled her closer, so that his heavy cloak shielded them both. It wasn’t the cold which had prompted her response, but her own wayward thoughts. She was her mother’s daughter, after all, it seemed.
“Miss Collier, if you begin to feel ill or if your head pains you too greatly, please tell me so,” he said.
His breath had whispered over her ear, raising the hair on her neck and goose flesh on her arms. It wasn’t unpleasant, really, but like the excitement she’d felt when attending the fair as a girl. They’d had no money for such pursuits, but she hadn’t understood that then. Nor had she understood why her mother grew so angry with the fortune teller that she’d thrown her few coins down on the table and dragged her and Primrose back out of the tent and toward their tiny hovel of a home.
“What are you thinking about so intently?”
“I was thinking of my sister… and my mother,” she said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, she reasoned.
“You are close with your sister?”
The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides Page 45