by Sabrina York
She set her palm to her belly. “I have been ill. And listless and—what else have I been?”
“Weepy. Cranky.” Violet nibbled her lip. “Craving strange foods.”
“Oh yes. All of that.”
“I thought so.” She winked. “I shall speak to Ewan tonight. Subtly. Dropping but a seed here or there. We shall let him work it out on his own.”
“Oh, thank you, Violet! Thank you!”
They hugged again and then Violet helped her slip into bed. “We’ll have Ewan St. Andrews pounding on Ned’s door demanding he marry you within a fortnight. Trust me.”
Sophia curled up and closed her eyes after Violet left but she couldn’t sleep. She was far too excited. Also, ill. She cast up her accounts two more times before she finally drifted off, but when she did there was a smile on her face.
* * * * *
The next morning when Sophia appeared at the breakfast table, her brother studied her warily over his crisply pressed paper. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Oh, much better,” she gusted. She picked up her plate and filled it from the breakfast bar. Eggs and sausage and a healthy serving of kippers.
Violet, who already had her plate, observed her choices with a nod. She hid the glimmer in her eye from her husband.
Be sure to take kippers, she had advised. And eat them all.
Sophia had never cared for kippers but she had to admit, as she took her seat and tucked in, there was something satisfying in their salty flavor. When she finished them, she went back for more.
“Sophia?”
She glanced at Ewan, a hunk of fish between her lips. He seemed a little pale. “Yes?”
“You hate kippers.”
“These are rather good,” she insisted, shoveling more into her mouth.
He glanced at Violet, who shrugged and said, “They are rather good.”
“I thought you didn’t care for fish.”
“I don’t. Odd that.” She ate some and then looked back at the buffet, wondering if she might take one or two more.
“Perhaps you should slow down.”
“I’m famished.”
“Have you—have you been ill again?”
“Only a little.” A footman refilled the platter. She licked her lips.
Ewan’s gaze wavered from Sophia to his wife—who was also wolfing down kippers. He went a little green. “Tired?”
“A bit.”
“Cranky?”
She glowered at him.
He set down his paper. It trembled decidedly. “Sophia…”
“Yes?”
His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. Several noises emerged. None of them intelligible in the slightest.
He stood.
“Ewan. Where are you going?” Violet asked.
“I…ah…need to go see Edward.”
“But darling. We’re having breakfast. And there are more kippers…” But she spoke to his back. He had already stormed from the room.
Violet shot her a grin. “Well done, Sophia. Well done.”
Sophia took another bite and another still.
“You can stop eating them,” Violet said on a laugh. “He’s gone.”
“I know,” Sophia said. “But they really are rather good.”
Why Violet gaped at her so, she had no clue.
* * * * *
Ned loved Watersly. The estate was small but charming and the stables were magnificent. He’d brought Byzantium with him and he was glad he had. Several fine mares were in season and they would make exquisite foals.
He was surprised at how much work there was to do and thoroughly surprised at how much he enjoyed it. The only drawback was he missed Sophia terribly. He thought of her all day, every day. But at night…at night, he ached.
He reminded himself it wouldn’t be too long. A year at the most until he knew how well he was doing. And then he could offer for her.
Still, a year?
The thought was dismal.
When depression hit him, he tucked in his chin and went back to work. He had to prove himself to Ewan. And himself.
There were no two ways about it.
A movement at the wide doors of the stable caught his attention and he looked up. And stilled. Swallowed.
Fuck.
Ewan.
He should have known the bastard would come to check up on him. That Edward was with him, leaning against the jamb with a grin on his face, didn’t help.
He dropped the curry brush on the table and steeled his spine. “Hullo,” he said.
“Ned.” Ewan growled. His eyes flicked over Byzantium. “Is this the horse?”
“Yes.”
He strolled closer, examining the tremendous chest, the withers and strong-muscled legs. “A fine beast.”
Ned shot a look at Edward. “Yes. I thought so. Why have you come?” Why prevaricate? It was a bit of a drive from London. Surely there had been a reason, other than tormenting him.
“Tell him, Ewan.”
Ewan glared at Edward. His face rucked up in a moue of displeasure. “You must come back to London.”
“Why? Is someone ill?”
Ewan paled. “No.” Why he needed to bark was a mystery.
“Then I cannot come.” He picked up the brush and continued grooming the stallion. “There is much to do. It’s spring, you know.”
“Damnation, boy.”
Ned bristled. “I am not a boy.” He was four-and-fucking-twenty. And damn tired of being called a boy.
“Yer a boy to me, boy!”
“Go to blazes!”
They stood toe to toe. Ewan was much taller and several stone heavier but Ned didn’t back down. Why should he? This was his estate. His business.
“Yer coming back with us now. Today.”
“Ballocks. I am staying here and finishing what I started.”
“Proving yourself a man?” This from Edward.
“Damn straight.”
“A man takes responsibility for his actions.”
Ned’s blood went a little cold. It had little to do with Ewan’s snarl, so much as his tone. “Which actions?”
“Debauching my sister, for one.”
Ned glanced at Edward, who shrugged. He had debauched Sophia. Several times. Ewan hadn’t cared before. Why on earth did he care now?
“All her suitors have fled,” Edward explained. “Something about her wearing the pants in the marriage.”
His heart clenched. Oh, poor Sophia. He hoped she was not mortified by the scandal. A sudden wash of remorse scalded him. He had left her alone to face it.
But before he could say anything, Ewan grumbled, “That’s not the reason and you know it, Edward.”
“Then what is the reason?”
Ewan stared at him, his eyes red-rimmed. For a bull of a man, he suddenly seemed tiny. “We think she’s increasing.” A whisper, as though speaking the words could make his worst nightmare come true.
The bottom fell out of Ned’s world, or at the very least, his stomach. He staggered a bit and grasped the reins to steady himself.
Byzantium rolled his enormous brown eyes and stared at him.
They all stared at him.
“I… What…? How…?”
“I think you know how.” Damn Edward and his damn sense of humor.
Ewan leaned in and hissed, “She’s eating kippers.”
“Kippers?”
Edward chuckled. “Apparently by the bushel.”
“And that means…”
“Violet eats kippers.”
Ned frowned. “Violet hates fish.”
“Violet. Eats. Kippers.” Ewan’s face went red. “When she’s increasing.”
Oh. Lord.
Ned swung to Edward. “Does Kaitlin?”
“No.”
Oh, thank God—
“When Kaitlin is increasing she prefers sweetmeats. And haggis.”
“Haggis?” Ned made a face.
“What Kaitlin eats is beside the point,” E
wan interrupted with a slash of his hand. “Sophia is eating kippers! You must come home and marry my sister at once. I command it.”
Ned stepped back, not in fear of Ewan’s wrath as much to avoid the spittle. “If you recall, sir, you stated with no equivocation, I am not worthy of your sister.”
“Despite the fact he saved her life more than once on that pirate ship and kept her safe from those villains and managed to—”
“Enough!”
“Despite the fact he saved my life by leaping in front of a bullet. And, might I add, thank you, Ned, but please never do that again.”
“Enough. Enough. I admit it. You are worthy of her.”
Ned’s heart stalled. “What?” He had to hear it again in case his ears had betrayed him.
“Yer worthy,” Ewan grumbled. “And God love her, she wants you. She could have been a duchess. She could have been a countess. For fuck’s sake, she could have been a princess—”
“She is a princess.”
Ewan glowered at him.
“I shall buy her a tiara.”
“Ach, don’t bother. She cannot be bothered by that falderal. I want Ned, she says. I love Ned,” he mimicked in a squeaky voice that didn’t sound like Sophia in the slightest. “Bah. Women.”
“Will you come home, Ned?” Edward set a hand on his shoulder. “Will you come home and claim her?”
“Yes. I will. But as soon as we’re married, we’re moving back here.”
“What?” Odd, that. He’d never heard Ewan screech. “The fook you are. You’re living at my house until the bairn is born.”
“The hell I am.” He would begin as he meant to go on in their marriage. The two of them, on their own two feet. Or four feet. Whatever. He could barely be bothered with the counting. Because he was going to marry Sophia. And he didn’t have to wait a year. And not only was Ewan embracing the match, he was commanding it.
“You’ll do as I say.”
Ned recognized this tone. This was not Ewan St. Andrews barking orders at him. It was the brigand McCloud. He steeled his spine and looked Ewan dead in the eye. “No.”
Just that. No.
Ewan’s ire rose. It was always easy to tell on him. His face went red. The muscles of his neck bulged and a vein popped out at his temple. Ned resolved to stare him down.
This was his life. And no man was his master. Not Edward. And definitely not Ewan St. Andrews.
He had the sense the silent battle could have gone on for days but Byzantium shuffled impatiently and nudged his shoulder. Ned did not budge. Ewan did.
His gaze flickered to the stallion. He frowned. “I want first pick of foals,” he muttered.
Ned thrust out a hand. “Done.”
Ewan nearly squeezed the life out of him in that shake but Ned gave as good as he got. He held on until Ewan grunted and nodded and turned away to pretend to study the rest of his cattle.
Edward sauntered up to him with a grin on his face. He clapped Ned on the shoulder. “Well done,” he murmured softly so Ewan wouldn’t hear. “Well done.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sophia dropped her book in her lap and stopped pretending to read, staring out the window at the gardens instead. After Ewan stormed from the breakfast room, he hadn’t returned. He’d been gone for three days. And with his absence, her unease had intensified.
She’d been ill several times in the morning and at least once during the day. She hoped to heaven their ploy had worked, that it had shaken Ewan from his stubborn stance at least a little.
Until he came back, there was no way to know.
But he hadn’t come back.
She sighed and traced the pane with her finger. If she didn’t hear something soon, she was going to steal that carriage and go to Kent herself. In fact…
She leaped to her feet and shook down her skirts. Why had she waited so long?
Ewan was gone.
The stables were unguarded.
Surely Pippin or one of the other boys could be bribed?
A scratch at the door stalled her thoughts. “Come,” she called.
Violet poked her head in. “There’s a suitor to see you,” she said with a smile. “He’s waiting in the salon.”
Oh bother. “I thought all that stopped.”
Violet shrugged. “Apparently you are far too scintillating. Do hurry. He won’t wait forever.”
Would he not?
Pity that.
Sophia took her time heading for the salon, strolling slowly down the hall, taking a moment or five to study each portrait on the wall. Fascinating composition. Beautiful colors. The one of Ewan with his firstborn son was particularly charming, though it sent something spearing through her heart. Something that felt like melancholy.
She moved on to study another portrait. One of her looking young and fresh and hopeful. With a snort, she passed this one by. The next was of Violet. A lovely rendition of her in her wedding dress. It had been a beautiful wedding, if not somewhat rushed and—
Oh bother. She’d reached the salon.
With a sigh, she opened the door.
A man stood at the mantel, tall and strong. The familiar profile made her heart lurch.
“Ned!” she squealed. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. Heaven forbid someone hear her. For surely he’d sneaked in. Bless Violet. And damn her for not saying something.
She closed and locked the door before rushing across the room into his arms. They closed around her in a steady grip. Ah. Heaven.
“Ned, darling!” She could barely utter the words because his mouth came down on hers and he kissed her. It was glorious. “When did you get back?”
“Just now,” he said, grinning down at her. “And damn, you look beautiful.”
“You look beautiful.”
He chuckled. “Handsome? Please?”
“Yes. Very handsome.” She sighed. “How I missed you.”
“And I, you. Have you been well?”
“Yes.” A lie.
He led her to the divan, a reproving expression on his face. They sat before he spoke. “Ewan said you’ve been ill.”
“You spoke with Ewan?” Oh dear. She checked his body for signs of injury.
“I did speak with him. And Sophia…” The words caught in his throat. He swallowed mightily.
“Yes, Ned?”
To her horror, and her delight, he dropped to one knee. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She gaped at him. “But Ewan—”
“Has given his blessings.”
Of course he had. He thought she was with child. He would do anything to get her safely wed before she started to show. But as much as Sophia wanted to be Ned’s wife, she craved her brother’s true acceptance of this match. Not some halfhearted, reluctant nod because she was increasing. Aside from that, she didn’t want Ned to feel pressured. And she didn’t want him if he was not ready. “And your quest? To make your fortune?”
His smile broadened. “I’ve already sold one foal and have requests for several more from a man who wants to build a stable of his own.”
“You have?” Her heart sang. And then, at his slightly guilty expression, her eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“I…ah…”
“Who?”
“Well, Ewan, in fact.”
Oh. Glory be.
Ewan would never spend money on an animal if he were not entranced with it. And he would certainly never buy from Ned unless he wanted—truly wanted—Ned to be a success.
“Oh, darling. That is wonderful.”
“It is. So will you? Will you be my wife?”
“You know I will.”
He whipped her into his arms and spun her around, kissing her until she was breathless and dizzy.
“I cannot wait,” she said when he finally set her back on her feet. “It will be the most magnificent wedding St. James has ever seen. Do you like lilies and orchids? I should love to have a lace gown. Oh my. There is so much to do—Ned? Why are you staring
at me like that?” With that expression.
“It cannot be a large wedding, sweeting. They take far too long to arrange.”
“Not so very long.”
“I was thinking of a special license.”
“Ballocks. I’ve been dreaming of this my whole life!”
His gaze fell to her waist. “We haven’t a lot of time.”
Sophia stepped back and strolled to the windows, her heart suddenly heavy. Though he followed, she could not meet his eyes. “Ned?” She fought to get the word out through the lump in her throat.
“Yes, Sophia?”
“Did Ewan tell you I was with child?”
“He…ah…might have mentioned something about kippers.”
“Oh, bother.”
“Darling.” He turned her ’round to face him. Looped his arms about her and tugged her close. “What’s wrong?”
“It was a trick,” she whispered through stiff lips, “to toss Ewan off his high horse. I’m not with child.” She peeped up just in time to see his face fall, though he hid it quickly.
“Clever of you.”
“It was Violet’s idea.”
“It worked. That’s all that matters. We can be together now.”
She gazed up at him, unable to stay her tears. Why she felt so weepy, she didn’t know. “I don’t want you to marry me because you feel like you have to.”
His chuckle was gentle. As was his kiss. “Darling, I do have to, but not the way you mean.”
She tipped her head to the side and sent him a questioning look.
“I have to marry you because without you, I find it difficult to breathe. My heart aches with every thud when you are not in my arms. In short, I love you so much I can barely stand it. Do you not love me too?”
“You know I do.”
“Then you understand. I’m not marrying you because of any child you may or may not be carrying. I am marrying you, my darling, because you are the other half of me. And without you, I am lost.”
“Oh Ned.”
He kissed her.
And kissed her some more.
And still again.
Until a scratch came at the door. And then a knock. And then a rattling pound.
It was unnecessary for Ewan to break it down as he did.
There was hardly a reason for them to be chaperoned.
The damage was already done.
* * * * *
Despite Sophia’s insistence she was not really with child, the wedding was something of a rushed affair, though Ned, working with Violet and Kaitlin, managed to get Sophia her lace dress and her lilies and her orchids. And she was lovely. Breathtaking.