Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere

by Regina Jeffers

  His eyes fell on the woman he loved, and this time his legs did give out. He sank to his knees before covering his face with his hands. Then his wife was kneeling before him. He caught her violently to him and began to slowly rock her in a rhythmic sway of thanksgiving. “Jamot claimed to have done you harm,” he whispered to her hair. “I thought to have lost you.”

  They had spent over a week apart. “I am here,” she repeated.

  “Will you two continue to make a spectacle of yourselves, or would you care to join me in the drawing room?” Fowler looked on in amusement.

  Kerrington growled, “I have never appreciated your humor, Fowler.”

  The duke laughed lightly. “Then it is a good thing that the woman you claim as your own is my sister. You must tolerate me as family.”

  Kerrington cupped his wife’s chin before kissing her softly. Then he stood, bringing Eleanor with him. “Come, Sweetheart. I do not plan to allow you out of my reach for a long time.”

  Fowler continued to do the talking. “So, Kerrington, you came home to learn how our Eleanor thwarted Jamot’s plans to do away with Lexford by shooting the Baloch in the shoulder?”

  Kerrington stopped suddenly. “You did that?”

  Eleanor shook her head in the affirmative before asking, “Did you find Satiné and Cashémere?”

  He simply smiled at his wife. She always put others before herself. That was one of the reasons that he loved her. “Let us order something to eat. I am suddenly famished. We have hours to figure out what is what.”

  *

  Over the next week, everything progressed. Mr. Breeson arrived at Chesterfield Manor with letters from the baron naming him as the new steward. Wellston’s former batman was to be given a small cottage close to the manor house for his personal use, and he told Kerrington that he had proposed to Faith Molson before leaving Northumberland. The man also delivered letters from Wellston to Kerrington and from Miss Aldridge to Lady Worthing.

  “Cashémere and Lord Yardley plan to marry at the end of next week.” Eleanor read from her cousin’s letter.

  Her husband added from his own, “And they seek permission to use Linton Park’s chapel for the ceremony.”

  Eleanor perked up. “With that news, do you not think, my Lord, that it is time we return to our home and our family. I cannot have the countess doing everything for the wedding.”

  Kerrington continued to read. “Wellston says it will be a very small affair. Only he and Trevor and Mr. Ingram from his family. Mr. Breeson, of course. The baron plans to escort Satiné abroad for a while. It appears that she suffers greatly from the ordeal.”

  Bran remarked, “Satiné was the lesser sister, after all. With all her beauty, she does not have the mettle found in Velvet or our Eleanor.”

  “Or Cashémere,” Kerrington confided. “Mr. Breeson related some of the goings on since we have last seen her. He found her fighting off two thugs in an inn outside of Darlington, and Wellston related how he had to save her from the glass cone while hanging at the end of a rope.”

  “It is a shame,” Fowler added. “I had hoped that when Lexford recovered his memory that he would also discover a fondness for my wife’s younger sister. But I would not want him to do so, if the lady did not have the wherewithal to face her problems head on. Shepherd was right in that respect. He once told me that we who served the Realm need a different type of woman to be satisfied with our civilian lives. You found that in my sister. I did so in Velvet, and the earl will have Cashémere.”

  Eleanor interrupted his thoughts. “Well, who is to say that Satiné will not blossom into a fit companion for His Lordship? She is young still.”

  “She is but two years your junior, Eleanor,” her brother reminded her. “One year less than Velvet and the same age as Cashémere. Ashton sheltered her for too long. She has never known hardship.”

  “We once said the same about Velvet,” Eleanor countered.

  “But Velvet learned to be a fighter from her books,” Bran smiled. “She was Scheherazade, staying alive in Jamot’s crazy scheme. I did not think it possible, but she did what I least expected, and I am proud of her for it. The same as I am with you, Ella. You faced Jamot and protected Lexford.” He smiled at his friend. “We are lucky men, Worthing. Very lucky men.”

  “And I hope that Velvet reminds you of that fact daily,” Eleanor laughed.

  Bran smiled knowingly. “As often as you remind Lord Worthing.”

  Already organizing Cashémere’s wedding, she paused as if deep in thought. “I should make a list of who to expect. Bran, shall you send for Velvet?” Eleanor asked, but did not wait for a response before adding, “What do we do about Lord Lexford?”

  “The viscount should remain here until after the wedding,” Fowler stated. “Although Lexford has no memory of his initial interest in Miss Aldridge, there is no reason to make everyone uncomfortable on such a momentous day. As soon as the physician agrees that the viscount can travel safely, I have made arrangements for Lexford to spend time in Kent with Velvet and me. I was in Brittany the last time Lexford went through his guilt and his grief. I will see him through it this time.”

  Eleanor rose from her seat. “I will set Hannah to the packing. If we leave by noon, we may be home by supper, James. I have missed Daniel terribly.”

  “As have I, Sweetling.” He kissed her fingers. “Your brother and I will make final arrangements and confer with Mr. Breeson. Then I will come to see if you require anything.”

  “Hannah is quite efficient, but when you are finished, I would like us to see Lord Lexford together.”

  “Of course.”

  *

  “You have mumbled and grumbled your way across three shires,” Cashé had teased.

  “And you know perfectly well why,” he growled.

  On Tuesday, Marcus’s large coach carrying him, Cashé, and Trevor appeared before the Linton Park circular fountain. Jeremy Ingram, Marcus’s valet, and a maid for Cashé had followed in the small coach. It had taken three and a half days to reach Derbyshire. Where Marcus had seen it as pure torture, Trevor had seen it as a great adventure; having Cashé so close and not being able to touch and to kiss her had placed him beyond reasonableness at times. And, of course, she knew exactly what had been on his mind throughout the journey. She had purposely tormented him with lingering gazes and suggestive glances.

  His head resting on the coach’s window, watching for the estate, Trevor remarked, “It is a big house.”

  “Yes, it is quite beautiful.” Cashé patted Trevor’s hand. Marcus adored how she always had time for his brother. He had predicted that she would be a very patient mother with their children. The only trouble with such a mundane thought was it led Marcus into considering creating those babies, and he would be hard again and grumbling again.

  “Two more days,” she whispered as she prepared to dismount.

  Marcus caught her hand and pulled her to him. “If you keep taunting me,” he growled, “it will be tonight.”

  Cashé smiled prettily. “You want me, my Lord?”

  “More than you know,” he groaned.

  A footman jerked the door open, and Kerrington and his mother, the Countess of Linworth, greeted them. “Welcome,” Lady Linworth said as they stepped from the coach.

  Cashé curtsied before walking into Kerrington’s waiting embrace. “How do I apologize, my Lord?” she whispered.

  “Make Wellston happy, and we will forget any irregularities,” he teased lightly. “Come into the house. It is turning colder.” He placed Cashé on his arm. “Mother, did you meet Lord Yardley’s brother Trevor?”

  “I apologize for such short notice, Lady Linworth,” Marcus said over his second cup of tea. “We had thought to use Tweed Hall, but Baron Ashton and Miss Satiné are still recovering from the lady’s ordeal. It did not seem appropriate to celebrate mine and Cashémere’s new beginning with Satiné so distraught.”

  “Think nothing of it,” she assured him. “We shall have a clos
e intimate celebration.” She sipped her tea. “Linworth was quite delighted that you and Miss Aldridge would follow in the tradition set by our James and Eleanor. We have made arrangements for ten on Thursday morning, and we have engaged Doctor Perry for the ceremony. I hope that is acceptable.”

  Cashé lightly touched Marcus’s arm. “It sounds heavenly, Lady Linworth. With all the trouble with my twin’s abduction, we want to keep our joining simple. A few friends. Our families. That will be perfect.”

  “I plan to take a ride tomorrow,” Marcus whispered as they sat together in the Linworth drawing room after supper.

  Cashé nodded her understanding. “You will see Lord Lexford?”

  “I know it may sound odd, but I need to address Lexford in person.” He lifted their laced fingers to his lips. “He is my friend.”

  “Shall I accompany you?” she offered.

  “And give Lady Worthing apoplexy? The viscountess has but one day to fit your gown.”

  Cashé squeezed his hand harder. “Give His Lordship my regards.”

  *

  Having been received, Marcus made his way to Lexford’s room. After knocking, he entered to find Lexford sitting up in bed, attempting to read a book. “Ah, Wellston,” Lexford said upon seeing Marcus at the door. “You have saved me from a fate worse than death: a book of poetry.”

  “You were always more a man of science, Kimbolt. What fool brought you poetry?” Marcus moved the stack of books perched on the edge of the chair before taking the seat.

  “Fowler means to vex my good humor,” Lexford confessed. “The duke has appointed himself my caretaker.”

  Marcus watched Lexford play at being in a good mood. He knew it was how his friend dealt with pain. “I was under the belief that you had no memory of current times; yet, you speak of Fowler as a duke.”

  “Fowler likes being a duke. It gives him a chance to outrank Crowden.” Lexford adjusted his position in the bed. “However, I do not believe you came here to speak of poetry or dukes.”

  Marcus frowned. “No, not poetry or dukes.” He paused awkwardly. “I plan to marry Miss Aldridge tomorrow morning in the Linton Park chapel.”

  “And what do you wish of me, Wellston? My blessings?” Lexford stared off into space. Marcus was aware of how Lexford searched for a memory upon which to base his remarks. “When Susan started the fire, which killed her, it was you above all the others who understood how I felt in not being able to reach her–not being able to save my wife. Even though we came together but once, Susan did not deserve to die such a horrible death.”

  Marcus swallowed hard, looking for the right words to explain how things had come to pass. “I never meant to fall in love with Cashémere. I told myself that you were my friend, and I would not come between you if you were serious about Cashé.”

  Sarcastically, Lexford observed, “But I proved myself otherwise by kissing Miss Satiné. Is that it, Wellston? It was a ruse, perpetrated by the young ladies.”

  “It is not that way, and you know it. You saw Cashémere as a safe choice–someone you enjoyed–someone who could dull the memories of what happened with Susan, but I never observed in you what I saw in Kerrington’s and Fowler’s countenances when they looked at the women they loved. I suspect that if true love existed for you, that if you felt that soul-cleansing love for Cashémere, you would not be able to forget it–no matter what Charters did to you. Do you recall such a love, Lexford? If you say that you love Cashémere in that way, I will cancel the wedding today; I will allow you the chance to make Cashémere return your love.”

  Lexford remained silent for several minutes. “No, I do not remember such a love. Surprisingly, I remember kissing Lady Eleanor during the farce involving Louis Levering. And I remember feeling clean afterwards. I also remember passionately kissing someone whom I suppose was Miss Satiné, but I hold no memories of love. Miss Cashémere was never part of my memories.”

  “And, yet, I cannot breath unless Cashémere is near,” Marcus whispered into the muted room.

  Another long silence ensued. “Then I suppose that you should marry the lady,” Lexford remarked. “I would not wish to be the cause of your demise.” He reached out his hand to Marcus. “We are brothers, Wellston, and brothers never stand in the way of the other’s happiness. You have my blessing.”

  Marcus gladly took his friend’s extended hand. “Thank you, Aidan.” He breathed relief’s sigh. “Now, tell me how much you will pay me to not tell Kerrington that you kissed Lady Eleanor.” Marcus taunted good-naturedly, trying to restore normalcy between them.

  “I will withdraw my blessing,” Lexford countered.

  Marcus smiled joyously. They would get through this. “My lips are sealed.”

  *

  “Dearly beloved,” Doctor Perry began. Marcus heard little else. He supposed that he had spoken his vows at the correct times because within a quarter hour, the vicar had pronounced he and Cashémere husband and wife. Her dancing eyes said that she found his confusion quite amusing, but Marcus did not care. His heart had healed.

  “Are you happy, my Love?” he whispered to Cashé’s ear. They signed the registry.

  Cashé went on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. “Does that answer your question, my Lord?”

  “Must we attend the wedding breakfast?” he said as he pulled Cashé closer.

  “Oh, my poor darling,” she teased. “You must be patient a bit longer.”

  “One hour,” he growled.

  “Two,” she contradicted.

  He laughed lightly as he nibbled on her ear. “One and a half.” He took out his pocket watch to check the hour. “You are being timed, Countess.”

  “Lord Yardley, I object,” she slapped at his chest with her gloved hand.

  Marcus placed her on his arm to meet those who waited for them outside the chapel “One and a half,” he repeated.

  *

  Marcus did not believe it possible to have so many erections in so short a time. If Cashé had not been an innocent he would have taken her in his coach, but he had schooled his patience. They had ridden for nearly three hours to the inn where he had reserved rooms for the evening, and during that time, every gesture Cashé made created havoc with his body. She placed a loose curl behind her ear, and Marcus had imagined removing the pins from those curls and letting her coal black locks drape across his bare chest. Instant erection.

  She ran the tip of her tongue along her lips to wet them, and Marcus went hard again.

  Cashé stretched out her legs, and Marcus remembered massaging her legs that day that they had raced to Satiné’s rescue, and again he found himself in full arousal.

  “I am Yardley, and this is my countess,” he aristocratically told the innkeeper. “You have received my instructions.”

  “Aye, Sir. Everything is as you required.” The innkeeper preened. “It is good of you to honor us with your patronage, Sir.”

  Marcus paused impatiently. “Then might we see our rooms?”

  “Immediately, Sir.”

  Within minutes, they were alone. “Would you care for champagne?” He gestured to a waiting bottle.

  Cashé, suddenly shy, shook her head in the negative before shooting a wide-eyed glance at the largest piece of furniture in the room: the bed.

  Marcus smiled, her innocence a comforting reality. He stepped forward slowly. “Do not tell me, my bold warrior, that you have unexpectedly developed a case of the nerves.”

  Cashé swallowed twice before answering. “Not exactly. It is just...what if I cannot please you, my Lord?”

  Marcus breathed easier. “I do not expect that will be a problem. I simply look at you, and my world opens to new possibilities.”

  “That is what I mean,” Cashé held back tears. “You tell me such things, and I cannot help but fail. How can I give you what you require? I am far from perfect...very flawed, in fact. I am impulsive. Do not always think before I speak. Am sometimes insensitive. Singular in my views, and, obviously, manipulative. Look what I
did to Satiné.” Her voice rose on each word.

  Marcus slowly wrapped his arms about her. “Aye, Love, you are all those things, but you have the kind of heart that will protect our children with a vengeance–never thinking of yourself first; the kind of heart that loves with an undying allegiance; the kind of heart that accepts the failures of others, when many would offer censure.”

  He kissed her then, slowly and purposefully, igniting fires in them both. As Cashé wound her arms about his neck, Marcus lifted her to him. He caressed her buttocks, holding her where he could grind his erection against her sweetness. “Cashé, I need you...now,” he growled close to her ear.

  As he backed her toward the bed, their gazes caught. Cashé toyed with a wisp of his hair. “I hope our sons resemble you,” she murmured. Her fingers worked at the knot of his cravat.

  With each step, Marcus continued his assault on the buttons leading to heaven. Embers caught in her eyes as his mouth trailed fire down her neck and across Cashé’s shoulders. He hissed a groan. “Let me see you, Darling.”

  Cashé swallowed, drawing a tightened breath. “Teach me of love.”

  The buttons undone, Marcus released the dress and let it slide down her body in a silky feather. The swell of her breasts pushing against the corset stayed him. “I have dreamed of this for months,” he rasped. “I should be ashamed to admit how often this moment has played through my sleep time mind,” he said with a smile.

  His fingers touched the laces of her corset, and Cashé shivered. “You are exquisite,” he whispered as he returned to her mouth. Marcus’s hands weighed her breasts as his thumbs stroked her nipples through the material.

  “I should be embarrassed by my wantonness, but I would like to see you also,” she said with false bravery.

  Marcus reached for the bed linens, jerking the coverlet back. “I will step behind the screen and undress. I will not shock your sensibilities by doing so before you.” He kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “I will meet you beneath the sheets in a few minutes.”

  “What if I wish to see you now?” Cashé defiantly raised her chin.