by Alanna Lucas
Tears streamed down her cheek. “You are more of a poet than you give yourself credit for.” She brushed a gentle kiss across his lips. “I would be honored to be your wife.”
The lovemaking that followed was tender, intense, soul-searching, and unlike anything Grant had experienced before. It was not about sating their lust, but about two souls becoming one, two souls exploring their passion on a deeper, more intimate level. There were no social barriers, no regrets, no fear, just him and Elizabeth.
When it was over, he brought her within the circle of his arms and just held her. Held her and loved her.
Bright sunlight filtered into the bedchamber and with it, the promise of a new day. Grant relished the feel of Elizabeth’s naked body against his. He once said he’d felt like he’d slept for seventy years waiting to become strong, waiting for illness to escape his body…waiting. He now knew what he was waiting for. No matter what happened, no matter where life took him, no matter what adventure awaited on the horizon, Grant knew his world was complete with Elizabeth at his side.
“What are you thinking?” Elizabeth’s soft words caressed his ears.
“How my life had not truly begun until you entered it.”
She raised her head off his chest. “I didn’t think you liked me very much when we first met.”
Kissing the tip of her nose, he corrected her assumption. “On the contrary, I liked you too much.”
Her brows drew together in question, astonishment lacing her words. “You did?”
“Yes, but I was too stubborn and you were too headstrong to realize it.”
“I was not—” Grant pulled her closer, halting her protest with a soul-searching kiss. “Well, perhaps a little,” she replied on a breathy whisper in between kisses.
Grant trailed feathery kisses across her cheek and along her jaw. An arousing sigh escaped her lips, as he changed position, rolling her onto her back. He’d just started to weave a pattern of kisses down her chest when a firm knock sounded on the door interrupting his plan.
“Ignore that,” Elizabeth murmured as she arched her back offering more of herself.
Rap, rap, rap.
“They’re not going away,” he grumbled with frustration. “This will only take a moment.” Grant quickly pulled on his breeches to the cadence of the firm knock, and then crossed the room to answer the door.
He cracked open the door several inches, expecting to find a servant, but was startled by the appearance of Abrams. “I was wondering if I was going to have to break down the door,” he said through a labored breath. “Hille and I have news.”
As much as Grant wanted to hear every detail, Elizabeth was several yards away, naked in his bed. “I’ll join you in the drawing room in fifteen minutes.”
Grant had never known a lady to dress as quickly as Elizabeth had, and less than twenty minutes later, they entered Hartland’s opulent drawing room. The richness of the furnishings was diminished by the somber expressions on Abrams and Hille’s faces.
Sidestepping formalities, Grant asked, “What did you discover?”
“The bodies of the two assailants have been recovered, but there’s no trace of Simon, not even a torn scrap of clothing that could have clung to one of the many shrubs.”
Elizabeth edged closer to him, stroking his forearm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered with a slight tremble.
Grant ran a frustrated hand through his hair. This was not what he was hoping to hear. His mind wrestled with thoughts of what could have happened. He didn’t want to say the words, but had to ask just the same. “Could his body have been washed out to sea?”
“Fisker does not believe so. High tide came in after we discovered the two miscreants bodies, and did not even come near to where they were discovered. Since Simon went over the side with one of those men, it does not seem likely.”
Hille’s report only served to spur more questions. Grant growled, barely able to contain his aggravation, “Then what the bloody hell happened to him?”
Abrams glanced to Hille, then back to Grant as he let out a long sigh. “We think Simon may have survived the fall.”
“What?” Grant and Elizabeth’s shocked voices ricocheted across the room in unison.
“A set of fresh footprints in the sand directly below where the two men were discovered trailed off in the opposite direction, away from the old church and the smugglers’ ring. They continued up a steep narrow pathway before disappearing altogether in the brush.”
Grant was still trying to absorb the information when Elizabeth stepped forward. “What do we do now?” Her question was weighted down with the same frustration currently rippling through his body.
“Philson is conducting a search. Hille and I are to join him later this afternoon. With any luck we will soon have answers. Until then, we wait.”
“I can’t just sit back and wait.” He glanced down into Elizabeth’s upturned face. Warmth and understanding filled her eyes. “I will escort Miss Atwell back to London and then join you in a couple of days. Until then, scour the surrounding area, question everyone in Hartland and the neighboring villages. Someone must have seen something.”
Grant noticed the deep worry lines marring Abrams’s tired features as he approached. “We will not rest until we discover what happened.” With a quick nod, he summoned Hille to follow, leaving Grant and Elizabeth alone.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she tilted her head this way and that before saying, “I still don’t understand. If the footsteps did in fact belong to Simon, why didn’t he rejoin the others?” The question hung in the air.
The situation just didn’t make any sense to him either. “We must be missing something.” He turned his full attention to Elizabeth. “Are you certain you don’t mind returning to London?”
Her bright smile filled the room. “Thank you for asking me, but no, I don’t. I wish I could stay and help, but as much as I enjoy being away from my mother, I don’t want to raise any unnecessary concern. I’m sure my father is—”
Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, Nichols walked into the room. “Lord Atwell has just arrived. He wishes to have a private word with you Captain Alexander. He’s waiting in Lord Hartland’s study.”
Could Lord Atwell know that Grant ruined his daughter? A dozen scenarios flashed through his mind, and none of them ended well. He fully intended to speak with Elizabeth’s father when they returned to London, and had hoped to prepare for the important conversation on the journey.
Elizabeth must have sensed the direction of his thoughts. In two graceful steps, she was at his side, reassuring him. “You have nothing to worry about.”
After offering a quick kiss on her cheek, he took his leave. He was never one to shy away from responsibility, or hide from confrontation. Why should this meeting be any different?
Because you were never in love before. Because you never ruined a woman before.
He strode into Hartland’s study, and bowed in respect as Lord Atwell turned to face him.
“Good morning Captain Alexander.” His features were jovial, pleasant even. “You seem surprised to see me.”
“I suppose I am,” Grant said with some hesitancy, still wondering what Elizabeth’s father was doing here and how much he already knew.
“Lord Fynes always keeps me abreast of my daughter’s activities. Shortly after she left London dressed as a lad, I decided to visit one of my estates, which happens to be quite near to Hartland.”
Oh dear lord, hopefully not all of Elizabeth’s activities.
“Before you continue, I would like to clarify the situation.”
Lord Atwell approached him, shaking his head. “You have nothing to explain. I am fully aware of Elizabeth’s feelings toward you and have no objections. I only ask that you keep her safe. She has quite the mind of her own.”
Grant couldn’t keep the chuckle at bay. “I’ve encountered her persistence on several occasions.” He approached Lord Atwell. “I would like to officially offer
for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“It would be an honor to have you for a son-in-law, Captain.”
Before Grant could recover from the surprise of Lord Atwell’s words, Elizabeth rushed into the room and straight into her father’s arms. “Oh, thank you father. Your approval means the world to me. I know you said you would have no objections when I confided my feelings to you, but until it happened. It’s all so wonderful and perfect and…”
Lord Atwell’s robust laughter broke through Elizabeth’s ramblings.
She pulled away, and with her hands on her hips asked, “And what do you find so amusing, Father?”
“I would never have imagined that you, my darling adventuresome daughter, would ramble on and be giddy over the prospect of marriage.”
Elizabeth glanced over at Grant, her eyes softened with tenderness. “Not until I fell in love with Captain Alexander.”
Her words reached his heart, penetrating to the very core.
Lord Atwell’s gaze shifted between them. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment. I’m curious to see Hartland’s latest inventions before we journey back to London. He’s rediscovered the recipe for Damascus steel.” His voice held all the excitement of a lad about to embark on his first journey.
Grant waited until Lord Atwell took his leave to question Elizabeth. “You told your father about your feelings for me?” He didn’t think it was a topic ladies discussed with their fathers. Ever.
“Yes.” She inhaled deeply as she closed the distance. “I wanted to know why he encouraged me to join the Legion, and well, one thing led to another and you were being so stubborn and I was frustrated…”
In one fluid motion, she was in his arms and succumbing to his kisses. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much aggravation.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” she teased as her lips recaptured his.
Seconds turned into minutes as they lost themselves in the passion of their kiss. But all too soon it was over as distant voices wafted in from down the hall. He drew back, instantly regretting the loss of her lips on his, and rested his forehead against hers.
“We should ready for the journey back to London.”
~~~
Seven days, seven incredibly long days had passed since Grant escorted Elizabeth and her father back to London. Time seemed to have stood still while she waited for his return. Not even spending time with her spirited young cousin had improved her spirits. Why was it that time dragged on when she was away from Grant, and seemed to pass at double the pace when they were together? Not to mention that being back amongst her peers held no appeal. She longed for adventure, not idle gossip and conversations about the weather or state of the roads.
The only communication she had from him was a brief note stating he had yet to discover anything new. She knew he must be hurting and it broke her heart that she couldn’t be with him, helping him with the investigation, helping him through the sorrow of losing his best friend.
She inhaled a long frustrated breath, and instantly regretted it.
“I do wish you could be more supportive of your sister. Helen is quite nervous to be hosting her first ball after her confinement.” The lecture continued for the remainder of the ride to Dunstan Hall, substituted a short time later by a bout of complaints at the line of carriages waiting to reach the entrance. It would have been quicker if they walked, but her mother would have deemed that entirely too inappropriate, so she kept that thought to herself.
More than an hour later Elizabeth and her mother had finally entered the ballroom. She couldn’t possibly understand the appeal of inviting so many people. The crush was quite extreme, even by London standards.
No sooner had she entered the ballroom, than her eldest sister, Loretta, cornered her. “I simply can not fathom why Helen invited Lord Merton, he is quite the fortune hunter and…” Words ceased to have meaning, as Elizabeth was lulled into boredom. She resorted to nodding her head at what seemed the appropriate interval and kept her mouth clasped shut. If Loretta suspected Elizabeth wasn’t listening, she thankfully kept it to herself.
The volume of chatter was deafening, made only worse by the shrill voice of Lady Peck calling out to her. “Miss Atwell, it is so pleasant to see you out in society again.”
“Thank you?” she responded with a question, wondering at Lady Peck’s cryptic comment, before it dawned on her, Mother.
“When Lady Atwell said you were recuperating from illness and might miss the rest of the season, I was consumed with grief. I hope—”
She might as well use her supposed illness to her advantage. “Please forgive me Lady Peck, I’m not quite recovered and the…” she let her words trail off for dramatic effect as she brought her hand to her forehead. “I find I need a moment’s reprieve.” She did not wait for Lady Peck to respond, but strolled away in search of a quiet corner.
Elizabeth maneuvered through the crush, attempting to avoid eye contact with those around her when a familiar deep timbre meet her ears. “May I have this dance?”
She whirled around, her heart practically jumping out of her chest at the sight of Grant standing before her, looking even more handsome than she’d remembered in his dark blue evening attire. His blue eyes deepened as he looked her over seductively. Her body heated several degrees as remembrance of the last time they were together rushed to the forefront of her mind. Within moments, the soft chords of a waltz grew louder, drowning out the chatter around them.
“Oh how I’ve missed you,” Elizabeth whispered as she inhaled his intoxicating scent.
Grant guided her through the elegant steps as if he’d been dancing for years. It was even more magical than their first dance all those weeks ago. But all too soon, the music began to soften and fade, signaling the end of the set was near. He changed course and waltzed her right out of the ballroom and onto the empty terrace. The cool evening air could not dampen the ardor coursing through her veins. She wanted to be alone with him. As if reading her thoughts, Grant whisked her down a flight of stairs and into the dark garden below.
“I’ve dreamed of nothing more these past several days than having a moment alone with you.” His soft kiss nearly took her breath away.
“Only a moment?”
“No. An eternity alone with you would not be enough.”
She reached up on tiptoes and brushed feathered kisses across his lips before whispering, “Now those are words to swoon by.”
Epilogue
One month later, London
Grant’s gaze drifted across the church pews. Dozens of joyous smiling faces greeted him but there was one face absent. His oldest friend was still missing. Elizabeth had offered to postpone their nuptials until they discovered what had happened to Simon, but nothing would keep him from marrying the love of his life.
Hushed whispers interrupted his musings. His breath caught in his throat as Elizabeth strolled into the sanctuary with Lord Atwell at her side. She was without a doubt the most beautiful, most intelligent, most passionate woman he’d ever known, and she was his. He was hers.
She glided down the aisle on her father’s arm. Years from now Grant would not be able to recall what color dress she wore, or what type of flower she carried, but the love he saw in her eyes would stay with him for all eternity.
“You look lovely,” he whispered as Elizabeth took her place beside him.
As the clergyman began to read from the Book of Common Prayer, it was as if the world around them disappeared and they were the only two people in the church. Elizabeth’s deep brown eyes held the promise of a passionate future together.
“Ahem,” the cleric softly cleared his throat to garner Grant’s attention. “Grant Alexander, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Without any doubt or hesi
tation, he responded, “I will.”
The cleric then turned to Elizabeth. Her eyes never wavered from Grant’s, brimming with tenderness and passion. “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” Her smile radiated brightly in the church even as her voice cracked with emotion.
After the blessing of the ring, Grant placed a gold ring of ivy on Elizabeth’s fourth finger and declared, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
In the quiet of their room that night, he planned to say a different set of vows. She would never have any cause to doubt his love for her. He would protect her and keep her safe. He would lay down his life her. He would worship her with every fiber of his being until he drew his last breath. This would be his vow to her.
When the ceremony ended, all he wanted to do was escape with his new bride to his country property and have her all to himself, but duty and obligation called. Their day was just beginning.
The wedding breakfast passed at a leisurely pace as droves of guests offered their congratulations and well wishes. Dozens upon dozens of slices of cake were cut and distributed, and still he was no closer to whisking his bride away. Only when the final toast was given, did Grant actually believe he would finally have a moment alone with his bride. But instead of having Elizabeth at his side, he found himself alone in Lord Atwell’s study, waiting for her.