by Mary Brendan
She obeyed with an eagerness that was sweeter for being transient. A few more hours would help restore her proud independence and he could be patient a little longer. At some time he’d share a confidence of his own: tell her that he had been on the point of returning to London to see her and try to win her over, when she’d showed up today. Eventually she would ask where were the builders he was supposedly setting to work.
Elizabeth dropped to her knees before him, scattering an assortment of sea shore on the smooth rock.
‘Is that for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you,’ he said with a gracious dip of his head and a hot golden look arrowing at her.
She laughed. ‘You look a little disappointed, sir. Were you hoping for a crab? A fish? A turtle?’
‘None of those. Something a little sweeter,’ he said huskily.
Elizabeth felt her heartbeat hammering with a wild excitement, a calm acceptance. It was time. Despite the sea-breeze her skin felt febrile, raw with wanting him to reach out and touch. ‘Such as?’ She shook back her hair from her exquisite face so the heavy tresses separated into rope-like silver skeins.
His low-lidded eyes swerved past hers to stare out to sea.
Elizabeth raised a soft hand to slide along his abrasive jaw, brought his eyes back to hers, exulting in her power in this mating game. ‘Such as?’ she repeated. She could see his turmoil, his pain and regret for having succcumbed to a vengeful lust earlier, vying with his need for her now. Her fingers went to her bodice, working until it gaped. She was aware of his stillness, his eyes tracking the movement. He dipped his head, watched the heel of his boot score a furrow in sand. She brought his chin up, tilted forward to boldly kiss him. ‘I love and trust you. I want you. Let me prove it.’
‘You don’t have to. I believe you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I was acting stupidly when I said that, like an uncouth lout. Or an upstart Viscount, perhaps…’
She moved closer on her knees, slid her arms about his neck, pressing herself against him. He felt hard and hot. So hot that she sensed his torso toasting hers. ‘I thought you wanted me, too, Ross…’
The rumbling laugh shook him backwards. He took her with him so that she was lying atop his tense, pulsing body, then studied her beautiful face, her serene, inviting smile. ‘What about your white silk wedding gown?’
The question was unnecessary; she knew from his blackened pupils, his subtle manoeuvring to ease his tortured pelvis, that she’d won. He couldn’t go back. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’
‘I think Edwina already believes you to be enceinte.’
Elizabeth giggled. ‘I know and I swear she’s secretly pleased.’
‘And you? How pleased would you be?’
Elizabeth looked deep into his velvet eyes as though the reality had never occurred to her. ‘A baby?’ Wonderment made her yearning sound ragged.
He turned her gently on to her back, shifting them from hard rock to soft sand. His hands pillowed her scalp, lost in hair that veined platinum on gold. ‘You know I’d do anything for you, Elizabeth…’ He was still smiling as his mouth merged with hers.
Epilogue
‘Damme… She got her way after all,’ Edwina said, but with a grin for her grandson-in-law. ‘Lizzie was forever trying to spend her dowry on waifs and strays.’ She looked up at the sturdy building and read the caption beneath the roofline: The Lady Elizabeth Rowe Charitable Foundation. Cast in bronze, it was an enduring tribute to her granddaughter’s benevolence.
Ross disentangled his hair from his son’s strong grip, slipped a long forefinger into his plump, curled fist. He smiled as it was immediately used to soothe toothless gums. He looked at his wife, wanting to cut a swathe through the town dignitaries encircling her, and carry her off home. The need made him feel guilty and selfish. For weeks she had looked forward to this day, but he wanted to curtail it to make love to her…properly make love to her.
‘Here…I’ve something for you.’ Edwina regained his attention. She handed him a document she had pulled from her reticule. ‘Thought you might like it…now m’ship’s come in.’
Ross shifted his wriggling infant son in his arms. Unfolding the parchment, he quickly scanned it. He frowned. ‘This is a ship, Edwina.’
‘Yes…I know. Thought you might like it. It’s a good one…as fine a trader as you’ll buy anywhere.’ She assessed him shrewdly. ‘Why did you never badger me for repayment? You’ve spent the dowry on this building and pledged the annuity to a charitable trust. You’re seriously out of pocket now you’ve renovated Stratton Hall from your own funds, too…’
Ross’s golden eyes raised. He smiled at the Heavens, shrugged. ‘It’s just money. You gave me far more than I gave you…’
‘You’re a fine man, Mr Trelawney,’ Edwina said with a choking huskiness in her voice. ‘And don’t even try and give me that paper back,’ she threatened as, suspiciously dewy-eyed, she waddled off to mingle with the pillars of society from neighbouring parishes and more local and lowly townsfolk.
Ross threaded his way through the crowds towards his wife. He passed by Guy Markham, chatting to Elizabeth’s best friend. ‘So what birth sign were you born under?’ he heard Sophie earnestly ask Guy.
‘Virgo…’ Guy promptly answered with a grin. ‘I think…’
‘Think again…’ Ross muttered drily as he strode on.
Aware of a spicy sandalwood scent, Viscountess Stratton turned towards her husband and gave him a blissful smile. Amid the press of chattering, laughing people, their eyes locked exclusively as they stood face to face, each cradling a baby in their arms. ‘I’m so happy, Ross…’
‘Good. You look it…and quite beautiful…blooming…’ A discreet hand moved to touch her, a thumb caressing her arm in an old familiar way.
Elizabeth sensed the tremor in his fingers, the hunger he was still repressing. She lowered her eyes. Her confinement had only recently come to an end and she was feeling stronger every day. Five months only to recover from the birth of twins was exceedingly good going, Edwina had assured her. ‘I feel blooming. Very well, indeed,’ Elizabeth impressed on her patient, wonderful husband as her eyes merged meaningfully with his. ‘Here, take your daughter.’ She swapped the chestnut-haired blue-eyed angel dozing in her arms for her bobbing blond-haired son. His alert little eyes were already showing signs of turning the colour of autumn leaves. ‘I must just speak to Hugh and Jane…then I should like to return to Grosvenor Square for some papers for my speech later at the Guild Hall. Will you take me there?’ she asked with a provocative amethyst glance slipping at him from beneath her lush lashes.
‘Of course,’ Ross said, softly laughing. ‘You know I’ll do anything for you, my love.’
Hugh was being led away from Jane Selby by a colleague just as Elizabeth was approaching. Hugh greeted her in passing and smiled at her lively son.
‘You’re settled here, Jane?’ Elizabeth asked, indicating the building in which her friend was now installed as matron. Edwina’s initial reluctant few days’ hospitality for the Selbys had extended to almost fifteen months harmonious cohabitation. After Elizabeth’s marriage, Edwina had been gruffly appreciative of her live-in female companion and her engaging little son. But now circumstances had changed for all of them. Edwina wanted back her privacy. Jane was more than ready for financial independence and self-fulfilment. These were to be gained from managing an institute that provided shelter and an education for orphaned and abandoned children, and refuge to destitute women of the locality. Who better to give support and sympathy? she had said on applying for the position.
‘Oh, yes, I’m settled. And Jack, too.’ A proud maternal look arrowed to a lively blond boy chasing a few young friends on the fringes of the crowd. ‘I can’t ever thank you enough, Elizabeth, for what you’ve done for us.’ Jane’s voice vibrated with emotion and gratitude. Before Viscountess Stratton could demur or look concerned at her friend’s tear-choked tone, Jane quickly changed the subject. She raised
a hand to touch the petal-soft cheek of the boisterous infant in her friend’s arms. ‘You’ve fine babies; honeymoon twins… How wonderful…’
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said with a small private smile as the tang of brine and the sound of rushing surf assailed her senses. ‘Wonderful…’ And then with a parting wave she was returning to her husband.
‘Now go to your grandpapa, my love…’ Elizabeth handed over her precious burden to a stately, steel-haired gentleman who immediately put the child to his shoulder as though practice had perfected the move. Her husband carefully placed their still-sleeping daughter in Edwina’s fond embrace.
Settling sedately into their elegant carriage, Elizabeth waited for it to move away along the street before she slid the seat and, giggling, fell into Ross’s welcoming arms. She hugged him close. Then with a mother’s instinct disengaged herself, angled her head to see through the window, and watched serenely as Harry and Edwina Pettifer hugged their great-grandchildren.
‘I’m so lucky,’ she whispered to Ross. ‘How did you do that? I would have been thrilled with one baby…but two…’ The frank adoration and awe in her glowing violet eyes made him smile crookedly before bending his dark head to hers. He touched their lips together lightly, then with a hunger that made her weld against him and encircle his strong neck with silken arms. With a wry modesty he murmured against her slick, soft lips, ‘I thought you’d like it that way, sweetheart: one for you and one for me…’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4337-8
A ROGUISH GENTLEMAN
First North American Publication 2003
Copyright © 2001 by Mary Brendan
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