"Let's forget about Kingsdale. I know him for what he is. You would never seek him out as he proclaimed. I was just well, jealous, and I do have a temper. As for me, I intend to honor my vows, as I hope you will."
Confused, Briana stared at him. "What are you saying?"
He tipped her chin with his finger, and she caught a trace of bayberry. Could this handsome, egotistical, wonderful man love her?
"It seems I will have to make myself plain, then. I don't want you near Kingsdale ever again. Is that clear?"
Her back instantly straightened. "You don't trust me?"
"I never said that."
"Yes, you did." She shrugged out of his grasp and started for the door.
"Where the deuce do you think you are going?"
"Out!"
"I don't think so." In a flash he was beside her, blocking her departure. The fact that he was now her husband did not help her circumstances in the least.
"Why?" she stammered, glaring up at him, intensely conscious of his powerful body next to hers. "You cannot truly think I am staying with you tonight? We—we barely know each other!"
He laughed, his violet-blue eyes burning a path straight to her heart. "I have known you forever, dear wife. And yes, I am staying with you tonight."
He touched the bridge of her nose, outlining her freckles. A spark ignited between them, and she saw his self-confidence rise. "You made your vows along with me."
She looked at a spot above his shoulder, anywhere but at those compelling eyes. "Well, er, I wasn't thinking correctly."
He backed her against the wall, his hands over each side of her face. "Well, I am thinking correctly ... for the both of us. I told you before and I'll say it again: I'm your husband and I love you. I think I began loving you when we had our first waltz back at Elbourne Hall."
The declaration sent her senses spinning. He loved her? Was it truly possible?
Her knees felt weak as his mouth moved along her neck, making her shiver. It was nearly impossible to remain coherent when he did this to her. In the back of her mind, she knew his declaration of love made her afraid. Afraid of her emotions. Afraid he would let her down. Afraid of her future.
"Fairy Lady." He kissed her nose. "I was wondering if I made a wish on one of those adorable freckles, would it come true?"
She closed her eyes. "I cannot think properly when you are near."
"Ah, you cannot think? That's called progress." He kissed her cheek.
Her eyes flew open. "Stop that!"
He laughed and moved his hand to the hollow of her back, fitting her against him. Her head pressed against his chest.
"Do you know what I wished for?" he whispered silkily.
She tried to ignore the way he made her feel, but she couldn't help it. The pounding of his heart echoed in her ears. She was definitely losing the battle. "You... you are not playing fair, my lord."
"I may be a gentleman, but I don't play fair all the time. Have you not talked to Emily about me?"
She nodded into his cravat, smiling.
He paused, his breath oddly uneven. "I own you do not play fair either, my red-haired nymph."
She peeked up at him, knowing he was as affected by her as she was by him. "Oh," she said coyly, "I always play fair."
His lips curved upward. "Indeed? And what about that time you learned to waltz?"
A smile sprang to her lips as she thought about that wonderful summer at Elbourne Hall. "It was the only way to learn the dance," she said mischievously.
He said nothing, but only stared at her with such tenderness she wanted to weep for joy.
She cleared her throat. "Depend upon it, my lord husband. You were a very good instructor. And I daresay much better than Mr. Summers."
He burst out laughing and kissed her hard. "Then come dance with me again, my love, not as a wide-eyed girl of sixteen but as my bride and as my wife in all ways."
As his bride? As his wife?
Briana knew what he was asking. Her pulse quickened as the very air around them stirred with excitement and promise.
His lips seared a path to her soul. "Come. Be my wife."
Tears of happiness pooled in her eyes.
"Briana?" he asked worriedly.
A glow of warmth spread through her as she smiled, infinitely aware of the gentleness of this man. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" he asked in a husky whisper.
She reached out and touched his cheek. "I will be your wife in all ways."
His grin was overpowering. "Then let us dance together."
With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Clayton."
He drew in a sharp, smoldering breath, and in one fluid movement whisked her off the ground and into his arms.
"Briana." Her name was smothered with a kiss as he whispered his love to her. Her lips trembled beneath his. She loved him with a power so wonderful she wanted to weep. It was as if he had turned the key to her heart, unlocking the mysteries of life.
She became lost in her husband's lovemaking, and the night passed with nary a thought about the mission or her duty to the Crown. All her thoughts were centered on her husband, Lord Clayton Clearbrook. He might not be as perfect as she recalled when she was sixteen, but he was her husband now in all ways, and in spite of everything, she would always love him.
Early the next morning, when Briana was just about to open her eyes, the door to her bedchamber banged in her ears. With a gasp, she pulled the bedcovers to her chin, immediately realizing her husband was not beside her, but was marching toward her, his expression none too friendly.
She blinked. In fact, his violet eyes were dark as midnight.
"What's wrong?" she asked sweetly.
"I have recently come from a meeting with your godmother, wife."
"And? "
"And"—he lowered his voice, taking her in from head to toe—"what the devil do you think you're doing, acting like some kind of secret agent?"
She flinched. Drat Agatha and her meddling ways. What was she trying to do?
"Yes, that's right, sweetheart. The lady told me everything. I know all about your snooping mission, and devil take it, if you think for one blasted minute that I'm going to let my wife spy about this house like some lone soldier in battle, you had better think again."
She bolted upright "You cannot stop me! I have a responsibility to see this through!"
He grasped her shoulders and shook her. "If anything happened to you—"
He left the words unsaid and crushed his lips against hers.
She pulled away, too afraid of how the man could worm his way into her heart and make her think of nothing but him. He had loved her to distraction last night, and she had forgotten about everything and everyone that mattered to her.
"I cannot believe Agatha told you." Annoyed, Briana slapped her hand against the pillow. "Why would she do such a thing?'
"Because I am your husband, madam. She told me she wanted to see me first thing in the morning. I accommodated the lady. Said she had something important to tell me."
It was hard to look him boldly in the face when he gazed at her as if he knew her by heart. Her soul ached for him.
"I won't pull out of my duty now," she said stubbornly.
"By heaven, you are my wife, and you will do as I say."
Her eyes shot daggers at him. "I don't like you very much right now."
"Well, wife, whether you like me or not, you will listen to what I have to say."
She pinched her lips into a grim line. "I don't think Agatha would agree with you."
"Really? Why do you think she told me everything?'
"I-I don't know."
"Because she thinks you're an impulsive chit, and if you snoop any more by yourself, your adversaries, whoever they may be, will be on to you."
"I am not impulsive!"
He shook his head. "By Jove, that doesn't even deserve an answer. But what if someone is watching you? Did you ever think of that?'
"Of course I did, but—"
"Hear me out." His expression softened as he sank onto the bed, cutting off her speech. "If Agatha believes there is reason to search for these letters of communication, I will be at your side, do you understand? If this mission is just another loose thread with no substance to it, then so be it"
When he took her hands in his, there was a tingling in the pit of her stomach.
"However," he continued, "I find it rather incredible that Whitehall would send two women to find an important missive regarding the assassination attempt on the Regent. It would seem more logical that your superiors are using you for a decoy and the true adversaries are making mischief somewhere else."
"But what about Grimstoke?"
"He may have some connection, but he may be a decoy as well. And who the devil knows if there is a source or not? There are just too many unanswered questions."
He had a valid point. "Very well. I don't mind if you are at my side. In fact," she smiled up at him, "that pleases me very much."
He brought her hand to his lips, his violet-blue eyes never leaving her green ones. "I'm glad you are pleased."
Without a second to lose, he reached out, swept her from the bed and gave a hearty slap to her backside. "Now, come down to breakfast, wench. We are to sit at the table with our host. I may not like the man's tactics"—he wiggled his eyebrows— "but I cannot dislike the end result."
She threw a pillow at him and laughed.
At breakfast, which consisted of a multitude of rolls, meat and eggs, Briana was placed next to Sir Gerald while her husband took a seat across from her alongside Violet. Clayton didn't seem pleased when they were separated, but to Briana's surprise, he complied without a word to his host.
Briana smiled, knowing he was trying his utmost to remain calm under Grimstoke's stare. She wondered if Agatha's talk had anything to do with it.
Just before coming down to breakfast, Briana had made her way to her godmother's chambers, trying to dissuade the lady from walking about for one more day. Even though Agatha had sat during the wedding, the ceremony had tired her.
Surprisingly, Agatha had agreed to stay in bed and was now enjoying a hearty breakfast in her room. However, the elderly lady had mentioned she had informed Clayton of their mission because the man, who was quite trustworthy, needed to know.
Briana didn't believe a word of it. She knew Agatha wanted her godchild out of the line of fire. Always had. But after the mishap with the carriage, the lady had seemed extremely agitated about everything and everyone. Briana wanted to blame her behavior on the head injury, but now she wondered.
Yet, what if this conspiracy theory at Grimstoke Hall were nothing at all? Did Agatha know the real truth and was she hiding it from her? Could the carriage accident have been planned by Whitehall as a decoy of sorts? No, Briana thought grimly. Agatha would never have put her in danger. But would Whitehall?
Briana's head was spinning so much from the latest turn of events that she didn't know what to believe anymore. But she did know she loved her husband. He had slowly crept into her heart and stolen it from under her very nose. Loving him was like breathing. It came naturally.
Her lips fell into an easy smile as she regarded him. She let her gaze travel along the lengthy table, which held at least fifty people. A steady stream of voices filled the room, making the meal quite informal but pleasant.
She was just about to turn her head from the other end of the table when her eyes collided with Kingsdale's. Her heart skipped a beat. She recalled Clayton's warning from yesterday and dearly hoped her husband had not noticed the man. She had not seen Kingsdale when they had returned from their wedding, and she had hoped with all her heart that he had left Grimstoke Hall.
Obviously, he had not. The twisted smile on his face made her look away. She caught sight of Miss Cherrie Black talking to another gentleman, who had come to the party only yesterday.
Briana's mind raced. Prinny's enemy could be anyone here. Or maybe no one at all. Should she return to the library and see what she could find?
She lifted her head and met her husband's dark blue gaze. Immediately his lips thinned into a commanding line, telling her no. For the love of the king, how could he read her thoughts?
Reddening, she took a sip of coffee and dropped her gaze.
"My felicitations on your marriage. Miss Garland—or is it Lady Clayton Clearbrook now?"
Briana turned a cool stare upon Sir Gerald. Clayton had not seemed happy when she was placed next to the man, but he had only tipped his head Sir Gerald's way and then ignored him completely. She, in turn, had almost forgotten about the man until he spoke and wanted to dismiss Sir Gerald without a word. Yet she had no wish to make a fuss in front of her husband, so she gave his cousin a polite nod. "Thank you. I am very happy."
Sir Gerald lifted his brow, and for a moment Briana thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. "Indeed, you should be. Ain't every day a lady obtains a castle and a dungeon full of money."
Briana choked on a bite of kipper she had forked into her mouth. Her husband looked up from his conversation, and she waved her hand that she was fine, smiled, and took another sip of her coffee.
"By Jove, you didn't know?" Sir Gerald said with a satirical chuckle. "Devil take it, never thought my cousin had it in him."
"I fail to see the humor in my marriage, sir."
The man's starched shirt points poked into his neck as he turned toward her. "You really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
He shook his head, catching Clayton's eye from across the table. Briana saw the heated exchange and felt a cold lump form in her belly. What was going on? First Clayton ignored the fellow, and now it looked as if he wanted to throttle the man.
"You think my cousin married you for love or something stupid like that?" Sir Gerald said with a small laugh, his face to his plate. "This is England, my dear girl. It ain't the Garden of Eden before the apple."
He angled his head and gave her an appreciative look. "We could have done well together, my little dove. And I would have had the castle—and the money."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Shaken, Briana carelessly let her coffee cup clatter to the table.
Instantly, she noted Clayton's gaze boring down on her.
She was startled when his chair scraped backward as he prepared to rise. Her stomach twisted in knots. Whatever information Sir Gerald was about to convey, Clayton did not want her to hear it. But hear it she would.
With a sense of dread, she saw Clayton making his excuses and starting around the table. Some people might think he was heading in the direction of the sideboard for more food, but Briana knew differently. He was coming after her.
She calmly turned to Sir Gerald. "Tell me about this castle, sir. I am most interested."
Sir Gerald brought his napkin to his lips. "Ever hear of Uncle Cathaven?"
Briana nodded, her hold on her cup tightening.
"Well, by Jove, you probably know the man was a horrid example for a human being. Was godfather to myself and Clayton."
"I didn't know," she said in surprise, watching out of the corner of her eye when Clayton was stopped by another gentleman.
"Old miser died not more than a month ago. Left his castle to Clayton, and believe it or not, the old goat had a dungeon full of money. Enough money to set Clayton up for life. I think your husband is richer now than the duke himself."
Briana felt the weight on her shoulders lift. She guessed Clayton was going to tell her later. He wasn't one to boast. "He had not told me that, but then again, perhaps he wanted to surprise me."
"Don't be stupid, girl. The only way he could have the castle was to marry within the allotted time. In essence, Lord Clayton Clearbrook needed a convenient bride in less than a month and you were it."
The food in Briana's stomach turned to dirt. It's not true. He loves me, her heart cried. He loves me.
"He don't love you," Sir Gerald sneered. "He just neede
d you. Thought you knew the circumstances."
"And what would have happened to the castle if he hadn't married during the specified time?" she asked coolly, peering over the rim of her coffee cup.
"I would have had it all," Sir Gerald snapped. "Those were the conditions of the will. Why do you think I'm here? Every eligible lady knows he needed to marry for the castle. I made sure of it. And I was certain you knew, too. You little fool, do you think he would marry for love? Clayton lost his only love in the war. You are nothing to him but—"
"A convenient bride," she finished for him.
Sir Gerald's eyes gleamed with pleasure. "Indeed, my dear. Very much so."
From the look on Sir Gerald's face, Briana knew Clayton was standing directly behind her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she rapidly tried to blink them away.
"Briana, may I have a word with you?" Clayton's voice was perfectly calm.
"Perhaps the lady don't wish to leave the table, my lord," Sir Gerald said, smiling as he forked the last bit of his eggs into his mouth.
Clayton's gaze held a dangerous glint as he bent toward the table, placing his face between Briana's and Sir Gerald's.
"I will deal with you later, cuz," he said most sweetly.
Then he turned his gaze toward his wife. "A word, if you please, madam?"
Briana could smile just as sweetly. "I believe I will finish my breakfast, dear."
But inwardly her heart was bleeding. Yes, it was a marriage of convenience, but after last night she had hoped he truly did love her. He had lied to her. Led her on. Made her believe he loved her! For a dreadful moment she thought she could feel the knife-twisting pain Clarice had experienced. The only consolation for Briana was that she had married the man before she had let him take advantage of her!
Her husband regarded her in stony silence. A muscle pulsed in his neck, and for a few fearful seconds Briana thought that if she did not leave on her own accord, he was going to lift her from her seat and carry her out of the room himself.
But to her surprise, he only smiled. "Very well, madam. I will meet with you in our chambers in thirty minutes."
The Convenient Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 20