Seduction—that was laughable, when it was exactly what he suspected her of attempt—
No, with him, she had succeeded in her passionate, single-minded, effort to… make it appear as if the child she carried was his?
The probability hit Hawk like a blow, sharp, breath-stealing and… still impossible to believe.
She had been a virgin when he breached her, said she was and appeared to be—though there must be ways to make it appear— Hawk cursed, nearly as muddled now as when he woke to discover that she had tied him to the bed. Even then, he wished he had not drunk so much that night—that glorious, incredible night.
Again, Hawk urged his horse to greater speed.
Damn it to hell; no one was going to have Alex, but him, baby or not. No one. He was certainly not going to sit idly by while she and Chesterfield lived in bloody sin together.
Hawksworth shouted a curse into the night. He was her husband, damn it, and he would bloody well remain so. No one could possibly love Alex more than he did.
Did he? Was he capable? Love?
Yes, by God, and he would not let her go. How could he? How did one cut out one’s own heart? Which must explain why he had not finished his deathbed letter to her. Could he not bring himself to say goodbye?
Devil take it, had he loved her even then? Before then? When?
As Hawk rode neck or nothing along the Great North Road, he tried to mark the events in his life that led him to fall in love with the scourge and shadow of his growing up years.
He looked as far back as that tiny mud-drenched urchin standing at the bottom of the Dyke, looking up at him as if he were a bright silver knight, her very own.
He saw a young girl, all arms and legs and big turquoise eyes, warning other girls away from him. He saw the joyful look on her radiant face when he asked her to marry him, then her broken expression when he said goodbye after the ceremony, her chin raised despite her pain.
He saw Alex, the woman, seduction-bent, who bound him and loved him in a fever of passion, with a physical abandon he never imagined married love could embrace.
Hawk shook his head. No single event had made him love her, but all of them, everything about her—faults and strengths—had nurtured and grown his love, not to mention the sense of worth with which she had endowed him upon sight.
To Alex, from the beginning, he was everything.
To him, now and for eternity, she was everything.
He must tell her so, finally, in the event that he was the most fortunate of men and she loved him, as he once, long ago, suspected, but denied.
No more putting it off, even if, after he was finished slicing open his heart for her inspection, she chose Chesterfield after all.
If she had the courage to run off with the blighter, for whatever reason, then she damn well had the courage to leave him, if that was her choice.
And if it was, he must let her go, once and for all.
Hawk did not know why it had taken him so bloody long to realize the possibility of love. He only hoped it would not take Alex as long.
He hoped, beyond hope, that he was not too late.
“I am no longer certain that this is a good plan,” Claudia told Baxter, “pretending we are eloping so Chesterfield will be drawn into following. Perhaps he will not realize how much he loves me, but that he had much rather live without such pranks. Perhaps we should turn around.”
“This is a brilliant plan,” Baxter said. “Chesterfield will think so, too, once he has you in his arms.”
“And you are certain we will be home by nine? Uncle Hawk insists upon it, even though I am nearly eighteen.”
Claudia turned to regard the inn they had just passed. “Oh, wait, that was the Georges Inn where you said a maid would be waiting to chaperone me. You said we would wait for Chesterfield there, and there is where I said, in my note, he could find me. Baxter… tell your man to stop the carriage.”
When he remained silent, Claudia crossed the interior of the vehicle to touch her cousin’s arm. “Baxter, what are you doing? We cannot leave London so late in the afternoon. It is gone past four.”
Baxter looked at her as if she had sprouted horns, and for the first time, Claudia saw a man she did not recognize, a stranger she began to fear.
“You are worse than a baby,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the note I left for Chesterfield in place of yours was worded a bit different. I mean, shut up and let me think for bloody sakes.”
At about two in the morning, Hawk entered the Gretna Hall Hotel, just over the Scottish border, the second inn he’d tried since reaching Scotland. As he did at the first inn, Hawk went straight to the bedchamber the maid said was occupied by an English couple, hoping that, this time, the occupants were not positioned in the bed so as to stop his heart.
Again, Hawk pushed the door open without knocking. “Alexandra Wakefield, I do not care if you carry the cad’s child, I will not allow you to live in sin with him.”
Alexandra and Claudia gasped.
Chesterfield barked a laugh, even as he held a pistol aimed at Baxter’s ballocks. Baxter, himself, on the floor, gagged and bound.
Everyone began speaking at once.
“Cease!” Chesterfield shouted until nothing could be heard save Baxter’s muffled pleas.
“I take it I am the cad in question?” Chesterfield drawled. “And that somehow you have it in your head—”
“Do not even say it,” Alex snapped. “It was Beatrix, was it not? The eavesdropping little hoyden.”
Hawk felt himself go cold. “Then you are—”
Alex raised her chin. “Of course, I am.”
Again, Chesterfield laughed. “Damn, I have not had this much fun in an age.”
Chesterfield’s words and his mirth relieved Hawk of worry. Alexandra could not be carrying the man’s child.
Claudia even grinned at the comment, though Chesterfield rounded on her for it. “Do not think you are off the hook, Miss, for you will be turned over my knee, the minute we get home.”
“What is going on here?” Hawk asked, assimilating the scene: Chesterfield standing over Baxter, the tears in Claudia’s eyes, Alexandra’s arms about her, Alex’s worry. “Alex? Claude? Are you all right?”
“I have a bruised jaw and bloody knuckles,” Chesterfield grumbled. “But do not ask if I am all right.”
“Baxter kidnapped Claudia,” Alex said. “Of course we are not all right.”
Claudia shook her head in denial. “Not exactly kidnapped, Uncle Bryce, but I did not know that he planned to take me this far. I swear I did not.”
“I told you, Hawksworth, to take care of her,” Chesterfield said. “This is exactly what I predicted would happen, otherwise.”
“I suppose you think you can do better?” Hawk asked.
“I bloody well can. As a matter of fact, I expect permission to marry her for my part in this.”
“She is already married to me, damn it!”
Chesterfield looked to the heavens in a bid for patience. “Stop being love-bit for a minute and listen. This is not about you and Alex but about me and Claudia.”
“If I cannot think for seeing Alex, it is her own fault, for she has been single-minded—”
“Hawksworth, do not.”
Claudia grinned and nodded for Chesterfield to try again.
“Hawksworth, I respectfully request your permission to marry your—”
“Permission denied. You are not half good enough for her.”
“Uncle Hawk!”
“No, Claudia, your uncle is right,” Chesterfield said. “I am not half good enough for you. And since you are not half obedient enough for—”
“I will second that,” Hawk said, scowling at his niece.
Chesterfield nodded. “Good, we are in agreement.”
“We are, for once.”
“Fine then. While we wait for the law to come and claim this cod-head, let us play a game of cards.”<
br />
“Cards? Now? Are you out of your mind? Besides, you know I always win.”
Chesterfield shrugged. “My skills improved while you were away. Let me prove it with one hand. The winner gets Hawksridge.”
“Of course I will not play for those stakes.”
“Why not?”
“Look at the way Alex is grinning. Even she knows that you are trying to give the estate back to me. You will let me win, and I do not like to be let win. I do not want my home handed back to me on a gilded platter, nor will I accept it as a bribe for my niece’s hand.”
“You think I am a card cheat then?”
“Of course not. You are simply not as good a player as I am.”
“You as much as said that I would throw the game, which makes me a cheat in your mind.”
“I know you are not a cheat, but I believe you would— I do not know what you would do, but… you are not to be trusted right now. Lust will do that to a man.” Hawk regarded Alex with a raised brow and stern expression. “I should know.”
Chesterfield smiled. “Perhaps I am simply a good man who would like to see you have your home back.
Hawk looked annoyed. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps, I am a good man who loves your niece and will take excellent care of her.” Chesterfield looked pointedly at Claudia. “I will certainly keep her too busy to get into trouble.”
Hawk noted the way his niece and his nemesis regarded each other. Hope, love, filled their gazes. Was this what happened when one loved? One could recognize the emotion in others? “Damn.”
Claudia screamed in victory and tore from Alexandra’s arms to fly into Chesterfield’s. The kiss Hawk witnessed made the uncle in him bristle and want to do harm. He went over and slapped Chesterfield on the back, hard. “We had best find a parson.”
Chesterfield looked up, eyes ablaze.
“To the parson,” Hawk repeated. “Now.”
“What, now?”
“Either that or we take Claudia home. I will not have you kissing my unmarried niece in that unseemly manner.”
Chesterfield focused on the blushing Claudia, the light of awareness entering his eyes. “Now is a very good time.”
They left Baxter in the taproom to await the law, and after they did, Chesterfield stopped to face Alex. “I did not forgive the five thousand pounds as I let you believe. Hawk paid the debt, but he did not want you to know.”
Hawk cursed.
Alex ignored him. “When did he pay it?”
“A few days before Giff and Hildy’s wedding, the day he returned from the country.”
“Thank you Chesterfield, for telling me.”
Chesterfield nodded. “Now my conscience is clear. Claudia, will you have me?”
Ian McGillivray married them in a quaint corner of the hotel itself, making their wedding a deal more special than the two-minute, over-the-anvil ceremony that might have taken place at the old thatched and white-washed blacksmith shop down the street.
By then Baxter had been carted off, and all four made their way back upstairs to spend what was left of the night. They would set off in a few short hours, so they could be home in time for Christmas Eve with the family.
“Goodnight, Alex,” Chesterfield said, kissing her cheek and shaking Hawk’s hand. “Goodnight, Uncle.” Chesterfield grinned, put an arm around Claudia, hugged her close, and laughed all the way to their bedchamber.
TWENTY-EIGHT
HAWK ESCORTED ALEX into their own chamber, his jaw so rigid by the time the door closed, she half expected him to hand her that bill of divorcement.
“You are not carrying his child,” he said.
The phrase—as much of a query as an order—struck like a clap of thunder, echoing off the walls and shivering Alex to her roots.
“Will you raise it as your own? As your heir, if I have a son?”
Hawk paled and wavered, but firmed his stance. “I will.”
That her confirmation did not bring his instant consent to a divorce infused Alex with sorrow and hope, for if she did not force him to dissolve their marriage, he would lose everything… as she would gain everything. If they did divorce, there might be enough of his inheritance left to regain Hawksridge. “Why?” she asked.
“I realized, on my way here, that even when I could not step from my father’s control, I found a reason to marry you that was more important than him, and more important than me… Beatrix and Claudia. They needed you, so I married you, despite my father.”
Hawk fixed his regard on her then, with such deep concentration—or was it longing—that Alex began to pace, for she could not stand still. She wished he had opposed his father for his own sake, for if he did that, she would know that he was free and spoke the truth from his heart.
“Bea still needs us both,” he said.
Alex sighed, aching for the one who would suffer most for their parting, but even Bea would suffer if their marriage stood on so rocky a foundation. “I know she does.”
Hawk nodded. “You once said that we must remain together for the sake of the family? Do you still believe it? Though it is a great deal to ask.”
The dart went straight to her heart. “Is it?”
“God’s teeth,” Hawk said. “I mean it is too much to ask of you.”
Alex saw from his appalled expression that he spoke true. “Are you certain that staying together is what you want?”
“More than anything.”
That surprised her. “The rogue of Devil’s Dyke for a lifetime? I do not know. Do you think you can manage me?”
“No one has ever been able to manage you.” Hawk’s eyes actually smiled. “But if you mean, can I bear our remaining married? I can, if you can.”
They were still playing games, of a sort, and Alex despised it. “I would have a promise.”
“Then you shall have it. I am in your debt for at least a dozen.”
She wished she could collect every one. “This is more of a demand.”
“Name it.”
“No more secrets.”
Hawk bent to a hearth framed with delft tiles to light the fire. “What do you want to know?”
The sight of him performing the homey task made Alex want a life with him so badly that she had to swallow twice before she could speak. “Why did you not tell me that you lost your inheritance, because you married me?”
Hawk set tinder to flame then rose to face her. “I did not know about the codicil to my father’s will, until I saw the solicitor, and then it was too late.”
“It was not too late,” she said, her voice rising. “We could have gotten an annulment back then. And you are still speaking in half-truths.”
“Alex, shh.” Hawk stepped forward to take her by the shoulders, as if she must hear him. “That it was too late had nothing to do with our consummated, or unconsummated, marriage. It had to do with my unwillingness to let you go.”
“Too stubborn to give up?” she asked stepping away, for her resolve could vanish in such joy, and then she would have no strength left to let him go.
He raised a brow. “Among other things.”
Alex could not bear an elaboration; she carried too many unanswered questions. “Where did you get the five thousand pounds to pay Chesterfield?”
Hawk’s quick smile weakened her knees, boding ill for her cause. “Remember the tiny alabaster bust we dug up near the water-meadows a hundred years ago?” he asked.
Alex could not stop her smile. “You love that piece.”
“I love it even more now. I sold it for a tidy sum. My good luck, I should have realized, began the day I found you. I will tell you all about the sale later, but know that, even after paying Chesterfield, there is enough left to set the Lodge and property to rights and begin breeding horses.”
“How much were you able to get for it?”
Hawk grinned. “Fifteen thousand pounds.”
Alex gasped. “But that was enough to buy back Hawksridge! Why did you not give Chesterfield the mone
y for your estate? Why pay my debt?”
“It was not your debt.”
“You did not know that at the time.”
“Freeing you from Chesterfield was more important—no, that is wrong. You were more important to me.”
“But Hawksridge is your heritage, your home.”
“Alex, my home is wherever you are, whether in a mansion, or at the bottom of the Dyke. Besides, I find myself looking forward to the challenge of bringing Huntington Lodge back to its former glory.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Which is something I want more than my next breath for us to do together.”
Alex might rejoice at Hawk’s words, if not for his father’s will. “Your father warned me,” she said, turning away, fingering a blue damask bed-curtain. “He said I would be the worst possible wife for you.” She looked up. “I should have listened, for now I have made you turn your back on your birthright.”
“My father was a heartless schemer, whose machinations served only him, his plans, his power to control. You are the wife for me, Alex, the best wife, the only wife I want.”
Beguiled by his words, Alex pulled away. “No. Listen. If I had not married you, you would not have been able to go to war, so you would not have been wounded and scarred, or lost your home and your wealth. Hawk, you have lost everything, because of me.”
“I have lost everything, only, if I have lost you. Why will you not believe me?” he asked, stepping once forward for each of her steps back. Catching up, he placed his hands on either side of her face. “Listen to my words, Alex. I love you, and I want to stay married to you. In so saying, I am fully cognizant that I repudiate my father, thereby burying him and his hold over me—over both of us—once and forever.”
Alex nearly shouted for joy. Hawk’s declaration was everything she dreamed, but it was time for her to be honest as well. “You should know,” she said, stepping to the window and looking out, “that I planned to seduce you as a form of revenge.”
Hawk wanted to tell her that hers was a sweet revenge, but he could see that she was serious, and this was no time for levity. “Why did you?”
“After you left for France, I heard your friends talking—though you recently said they are not your friends. Still, they knew that you married me only to care for your family. They said you could not bear to touch me, and since you had not… touched me, I thought they knew what they were talking about.”
Scandalous Brides Page 22