“But…”
“For all his faults, I don’t think your father realized he was giving you to a man capable of cold-blooded murder.”
Liana saw the flicker of something in his eyes and for an elusive moment, she wasn’t sure if Alex was describing Rothermere or himself.
“The less he knows or suspects, the safer your father is. Your parents became Rothermere’s enemies this morning, as did Sussex and Miranda, and everyone else who helped thwart his plans.”
“I’m sorry our situation has endangered Their Graces and Maman.”
“There’s no need for you to worry overmuch about Daniel and Miranda or your mother and sister. Sussex will take care of himself and his duchess and he’ll look after every member of your family—including your father.”
“Papa should be quite safe,” she murmured. “Rothermere has to know he poses no threat to him. Papa pretends the world is a different place. And he stays so deep in his cups that his memory and his conscience are seldom called into question. He doesn’t live in the real world like the rest of us. He sees the world as he wants it to be.”
Alex shrugged. “We are all of us guilty of that at times.”
She looked up at him. “You defend him knowing his weakness changed the course of our lives?”
“It’s possible he did sooner what we would have done later.” Alex met her gaze. “Had we been given the opportunity.”
“You didn’t go to my father and ask for my hand, did you? You didn’t want to marry me.”
He didn’t insult her by denying it. “I didn’t want to marry anyone. I didn’t intend to marry until I reached the age of thirty.”
She couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Why thirty?”
Unable to reveal his membership in the Free Fellows League or the Official Charter that mandated members not marry before the age of thirty, Alex gave his answer some thought. “It seemed a good age. Old enough to have sown plenty of wild oats, but young enough to marry and start a family.”
Liana smiled. “Colin had the same notion. He swore he would never marry until he reached the age of thirty or was rich enough to support a wife and family. And look what happened…”
“He married an heiress,” Alex said.
“Yes.”
Alex’s reply was tongue in cheek. “And he and Lady Grantham seem very happy together, despite her obvious wealth.”
“They are,” she confirmed. “Deliriously so.”
“If I recall, theirs was an unexpected union as well.”
“Very unexpected. One day he was a sworn bachelor and the next, he was happily married. And Colin had never mentioned Gillian’s name before he married her.”
“Then, there’s hope for us,” Alex assured her. “At least we knew each other.”
“We danced together once.” Her voice held a soft, dreamlike quality.
“I remember.”
His voice was deep and husky. The sound of it made her nervous. Liana looked down at her makeshift bandage and fingered the emerald in the stickpin. “Whispers abound about Rothermere’s unsavory behavior,” Liana reminded him, still unwilling to excuse her father’s actions. “Even I had heard enough to be fearful of him.”
Alex lifted her injured wrist, turned it over and pressed his lips against the fabric covering her pulse point. “All evidence to the contrary.”
Liana’s heart pounded against her ribcage. “What would you have had me do?”
“Not fight him. He’s bigger and stronger and crueler than you are.”
“I had to stand up to him. I couldn’t acquiesce to my father’s wishes and say vows with a man like that. Vows are permanent and I could not tie myself to him or allow anyone else to do so. Not when…”
“Not when?” Alex prompted.
Liana was taken aback by the smoldering look in his gray eyes. “Not while I still held on to the hope that you were coming to save me.”
“Liana.”
The way he said her name, softly, firmly, accenting each syllable should have warned her, but nothing could have prepared her for the speed at which he moved to cover her mouth with his own.
His kiss took her breath away.
And Liana willingly parted with it. She didn’t need it. She had Alex’s breath to sustain her. A cascade of shooting stars appeared on the back of her eyelids when she closed her eyes. His kiss sent tingles racing through her body, igniting her nerve endings from head to toe. It was the most extraordinary feeling she had ever experienced and Liana marveled that the touch of his lips to hers could produce such a violent reaction within her.
She expected him to take possession of her, to dominate her. But Alexander Courtland surprised her. His mouth was firm, his lips cool, yet tender. He didn’t take from her. He gave. Pleasure. More pleasure than she had ever imagined possible. He offered her a wondrous glimpse of their future and Liana accepted all that he offered. She feared she might swoon again, feared she might splinter into hundreds of sparkling pieces and float away on a cloud of pure bliss. Alex moved his lips over hers and Liana followed his lead, allowing him to take whatever liberties he wished.
She, who had always been so sensible, who had never understood how young ladies of good breeding could risk their reputations by slipping away from chaperones to steal a private moment with a young man, suddenly grasped the danger. She, who thought she was above that sort of behavior, had just learned better. She was as likely to succumb to temptation as any other girl.
Because this was incredible. This was worth everything. The way he made her feel was worth the risk of scandal. No wonder chaperones kept diligent eyes on their innocent charges. She was kissing her husband. Her reputation was secure. The church had sanctioned their union. But Liana knew in her heart that even if it hadn’t, she would risk whatever scandal she had to face in order to experience Alexander Courtland’s kiss.
Her first kiss.
Alex cradled Liana’s face between his palms, holding her in position as he adjusted the angle of their kiss. Liana was a complete innocent. He knew the moment he claimed her mouth that he was the first man to do so. Her slight hesitation before she sighed into his kiss and became a willing participant told him everything he needed to know. He eased the pressure, softening the kiss, being careful not to bruise her. Her response was clumsy at first, more enthusiasm than technique, but she was a fast learner.
Alex traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, seeking permission to enter her mouth and deepen the kiss. Liana answered his request by parting her lips. He slipped his tongue inside and began a tactile exploration of her mouth, touching her tongue, her teeth, the sides and the roof of her mouth. She was soft and sweet and ever so giving.
He plunged his fingers into her hair, caressing the sensitive spot behind her ears with the pad of his thumbs. He was hungry, ravenous, loving the taste of her, the first tentative touch of her tongue on his, and her enthusiasm as she perfected his movements, added her own personal stamp, and began teaching him. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed kissing a woman as much, couldn’t remember if he’d ever enjoyed kissing anyone as much as he enjoyed kissing Liana. For him, the act of kissing had always been a brief prelude to the act of mating—a way to prepare his partner for the pleasures to come. But Liana’s lips were a revelation.
And he was in danger of losing his head and himself in them. He groaned aloud, recognized the sound for what it was and pulled back.
Liana sat there, her face upturned, eyes closed, her lips still damp from his smoldering kiss.
Alex clamped his jaw shut, grinding his teeth against the need to kiss her again. Longer. Harder. Better.
She opened her eyes, bewildered by his abrupt abandonment. “Alex?”
“We’re approaching the coaching inn.” He had to force the explanation through clenched teeth.
“Oh.” She sat back against the velvet cushions, suddenly aware of the slowing of the coach, the jangle of horses’ harnesses and the sounds of hoove
s and stable boys in the busy yard rushing to greet them.
“I thought you might want a moment to do something with—” He nodded in her direction, but didn’t meet her gaze.
Self-conscious, Liana glanced down at her dress, surprised to find it was still fastened, then ran a shaky hand over her hair, smoothing the tendrils that had escaped from her chignon when he’d tangled his fingers in it, feeling the circlet of creamy white orange blossoms he’d dislodged. “Thank you.”
His mouth turned up at the corner in what appeared to be either a grimace or a smile; his gray eyes had gone smoky and unreadable. “My pleasure, my lady.”
Unable to decipher the meaning of his words, Liana turned her attention to her appearance. Was he telling her he enjoyed kissing her? Or was he simply responding to her expression of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. Removing the garland of orange blossoms from her head, she inhaled the intoxicating fragrance of the tiny flowers filling the coach. She placed the circlet on the seat beside her. “I appreciate the time to smooth the wrinkles from skirts and repair the damage to my hair. I should hate to appear in a public inn in a state of dishevelment that might be cause for further scandal or embarrassment.”
Alex stared at her. She’d fixed the mess he’d made of her elegant coiffure, but there was nothing she could do about the becoming pink flush visible above her décolletage or her swollen, rosy red lips. There was no disguising the fact that she’d been thoroughly kissed. She was gorgeous and completely desirable.
Kissing her had been a mistake. A delightful mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. She might be his lawfully wedded wife, but he was honor-bound to keep his hands—and his mouth—off her. How was he going to manage that now that he knew how she felt in his arms? How responsive she was? Or how she tasted?
The coach rolled to a stop. “We’ve arrived at the White Horse, sir,” his driver called down from his perch.
“Thank you, Ralston,” Alex called back. He leaned forward, his hand on the door latch, then turned to Liana. “We’ll have half an hour to change horses and refresh ourselves. I’ll arrange a private room for you.”
“You don’t have to do that for me.”
“Yes, I do. You’re the Marchioness of Courtland now. We have a position to uphold.”
“Of course.” Liana nodded to show she understood she was no longer Miss McElreath, forced to make do in the public rooms of inns and taverns. She was the wife of a nobleman and expected to behave in a manner befitting her station. The idea that she was a marchioness would take a little getting used to.
Alex opened the door and a footman hastily unfolded the steps. “I’ll speak with the owner and come back for you. Schuyler will wait outside the door until I get back.”
“Schuyler?”
“The footman.” Alex frowned when he realized he’d neglected to introduce his bride to the staff serving her. “James Ralston is our driver. Bob Schuyler is our footman. And Tom Hiller is our outrider. They’ll introduce themselves and take care of your needs.” He stepped down from the coach and closed the door behind him.
Liana watched him go, admiring his straight back in his morning coat and his long legs in black formal trousers and shiny black shoes. He paused long enough to speak to Schuyler, who moved to the back of the coach before reappearing with a leather satchel, which he handed to Alex.
Liana touched her fingers to her lips. He’d kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, kissed her until she nearly swooned, then released her as if nothing had happened.
She sighed.
She had a great deal to learn about being a marchioness and even more to learn about the wonderfully fascinating man who had become her husband.
Chapter Fourteen
“I have no other but a woman’s reason. I think him so,
because I think him so.”
–William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
The coach pulled out of The White Horse Inn exactly one half hour after it pulled in. They exchanged Alex’s four matched black horses for a team of matched bays, hiring a saddle horse so Tom Hiller could ride ahead to Greneleafe Abbey and alert the staff to the arrival of Lord Courtland and his bride. Liana barely had enough time to tend to her most pressing needs, wash the road grime from her face, neck and arms, and enjoy a refreshing mug of cold cider before it was time to climb back into the coach for the remainder of the journey. But the brief respite had been a welcome relief from the constant swaying of the coach.
“I trust you had sufficient time in the inn.” Alex settled onto the customary gentleman’s seat, his back against the front wall of the vehicle, facing the rear wall. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, taking up most of the floor space to the left of her. He produced a copy of the morning newspaper, crossed his booted feet at the ankle, and began reading.
“Quite.” Liana hadn’t thought it possible for Alexander Courtland to look more handsome than he did at their wedding, but she was wrong. While she had been tidying up in her private room in the inn, Alex had exchanged his formal wedding coat, brocade waistcoat, and shoes for a pair of skintight buckskin breeches, and highly polished knee boots. The only article of clothing left from his wedding ensemble was his white linen shirt worn open at the neck with the emerald sleeve buttons she had given him as a wedding gift still holding his cuffs. If he had looked impossibly handsome at the wedding, he looked devastatingly dashing now.
“Good,” he replied.
Liana glanced down at her hands in dismay. What a difference one half hour made. She and Alex had gone from kissing like there was no tomorrow to polite one word replies. That didn’t bode well for their honeymoon so Liana took a deep breath and attempted conversation. “Will Mr. Beauclerk be awaiting you when we arrive at Greneleafe Abbey?”
“No.” Alex folded the newspaper and laid it aside. “He’ll remain in London during our stay at the Abbey.”
“Who is going to dress you?”
Alex gave a short laugh. “Believe it or not, my lady, but some titled English gentlemen do actually know how to dress themselves without the assistance or guidance of a valet.”
Liana had the grace to blush. “I’m sure you do, my lord, and quite nicely, too.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“I’ve always admired your taste—or Beauclerk’s taste—in clothing,” she said. “Particularly the cut of your coats, your waistcoats, and—” She glanced down at her bandaged wrist. “The way you fashion your cravats.”
“Thank you, Lady Courtland. Beauclerk simply takes care of my wardrobe. I select it. I choose my clothing, my tailors, my haberdashers, my shoe and boot makers.”
Liana fingered the smooth satin fabric of her wedding gown. “I’m fully aware of your exquisite taste in ladies’ fashions. Now I know you deserve the credit for having equally good taste in your own wardrobe. Not your valet.”
“The London dandies would say my dress is old-fashioned and too austere.”
“They obviously haven’t taken note of your brocade waistcoats.” She smiled. “You dress in a manner that suits you and your station in life. You would never dress in the frivolous and silly fashions London dandies advocate. To do so would make you appear foolish and you are not a silly, frivolous or foolish man.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Nor, I suspect, wasteful…”
“No?” Alex’s tone of voice held a teasing note. “Have you had a change of heart, Lady Courtland? Earlier in our journey, you chided me for needlessly keeping Greneleafe Abby fully staffed when I am rarely in residence.”
She responded to his questions in a saucy tone of her own. “Believe it or not, Lord Courtland, but some Scottish ladies are actually able to change their incorrect and judgmental notions of titled English gentlemen on our own.” She managed a coquettish look from beneath the fan of her eyelashes. “Upon occasion.”
“I’m gratified to hear it.”
She didn’t mince words. “I’m gratified to be able to do it.”
“What changed your mind?”
>
“You don’t do things in order to curry favor with your peers or with courtiers. You care about your heritage and the people who are part of that heritage. You cherish the legacy your father left you and work to make it better.” She met his gaze. “When I realized that, I realized that closing the Abbey for even part of the year would cause a hardship for the people who live and work there. People need to feel useful. They need to feel they have worth, that they are part of something greater and grander than themselves and the circumstances of their birth. You make it possible for the people in your employ to put food on their tables and have pride in their ability to provide for their families.”
Alex inclined his head. “Thank you, once again, Lady Courtland, for your faith in me.”
“You’ve earned it.”
“Then I thank you all the more because I realize you have a healthy skepticism of gentlemen’s motives. And this morning proves you are entirely justified in your lack of faith.”
Liana smiled at him. “I shall do everything in my power to put what was supposed to take place at St. Bartholomew’s this morning behind me and only remember what did happen. You came to my rescue. You and my mother and your fellow conspirators saved me from my father’s folly and Rothermere’s malice.”
At the mention of Rothermere and his malice, Alex clenched his jaw so hard a muscle began to tic in his cheek.
“Is there no recourse to bring him to justice for your father’s death?”
He shook his head. “Not without proof. And I haven’t been able to prove what I know he did.”
“There must be some way.”
Alex met her gaze and saw the tears sparkling in her eyes. Tears for a man she’d never met. Tears for a man he’d lost far too soon. The father he mourned every day. “Whatever else he is, Rothermere is a peer of the realm. He cannot be accused of the crime of murder without proof that the murder took place and that he was involved. Over the past dozen years, my mother and I have hired a number of Bow Street Runners to find the miscreants who did the deed and their connection to Rothermere. To no avail.” Alex plunged his fingers through his hair. “My father deserves justice. Felicity deserves justice. And I’m very much afraid my mother may take this opportunity to get it.”
A Bachelor Still Page 14