Accidental Bride (Beaufort Brides #3)

by Noelle Adams

  This was going to get old really quick.

  He actually didn’t mind the old woman. She was crazy, of course, with her old-fashioned ways of thinking and talking, with her obsession with her family history, and with her collection of stuffed Siamese cats. But he’d always found her rather amusing. Plus, Kelly clearly loved her, and that was reason enough for Peter to think well of her.

  But he hadn’t been living with her then.

  From the moment he returned with his clothes and personal items, he couldn’t seem to get away from her in the house. Even when he and Kelly were alone in their room, unpacking and organizing space in the bathroom and closet, he was aware of Mrs. Beaufort’s presence. She was talking on the phone in the hallway right outside their door or puttering around in the garden, right outside the window to their room, or sticking her head into the room without knocking and asking Kelly to help her get dinner ready.

  It was going to be a real challenge to romance Kelly with Mrs. Beaufort as an audience.

  They ate dinner in the formal dining room, at a huge table that was way too big for the three of them. Kelly was unusually quiet, and her grandmother quizzed him the whole time on his plans for the future and why he was so foolish as to not allow his parents to help him get started in the hospitality industry.

  Peter replied as politely and patiently as he could, and he knew he’d behaved well when Kelly gave him a sympathetic smile, as if she understood how hard it was for him and she appreciated the effort.

  After dinner, they all went into the “parlor” to drink hot cocoa and amuse themselves before bedtime.

  It was only seven-thirty. Peter desperately wanted a television or his phone or a book or something. Instead, Mrs. Beaufort dozed by the fire while Kelly studied for an exam.

  Peter didn’t have any work to do for his classes. He only had two to complete before he graduated, and they were both general education requirements he could do in his sleep. He paced around the room for a while. Then noticed that the leg on one of the side tables was loose, so he fixed it, pleased with something useful to do. But, when that was done, he paced some more, moving between looking out of the window and studying the creepy members of the Pride, Mrs. Beaufort’s Siamese cats, which had each been stuffed and displayed upon dying.

  He decided that he was going to have an early bedtime tonight. Maybe around nine.

  “You can go the room and watch TV, if you want,” Kelly said, glancing up and noticing his fidgeting.

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “He’s a gentleman,” Mrs. Beaufort said from her chair. Her eyes were closed, and it was spooky the way she seemed perfectly aware of her surroundings, even in her sleep. “He won’t leave us yet.”

  “But he has nothing to do.”

  “Do you sing?” Mrs. Beaufort asked.

  “No!”

  “Play an instrument?”

  “No, I’m not musical.” He managed to temper his tone, although he was startled by the idea of singing or playing for this old woman’s amusement.

  “He could read a book out loud to us.”

  “Grandmama,” Kelly said, a chiding note in her voice. “Don’t be silly. Peter doesn’t want to read out loud.”

  “I could, if you really wanted me to.” He managed not to sound too unnerved by the idea.

  “Please don’t,” Kelly said, meeting his eyes, a flicker of amusement in hers. “It would distract me from my studying.”

  Peter sighed in relief. “Well, I don’t want to distract you.”

  “Don’t you normally work out or run in the evenings?” Kelly asked, setting down her book. “Why don’t you go take a run or something?”

  Peter glanced over at Mrs. Beaufort. “I don’t want to be rude.”

  “You won’t be rude.” Kelly cleared her throat. “Grandmama? Tell him it won’t be rude to go take a run.”

  Mrs. Beaufort opened her eyes just a slit. “Well…”

  “Don’t tease him. Tell him it’s fine.”

  “Exercise would be acceptable,” Mrs. Beaufort intoned.

  Peter exhaled in relief, smiling over at Kelly and mouthing a thank-you.

  She gave a silent chuckle and picked up her book again, as Peter got up to make a hasty retreat.

  He changed clothes and then went outside to run through the historic neighborhood. It was a mild evening, and he had a lot of pent-up energy, so he ran for almost an hour before he finally returned to the house.

  He was coming in the front door when he nearly ran into Mrs. Beaufort. She was evidently heading upstairs.

  “Did you have a good run?” she asked.

  “Yes. Thanks. Where’s Kelly?”

  “She said she was tired and so she went to her room. I am on my way to bed myself.”

  It was barely nine, but Peter wasn’t about to complain about her early bedtime. “Okay. Goodnight.”

  Mrs. Beaufort took a step toward him, her expression changing. “Just a minute, young man.”

  Peter had been about to turn away, wanting to find Kelly, but he paused immediately at her words.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Beaufort demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Peter wiped sweat from his face. He’d felt pretty good until he’d come back inside. It was way too hot and stuffy in this house.

  “What are you doing with my granddaughter?”

  He blinked. “We got married. I thought she explained.”

  “Yes, she explained. But now I’m asking you. I want to know what your intentions are with her.”

  “My intentions?” It was like something out of an old-fashioned book. “I married her. I’m not taking advantage of her.”

  “Both are possible, if this is some sort of a game you are playing with her.”

  Peter’s heart was pounding, partly from his run but partly because of this conversation. He had no idea how she’d realized something wasn’t right about their marriage, but she obviously knew there was more going on than they wanted to show to the world. “I’m not playing any games with Kelly. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No. I wouldn’t.” He was a full foot taller than the old woman was, but it still felt like she was towering over him. He had no idea how she did it, but he would like to master the skill himself.

  “Kelly is not as easy and casual as she might appear on the surface. She can be hurt. I will not let you hurt her. I don’t care if you’re a Blake. If you hurt her, I will crush you.”

  Peter was absolutely astonished. So astonished that he couldn’t answer with anything but the truth. “I would never hurt her. I love her. I love her.” He was dripping with sweat, and he felt like an absolute idiot.

  But evidently his answer appeased Mrs. Beaufort. After another moment of cold scrutiny, her face relaxed slightly. “Very well. I expect you to be a real husband to her.”

  “That’s what I want,” he said, his mind whirling, trying to orient itself to this bizarre conversation. “That’s what I want too.”

  “Very well.” She gave a little nod. “Then go to her.”

  Peter stood like a statue while Mrs. Beaufort made her slow, dignified way up the stairs. Then he shook himself off.

  Savannah definitely had the old lady wrong. Everyone thought she would do anything to marry her granddaughters off to rich men, men of good families. Yes, here she was, with Kelly married to a Blake, and she was doing her best to intimidate him and push him away.

  She was trying to protect Kelly, and Peter couldn’t help but like her better for it.

  Mrs. Beaufort would have no way of knowing that protecting Kelly was the thing Peter wanted to do the most.

  ***

  As Mrs. Beaufort predicted, Kelly was indeed waiting for him when he walked down the hall and into their large room.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her textbook opened in front of her, but she didn’t appear to be reading. She wore the two long braids she always wore, and she’d changed into a tank top
and a pair of pajama pants.

  She looked relaxed and beautiful, and Peter’s heart did a silly little skip when he saw her. In bed. In their bed.

  No, not their bed. He was sleeping on that little couch.

  “How was your run?” she asked, pushing her glasses back up her nose as he entered the room.

  “Good.”

  “Did you see Grandmama?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she…did she say anything embarrassing?”

  Peter wondered what she would consider embarrassing. “She wanted to know my intentions.”

  “What?” Kelly’s green eyes widened, and she straightened her shoulders.

  Peter tried not to let his eyes slip down to where he could see the outline of her breasts beneath her top. “She demanded to know my intensions. She didn’t want me to hurt you.”

  Kelly’s face twisted unexpectedly for a minute. “She thought you would hurt me?”

  “I don’t know. But she told me I better not.” He gave her a little smile. “She really loves you.”

  Kelly looked down at her book, but he knew she wasn’t seeing it. She gave a brief nod. “Yeah. But I thought she would jump at the chance of my marrying a Blake.”

  “Maybe she only wants you to marry whoever she picks out for you herself.”

  “Maybe. She was talking about Morris Alfred Theobald III earlier this week.”

  Peter scowled. “There’s no way. He’s like twenty years older than you. And he’s awful.”

  “Don’t look so outraged,” Kelly said with a giggle. “She said he wouldn’t be interested in me. Plus, I’m a married woman now, remember?”

  He felt better at the thought. “Right.” He wiped some more perspiration off his face. “I’ve got to take a shower. Do you need to use the bathroom before I do?”

  “No. I’m fine. I put some clean towels in there earlier.”

  Peter went into the bathroom and got into the shower, cleaning himself up and telling himself not to get too excited about the prospect of going back into the bedroom with his wife.

  She was sleeping on the bed. He was sleeping on the couch.

  That was what they’d agreed to. That was the right thing to do.

  He didn’t get to sleep with her—touch her, kiss her, make love to her—just because she was his wife. No matter how much he wanted to.

  He was confident that he was in control of himself when he went back into the room, wearing a T-shirt and pair of pajama pants. He preferred to sleep in just his underwear, but he was pretty sure that would make Kelly uncomfortable.

  Kelly had turned the television on when he emerged from the bathroom, and she was flipping the channels.

  “I thought you had to study,” he said, trying not to look at her too closely. She didn’t look the way she had last night—loose hair, sexy dress, seductive manner. She looked like normal Kelly—a fact that made him want her even more.

  “I’ve studied enough. It’s kind of early, but Grandmama won’t go to bed until I do, so I always just go to my room early. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It’s fine. I’d rather be on our own, anyway.”

  Kelly had put a pillow, a sheet, and a couple of blankets over on the couch, so he went over to try to make a bed for himself.

  “You’re not going to be comfortable over there.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Why don’t you come sleep on the bed with me?”

  He desperately wanted to, but he also knew that would put him in a very dangerous position. Better to keep his distance, until Kelly was more receptive to him. “I said I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be grumpy about it.”

  He gave her a significant look. “I’ll be grumpy if you don’t listen to what I say. For the fifth time, I’ll be fine sleeping here.”

  She made a face at him, but it was obviously mostly teasing. He stretched out on the couch, cringing as he realized how short it was.

  He wasn’t going to be able to sleep on this thing at all.

  Kelly paused in her channel surfing to watch him as he tried to find a comfortable position. But there wasn’t a position to be had. His head kept bumping against the wooden armrest, and his left leg kept falling off the narrow seat, and his legs had to bend up in unnatural positions to fit them in the short length.

  He was very conscious of Kelly’s observation. She seemed to be secretly laughing at him.

  “It’s rude to say I told you so,” he muttered.

  She chuckled softly, deliciously. “I didn’t say a thing.”

  He sighed and let his head drop, knocking against the damned wooden armrest again.

  “Would you stop being stubborn and get over here?” Kelly demanded, after another minute. “There’s plenty of room in the bed.”

  He sat up, trying to decide whether Kelly would really be okay with it. She sounded perfectly natural, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, but she hid a lot that she didn’t like to reveal to the world.

  Not even to him.

  “Besides,” Kelly added, a lilt to her tone, “if Grandmama happens to peek in during the night, she’ll be very upset to see you sleeping on the settee.”

  He gasped. “She’s not going to peek in while we sleep, is she?”

  Kelly burst into laughter.

  He frowned as he stood up and walked over to the bed. “You shouldn’t scare me like that.”

  She held down the covers to invite him in on the other side of the bed, and he reminded his body that this didn’t mean what he wanted it to mean.

  It was only when she was drunk that she’d wanted him for anything but a friend. She wasn’t drunk now. This was real life. And she had no interest in him that way.

  Yet.

  Things could change. They had forty-four more days.

  When he looked over at Kelly, she was smiling at him. “You’re a real trooper to put up with Grandmama like this.”

  His breath hitched at the fondness in her face. “I don’t mind. Really. You were joking about her peeking in on us, though. Weren’t you?”

  “Of course.” Her eyelashes lowered, as if she were suddenly shy. Then she reached over and put her fingers on his shirt, very lightly. “I didn’t realize you slept in pajamas.”

  “I don’t normally,” he admitted, giving himself a firm lecture about how, just because she touched him, didn’t mean she wanted him to touch her. “I thought it might be more polite to wear more clothes, though.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth quivered. “So I shouldn’t buy you some nice flannel pajamas for your birthday?”

  He choked on amusement. “Please don’t.”

  “Too bad.” Her hand was still on him, resting gently on his chest. “Is it…don’t you find it kind of strange, that we’re married?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “You seem like it’s no big deal.”

  He couldn’t tell if she wanted him to think it was a big deal or not. “Well, it’s not as strange as I’d expect it to be. I mean, it’s you. How bad can it be?”

  He lifted her chin so she was meeting his eyes again, and her mouth widened into a slow smile.

  He couldn’t seem to pull his hand back, and they kept smiling at each other. And he was starting to wonder how wrong it would be if he just leaned over to kiss her.

  She looked warm and soft and fond—like she really liked him. Maybe she wouldn’t pull away.

  Before he could decide, a clanging from somewhere in the house startled him so much he jerked, pulling his hand back like he’d just been caught doing something naughty.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “It’s Grandmama.” Kelly was already getting out of bed. Her tank top had slipped down over one shoulder, showing more than it should have of her cleavage. “I gave her a bell to ring if she needed me.”

  “And she rings now?” Peter felt like a bucket of frigid water had been poured on his head. “What could she need?”

  “I don’t know, but
I better go check on her.”

  Peter sighed as Kelly hurried out of the room, her slim body graceful, desirable, completely out of his reach.

  He was never going to get Kelly to see him differently if they didn’t have any privacy. She’d never agree to move out of her grandmother’s house, though. She was completely committed to taking care of her, and she’d never believe the old woman would be okay on her own.

  Maybe they could get away for a short time. A honeymoon. That was what they needed.

  After all, it would be completely natural to take a little honeymoon.

  That would be perfect. Some time alone with Kelly, so she could see he could be more to her than a friend.

  He would think of something.

  As long as Grandmother Beaufort didn’t come with them.

  Five

  The next morning, Kelly woke up with the absolute certainty that something was wrong.

  It didn’t take her long to figure out what it was.

  She was sleeping in the guest room downstairs, and the covers and pillow beside her showed clear evidence of someone having slept in the bed with her.

  Peter.

  The shower was running in the bathroom, so he must have already gotten up and was getting ready for the day.

  She had an eight o’clock class today, and it was almost seven. She needed to get up pretty soon too.

  Sitting up, she rubbed her face and straightened the straps of her tank top. Last night hadn’t been as awkward as she would have expected. She and Peter had watched some TV, talked casually, and then eventually fallen asleep. She hadn’t rolled over on top of him or anything embarrassing like that during the night. While she’d been brutally aware of his body right beside her, she’d managed not to act like she was particularly uncomfortable with the arrangement.

  She’d have to keep up with the same demeanor. She couldn’t let this fake marriage damage their friendship. It never would have happened at all if she hadn’t gotten so wasted in Vegas, so she was the one responsible for ensuring that they got through it with as little difficulty as possible.