Simmer All Night

by Geralyn Dawson

  If Jake ever found out what mischief Cole had wreaked in the folly—now there's an appropriate name—he'd shoot him dead. As well he should. Cole quickly dealt with two more logs and the pile of firewood at his feet continued to grow. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped onto his shoulder. Like rain. Like yesterday.

  Memory flashed of a bare-breasted Christina and like lightning, heat filled his loins. What had he done?

  Pushed her into a hasty marriage, that's what.

  Cole sent the ax sailing, twisting round and round like the blades of a windmill. He launched into a string of curses blue enough to make a sapphire sky look pale. What should he do now? Chrissy had landed a titled fish—exactly what her mother wanted for her.

  While he understood why Elizabeth felt the way she did, he didn't agree with her. Christina shouldn't marry a man she didn't love.

  He hated to say it, but this illness had obviously scrambled Jake's and Elizabeth's thinking. Jake's mistake was understandable. After all, he had no experience with marriage or love. But Elizabeth... well... under normal circumstances, Cole felt certain she'd know better. After what she'd shared with Christina's father, how could she possibly wish a loveless marriage upon her daughter?

  Cole loaded his arms with split logs and carried them to the woodpile. But then, Elizabeth didn't mean for Chrissy to marry without love. She didn't mean for her to accept the first Englishman who'd asked. By accepting Welby's suit, Chrissy was reacting to being sent away from home, reacting to what had transpired between the two of them yesterday in the folly.

  Which brought the blame right back around to Cole and the question at hand. "What am I going to do about this betrothal?"

  "That's almost identical to the question I've been asking."

  Cole glanced over his shoulder to see Lana Kleberg standing beside the brewhouse, her two children eyeing the woodpile with interest. He shot the lovely widow a rueful grin, embarrassed at having been caught talking to himself, until Sophie stepped forward and spoke in a tone filled with awe.

  "That's a lot of wood, Mr. Morgan. You've cut enough to last until Thanksgiving."

  "Shoot." Michael folded his arms and snorted with disdain. "All that wouldn't last a winter's morning here at Hartsworth."

  "I'm not talking about here. I'm talking about home."

  When the bickering continued, Lana Kleberg interrupted. "Enough, children. Run along now while I speak with Mr. Morgan. I'll meet you back at the house in half an hour."

  "But Mama," Sophie protested. "You just got over a headache. You might need us to help you back to the house."

  "I'll escort your mother," Cole assured the girl.

  With that, Michael's obvious disdain notched down into disgust. "We can't count on you. You were supposed to stop Miss Chrissy and you didn't."

  Cole had no reply to that. The boy was right.

  "Go on children," their mother said sternly.

  Throwing Cole a pair of fierce looks, the two obeyed Lana. Cole sauntered over to the tree branch where he'd draped his shirt. Shrugging into it, he asked, "In regard to your question, I take it you were referring to Christina's happy news?"

  "Happy news?" Lana wrinkled her nose. "Your sense of humor escapes me, Mr. Morgan."

  "Call me Cole, please."

  "Please tell me you know how to fix this problem. She simply cannot marry Lord Welby."

  "Let's sit down and talk about this." Cole gestured toward an iron bench a short distance away. Once they were settled, he asked, "So, you are against this marriage? I thought you wanted her to marry an Englishman."

  "Of course I'm against it. She's not in love with him. That's the kind of marriage she needs and deserves. Chrissy needs to love and be loved in return. She is a very emotional woman who feels things deeply. It will destroy her spirit to marry without love. You know her, Cole. You know this won't make her happy. Are you going to stand by and watch her make the biggest mistake of her life?"

  Frustration filled him. Lana Kleberg didn't know the whole picture, and he couldn't tell her. "I don't know what to do. What's your idea? What do you think I should do?"

  "I don't have an idea, although after watching Chrissy pretend to be happy this morning at breakfast, Michael's solution actually appears worth considering."

  Imagining the picture, Cole decided he'd made the right choice in skipping the morning meal. "So what is Michael's solution?"

  "He thinks you should go to Welby and threaten to break his legs if he doesn't call the wedding off."

  The idea was appealing. Mentally, Cole pictured such a scene. The thought of throwing a few punches at the pretty-faced lord made his fist itch to fly.

  He glanced at the boy's mother and observed, "Your boy is a bloodthirsty pup, isn't he?"

  She shrugged. "Michael loves Chrissy."

  "Well, her family loves her, too. Listen, ma'am, the reality of the situation is that I can't do a blessed thing to Welby. It's not my place to interfere in family matters like this. Her grandfather approves, so our opinions are of no consequence."

  "That's ridiculous, Cole," Lana said. "Chrissy and the earl are just getting to know one another. As far as family matters go... well... it is my place to interfere because she considers me and my children family. She told me so. We talked a lot about family on the voyage over here."

  That piqued Cole's interest. "Oh? What did Christina have to say?"

  "She said that it takes more than blood relations to make a family, that it takes listening to one another and caring about how a person feels. She said that to be a family, people had to learn to compromise. What I remember most clearly is when she talked about being in love."

  "In love! Who is she in love with?"

  "My children," Lana replied with a smile. "She asked Michael and Sophie if they'd be her new family. She said she'd always wanted a sister and that she needed a new brother since the one she had didn't want her anymore."

  Cole closed his eyes, shaking his head. The part about Jake not wanting her was stupid. Cole knew his friend loved his sister deeply. Jake honestly believed this trip was the best thing for her. It tore at Cole's heart to think that Christina felt unwanted by her family, even though those feelings were certainly unwarranted. He cleared his throat. "All that is well and good, but I don't see how it has much to bear on what's happening here. As long as Christina is set upon this course of action, like I said before, it doesn't much matter what the rest of us think."

  "She does appear to be set on the idea," Lana said with a sigh. "The children and I all but wore our tongues off last night trying to talk her out of it, and it did not one whit of good. Why, the girl has enough cotton in her ears to batt a quilt. That leaves us with the wrong bridegroom, which is why we came to see you this morning. This is a man's job. Cole, you need to somehow convince Welby he shouldn't marry Chrissy."

  Cole shook his head. "I can't. Word around Hartsworth is that the man is totally besotted. I heard he has already sent for a tailor because he intends to order up a whole new set of vests in order to look his best for his bride-to-be."

  Lana snorted with disgust and Cole nodded with agreement at her reaction, then continued, "Besides, from what I'm told of how things are done over here, Welby can't break off the engagement without his honor taking a blow. These Englishmen take honor as seriously as we do at home."

  Lana winced. "Unless something drastic happens Chrissy won't be the one to call the wedding off. Oh, I can't bear it. This has all happened too fast."

  Too fast. Hmm. A glimmer of an idea fluttered in Cole's mind. "How fast? When do they plan to do the deed? Is the date set?"

  "I asked the viscount that this morning. All he said was 'soon.'" After a moment's pause, she added, "I just don't understand this. I know she's impetuous, but not even Chrissy would jump into an engagement this fast. Something must have happened to push her into making this hasty decision."

  Cole winced. Something had happened, all right, and it was his fault. He'd pushed her into acting
rashly. He was the reason she was rushing into marriage.

  Rushing. Fast. Rash. Hasty. The words bounced around in his brain and finally molded the solution into shape. "Time," he said softly. "That's it. That's what we need."

  "Time? What do you mean?"

  "A long engagement. It solves both problems. 'Marry in haste, repent at leisure.' I've heard Elizabeth say it. And Chrissy will have time to come to her senses. In fact..." his voice trailed off as another flash of inspiration hit him. "Of course. It's perfect."

  "What's perfect?" Lana asked, her voice sounding somewhat peeved.

  Cole took her hand and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss. "I'll need your help. And the children's. Y'all can concentrate on Welby. I don't think our cause would be served for me to have much to do with him. This plan will take some heavy-duty persuading, but I think I know the arguments we can use. I'll work on Christina, though I'll need to give her time to cool off. Y'all can start right away. I think we can pull this off."

  "Pull what off!"

  "We are going to convince Christina to go home before she says 'I do.' After all, it's only right that she take her fiancé home to meet her mother."

  Chapter 7

  The clocks throughout Hartsworth chimed two A.M. as Chrissy hurried down the corridor toward Cole's bedroom. She absolutely, positively didn't want to be doing this, but she had no other choice. She'd never guessed her engagement to Welby would create such trouble, but it had. The viscount was downright possessive of her; he barely let her out of his sight. Every time she ventured from the family quarters at Hartsworth there he'd be, lurking and ready to pounce upon her—in a gentlemanly way, of course. The only time she'd been able to dodge him was when Lana ran interference for her. Thank goodness Lord Welby appeared to have a soft spot for her friend.

  Even then, he always found her eventually. Chrissy sometimes wondered if he had a sixth sense that kept him apprised of her location. It was enough to drive her crazy.

  It was enough to make her consider calling off the engagement.

  Of course, she couldn't do that. Pride, among other things, wouldn't allow it. Maybe Lana was right and she had acted rashly in accepting the marriage offer, but darned if she'd put up with Cole Morgan ambling around saying "I told you so." And that's exactly what he would do.

  In the four days since their... interlude... in the folly, she and Cole had exchanged exactly two words. They'd passed in a corridor the morning following her betrothal announcement—neither noticed the other in time to alter their direction without being obvious—and he'd said, "Fool," to which she'd replied, "Idiot."

  She'd have liked to send Michael on this errand, but the boy and his sister had been pecking at her for days. She simply couldn't face their unending arguments and Cole Morgan at the same time. The children had made it clear they objected to the betrothal, but what's done was done and they'd simply have to get used to the idea. Time would take care of that situation.

  With this other problem, however, time was her enemy.

  Which was why she found herself twisting the knob on the door to Cole Morgan's bedroom.

  Quickly, she slipped inside and silently shut the door behind her. She waited where she stood for a full minute, working up the nerve to approach the bed.

  He slept with both the window drapes and bed curtains open wide. As a result, moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling-length window and cast the room, including his bed, in a silvery glow. Chrissy could easily make out his shape lying there beneath the blankets. Mostly beneath the blankets, that is.

  He had one long bare muscular leg flung atop the heap.

  Chrissy blinked, then forced her attention to where his head rested on a pillow. He lay on his side, facing her. He snores. Hah. How uncouth.

  Of course, compared to Jake, who sounded like a sawmill when he slept, Cole's snore passed for mild.

  Overcoming her hesitation, she marched over to the bed, reached for the lump she thought to be his shoulder, and shook. "Wake up, Morgan. I need to talk to you."

  His eyes opened. "Gypsy Belle? Is that you?"

  Gypsy Belle? That's a soiled dove's name if I've ever heard one. Chrissy made a fist and punched him on the side of his arm. "It's Chrissy, you fool. Wake up. As much as I hate it, I need you."

  He sat straight up in bed. "What?"

  "Be quiet." She clapped a hand over his mouth. "You'll wake the whole house."

  Cole yanked her hand away, then reached out and lit the bedside lamp.

  His wavy hair was boyishly rumpled, his eyes still hazy from slumber. Chrissy tried her best to keep her gaze from straying below his neck, but the female in her won out. Oh my. A thin dusting of dark hair covered his broad chest and arrowed intriguingly downward to where the covers pooled in his lap.

  "What are you doing here?"

  She wanted to run her fingers across his chest to see if it was as hard as it looked.

  "Bug! What the hell are you doing?"

  Nothing. I'm not touching. She didn't intend to, at least, but somehow her hand ended up hovering mere inches above his chest. Thank God he grabbed her wrist and pushed her away, snapping her out of her haze. Otherwise, no telling what idiocy she might have attempted.

  She pulled back and put some distance between them. "I have to talk to you, and I can't seem to manage it during the daytime."

  "That's because Lord Windy stays draped around you like a ratty old coat," Cole grumbled. Then he shook his head. "I can't believe you've done this. What if someone saw you come in here? Don't you have a care for your reputation?"

  "Lord Welby and no, no one saw me. That's why I waited so late to come. I've been careful."

  Cole picked up his gold pocket watch from the table and flipped back the cover. "No, you've been lucky. If no one saw you, that is. Christina, since all the guests arrived for the house party, this is one of the busiest times of night."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Folks are returning to their own rooms following their visits to others."

  "At this time of night?" Chrissy scoffed. "That's silly. What could they possibly be... oh."

  "Yes, oh."

  She shrugged. "Well, what's done is done. I'm here now so we might as well not waste the chance."

  Warily, Cole replied, "Chance for what?"

  "I told you. I need to talk to you."

  "No. You told me you need me. It's that kind of talk, Christina, that gets a girl in trouble."

  Chrissy blew a frustrated breath. "Pay attention, Morgan. It's about the Declaration."

  That got his attention. He made as if to rise from bed, but suddenly he stopped. "Turn around."

  "Why?"

  "Just do it, please?"

  The please won her over. She could count on both hands the times he'd said that particular word to her. She did as he asked, then tried not to listen—or not imagine, anyway—as she heard the rustle of clothing.

  Finally, he said, "What about the Declaration?"

  She turned and tried not to stare at the picture of his long tanned fingers fixing the last button on his pants before reaching for a brilliant white shirt. Somehow, watching him dress seemed more intimate than seeing a good bit of him bare in his bed.

  "Christina?"

  She cleared her throat. "It's about tomorrow. I don't know if you heard the news, but Lord Bennet arrived at Hartsworth late this evening."

  "It's two in the morning. It's tomorrow already."

  "Don't be difficult." Chrissy sat on the corner of his bed and ignored the strange look that came over his face. "My grandfather has arranged an entertainment for the afternoon that should appeal to our guests' and Lord Bennet's, in particular, fascination with other lands. However, this plan won't do us one bit of good unless one of us is with Bennet to herd the conversation in the direction we need. I'm afraid that under the circumstances I won't have the opportunity to mine him for information like I did the others."

  "Mine, Christina?"

  She waved her arm. "A f
igure of speech."

  "And circumstances being the Viscount of Windy."

  "That's Viscount Welby," she absently corrected. "No 'of.' "

  Cole arched a cynical brow. "How interesting that you think it more important to educate me on the nuances of proper address for British aristocracy than to scold me for the slight to your betrothed."

  She sighed. "Other than to concede that Welby does like to spend as much time with me as possible, something that's only natural for a fiancé, I might add, I'm not going to waste my breath talking to you about my upcoming marriage." Ignoring his snort, she continued, "I'm here to talk about tomorrow. From gossip I've solicited from other ladies, I believe Lord Bennet may indeed know something about the Declaration. I need you to follow through for me."

  Having known him basically all her life, Chrissy knew when she'd managed to trigger his anger. Upon spying the tick in his jaw, she prepared herself for verbal assault.

  He began with a lazy drawl. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it my job to locate the missing Declaration? I have this vague recollection of being sent here for exactly that reason."

  "Now, Cole..."

  "Don't you 'Now, Cole' me. You risked your reputation by coming to my room tonight to ask me for help for something that is my job to do." He braced his hands on his hips and took three steps toward her. Chrissy scooted back just a little bit on his bed. "Do you have any idea how crazy that makes me?"

  Pretty crazy, from the looks of it.

  "I can't help but wonder just how your brain works, Christina. Maybe while you're here in England we should take you to London and have it studied. Perhaps scientists would discover some peculiarity in your head they could somehow replicate to benefit mankind. I'm sure there must be instances when a recklessness pill might come in handy."

  "Aren't you funny."

  "No, I'm furious. Do you have no faith at all in my abilities? Do you think I'm so incompetent?" He was right in front of her now, leaning down, his face in hers as he demanded, "Did my lack of control at the folly the other day lead you to conclude I'm as feather-headed as you are?"