Light to Valhalla

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  “Hastings,” she called, marching toward the front hall. “Have the carriage brought round. I’m going to town.”

  Fifteen minutes later, ensconced in the plush interior of the Coverstone coach, Charley nibbled her lower lip, seriously doubting the wisdom of her little adventure. Perhaps she should have hired a hack. In this flashy conveyance everyone in London would know she’d driven to Chrisington House stalking her husband. She peeked through the window, the command to send the driver home hovering in her throat, but before she could utter a sound the grand steps of Veronica’s home crowned the small rise looming over the carriage.

  Heart hammering, Charley debated whether to flee or follow through with this fool’s errand. What if Alex wasn’t even there?

  The answer to her question was short to follow as Alex himself stepped from the arched front door. Garbed in sleek charcoal gray the perfectly tailored suit clung to his lean, hulking frame in a sensually dangerous manner. The black vest and cravat offset his raven hair and contrasted beautifully with his vivid eyes. Toned sinew shifted in a primal display beneath the layers of fabric and despite herself—despite all the hurt and anger—Charley knew the sudden urge to tear the layers from his body and smooth her palms along the equally thick layers of muscle.

  She swallowed back the wave of heat and shifted her eyes to his face. A markedly pleased—almost smug—expression lined his handsome face. He tucked something into the breast pocket of his greatcoat, smoothed his hands down the front, and stepped jauntily down the stairwell… whistling. Whistling! There could be only one reason for such levity. He’d just bedded the angel of the ton.

  Any inclination of flight drained. The world spun around her and she gripped the edge of the dark stained windowsill for support. When at last the blood returned to her head she flung open the carriage door and bolted from the vehicle in a flurry petticoats and righteous fury. “How dare you?” She marched toward the steps, oblivious to the curious stares of various bystanders.

  “Charley?” Alex stopped midstride, bewilderment flashing over his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” She planted fists on her hips. “Do not turn this around on me. The question is what are you doing here?”

  He strode stiltedly down the rest of the steps, glancing warily over his shoulder. “Now is not the time, Charley. Get in the carriage.” He grabbed for her arm.

  “No.” She jerked away, circling him cagily. “Now is exactly the time. I have caught you red handed leaving the house of your mistress. What better time to admit this marriage is an absolute sham? We were never supposed to be together, Alex, let’s just be honest about the fact. You don’t want me and you never have.” Each word intensified the ache in her chest. “Enough. I’m leaving. Our marriage is over.”

  Alex’s eyes hardened; the muscles in his jaw line working overtime. “For the love of Christ, Charley, do you have no faith in me? This isn’t what you think.”

  “Oh?” she asked, fluttering her lashes in mock sweetness. “Then what, pray tell, is this?” All pretense of civility dropped from her tone. “I saw you walk out of her house with that satisfied grin on your face. Do—Whoa!”

  Alex slung an arm about her waist and grasped her underarm, hauling her bodily back to the carriage.

  She wrestled against him. “Unhand me you overbearing brute!”

  “Satisfied?” he growled, tossing her up onto the coach bench.

  Charley landed half reclined on the cushioned seat, her legs sprawled apart for balance, her skirts bunched up to her knees.

  “Drive,” Alex barked to the whip, leaping into the coach and slamming the door shut. The carriage lurched into motion nearly unsettling Charley from her precarious perch. Fire and ice sparked her husband’s eyes as he crawled over her onto the bench in a primitive, predatory fashion. “Do I look satisfied to you?” he asked, gesturing pointedly to his nether region.

  Charley gulped, flicking her gaze to the generous bulge in his trousers. She shook her head.

  “I haven’t been satisfied in quite some time, Charley.” Heat flared between them as he dragged a scalding gaze down the column of her throat. “Three weeks, four days, and approximately eight hours if I’m not mistaken.”

  Her breathing quickened along with her pulse as familiar excitement fanned through her veins.

  Alex snaked an arm about her back, drawing her up hard against the flat of his chest. His face dropped to the opening at her throat while the fingers of his free hand flicked open the buttons. His breath licked down the front of her bodice and he kissed the hollow of cleavage peeking up over her chemise. Without conscious thought her head lulled back, relishing the sensations coursing over her skin. Her fingers wound through his hair, holding his lips to her, guiding him lower.

  “Charley,” he rasped, the tenor of his voice changing… evolving… growing more desperate. He reached down to haul her skirts up over her hips. “I—I want you, love. Only you.”

  “Please,” she murmured, desperate for his touch. His love. She reached down, fumbling with the fastenings of his breeches. Once free, Alex flattened her against the plush bench, stripping away her stockings and plunging into her without preamble.

  “Oh, yes,” she cried out, arching upward.

  This is what she longed for, craved. The slick of his body inside hers. The way he trembled beneath her fingertips. He completed her, made her whole, and the best part was that lying beneath him, locked in his arms, she could feel his driving need for her. “More, Alex. More,” she begged.

  He clasped her tighter, closer, and she arched against him, driving him on, matching his every frenzied stroke. Their loving was hard and fast, filled with abandon unlike any other time they’d been together. Deliciously out of control, Charley relished in the forsaken deed of being ravished in a carriage, she loved it… loved him, and somewhere in the midst of it all she realized that she trusted him. Deep within she knew he was not a murderer or adulterer… that he spoke the truth and loved her as no other.

  Trust. Love. For the first time she recognized how closely related the two were. The realization was freeing.

  She never wanted this moment to end, but she sensed the end coming and there was nothing she could do about it. Excitement built and squeezed within her until she could do nothing but cling mindlessly to her husband, silently striving for the release only he offered her.

  “Charley,” he grunted. “Oh, Charley…”

  Her name on his lips was too much. She shattered. Came completely undone and had no idea what occurred for a full minute in the aftermath of her profound release. When she finally recovered, Alex lay on top of her, still fully clothed, breathing hard. She smoothed a hand over his hair, twining her fingers through the close shorn locks. Contented she sighed, enjoying the gentle sway of the carriage and the clip clop of horses’ hooves on the cobbles.

  Alex looked up to her and smiled, eyes soft like blue skies in spring time. “Now, I’m satisfied.” He pressed a kiss to her collarbone and rested his head on her chest again. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered, tapping his fingers against her shoulder in time with the lub dub, lub dub thudding against her ribcage. “It’s like music.”

  The coach rattled to a halt, jarring them from the tender moment.

  “Oh, no.” Charley froze. “We’re home.”

  Alex shot away from her and lifted the corner of the curtain. “Damn.” His hands shot to his trouser fastenings.

  Charley too leapt to action, yanking her stockings up and her skirts down to her ankles.

  “Don’t forget your hair,” Alex said, an amused twinkle lighting his eye.

  “Oh, no, how bad is it?”

  He pursed his lips, fighting obvious convulsions of laughter. “Not that bad.”

  She reached back, the tangled mass stood a good six inches off the back of her head in a right rat’s nest.

  Sheer horror must have shown plain as day on her face because Alex burst out laughing.
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br />   “It’s not funny,” she hissed, searching the seat for a few errant pins. “Everyone will know what we were doing out here.”

  “Let them talk. They’re already talking.” Alex leaned forward, narrowing his eyes, teasing. “Let them all know I’ve just thoroughly ravaged my wife in the back of a carriage.” He gave her a quick kiss and may have deepened the exchange but the door swung open.

  Charley flushed and followed Alex’s lead into the house.

  “Run and wait for me upstairs,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ll be right up and we’ll… you know… talk.”

  “Alright.” She smiled, glancing coyly over her shoulder. “Feeling less satisfied yet?”

  He tossed her a thoroughly rakish grin and smacked her backside playfully. “Run for those stairs or I’ll ravish you again in the entryway.”

  Charley giggled and raced for the stairs eager for him to follow and continue what they’d started in the carriage.

  Once in her room she reached for her hairbrush, giggled, and decided there would be no point to fixing her hair as Alex would only come muss it again. She flopped across the bed, waiting for her husband and debated whether or not to shed her gown when a curious thought entered her mind… If not for a clandestine tryst, just what had Alex been doing at Veronica’s house?

  The door creaked open, admitting Alex, hair still boyishly tousled after their scandalous coach ride. “There you are,” Charley rose on an elbow and smiled, beckoning him forward.

  Framed in the doorway he stared back at her with soft eyes and a loving expression to match. He rested a shoulder against the doorjamb.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Just enjoying the view,” he teased, twinkling eyes dancing over her reclined figure.

  Charley flushed.

  He shoved away from the wall and swung the door closed behind him. Slowly he advanced on her. “When I first saw you at Chrisington House I thought was hallucinating.”

  Charley sat on the bed, crossing her legs and gave an impish smile.

  Alex chuckled, the sound deep and rich. He removed his jacket and threw it over the back of a chair. “So you’re willing to fight for me, eh?”

  “I’m willing to fight for us,” she replied seriously.

  He nodded slowly, expression soft and filled with vulnerability, and stopped to stand over her. For a long moment he gazed down at her. “Charley…” he hesitated, voice laden with uncertainty.

  Her confidence faltered, suddenly fearful of what he might say. Had something happened with Veronica? “What’s the matter?”

  “What you said outside of Christington House, about our marriage being over… Were you even going to tell me before you left?”

  Confused by the sudden change, she narrowed her eyes. “Tell you what? Alex, I don’t understand.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  Sixteen

  Charley gasped, shocked. How had Alex known? She hadn’t told a soul of her new found state. Well… aside from the doctor. She hadn’t even written her mother yet.

  “Alex, of course I was going to tell you, but this is all very new. I was afraid of adding more stress to your life before I was absolutely sure.” She scooted to the edge of the bed, grasped his hand and pulled him down beside her. The mattress caved beneath his weight, the bed ropes creaking cozily. “And do you really think I would have made such a public fool of myself by traipsing over to Veronica’s house if I actually intended to leave. I spoke in anger. Nothing more.”

  Relief filtered over his handsome features. “Good. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He lifted a knee up into the bed, turning to face her, and brushed a few stray loops of hair back over her shoulder. “It’s just that I didn’t even know Bernadette was pregnant. She never told me about Jack. I could have been there for him, been a real father, but I never had the chance.”

  Charley’s heart wrenched as she realized for first time just how hurt Alex had been when Jack arrived on their doorstep. She’d been too lost in her own pain to recognize the level of betrayal Alex must feel toward his former lover.

  “I never want to live through anything like that again,” he finished, the obvious love he felt for his son raw at the surface of his eyes.

  What a man, she mused, to unfailingly accept responsibility and moreover to take the boy in with open arms. “Alex, I am not some demimonde out to lay an unborn child on the suitor with the highest purse.” She rose up on her knees, taking his face in her hands. “How I’ve misjudged you,” she murmured, gazing deep into his eyes. “You are a truly good man.”

  A wry smirk rolled up the corners of his mouth. “So you keep telling me. Maybe one day I’ll start to believe you.” He paused, a mischievous gleam lighting his eye. “What exactly were you planning to do once you found me at Veronica’s house?”

  She blushed, sheepishly averting her gaze. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but I suppose I would have bloodied Veronica’s nose and dragged you home by the ear.”

  Hearty laughter rumbled from deep in his chest. “She’d certainly have deserved it.”

  “I agree! The way she chases after you is positively shameless.”

  He quirked a wry brow. “I know.”

  “I still don’t understand why you were at Chrisington House in the first place.”

  He shifted back slightly, looking her dead in the eye. “I was confronting Veronica about the fact that she wrote the letters from Mrs. Barcelona in regard to Jack.”

  Charley’s jaw dropped. Stunned. Better… she believed him. To the depths of her soul she knew he spoke the truth. “Sh-she wrote those letters?”

  “Yes. I went to Chrisington House to question her motives and find out how she came to know about the boy’s questionable parenthood.” An ironic laugh escaped him. “In short, Charley, I went there to prove my innocence to you.”

  “Your innocence…” Charley massaged her temples. “I don’t understand, how could you know she wrote those letters? How can you be certain?”

  Alex stood and paced about the room, lapsing into an animated tale of his efforts. “It’s been weeks tracking all this down, but I took signed letters that I’ve received from Bernadette and Veronica over the years and had a professional analyze the handwriting against the letters about Jack. There is no question about it, Veronica penned the letters. You’re welcome to speak with Mr. Peterson. I met him while he was attached to the war department.”

  She nodded amazed by this wealth of information. If Veronica had been orchestrating the scandal with Jack, Alex most definitely wasn’t having an affair with her. “That was very clever of you. So… is Jack not your son?” The prospect was wholly devastating. Charley had grown extremely attached to the boy over the last weeks. Who couldn’t love such a sweet, trusting child? “Oh, I believe he is. Look at the boy. The resemblance is undeniable. Veronica merely capitalized on suspicions and rumors that just so happen to be true. But it doesn’t matter. He is ours now.”

  Charley smiled. Ours. She liked the sound of that. The fact Alex thought of them parenting Jack together… as a family… healed her broken heart in no small measure. “Why didn’t you tell me of this sooner? It would have saved so much fighting.”

  Alex flopped onto the bed, washing both hands over his face. “Because I’m a fool. I should have told you everything long ago, but I had some grand illusion of uncovering all the players and proving my faithfulness to you in some dramatic reveal. I wanted to find irrefutable evidence that she is responsible for the scandal ripping apart our lives. I wanted to shock you… the ton… my mother.”

  So many misunderstandings, each reading too much, or, too little, as the case may be, into the other’s actions. The absurdity of it all. From now on she would speak what was on her mind and be honest with her husband. Communication was key to a good marriage. Charley pursed her lips to keep a chuckle at bay.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ve never had much flare for the dramatic.”

&n
bsp; “Ah, my lady, but you’ve never seen me in battle.” Alex slipped both arms around her and leaned back on the bed, pulling her with him so that she lay across his torso, head rested against his chest… she relished the steady thud-thud, thud-thud of his beating heart.

  “What would you say to spending the Christmas season in Scotland?” he asked, running his knuckles up and down the length of her spine. “Escape the gossip and scandal for a while. Reclaim our lives.”

  “Dover Lodge?” Sweet memories of the medieval Scottish castle swept through her mind. Complete with aged gray stones, a moat, and high rising towers the country estate had always lived in the back of her mind as a dream home.

  “Yes, and if you’re happy there I thought we could stay until the baby comes.”

  Excitement blossomed within her, spreading happiness through her veins like warm honey. “Do you mean it?” She lifted her head and grinned. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep because if you take me to Dover Lodge I may never leave.”

  Alex laughed heartily. “So be it.” He touched a light kiss to her lips. “We’ll leave at the end of the week.”

  “Excellent.” Charley flew upward. “I’ll have to start packing up the household immediately, and—”

  “Not so fast, wife.” Alex looped a burly arm about her waist and flipped her back onto the mattress, covering her with the toned heat of his body. “I didn’t give you leave just yet.” A wandering hand dipped beneath her shift, giving her thigh an enticing squeeze. “I can think of a much better way to pass the afternoon than packing.”

  Eyes dancing over his face, she giggled with delight. “Do enlighten me, my lord.”

  A roguish grin split his handsome face.

  “Better yet…” She caught his face between her hands, drawing him in for a smoldering kiss. “Let me enlighten you.”

  * * *

  “This had better be damned important,” Sidney growled, hurling the wadded missive demanding his presence at Chrisington House at Veronica’s feet. “I warned you about us having as little contact as possible. We can’t have Alex getting wise to the fact we’re working together.”