by Cheryl Holt
“Thank you, Miss Boyle,” he sarcastically retorted. “I’m delighted to have your permission to depart, but first, there’s a pesky detail to resolve.”
“What is it?”
“Your brother claims you have an important fact to share with me. I should probably find out what it is.” He paused forever, then added, “Don’t you think?”
Amelia bristled. In their lengthy verbal combat, she’d stupidly failed to comprehend that Evan must have told him why he had to propose. She’d foolishly thought Evan had only mentioned her ruination, but he must have mentioned her predicament too.
“There’s naught to tell,” she insisted.
“Isn’t there? Your brother was convinced it would prevent any silliness on your part.”
“Silliness!” she huffed. “Why would it be silly to reject you? Name one thing that would prove you might—might!—be worth having.”
“How about this? I love you so much it’s killing me.”
Her heart actually skipped a beat. It was the exact sort of comment she’d previously been dying to hear. She’d always figured he loved her, but just hadn’t realized it. Why would he suddenly declare himself? What was driving him?
“You love me, James? Me? You’ve never loved anyone. Why would you start with me? It’s completely contrary to everything I understand about you.”
He laughed. “You are a hard nut to crack, Miss Boyle.”
He stepped to her, and she stepped back, but that accursed wall was still behind her. He leaned in, his body pressed to hers all the way down, and he tried to kiss her again, but she was wiser now. She turned away so he brushed her cheek instead, then he nuzzled at her nape, inhaling her scent, sending shivers down her spine.
“I’d persuaded myself that I liked having no ties or bonds,” he said, “but guess what?”
“What?”
“You swept into my world and totally altered it. You can’t expect me to go on without you. Not when you’ve shown me there’s a better path.”
She pushed him away and staggered to the stool, and she eased down. Her pulse was racing, her dizziness escalating. He was tossing out remarks that mesmerized her, and she’d never been able to ignore him or the strident pull he generated.
“I want to marry for love,” she said. “I want to marry for affection.”
“Hello! Hello, Amelia! Weren’t you listening to me? I love you!”
“I nearly eloped once, and I was jilted by a rogue who didn’t really care about me. I put you in the same category, James Hastings, and I’m not willing to risk it.”
“You assume I’d sneak off and abandon you to fend for yourself?”
“I have no idea how you might behave. For awhile, you’d likely pretend to be a devoted spouse, but I’m afraid I’d wake up some morning and you’d have deserted me.”
“Amelia Boyle, I believe that’s the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever uttered in my presence.”
“Don’t joke about this. You keep asking why I won’t wed you, and I’ve just explained why. Don’t make fun of me.”
“I already know your secret, Amelia. Your brother spilled the beans.”
“Then why should I have to admit it? He saved me the trouble.”
“Were you ever planning to tell me?”
“How could I have? You’re supposed to be halfway to India.”
“Obviously, I didn’t go.”
“Obviously.”
“Your brother advises me that you’re in the family way.”
“Maybe I am.”
“He insists I’m the father.”
“Don’t you dare say you’re not. If you try, I’ll find a pistol and shoot you right between the eyes.”
“I wasn’t about to say that, but let’s get back to your brother. He claims you need a husband immediately.” He grinned his irresistible grin. “I’m available.”
“Who would want you?” She couldn’t move beyond her irritation.
“That’s a very good question.” He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, then he seated himself so he was sitting directly in front of her, their legs tangled together. “I can’t imagine why a woman would want me. I’m a simple man, and I always have been. I train horses; it’s all I know how to do.”
“You’re excellent at it though,” she allowed.
“Yes, I am, but as an attribute, it’s not much of a benefit. I’m half-crippled, and from how my wounds have been plaguing me recently, I suspect they’ll grow worse as the years pass.”
“I hope that’s not true.”
“I probably won’t age well. I’ll ache constantly, so I’ll probably be decrepit, senile, and impossibly grouchy. I’d need a saint to be my bride.”
“I’m not a saint.”
“No, you’re not. Where were we? Oh, that’s right. We’re cataloguing my flaws. I’m vain and bossy and domineering.”
“Yes, and it’s exhausting.”
“I own an estate, with a large manor, but it’s a bankrupt pile of debt. What sane female would agree to live there with me? The effort to repair it would be enormous, and it would be a project that would last a lifetime.”
At the mention of his estate, her stupid pulse fluttered. She’d love to see Denby Manor. It was one of England’s grand old houses, and it would be thrilling to reside in it, to bring it back to its prior glory.
“Finally,” he said, “I’ll never have much money. I’m not destined to be rich.”
“It’s not a crime.”
“No, but some women might consider it a failing.”
“Not me.”
“Good. Now then, have I left out any faults? Would you like to add to the list?”
“No, and you’re not flawed,” she firmly said, irked at his denigration. “Stop disparaging yourself.”
“Yes, enough about me and how I’d be a lousy husband.”
“I shouldn’t have been so rude about it.”
“I understand your reservations, but let’s switch our attention to you for a minute. We’ll discuss you and how you would be a wonderful wife for some lucky fellow.”
He was gazing at her with such warm affection, and it scared her. He overwhelmed her with his tempting, seductive qualities. She tried to leap off the stool so she could run out of the room, but he pressed his hands on her thighs to keep her in place.
“Whatever you’re about to say,” she told him, “I can’t bear to hear it.”
“Why would I care about that? I never listen to you, and besides, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and what a marvelous bride you would be—if some idiotic, undeserving oaf was fortunate enough to win you for his own.”
“If that’s what you’re attempting to achieve, you’ll never succeed.”
“Won’t I? You’re aware that I always get my way. Why fight me? Give over, Amelia. What option do you have?”
He waited on tenterhooks, expecting her to relent, but she couldn’t force out the words. What kind of a relationship would they have? In Gibraltar, they’d had a wild, erotic fling, but that wasn’t real life. It wasn’t the day to day sort of experience that carried two people through decades of marriage.
How would they deal with strife? How would they deal with tragedy or penury? She couldn’t imagine.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I see I have to work a bit harder to wear you down.”
“No, you don’t. We simply don’t belong together. It’s not the ending Fate decreed for us.”
“You used to think it was our ending. In fact, you were so adamant about it that you once proposed to me.”
“Yes, but you were smarter than I was. You recognized it was a deranged idea.”
“Well, a miracle has occurred because I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why? Because I’m increasing?”
“It’s definitely part of the reason.”
She tsked with annoyance. “First, you tell me I was second choi
ce after your career. Apparently, I’ve moved to the head of the line because I’m having a baby. Why can’t it just be about me? Why can’t it merely be that I matter more to you than anything?”
It was quite a speech, and she was startled to have voiced it. His grin was back, and suddenly, he was like a lion stalking its prey.
“Is that all it would take?” he inquired. “Are you claiming I haven’t made you feel special enough?”
“No, that’s not what I’m claiming. I’m…I’m…” She broke off. “Oh, you have me so befuddled I don’t know what I’m saying. Except that you’re mad, and I don’t want any madness in my life. I want boring, sane, steady, and true.”
“Boring, sane, steady, and true…” he mused. “Let’s see if I can fit the bill with any aspects of my character. I’m extremely boring. I train horses. It’s my passion; it’s my world. That’s boring. As to sane, I studied my father and his wife when I was nine, and I demanded he send me to military school. That was sane. If you’re looking for steady, I have been devoted to the army for sixteen years, and I would have remained at my post forever if they’d allowed it, but they practically shoved me out the door.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“And what was the final one? True? All I can ask is that you give me a chance to prove myself.”
He slid off his chair and dropped to a knee, then he clasped her hand and kissed it. “Amelia, will you marry me? Please? I love you so much I’m dying with it. If you won’t have me, how will I continue on without you?”
“Don’t do this, James. You don’t really want to.”
“Why would you think that? Can you actually suppose I would proceed if I didn’t wish to? Who could ever command me? Your brother threatened to murder me if I didn’t propose, but would I have listened to him if I wasn’t glad about this?”
She blanched. “Evan did not threaten to murder you.”
“He did, and I can’t go downstairs unless you agree to have me. Say yes, Amelia. What alternative is there for you? Will you trot about the kingdom while you’re in the family way with no husband and no ring on your finger? Is that the future you envision for yourself?”
“No, but I’m so afraid of you.”
“Afraid! Of me? Now you’re being positively absurd.”
“You’re a bachelor, James. It’s the existence you relish, and I won’t take it from you.”
“Honestly, Amelia, there has to be something wrong with your hearing today. I just confessed I can’t bear to be alone anymore. Don’t make me carry on without you.”
“But…but…if we wed, how would we manage?”
Her question sounded as if she was about to give in. Was she?
He was correct that she couldn’t stroll about without a husband, and if she didn’t wed soon, her shame would be noticed. A woman in her predicament had to save herself with matrimony.
For months, she’d convinced herself it wasn’t an option, that he’d fled and couldn’t be forced into it. Yet here he was, on bended knee, begging her to have him. How could she refuse? Even if she tried, she was certain Evan would intervene and yank the choice away from her.
“How would we manage?” He was bewildered by the query. “I imagine we’d muddle through like every other married couple. We’d just…live.”
She’d once told him the very same, but he’d scoffed, and she hated to have her words tossed back in her face.
“What if I drove you mad with my silliness and chatter?” she asked.
“What if I drove you mad with my ego and pomposity?”
“I’m sure you would.”
“Look at me and swear you don’t love me. I think you used to. I think you used to love me very much. It can’t have faded away to nothing.”
She glanced away, finding it difficult to admit the truth. “No, it hasn’t faded.”
“If I love you, and you love me, why are we debating?”
“We barely know each other. What if it’s horrid?”
“It might be horrid, but what if it’s grand instead? I’m willing to bet on grand. How about you?” He clasped both her hands in his and squeezed tight. “Take a chance, Amelia. Take a chance on it being grand.”
The walls protecting her were crumbling fast. “Where would we live? How would we live?”
“We will retire to Denby Manor where we will become the very dull, very tedious, Earl and Countess of Denby.”
She’d forgotten the full ramifications. “I can’t be a countess. I’ve never desired a position like that.”
“Well, I have never wanted to be an earl, but destiny thrust it on me anyway.” He dipped in and kissed her tummy where their child was quietly nestled. “Tell me you’ll have me, Amelia—flaws and all. My leg is killing me, and it’s torture having to kneel on the floor while you’re being so ridiculous.”
“Get up then, you fool.” She grabbed his arm, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Not until I have your answer, and I should mention that I’m starving too. I haven’t eaten all day, and I can’t go down to supper until we settle this. Stop tormenting me, and give me what I’m seeking. I won’t cease nagging until you do.”
She stared down at him, and the prettiest flood of memories washed over her. She recalled the first time she’d seen him, how handsome he’d been, how dashing. She thought of his slow seduction, how she’d gradually fallen under his spell.
Those few brief weeks in Gibraltar were the most spectacular of her life. She’d been so happy! And ever since she’d left, she’d been so miserable! She was anxious to return to that heady period when it had seemed as if she’d been walking on air.
She kept worrying that marriage to him might be awful, but what if she was wrong and he was right? What if it was wonderful?
She took a deep breath, feeling as if she was running toward a high cliff, as if she was about to jump over.
“You win,” she said, almost like a complaint.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll marry you.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“With me, it’s forever,” he warned. “I won’t let you change your mind.”
“I won’t ever change my mind,” she said.
He stood then, but she had to help him up. He kissed her sweetly, tenderly, as if she was remarkable and precious.
“When shall we hold the ceremony?” he asked as his gaze dipped to her stomach where a bulge was beginning to show. “We probably ought to hurry. I can apply for a Special License, but I have no idea how.”
“Peyton would likely know.”
He nodded, but mischief gleamed in his eye. “Or we could elope to Scotland.”
“I’m not eloping. I tried that once, remember? I’d be too afraid you wouldn’t arrive at the appointed hour to whisk me north.”
“Ha! I’m about to be your worst nightmare, Miss Boyle. You’ll never be shed of me.”
“Here’s hoping.” She grinned—finally—the reality of what they’d decided sinking in, and she was starting to be a bit excited. “Where shall we have the ceremony? We’re both at Benton, and I’m positive Peyton and Jo would be delighted to host it.”
“Would you call me silly if I told you I want to wed at Denby? There’s a chapel in the village, and I was thinking—since it will be our home—maybe we should hold it there.”
She froze, the most potent sense of rightness sweeping over her. “That would be perfect.”
“How long does it take to receive a Special License, would you guess?”
“Why? Are you getting cold feet already?”
“No. I have to ride to Denby in the morning.” She frowned, and he rushed to insist, “I’ll come back immediately. I swear.”
Her skepticism soared. “What is so urgent at Denby?”
“When Brinley fled Gibraltar, she went to Denby—with her fake Italian count—and opened up the house without my permission.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, no! Brinley is at Denby with Holden Cartwright?”
“Yes, and apparently, they’re reveling. I have to chase them off and check on the damage. If it’s a huge mess, I’ll need to repair it before I move you there.”
“You won’t…kill her, will you?”
He shrugged. “I make no guarantees.”
“Don’t you dare murder her. If you were caught, you’d be hanged, and I’d be a widow prior to my ever being a bride.” She raised a caustic brow. “But if you want to kill Holden Cartwright, it’s fine with me.”
“You bloodthirsty little fiend.”
They laughed, and he kissed her again.
“I missed you so much,” he murmured.
“I’ll admit I missed you too—if you promise not to be all vain and cocky about it.”
“I’m starving. Let’s go down and tell your brother we’re marrying so he doesn’t commit a homicide. Then we’ll eat.”
She sighed with gladness, with relief. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s like a dream.”
They left her room together, fingers linked, and they went to the grand stairs that led to the foyer. There was quite a crowd waiting for them: Evan and Victoria, Peyton and Jo, a slew of servants, and all the Prescott nieces. Laura was standing in front of the group, not appearing concerned in the slightest over how it would resolve.
Amelia and James promenaded down, and as they reached the bottom, Evan stepped forward and asked, “Are we having a wedding? Or are we planning Captain Hastings’s funeral?”
Amelia peeked up at James, eager to recollect every single detail of the moment. He would be hers forever.
“We’re having a wedding,” James announced, and they all cheered.
Laura skipped over to him, and he scooped her into his arms as she hugged him tight.
“I knew you could convince her,” Laura told him.
“Then you were more confident than I was.”
“You love her,” Laura said, “and she loves you. How could she refuse?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“When will the ceremony be?” Evan Boyle asked.