Beverley Kendall

by Sinful Surrender (lit)

  “But, Mama, you are all of those things,” Missy protested. She didn’t know anyone as strong as her mother.

  “I wasn’t almost thirty years ago. That has come with time.”

  “Would you marry a man now who did not love you?”

  The viscountess paused a moment before she said, “No, not if he didn’t truly love me, but I do not know that’s the same as your dealings with James. For most, love doesn’t come overnight in a flash of fury and thunder. It grows over time.” She released Missy’s hand after giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “I will leave you to think on that.” With an indulgent smile and a brush of her lips against her forehead, the viscountess quit the chamber.

  Missy’s gaze ran over the portmanteaus and dresses draped over every fixed piece of furniture, and drew in a deep sigh. What she wouldn’t give to have what her mother said be true.

  “Lord Rutherford.”

  James nearly started at the greeting he had been so lost in his thoughts. Glancing across the pebbled path of Hyde Park, he saw Miss Claire Rutland and a young slender girl he assumed by her dress was her lady’s maid. Instinctively, he scoured the area for any sign of Missy. When his search came up empty, he vehemently denied that the sharp pain that scored his chest was abject disappointment.

  Pasting an easy smile on his face, he replied, “Good morning, Miss Rutland.”

  She bustled across the path, pushing back the brim of her bonnet with the tip of a gloved finger. “I wanted to personally express my condolences on the death of your father,” she said, her hazel eyes filled with sympathy.

  James inclined his head. “Thank you.”

  Silence followed.

  “Well, I will—”

  “Have you seen—”

  Miss Rutland broke off and laughed lightly as they spoke in unison. “I apologize, Lord Ruth—I mean Lord Windmere. Have I seen…?” she prompted, peering up at him from her diminutive height.

  He was going to ask about Missy and for a moment thought better of it. But his insatiable curiosity for knowledge of all things Missy got the better of him. “I was going to inquire about Miss Armstrong,” he said, feeling exposed and discomfited by his necessity to know.

  “Missy is quite well,” she said slowly, watching him curiously. “I thought you and Lord Armstrong were close.”

  James cursed silently. Of course it would appear odd that he was asking after Missy when he could easily have asked her brother. “Yes, well, I have been out of Town and have yet to speak to him since my return.”

  In the week since his return to London, he had managed to settle his sisters and hire Miss Bridges, their governess. Initially he had thought her a little too young for the post but she’d come highly recommended and her references were impeccable. The girls were slowly warming to him, though still very shy and tentative, and appeared overwhelmed by their new abundance of clothes. One of the first things he’d done was to have Madame Batiste personally come to his townhouse to fit them for new wardrobes.

  “Well, I’m sure you’re aware Missy is leaving for America.”

  The news hit him with such force, he was surprised when he blinked that he was still standing erect. His shock must have shown on his face because Miss Rutland’s expression instantly became contrite. “I assumed you were aware.”

  Still reeling, James could only shake his head, remaining mute. Several uncomfortable moments later, Miss Rutland bid him farewell to continue on her morning promenade.

  James started back toward his carriage, his strides swift and urgent. She is leaving was the overriding thought in his mind as it worked at a pace fast and furious. Walking away from her had been easier when he knew she remained firmly within his reach. But for months, perhaps even longer, she’d be in America. What if she found an American gentleman who gave little thought to her lack of innocence? She could marry and not return.

  The mere thought lengthened long, aggressive strides until he was running. His footman stood waiting quietly by the phaeton as he drew near. No words were spoken, James just gave a brisk nod of his head and bolted onto the high perch as his footman did the same. Soon they were speeding toward the south entrance.

  James took the stairs two at a time and sounded the knocker hard against the door. The moment the door swung open, he barged by a bewildered Creighton and down the hallway where he heard voices coming from the library. Without so much as a preemptory knock, he threw open the door.

  Armstrong and Cartwright lounged in the room, each man holding a glass in his hand. Their attention was immediately drawn to him but neither looked terribly surprised by his arrival. Nor did they seem at all surprised he looked a complete wreck, his hair mussed, his neckcloth askew, with a rather frantic and desperate look in his eyes. But James noticed none of this, his mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone.

  “Where is she?” His breathing was labored, as if he’d been running—which in fact he had, from the carriage and up the front steps. But what choked him was the anxiety and fear.

  Armstrong settled farther back into the winged-back chair, eyeing him, his expression deadpan. “And by she you mean…?” He raised a brow in that supercilious manner that always had the desired effect of making James want to grit his teeth and smash his fist into his friend’s perfectly arrogant nose.

  James advanced into the room, unclenching and clenching his hands at his sides, his eyes narrowed and stormy. He stopped just short of the ottoman separating him from Armstrong and glared down at him.

  “This is not the right time to play games with me, Lord Armstrong.”

  From behind him, Cartwright emitted a dry laugh. James rounded on him, wild and frantic.

  “Whoa, no need to take offense.” Cartwright held up one hand in mock surrender wearing a grin he tried hard to suppress. “I was merely going to suggest to Armstrong that he ease up on you. It’s a historic fact the moment you start calling him by his title, your temperance is all but gone.”

  James shifted his attention back to the viscount. They could have their fun and amuse themselves all they wanted, just not now and just not with respect to Missy.

  “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice breaking.

  Armstrong regarded him directly and said, “She’s gone.” He appeared utterly composed. He raised his glass to his mouth and took a long swallow. As cool as ever, he placed the glass on the side table, still watching him.

  James felt the breath leave his lungs and gasped. She had left him. She was gone. He grasped the back of the sofa to steady himself.

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Dazed, James crumpled onto the sofa, his legs unable to support him, his shoulders hunched, and his head hanging low. He felt empty, hollow in his chest where his heart should have been. Miss Rutland had led him to believe that Missy was still here. He’d thought he still had a chance to stop her. For several seconds there was only his breathing, harsh and audible in the room.

  He raised his head and glared at his tormentor, his voice accusing. “And you let her go? For God’s sake, she’s too young to venture so far from home. Do you know the harm she could come to? And who does she have in America? Have you any idea of all the—” His voice broke and he dropped his head again, his eyes squeezed shut.

  “You seem to forget Missy is headstrong with an iron will of her own. Look how bloody long she pined for you. But, just as I couldn’t force her to marry you, I certainly couldn’t keep her against her will. Regardless, I had little choice in the matter as she had the support of our mother. I’d be a fool to go up against the two of them.”

  James shook his head slowly. Unfortunately, everything he said was true. Missy would have found a way to leave. Even if they had married, if she’d grown unhappy with the marriage, she would have left him.

  “I imagined you would be relieved,” Cartwright said with only the trace of a smirk. “From everything you’ve said, I thought you only planned to marry her because Armstrong here thr
eatened to make you a eunuch. And then, of course, with there being no threat of a little Rutherford coming in nine months…”

  James swung his head toward his friend, blue ice blazing in his eyes. “I bloody well don’t want to marry her because of that.” He levered himself to his feet, his gaze darting between the two men. “Missy has turned me down countless times and I keep asking. Do you want to know why?” Regarding Armstrong, he said softly, “Because I am in love with her.”

  Armstrong and Cartwright exchanged a look. No doubt they thought he was mad as a hatter. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that they had now seen him at his most vulnerable. He didn’t care that he’d just bared his heart.

  Cartwright cleared his throat loudly, setting his glass down before coming to his feet. “You will never see love turning me into this kind of blubbering mess. The man is in so deep he can’t even see straight.” His expression held a mixture of amusement and horror.

  “It’s our family’s curse. We have that effect on the opposite sex.” Armstrong reeked of smug nonchalance.

  His friends’ voices became an annoying buzz. Missy was all he could think of, and it would be like that forever. She was the only woman he wanted to take as his wife, and the only woman who would ever bear his children, and the sooner she came to accept that, the sooner they could start their lives together.

  He started for the door, his strides long and urgent.

  “Where are you going?” Armstrong was on his feet appearing ill-at-ease.

  “Where do you think? To America,” James replied without looking back.

  “Who is going to America?”

  James thought at first he must be hallucinating. He blinked several times in rapid succession. Like a vision in light purple, Missy stood framed in the doorway.

  James stared at her as if she’d just risen from the dead. He then turned to glower at her brother.

  Thomas’s laugh held mild nervousness. “It appears she has returned.”

  Missy watched the men in confusion. What on earth was going on? What was James doing here and why did he now look like he was about to commit murder?

  “You knew I believed…and you let me—”

  “James came here hoping to speak to you,” Armstrong said to Missy. He then turned to Cartwright. “I believe you and I are late for a previous appointment, is that not so?”

  “Um—oh, yes indeed. Dreadfully late by the look of that clock.”

  Bewildered, Missy watched the two men take their leave, Thomas glancing back once to wink broadly at James. James scowled in response.

  And then the two lone occupants of the room were greeted by silence. The kind of silence that grew ever more uncomfortable with each passing moment.

  “You look disheveled.” Missy said with her usual straightforwardness.

  James eyed her with the desperation of a man lost in the desert who had just come upon an oasis. “I thought you’d gone,” he said in a low-pitched husky voice.

  She furrowed her brow. “Gone where?”

  “To America. I thought you’d left me.” He surveyed her thoroughly, from top to bottom.

  Missy knew that look in his eyes—too well—and felt her body’s tingling response. She forced herself to look away, knowing just how quickly she would fall under his spell if she allowed herself the luxury of feeling.

  “How can I possibly leave you? We are not together,” she said in a thick voice.

  He closed the distance between them and then cupped her shoulders in his hands.

  “You are with me every day,” he assured her, staring deep into her eyes.

  Missy felt herself weakening and resented him all the more.

  “If you think I am expecting because of our—our last time together, you are mistaken.” She fixed her gaze on his blue neckcloth, which was unaccustomedly askew. “And this time I am telling you the truth,” she added hastily, remembering the last time she lied to him regarding the same matter.

  He slid his hands down to encircle her waist, pulling her flush against him. With her nose brushing his neck, every inhalation brought the heady scent that was him. She tried to arch away but he refused to release her.

  “Then we will keep trying until you are,” he whispered into her ear, and then feathered the soft curve with a kiss. Missy moaned and clamped her thighs tightly together, but that didn’t staunch the flood of moisture at her center.

  Twisting her head to dislodge his talented mouth, she said, “So that you can then live to regret that we ever met? No, thank you.”

  Very slowly, after dropping another string of impassioned kisses on the long slope of her neck, he lifted his head. When she tried to look away, his hand held her chin firmly so he could look directly into her eyes.

  “I was a fool. I allowed my parents’ union to warp my views on marriage. I only recently discovered my father was not the besotted fool I thought he was, and my mother is just a very unhappy and bitter woman betrayed horribly by her husband. I thought I wanted a marriage in which I couldn’t lose my heart. Actually, I don’t believe I thought I could lose my heart to a woman. And then you came along, too precocious and beautiful for my peace of mind. I wanted you when you were just seventeen. Do you know what it was like for me to want someone I considered a child? Countless days of guilt and suffering made worse because you were the sister of my best friend. I knew no matter what you felt, I could never act on my feelings. You deserved better than what I had to offer.”

  “But what you felt was only lust. You told me so countless times.” How she wanted to believe him, but when it came to James, she’d had too many years of disappointment and heartache.

  “I did think that’s all it was. But I knew the day you told me there was no child and you refused to marry me—I knew I had been lying to myself. I knew then how much I wanted to marry you whether you were carrying my child or not. I knew then I loved you.”

  “But Lady Victoria—”

  “Nothing ever happened between us,” he said in somber insistence.

  “But—”

  Taking her gently by the hand, he led her to the sofa, and then explained what had really occurred with Lady Victoria. Although Missy could understand her desperation, she still didn’t take kindly to the woman’s rash solution. But at least she now understood what had driven James to do the things he’d done.

  “Now that we’ve cleared up the whole situation with Lady Victoria, I have some news I need to share with you.”

  Missy tried to withdraw her hand from his, but he held hers fast. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to hear about his daughters, and she was fairly certain that was coming next.

  “No, don’t pull away. I want us to share everything.” He traced delicate lines on the back of her hand with his finger, staring intently into her eyes. “Tomorrow I want you to meet my sisters.”

  Missy sat frozen in place for what seemed like an infinity. For some reason her brain took its time comprehending the meaning of the word sisters. When it finally did, she expelled an audible breath from her lungs.

  “You have sisters?”

  He smiled. “Yes, twin sisters, Catherine and Charlotte. My father’s children with the illegitimate daughter of the Earl of Chester.”

  “James, that is wonderful,” she practically shrieked and launched herself into his arms. There were no daughters. He had sisters. There was no faceless woman in his life who had borne him children. She wanted to jump for joy, but she was more than contented with peppering his face with kisses.

  “If I’d known you so wished for sisters-in-law, I certainly would have told you sooner,” he laughed, holding her tightly.

  “Your mother said—I thought—I thought they were your daughters.” Twining her arms around his neck, she burrowed her face into his chest, inhaling him as deeply as she could. Her own personal intoxicant.

  “Daughters?” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Was that why you turned me away the night of my father’s funeral?”

  She gav
e a hesitant nod. Was he angry? she wondered, taking in his suddenly serious expression. “I was confused, and jealous, and I—”

  “Shhh,” he whispered placing his finger on her lips. “I understand. I’ve had my moments of acting terribly irrational because of you.” He ended by dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “Sir, did you say something about sisters-in-law,” she said in mock innocence.

  Missy nearly started when James dropped down onto his knee beside the sofa, and pushed his hand inside his forest green waistcoat to emerge with a sparkling sapphire ring. The brilliance of the stones dazzled her eyes.

  James clasped her hand—now unsteady and moist—in his. “Millicent Eleanor Armstrong, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His gaze never once wavered from hers, and the stark emotion she saw in his eyes caused her belly to drop.

  “But how—where—when did you—”

  “I have been carrying this around with me since the week of your mother’s rout. I intended to give it to you the night I came to your bedchamber.”

  Dumbstruck, Missy could only nod, her hand trembling violently now, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks as he slid the ring on her finger.

  She’d never expected anything like this—James on bended knee. So heartbreakingly touching. This was the first time he’d asked and not demanded or coerced. He had asked her with love shining brilliantly in his beautiful blue eyes. He loved her.

  “Do you believe I love you or do you still think me a child?” she teased, clasping the back of his head in her hands.

  “Believe me, I haven’t thought of you as a child for quite some time,” he murmured before capturing her lips.

  He kissed her thoroughly, with a pent-up, long denied passion. Their tongues tangled and mated in a searing dance of lust and longing. Everything around her faded, leaving in its wake nothing except the touch and feel of him.