Bedeviled Bride (Regency Historical Romance)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  Light was seeping through the curtains, foretelling a lovely, sunny day. However, there was still a great deal of work to be done on the house. They hadn't even started on the gardens yesterday, and the west wing had gone untouched. That was one place Beth wanted to be, even if it meant another entire day of labor. If her ghost was going to show herself, she wanted to be present.

  “Ahem.” She cleared her throat softly in an attempt to wake Michael.

  Silence.

  “Ahem.” A little louder this time.

  Nothing.

  Perhaps...

  She pressed her lips to his, recalling the tale of Sleeping Beauty and noting the role reversal. An immediate response came in the form of a pleased grunt, and then Michael was awake. At least she thought he was. He was practically devouring her, rubbing his hands everywhere, kissing her as if he would never have another opportunity. And then he was touching her...there.

  Oh, heavens!

  “Michael, no,” she said trying to wrench her lips from his. “Michael, please, wake up...Oh, good heavens!”

  God help her, it felt so good to have him touching her. To have his fingers delving into her. But she had to stop it. Though she knew she could already be pregnant from their consummation the other night, if she wasn't, she didn't want to rush things. She needed time to adjust to the idea, to calm her nerves and reservations on the matter. She certainly couldn't allow him access whenever he pleased, for then she would never leave the bed, of that she was certain.

  With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Beth pushed Michael off of her...and directly onto the floor. He landed with a hard thud, which was closely followed by a loud “Owwwww!” Beth scrambled to the edge of the bed and peeked over to find her husband sprawled—completely naked—on the floor, clutching his elbow.

  “Oh, goodness, are you all right?” Beth asked, climbing to the floor beside him. And then she gasped, loudly. “Michael, I'm...I'm...”

  “Nude?”

  She looked at his face finally and noted, with great annoyance, that he was smirking at her. “Yes! And I'm quite certain I went to bed fully clothed.”

  “Not fully,” he said, his smirk growing more irritating by the second.

  She gasped again as her dream began to seep into her consciousness. “Oh, no...did you? Did we?”

  Michael's answer was a broad smile, and Beth thought she might like to bludgeon him. With the big candlestick this time. But she wouldn't have the opportunity. Before she could chastise him for taking advantage of the fact that she was an extremely heavy sleeper, he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him.

  “Stop that!” she cried as she wiggled to pull free.

  “I guarantee that wiggling around like that is not going to help your cause.”

  Beth fell completely still, her eyes wide.

  “Now, just so we're clear,” Michael said, “I asked you if you were awake and you answered in the affirmative. I am not typically in the habit of bedding unconscious women, but, well...”

  His eyes glazed over as they scanned her breasts, which hung between them while she held herself above him. A blush rose to her...everywhere, and the dampness began to pool between her legs again. But her mind was shouting at her to stop whatever it was her husband was wishing she would start.

  “May I at least have some breakfast before you ravage me again?” she asked, deciding to change her tactic. Perhaps if she seemed too weak to engage in such vigorous activity, he would acquiesce.

  However, she would never know what he was about to say, because a hastily opening door gave way to an embarrassed scream.

  Bonnie!

  Michael and Beth both turned to see the maid standing in the doorway, her hand over her eyes, spewing a long line of apologies to the pair of them. Oddly enough, Beth wasn't nearly as embarrassed as she should have been. However, when she turned to Michael, his face was redder than a ripe tomato. She wanted to laugh, the scene was quite hilarious, really, but she held her mirth and said to Bonnie, “Might you give us a few moments, Bonnie?”

  “Of course, milady, so sorry, milady, I promise I shall knock next time, milady...”

  Once Bonnie had backed out of the room, Beth removed herself from her husband's grasp and found her nightrail. Michael collected his robe without a word and hastily made for the connecting door.

  “Michael?”

  He turned but would not meet her eyes. She struggled against a laugh. “Is everything all right?”

  “Ahem...perfectly. I'll see you downstairs.” And then he disappeared to the other side of the suite.

  ***

  By the time Beth made it to the dining room for breakfast, Michael was already there, waiting for her. Thankfully, his blush had vanished and he looked like the cool and composed man she knew.

  Once she filled her plate, she sat down across from him and silently began to eat.

  “Aren't you going to ask me about last night?” Michael finally ventured.

  Beth looked up without raising her head. “I think I've deduced already what happened.” She turned back to her eggs.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And aren't you upset?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “Of course not!” Michael scoffed.

  “Well, then count your blessings and stop asking provoking questions.” She raised her brow to challenge him further, but he only smiled that devastating, boyish smile before spearing a slice of bacon.

  “I would, however, like to ask about something else?”

  There was a slight pause, and then, “Well? Go on.”

  Beth cleared her throat, trying to think of how to ask such a delicate question. “Well, I just found it interesting this morning, when Bonnie came upon us...you blushed for heaven's sake.”

  “And?”

  “Oh, please don't start that again! I want to know why you blushed. I would have expected that you, of all people, wouldn't be bashful about your nakedness, let alone in front of the hired help.”

  “Well, perhaps you shouldn't set so many expectations of me.”

  “Michael.” She leveled him with her most impatient glare.

  Michael let out a beleaguered sigh and gave her a half smile. “If you must know, my reputation for being a rakehell was gained mainly by association.”

  “With your brother?” she wondered, curious where this story was leading.

  “Partially. Andrew was far more liberal, if you will. But while I flirted and played the games, I didn't keep mistresses and I didn't frequent the bawdy houses Andrew enjoyed. And when I did, well, I mostly stayed to the common room, chatting with the girls.”

  Beth listened to his story very carefully. What was he trying to tell her? It dawned on her suddenly and she felt her eyes widen in shock.

  “Do you mean you're a...”

  Michael waited for her to finish her sentence, but she didn't, and it only took a moment longer for him to understand what she was asking.

  “Oh, good God! Of course I'm not a virgin! Beth, how could you ever have drawn such a conclusion?”

  “I don't know,” she replied with a fair amount of indignity. “You just said you went to the bawdy house to chat, for heaven's sake. What was I supposed to think?”

  “That I'm an honorable man, with a few scruples to his name. Not that I'm a bloody saint.”

  “As if that would be such an awful thing.”

  “You're damned right, it would be. No saint could ever do to you what I did the other night.”

  Their voices had risen in their misunderstanding, but at this, Beth had no rebuttal. They both fell silent. What was she supposed to say to that?

  “Well, then...it's a good thing you're not a saint.”

  A sort of snort came from Michael's side of the table and Beth knew that he was trying to stifle laughter. Her lips twitched spastically as she tried to muffle her own, but it didn't work. For either of them. The moment she dared to look up at her husband, they both b
urst out into unmitigated laughter. And they laughed until tears streamed down their cheeks. When they finally calmed down enough to speak, Michael looked at her, a smile still in place, but his eyes somehow serious.

  “Come here,” he said with a small twitch of his head.

  Beth blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Come. Here.” His voice was quiet, kind, but the tone was firm, and Beth was compelled to do his bidding.

  She stood and walked the short distance around the end of the table until she was at his side. Gently, and without taking his eyes from hers, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. She fell into him and allowed him to engulf her in his embrace. It was heaven. He was her heaven.

  “Beth,” he whispered, “I was waiting for you.”

  She felt her eyes widen in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “I wanted you, from the start. Andrew and I were in constant competition for your affection. The only difference was that I really loved you, and to Andrew it was simply a game. Not that he didn't care for you, as a friend and as a person, but I loved you. And I waited.”

  “But you're not a virgin,” Beth stated, her voice barely audible.

  “No, but I've only known you a few years. I reached manhood long before I met you.”

  “But I was engaged to your brother.” Beth couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

  “That made no difference to me. Of course, had you gone through with the marriage, I would have eventually found a way to move on. But I'm happy I didn't have to.” He traced his fingers along her cheekbone and then pushed a piece of hair behind her ear with such gentleness Beth thought she might cry. “I love you, Beth.

  “I...I love you too.”

  Twenty

  “Well, now that we've got that established,” Michael whispered dazedly as he pulled himself from his wife's lips. “What shall we do today?”

  Beth blinked at him with wide, loving eyes. “Do?” she repeated. “I thought we'd be working on the west wing today.”

  Michael smiled. The west wing. Of course she would want to be a part of the renovations in the west wing. But he had better things in mind.

  “Darling, we haven't spent more than a half day away from this house since we arrived here. That's well over a week, and soon, both of us are going to go mad.”

  “Oh,” she said, clearly thrown off by his tactic. “But...do you not think we should be here? To supervise, at least?”

  “I don't think so.” He gave her an innocent look as if he didn't know what her concerns really were. “The staff have their assignments, and I trust Mr. and Mrs. Kerr to keep things under control. That's what we pay them for, after all.”

  “Yes, but what if...what about...?” Michael almost laughed at the look of panic in her eyes. Goodness, she really was concerned about this silly ghost. No. Not ghost. Figment of her imagination.

  “She won't show herself during the day,” he said, hoping to placate her.

  “And she told you this herself?”

  Michael smiled wide. She was teasing him, and for some strange reason it warmed his heart.

  “Perhaps. Why? Did she tell you otherwise.”

  “I can't say,” Beth chirped, sticking her nose in the air.

  “Come now, darling, let us explore today. We can ride to Loch Ness, we can picnic on the banks. Don't you want to enjoy the sunshine before it turns cold?”

  “Well...” She looked longingly toward the windows, her brow furrowed into a conflicted frown. “I suppose you're right. And I hear Loch Ness is a lovely place.”

  “Wonderful! It's all set, then.” Michael gently moved Beth from his lap to a standing position and then ushered her to the door. “Go put on your riding habit while I gather up some picnic foods, and I'll meet you in the front hall.”

  With a kiss to her forehead, he sent her off to her chamber. Michael turned in the direction of the kitchens, whistling contentedly to himself as he did.

  She loved him. His heart nearly leaped from his chest at the thought. How long had he waited to hear those words? Not just a couple of weeks, since they'd said, “I do”, but much longer. Years. And how sweet it was to hear them, finally!

  He practically skipped down the stairs and burst through the kitchen doors to find Mrs. Kerr and several other servants gathered around the long table there. They were still eating their own breakfasts, so when they tried to leap from their seats he motioned for them to stay where they were.

  “Please, pretend I'm not here,” he told them, pasting on a charming smile. “I'm only here to gather rations for a picnic.”

  Mrs. Kerr stood anyway, and rushed to his side. “Milord, let me help you,” she insisted. “You'll never find all you need. Now, run along and I'll bring ya a basket in a few minutes.”

  “There's really no need, Mrs. Kerr.” How hard could it be to find some bread, cheese and wine and put them into a basket?

  The housekeeper, seemingly exasperated at Michael's attempt to be independent, punched her hands to her wide hips, and said, “I'll not have ya rummaging through my kitchen, all haphazard and what not. If you're anything like Mr. Kerr, this place will be a disaster in no time and ya still won't have found everything you're looking for.”

  Having been sufficiently berated, Michael acquiesced. “Well, if you insist,” he said, grinning widely. “I'll be in the front hall.”

  As he left the kitchen he could hear Mrs. Kerr mumbling, “Glory be, can you imagine? Lord Michael preparing his own picnic, heaven help me...”

  ***

  Beth scampered down the stairs twenty minutes later in her favorite riding habit, humming quietly to herself. When she saw Michael at the bottom, leaning against the banister, she gave him her widest smile. And he smiled back, making her heart skip. She was glad she'd decided to give in to his plans. A trip to Loch Ness would be far more enjoyable than beating out dusty rugs, of that she was certain.

  And perhaps her ghost would show herself. Then Beth would have other witnesses and Michael couldn't poke fun at her anymore.

  “Ready?” he asked as she reached the last step.

  “Ready,” she confirmed, and Michael put his hands on her waist and lifted her off the last step, right into his arms.

  Beth tried to squeal, but her voice caught in her throat as he spun her around and then pressed his lips to hers.

  When he pulled away, he said, “This is going to be a magnificent day.”

  She nodded in agreement, her lips tingling, her skin flushed.

  “Here we are, milord!” Mrs. Kerr said, bustling into the foyer. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I'll just leave this here for ya.”

  Michael didn't let go of Beth; he didn't even glance at the housekeeper as she bowed out of the room. He only smiled at her, his wife.

  “What?” she asked, curious what he was thinking about.

  “Say it again,” he prodded, his voice low and husky.

  Beth smiled. “You say it first,” she teased.

  There was a slight pause and then Michael whispered, “I love you, Elizabeth Prudence Crawley Wetherby.”

  “And I love you, Michael—” she stopped abruptly and looked up at him. “Good heavens, I don't even know your middle name!”

  Michael's cheeks flushed slightly, but he kept his tone authoritative. “Michael Wetherby will do just fine.”

  Beth's brows shot up. “I don't think so. What is your middle name?”

  “I don't have one.” He let go of her and stooped to pick up the basket. “Shall we?”

  “We shall, but you will have to contend with my curiosity all day, now. Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here and work in the west wing with everyone else?”

  He gave her a challenging look, but Beth found it difficult to take him seriously. What on earth could be so bad about his middle name? Surely he was being silly about all of this.

  “I'll still love you, you know, no matter what your middle name is.”

  Once he had given
her fair warning with his glare, he turned and strode to the door. Beth followed, trying to keep the smirk off her face. Clearly, she'd hit a sore spot.

  However, if he thought for one minute that she was going to give up this particular battle, he was sorely mistaken. She would know his middle name by the end of the day, if it was the last thing she did.

  ***

  Damn it, he didn't want to tell her his middle name. No one knew his middle name, or his twin bother's for that matter. They'd made a solemn vow when they were young—once they were old enough to understand the cruel trick their parents had played on them—never to reveal their middle names to anyone.

  He wondered for a moment if perhaps Andrew had confessed the name to his own wife. And if he was willing to share his own, would he have shared Michael's? And would Chloe, in her correspondence, decide that it was just too amusing to keep a secret from Beth?

  These were the questions he pondered as he walked to the stables, Beth sauntering along behind him with a smirk on her face. Oh, he couldn't actually see her face, but he had no doubt, if he turned around, there would be a smirk there.

  Well, she could smirk all she wanted, he was never going to reveal his middle name, so help him.

  “You there!” he called amiably to a stable lad. “Her ladyship and I wish to go for a ride. My stallion and her mare, please.”

  “Right away, sir!”

  The lad ran off and disappeared through the stable doors just as the sound of booted feet came up beside Michael. He didn't need to turn to know it was Beth. Who else would it be? And he didn't need to look at her to know she was watching him, smirk still in place.

  “Stop it,” he said, trying to keep a good-natured tone to his voice. “I'll never tell.”

  “Never is a long time.”

  Hah! “You underestimate my endurance.”

  “And you underestimate my persistence.”

  Hah again! “I don't think any fool would ever underestimate that particular quality in you, my lady. But your persistence is no match for my endurance.”

  “Hm...we shall see, won't we?”

  Oh, good God, she was issuing a challenge. Michael had a love-hate relationship with challenges. They turned him into an obsessed boor, which he hated. But God, how he loved a challenge. Thus, his pursuit of the fair Elizabeth Crawley.