Linna : Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 5)

by Jackie Ivie

  Linna winced before she could catch it. “I won’t be here tomorrow.”

  “Why not? What’s happened?”

  She had to look away, out the window. At nothing but sky. “I’ve told Luthor Evans that I will marry him. We’re eloping. It’s all planned.” She almost got through the words before emotion caught at them. She wasn’t very proud of that. She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  “No, Linna. Don’t do that. Please? He’s not man enough for you, and you don’t love him. You can’t.”

  “Love...isn’t a necessity. Look at our parents. Look at you.”

  “Yes. Look at me. Wed to a man who has amours throughout the city and thinks I don’t know of it. Take a good look.”

  “L–Luthor isn’t like that. Not at all. He...he’s safe.”

  “True enough. He’s very safe. Is that what you want, Linna? Safety?”

  She nodded.

  “He’s also boring...and he’s spineless. Even I’ve noticed that much. I can’t see you two together. I can’t. I’ll send word to Father again. He’ll be home soon. You can go back to Plantation Daniels. Everything will go back to how it was. You’ll have your pick of husbands then. You’ll see.”

  “It’s too late for that. Nothing’s the same...and—and I can’t go back.” Linna swallowed around a hard knot at the base of her throat. It made her words hoarse-sounding.

  “But—”

  “It won’t be too hard. You’ll see. Luthor will be an easy husband. He’ll get me everything I ask.” Despite her best effort, Linna shuddered. She didn’t think Rhea saw it.

  “You can’t marry him, Linna. I won’t allow it. I’ll not. I’ll—”

  “Stop arguing. Please? You’ll upset yourself for nothing. And it’s not going to change anything. I have no other choice. I am—. There’s to be—.” Linna took a deep breath. “I’m expecting a baby, Rhea. It’s too late.”

  “Oh dearest God.” Rhea breathed the words. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Dear God, what have I done?” Rhea put her hands over her face and started shaking.

  “You haven’t done anything. Stop that.”

  “I’ve taken enough from that man! That he should do such a thing to my own sister! In my own house!”

  “Stop it, Rhea!” Linna pulled her sister’s hands away from her face. “You’re upsetting yourself for nothing. It wasn’t Drake. He hasn’t touched me. Ever.” Linna dropped her eyes. “The baby isn’t Drake’s.”

  “Then how? Who? Not Luthor. Surely not—”

  “It’s his. Raoul’s. Or—oh, bother! I don’t even know his name!” Despite her every effort, the last word had a sobbing sound. Linna bit her tongue to stop it but the bitterness wouldn’t stay put. She had to gulp it back where it joined the lump in her throat and just sat there, pounding.

  “Oh dear God...no,” Rhea gasped the words.

  “Don’t start. Please? I don’t need your censure, too. I’ve had enough of it from everyone else already.”

  “I never meant that.”

  “Of course you did, and it’s all right. You’re right to feel that way. I’m a harlot...a fallen woman. I’m carrying a child, and I don’t even know the father’s name. That’s the mark of a harlot, isn’t it?”

  “Not in your case, Linna. See reason.”

  “Reason? I can’t even face myself in the mirror. That’s how ashamed I am. There is no reason in this insanity. There’s only my escape. I’m going to take it, too. I’m going to marry Luthor, and I’m going to do my best to pretend it’s because I love him.”

  “You can’t do that. It’s heartless. Think of him, for a change.”

  Linna narrowed her eyes. “Heartless? Yes, I suppose it is. Trust me, it’s the best I can do. I have to get through a wedding night with a man I despise. Heartless? You’re right. It’s heartless. It’s a good thing, too. Trust me.”

  “Don’t do this. Please? Give it time.”

  “Time? That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? I don’t have time. I’ve got - at best - another month before it’s no secret. It’s going to be difficult to pass off as Luthor’s as it is. You want me to wait? Sorry. I can’t.”

  Rhea’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Linna had to look away. And then she was walking away. Heartless? Rhea didn’t know the extent of it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She was meeting Luthor before dawn...in the back alley. As was right. Cheats and liars such as she was fast becoming didn’t deserve daylight or front door service. That was fine with her. Darkness made it harder to look oneself in the mirror. She was cheating Luthor out of a woman who might love him and lying to him the entire way. And she was gifting him with a bastard heir at the same time. Even the candle’s light seemed too bright. It was better to be angry. Much better.

  Linna put her hair in some semblance of order without looking in any mirror. She wasn’t facing one yet. She made a face at the glass shards. It reflected back in the thousand-fold, piecemeal panorama that went for the cheval mirror. It was fine with her. It only reflected what she felt.

  Shattered.

  She didn’t need to see herself. She was pale. She knew that much. It wasn’t faked either. She was terrified, sick at heart, and ill to her very toes. She only hoped she could get through the upcoming ceremony without making it a physical reality.

  She had a little trouble with the seed pearls up her back. Luthor had purchased a dress for her. It had been delivered by him just yesterday eve. It was virginal-looking, which wasn’t fitting, but he didn’t know that. He’d never know. She had a role to play for Luthor Evans. He wasn’t going to spot the ugliness beneath until it was too late for him. She’d grown thinner, losing any extra flesh about her body. It wasn’t a good thing. It made the swelling of her abdomen more prominent.

  Linna snarled as she found a corset and tightened it about her middle, making her stomach queasier. Of course, the impostor’s baby wouldn’t give up any room, her own body had to do it, and Luthor hadn’t chosen a dress with any extra room for added complications like a pregnant bride.

  The veil was long, though. That would be enough. Linna still had to keep Luthor from her until they were in a dark enough room, he wouldn’t be able to spot anything. She’d have to trust in his own lack of experience as to what her figure signified. She made another face.

  Heartless? She repeated Rhea’s words to herself. I only wish there was such a condition. I’d embrace it for life.

  Luthor was waiting for her at the stable, just as he said he would be. She dipped her head, more to hide her sneer than anything else. He looked ill-at-ease, gangly, and ridiculous in his wedding finery. She only hoped he wasn’t going to try to carry her. He’d probably drop her.

  She didn’t wait for him to help her in. She didn’t want him touching her.

  She’d sent a small portmanteau and one trunk down. She waited while it was stowed, then he was beside her, lifting one hand into his and kissing it. Linna barely kept from yanking it away. His touch made her ill. His skin was a pale shade. She wondered if he was that shade everywhere. He looked thin and fragile, without one muscle to his name. She wondered if he had a chest that matched. She had nothing to compare him to, except maybe her nephew, Eric.

  His fingers were long and bony-feeling, and his lips were cold and clammy against her hand.

  What am I doing? she wondered in panic.

  “I’m kind of nervous. Are you?” Luthor asked, then he snorted through several feminine-sounding giggles.

  She nodded, thanking the veil for hiding what had to be on her face. The carriage started up, rocking them forward and then back. Just her luck. He had a driver. She was rather hoping he’d drive himself. Then she’d avoid this intimacy.

  “I paid for the ceremony at Wyn Church. Near the docks. Costs double to have it done this early. It seemed best though. And...I booked a room as well...with a private bath for us.”

  More giggling came at the end of
his sentence. Linna stopped her gagging but wasn’t in time to stay her shuddering. She knew he felt it as his other arm snaked about her, pulling her closer. He smelled like wet horses.

  “You are nervous. Poor girl. It won’t be too bad. Honest. I’ll be gentle.”

  I’m never going to make it through this! Linna thought in panic. I’m going to run screaming through the doors and out the opposite end of the church!

  She did neither.

  The coach stopped much too soon. Linna had been spending the time pulling away from him as far as she could and still maintain her charade. Luthor thought she was shy. He kept mentioning it and licking his lips.

  Let him, she thought.

  The church was small, but she’d expected that. No large, fancy wedding for her. No large wedding reception, with respected, old name families from every part of the territory, coming to pay their respect. No. Not for her.

  Linna ignored Luthor’s proffered arm and walked purposely across the drive and into the church, crossing four bricked steps and the raised threshold. She had to get this over with, then she had to find a bottle of wine to empty. She wasn’t going to get through it any other way.

  The interior was lit with candles. Just enough to see. There was an altar in front of her. She kept her eyes on it. The wood beneath her echoed with each of her steps. She wasn’t wearing the satin shoes Luthor had bought. She was wearing boots. They’d be best at incapacitating her new husband if she wasn’t drunk enough when he tried to claim his rights. What a farce, she thought.

  There was a fat, kind-faced clergyman standing at the altar, his book opened and a surprised expression on his face. It was probably a rarity to see a bride stomping her way up the aisle, without waiting for her bridegroom. Linna didn’t care. He’s been paid double. He could think what he liked. She was trying to suck some moisture into her mouth in order to be able to speak. She should have started drinking already and wondered how to go about procuring a bottle this early in the morning.

  “Hello, my dear. You’re Miss...Miss...”

  He dropped his glance and looked into his book. “Ah, yes, here it is.”

  “I’m Linnette Maria Daniels.”

  “Yes, I see that you are. There’s a bit of question about your groom though.”

  What question could there be, other than what a weak, embarrassing specimen he is?

  “Forgive my wandering, here it is. I’m sorry for the delay, Miss.”

  “No apology necessary. Can we get started now?”

  “We can’t start without your groom, Miss. Where is your young man?”

  Probably tangled in his own socks, she almost answered, and then caught a giggle. “Why, he’s right behind me, Father.”

  He looked over her head and his face cleared. “Oh, yes. Here he is, now. Come along, young man. My. What a handsome fellow. You’re to be congratulated, my dear.”

  Linna dropped onto the altar pillow, knowing her legs wouldn’t support her a moment longer. She really was going to be ill. Luthor Evans, handsome? The priest was blind.

  She giggled again, softer this time. If she kept laughing she could keep the other emotions at bay. She hoped. She felt him drop into place beside her, and she turned her head further away.

  She was about to blasphemy every dream, and hope, and bit of faith she’d ever experienced. She wondered what the punishment in the after-life was. She was afraid she already knew what it was going to be while she was living. She retched, barely catching the motion before it made sound. God help me! she prayed silently.

  “Today we come together, in peace....” The priest was eloquent, and his voice seemed to drone on and on while the candlelight wavered, and the only other sound was breathing. Luthor. Breathing. Linna tried not to listen as his words came out in a solemn, sing-song fashion the entire time. “...join in Holy Matrimony. This is a day of great rejoicing....”

  Rejoicing? she repeated to herself. Like hell.

  She’d get Luthor to purchase the wine. She wondered if he knew how to get it - or where. It had to be wine though, not champagne. She was never drinking champagne again. Luthor had to get a bottle of full-bodied wine. The kind that would make her sick with it. She could stave him off with an argument, too. That was it. She knew how to argue. Or...she could ply him with the drink! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? She could get him so drunk, he’d think they actually made the baby when they didn’t. That might work.

  She wondered how to get him drunk. Luthor never drank that she knew of. She could play a strip-sort of game to get him to drink. No, never that! It was too much like her teasing of the impostor had been. She’d have to trick Luthor into drinking it. That was it! She could get him to keep up with her. What man wants a wife that can out-drink him?

  “Mademoiselle Linnette Maria Daniels....”

  Linna heard the slight French intonation of her name and crushed her hands together until she heard her knuckles crack. She’d learned that trick from Vincent back when she was little. And innocent. If she concentrated enough, it didn’t even hurt. She was wedding a scarecrow of a man. She, who had experienced blazing passion with the most thrilling man anyone could imagine, was about to be tied to a joke in men’s clothing. It was too much to be borne!

  “Well, Miss Daniels?”

  “What?” Linna tilted her head slightly toward the priest.

  “Do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

  May God have mercy on me! “Yes. Yes, I do. I do. Yes. Go on. Yes, do.”

  He beamed down at her. Linna dropped her eyes to her hands. The knuckles were white now, nearly as white as her dress. She flexed her fingers one after another and carefully watched them as she did so. Hopefully Luthor had purchased a ring, too. She hadn’t even asked.

  “And do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, Monsieur

  Cordean Raoul Larket?”

  Linna’s eyes flew open and her mouth followed. She swiveled so quickly, she nearly fell. It wasn’t Luthor bowing next to her. It was Raoul...or Cordean, or what had he just been called?

  “I do,” he said quietly and lifted his eyes to hers.

  Linna caught her breath as everything on her body betrayed her. It was Raoul! He was here for her! He was wedding her just as he’d bargained, and Luthor wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and—

  Her mind stopped. So did her breathing.

  The priest was still mouthing words. Linna knew it but couldn’t make them out over what sounded like a loud surf in her ears. Moss green eyes held hers easily, crinkled just slightly at the edges as his smile reached them. Linna had to force her mouth closed.

  He wasn’t wearing wedding finery. It looked more like working gear, from his faded flannel shirt, open at the collar, to his dun-colored trousers. He looked good in it, though. He probably looks good in anything, Linna, she told herself. She already knew how good he looked in elegant, out-of-fashion ballroom attire...and she knew how wondrous he looked in nothing at all.

  Linna dropped her eyes and let the blush flood her. She was in a church, for goodness sake! This time, the giggle made sound, and she slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle it.

  The relief was what made her so giddy. That was it. Linna told herself it was relief, and not such euphoria, she could swoon with it. The man she knew as Raoul still held to her hand while the priest droned on and on, and his fingers weren’t cold or clammy-feeling. Then, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a thin golden band, holding it up for her inspection. Linna nodded slightly. There were entwined hearts cut out on two sides of it.

  It fit perfectly, too. How is that possible?

  Raoul was repeating his vows at her as he slid it onto her finger. Linna watched every word as it left his mouth, without hearing one. It’s the relief, she kept repeating to herself. It was relief that it wasn’t Luthor Evans kneeling there. It had nothing to do with it being Raoul. She didn’t even like him anymore. He was a snake like all men.

  He had the ring on and turne
d back to the priest. Linna couldn’t move her eyes from him. He hadn’t lost a bit of his handsome countenance. She’d half suspected she’d dreamt it, but knew that for the mistake it was. His hair wasn’t as long as she’d thought, or he’d cut it, for it just brushed his shoulders. He’d been wearing a hat too, for there was a slight indention in his hair from where the brim had been. He hadn’t lost any size in those arms, thighs, or chest either.

  She blushed again and blinked slowly and deliberately. No wonder the priest had called her lucky.

  “You may kiss your bride now.”

  Linna’s eyes widened as he turned his head, catching her gaze. It’s the relief! She wanted to shout. Then, her eyes widened even further as turned fully toward her, lifting the veil with a slowness amounting to reverence. Without the curtain of netting, he was even more amazing. Linna’s lips parted slightly to gain breath. He was beautiful, manly, and he was now hers! Linna swallowed around the giddy feeling. She was afraid it had nothing to do with relief either.

  The brown starbursts at the center of his irises looked larger, the longer she stared at them, but that’s impossible, she told herself. Raoul moved her hands to his chest, relinquishing them to caress his musculature, while he cupped her face in his palms. Linna swayed toward him, but she wasn’t swooning. She told herself swooning felt more uncontrollable than the way she was leaning right into him, supporting herself on the chest she still remembered. He bowed his head toward hers.

  Very well, she thought as his lips fit against hers, maybe it is swooning. She sagged against him. He caught her easily. That was lucky, for the floor between their pillows didn’t look soft enough for that sort of landing.

  Linna was held against the brawn she’d thought lost to her and heard his chuckling as he turned them back to the priest. She was having trouble opening her eyes. She was afraid he’d spot the tears in them before she had them under control.

  “Congratulations to you both. You’re a lovely couple. Many happy years to you.”

  “My thanks, Father,” Raoul replied.