The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by McCarthy, Teresa

  The housekeeper shook her head. "A man, it is, then. I knew it the minute you showed up at the door, all pale and unhappy looking."

  Elizabeth clutched her reticule, refusing to let her misfortunes show in her face. "It was the ride on those bumpy roads, Mrs. Baskers. Nothing more."

  The elder lady tugged on another weed. "And 'tis a rose I just pulled."

  "You are too smart for your own good, Mrs. Baskers."

  "I be that and more, at least Mr. Baskers says so. As a matter of fact, good husband that he is, he is cleaning that old shed right now. He's a pack rat, did you know? Saves things from thirty years ago. Now, if it rains, you stay in town. I'll be sending Mr. Baskers to fetch you."

  Chuckling, Elizabeth waved as she made her way down the graveled road. The lady's protective streak was like a breath of fresh air. She frowned suddenly, looking toward the village. Too bad everyone in life was not as good as Mrs. Baskers.

  When Stephen passed the soaked figure stumbling down the lane, his heart stilled. He called to the driver to stop the carriage.

  Pulling the door open, he jumped down from the vehicle. "Elizabeth!"

  She turned to him, her surprised face a small oval inside the hood of her wet cloak. Rain splattered against her pink cheeks. Blue eyes impaled him with such pain he winced.

  She silently turned and kept walking.

  Stephen hurried alongside her, clutching her elbow. "Elizabeth. Talk to me."

  She avoided his gaze. "Please, unhand me, my lord."

  He set his teeth and let her go. "Oh, for the love of King George, at least get inside the carriage. I can give you a lift."

  She pulled back her shoulders and ignored him.

  Stubborn was the only word that came to Stephen's mind. He kept pace alongside her. "Very well, then. If this is what you wish."

  "Do not let me keep you from staying warm and dry, my lord."

  "Would you stop calling me 'my lord'? Use my Christian name."

  Surprisingly, she stopped and tilted her face to stare at him. She looked so delicate, so vulnerable, he drew on all his strength not to haul her over his shoulder, throw her into the carriage, and kiss her senseless.

  "Very well, Stephen. Let me inform you, since you have not deemed it necessary to ask. Your visit is a waste of time."

  "Is it, Elizabeth?"

  Thunder sounded in the distance.

  She shifted her gaze toward the fields. Wind rushed past his ears, almost drowning out her words. "You never wanted me. Why come all this way to tell me so?"

  He stepped in front of her, sheltering her from the battering rain. "I want you, Elizabeth, or I would not be here."

  She glared at him, tears now flooding her sky blue eyes. "Yet you handed me back to my father as if I were nothing."

  "I had my reasons."

  She brushed past him. "Reasons? That is no excuse for breaking my heart."

  Hope lifted inside him. "I broke your heart?"

  She faltered and took a right turn down another lane.

  Stephen followed, the carriage clattering behind them. "You have every right to think badly of me. But why do you think I reversed your father's debt?"

  He heard her sniff and his own heart stumbled as if it had been given a push. "Do not judge what you did not see." He raised his hands for the coach to stop and the jingle of harnesses ceased.

  "Elizabeth, wait I have something for you." He opened the carriage door and pulled out a small covered basket, handing it to her. "I thought you might need this."

  "I have no need of your gifts, my lord." She shoved the basket into his stomach.

  He kept his hands like leaden balls at his sides, refusing to take back his gift. "Take it anyway."

  Without another word, she turned and approached the cottage, basket in hand. He stood rooted in the graveled path, the rain streaming down his face, watching her, wanting her.

  "I love you, Elizabeth. Does that not matter?"

  He saw her hesitate and then run toward the cottage.

  "I love you," he shouted. "I love you! Blast it!"

  But it seemed Elizabeth wanted nothing from him. She opened the cottage door, disappearing from sight.

  Stephen brushed a hand through his wet hair. He would not give in to her silence. He would not. She loved him, and by heaven, he would prove it to her.

  Elizabeth whipped off her cloak, but not before she peeked inside the basket to see the small black kitten curled up asleep.

  "Oh, Stephen," she said, stifling a sob.

  Mrs. Baskers came up behind her, shaking the water off the cloak. "Goodness, child. I knew you should have taken Mr. Baskers with you. He would have made you stay in town until this nasty weather settled. I just told him to go fetch you."

  "You were right Mrs. Baskers." Elizabeth wiped her face, trying to conceal her tears. "What a ninny I was to go out in that."

  Mrs. Baskers regarded her, then gazed perceptively at the small kitten in the basket and took the burden from her.

  "Love is not always what we want it to be, my dear. Now you get out of those wet things. I'll make you a nice warm drink and you can sit by the fire. I can take care of this wee little thing too."

  "Its name ... is Pharaoh," Elizabeth said with a sob and fell into the woman's soft arms.

  "There, there, dear. Is it that bad?"

  Elizabeth nodded, her throat tightening with grief. The soft aroma of lavender lingered in the air. Milli's scent from the basket. Her sister had trusted Stephen enough to give him her direction. Could Elizabeth trust him too?

  With a few words of encouragement, the lady helped Elizabeth upstairs and into some dry clothes. The entire history of Stephen and William Shelby came out in one long rush. All the while Mrs. Baskers listened without judgment.

  A few minutes later, they made their way into the kitchen where the housekeeper brewed some tea.

  Elizabeth sat on a scarred oak chair and warmed her hands around her cup. "I must look a sight after all that crying."

  Mrs. Baskers' lips curved into a sympathetic smile. "You still love him?"

  Elizabeth blinked back the tears. "Yes. But how can I live with him after what he did?"

  "He did what he thought best, dear. Everyone makes mistakes, even sons of nobility."

  Elizabeth raised her blurry gaze toward the window that Mrs. Baskers was opening. The rain had stopped and the air smelled of freshly cut flowers.

  "He said he loves me," she admitted, knowing she didn't care a whit if Stephen was the fourth son of a duke or not.

  Mrs. Baskers took a seat beside her. "Love is never a simple thing. 'Tis work sometimes."

  "At first I thought he gambled with my father to trade back the debt so he would be free of me."

  "And now you believe differently?"

  She heaved a trembling sigh. "Since I've had some time to think, I realized he freed us both from an obligation that hindered our relationship. But he should have told me the truth from the very beginning."

  "I see, and he finally came to claim you, and you, with your pride, told him to leave you alone."

  She nodded again, stifling another sob of regret. Afraid she would be hurt again, she had pushed him away.

  The older woman patted Elizabeth's shoulders. "If he does not come back, he is not worthy of your love. But I believe that if he came this far with that adorable kitten in tow, he will come again and again until he has you for himself."

  A few hours later Elizabeth was reading a book by the fire when Mrs. Baskers came rushing into the parlor, her face flushed with excitement. "My dear. Come quick."

  Startled, Elizabeth rose from her seat, setting her book aside. "What is it?"

  "Saints preserve us! A sight I have not seen in at least twenty years!"

  Elizabeth was a bit worried at the way the lady's hands were wringing her apron as she ran out the door and down the path. She was moving far too fast for a woman her age.

  Elizabeth followed. "Mrs. Baskers, please slow down."
<
br />   "Mr. Baskers just informed me," the housekeeper said breathlessly, gazing over the hill, "and I cannot believe it."

  "Informed you of what?"

  "He will be coming soon."

  "Mr. Baskers? Is he hurt?"

  Mrs. Baskers spun around. "Goodness, child! Not Mr. Baskers!"

  A heartbeat passed and the elderly woman turned toward the lane, her finger shaking in the air. "There, dear. Look there!"

  Elizabeth squinted in the noted direction where the sun began to peek through the clouds. Water glistened like diamonds, both on the road and on the limp branches of the trees. "A rainbow?"

  "No, no. Can you not hear it?"

  Elizabeth paused. There, in the distance she could hear the clopping of hooves and the jangle of metal.

  "He's here!" Mrs. Baskers grabbed Elizabeth in a death grip. "Did I not say he would come?"

  Elizabeth blinked at the rider coming into view. The horse was as white as snow, and the man ... what on earth—

  "Oh, my dear, how romantic," the older lady sighed, tears settling on her short lashes.

  Elizabeth's heart came to a sudden halt as the magnificent knight in full mesh galloped toward her, his metal suit clanging like that of a medieval warrior's.

  The large ominous figure stopped before the gate and turned his helmeted head toward Elizabeth.

  Mrs. Baskers clapped her hands together, pushing Elizabeth forward. "Go on, my dear."

  "Miss Elizabeth Shelby." The velvety timbre of Stephen's voice sent Elizabeth's knees knocking. He had come back.

  "W-what are you doing?" she asked faintly.

  With some effort he slipped from the horse and walked toward her, his suit of armor rattling like ten buckets of nails. "I have come to sweep you off your feet, my lady."

  He knelt down in the mud, tugging his helmet off his head, and grasped her hand in his metal-gloved one. "I came to ask for your hand in marriage, my sweet, adorable Elizabeth. I am a poor dumb knight begging your forgiveness. Begging, mind you."

  The clank of metal turned her heart as he shifted his balance. "I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I never meant to hurt you. You are everything that is precious to me. I gave you back to your father so that I might love you without any obstacles between us."

  Deep brown eyes peered up at her, pleading. "What say you, my beautiful princess? Will you marry a dumb knight such as I?"

  Mrs. Baskers let out an audible sigh.

  Elizabeth's heart soared as she fought back a giggle. His charms were as devastating as ever. Not only that, his hair was mussed in a devil-may-care style, making him look like a dashing rogue of old. He was beautiful. And he loved her.

  She drew in a shaky sigh, knowing he would not have come if he did not want her. She brought his hand to her heart. "I say yes. I love you, my dear knight."

  A bright white smile flashed across his face as he struggled to a standing position. "Give me a moment here, sweetheart." He was just about upright when he fell flat on his face in the mud. A muffled curse flew from his mouth.

  She bent down to help him, trying not to laugh. "Stephen?"

  He sat up, a wicked sparkle in his gaze. "And I love you, dear Elizabeth." It took a few amusing seconds before he stumbled to a standing position.

  He grunted and groaned as he pulled Elizabeth toward him and cursed as his armor snagged against her gown. "Devil take it!"

  Mrs. Baskers came to his rescue. "Come into the house, my lord. We can fix that as right as rain."

  Grinning from ear to ear, Stephen grabbed hold of Elizabeth's hand and clanked into the cottage. Within minutes his suit was off, and he had cleaned the mud from his face.

  He stood arm in arm with Elizabeth in the parlor while the housekeeper went to fetch some tea. "Now, my sweet," he said with a kiss, brushing his warm lips against hers.

  Elizabeth could not help but laugh. "Where did you obtain your proposal suit?"

  He lifted a brow in amusement. "Mr. Baskers had the suit back in his shed. It seems he used it years ago. The white horse, you ask? It's owned by the blacksmith in town."

  Elizabeth laughed. "No!"

  Stephen snaked a hand around her waist and hauled her against him. "Yes. And if you dare say one word of this to my brothers, I will have to take drastic measures."

  She gazed up at him, teasingly. "Oh, my, drastic measures?"

  He gave her a delicious smile that told her he meant every word he said. Before he could speak again, he glanced over his shoulder as Mrs. Baskers entered with the tea tray. The older woman smiled and took a seat across from the couple.

  Stephen frowned when Elizabeth stepped away from him to sit near the fireplace. "Do you have some cakes to go with this, Mrs. Baskers?" he asked hopefully, looking down at the lady.

  The lady smiled up at him. " 'Course I do."

  Yet to Stephen's displeasure, the lady sat there, not willing to move. He cleared his throat, taking a look out the window, then back at her. "Well, do you mind fetching some?"

  She lifted her head and smiled back. " 'Course I do."

  Elizabeth's eyes twinkled when she noted Stephen's hand curl at his side.

  "I wish to be alone with Elizabeth," he said stiffly.

  " 'Course you do."

  Elizabeth bit back her laughter.

  Stephen heaved a frustrated sigh and scratched his head. "Have you something against me, Mrs. Baskers?"

  Rather intrigued, Elizabeth regarded the scene between the steadfast housekeeper and the handsome lord. This was better than Milli on stage.

  "'Course not, my lord." Mrs. Baskers gave a knowing look toward Elizabeth. "But drastic measures will not be taken here. They are reserved for after the marriage vows. Beggin' your pardon, your lordship."

  Elizabeth could not believe the crimson color that blotted Stephen's cheeks.

  "Mrs. Baskers!" The woman jumped as Mr. Baskers appeared in the doorway, his bulky figure shadowing his wife.

  The lady smiled at her husband. "Yes, dear."

  "I have need of your assistance."

  The lady shifted her gaze between Stephen and Elizabeth, and sank back comfortably into her chair. "It can wait, Mr. Baskers."

  The older man heaved a sigh and strode into the room. "Forgive me, my lord." He shot Stephen a wink. "But I believe this calls for drastic measures." Before his wife knew what was happening, the man scooped her into his beefy hands, sweeping her over his shoulder.

  She yelped in protest "Mr. Baskers, please!"

  Eyes gleaming, Stephen rolled back on his heels. "Ah, drastic measures, Mr. Baskers? May I invite you to the wedding?"

  Mr. Baskers brandished a gap-toothed smile. "'Course, my lord," he said in a mocking tone, then disappeared around the corner, Mrs. Baskers yapping in his ears.

  Elizabeth rose. "Should we go after them?"

  Stephen laughed, swinging her into his arms. "Certainly not. It seems Baskers takes drastic measures quite seriously."

  "And you, my lord? What say you to drastic measures?"

  Stephen let out a deep growl as he kissed her with a hunger that sent her senses spinning. "I love you, Elizabeth. Do not ever run from me again. I could not live without you."

  Tears pricked her eyelids as his lips slowly descended to meet hers once again. But Mrs. Baskers' giggling screech pierced the air, separating the two. "Mr. Baskers ... please!"

  Stephen's chest rumbled with laughter. "What say you to drastic measures, dearest Elizabeth?"

  Elizabeth backed up, pressing a hand against his chest. "Drastic measures may be taken after the wedding, my lord."

  Stephen's eyes devoured her as he slipped the special license from his pocket. "Is tomorrow soon enough?"

  She ran from him, laughing. Stephen was hard on her heels and caught her in the hall, pulling her against him. "Is it?"

  "What?" she asked, her heart singing with happiness.

  "Soon enough?" His words were a whispered caress and a hot ache of love grew in her breast.
/>   She sank against him. "I would like my family to be there."

  "Very well. We can travel today and marry tomorrow. But you may inform Milli I won't be galloping in on a white horse or wearing a suit of armor. Speaking of that imp, I think she dropped an entire bottle of lavender in Pharaoh's basket."

  Elizabeth muffled a laugh against his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of lavender. "Tomorrow will be soon enough."

  He fitted himself alongside her and buried his face in her hair. "Perhaps we should call in Mrs. Baskers after all."

  "She won't be coming now," she said, smiling wickedly and lifting her head. "Drastic measures, you know."

  He laughed, then his gaze turned serious. "I love you."

  She touched a hand to his face. "And I you, Stephen."

  A half hour later they rode from the cottage as the last of the sinking sun hit the horizon in wide ribbons of pink and orange.

  Elizabeth smiled, petting the wide-eyed feline in the basket beside her. "Stephen?"

  He took her hand in his. "Yes, my love?"

  "How old was that suit of armor?"

  He looked puzzled. "Not certain. Why?"

  She gazed out the window of the carriage and put on her spectacles, staring back at him. "Oh, I just wanted to know all the answers when your brothers asked."

  Within a heartbeat, she was on his lap, laughing.

  Stephen whipped off the spectacles and held her hands against his chest, a slow grin spreading across his face.

  "Should I tell you now what drastic measures I will take if you dare say a single word to them? Or if you ever try to scare me with those spectacles or another inkwell?"

  She nodded, her eyes lit with tenderness. "Tell me."

  All playfulness fled from his face. "You are everything I ever hoped for in a wife, my dear, sweet Elizabeth."

  "And I don't care if you are the fourth son of a duke."

  A small rumble of amusement broke from his lips. "I gather drastic measures will be accepted from the fourth son of a duke?"

  She wrapped her hands around his neck, wondering how God could be so good to her. "Very drastic measures, my lord."

  "Hoyden," he said huskily and closed the lid to the basket holding the wide-eyed kitten. "Drastic measures, indeed."