He turned to Brenna, who sat where he’d left her, absently twisting a handkerchief on her lap. He did not wish to be drawn into an argument with an obviously distraught and exhausted woman. “Come now, must we continue to snap at each other like this?” he asked, his tone light. “It isn’t helping the situation. You look unwell, you know. Perhaps you should go lie down.”
Her eyes narrowed perceptibly before she spoke. “I’m well enough.”
“I beg to differ. If I might say so, you look exhausted. You’re not yourself today, besides. Not the Brenna I’ve come to know.”
“Perhaps ye dinna ken me as well as ye supposed,” she answered, glowering at him.
“I know you well enough,” he said, his voice tight.
“I suppose knowing the size of my dowry would suffice.”
“Is that what you think?” Something inside him snapped at the mention of her dowry—the dowry he’d given his word not to touch. He’d been surprised to learn she had such a generous portion behind her, one which Lord Danville had insisted be put in trust. So that he couldn’t get his hands on it, of course, and risk losing it at the gaming tables. That stipulation had been humiliating at best, yet he’d accepted it without hesitation. No matter how pressed for funds he might become, he’d never take his wife’s money. “How can you sit there accusing me of being a fortune hunter, when you were the one who brought about this marriage?”
“However did I bring about this marriage? By succumbing to your practiced seduction?”
“I don’t remember you offering the slightest resistance to my efforts.”
She rose to face him, her cheeks stained strawberry and her hands balled into angry fists by her sides. “How dare ye, Colin Rosemoor. ‘Tis bad enough ye treated me like...like a common harlot,” she sputtered. “Like your Mrs. Trumball-Watts. Aye, I’ve heard all about her, about your relationship with her.”
Relationship? Colin drew back in surprise. He’d escorted Mrs. Trumball-Watts home from the opera one night, at her request. Deposited her at her doorstep and taken his leave, nothing more. That single, unexceptional event summed up his entire so-called relationship with the woman. “Nothing but trumped-up lies and innuendo,” he protested. “You must believe I’ve nothing to do with her—”
“Nay, I dinna want to hear it.” Her eyes darkened to a stormy hue, the color of roiling seas. “But to suggest that I allowed ye to seduce me in order to bring about this...this scandal. Ye think I enjoy hearing the hushed gossip about me everywhere I go? Ye think I would bring this upon myself, simply for the pleasure of marrying ye?”
No. Why would she? To escape the horrible fate of marrying Sinclair, his mind supplied. He was a lesser of two evils. Yet her anger seemed genuine, her indignation valid. Colin felt the blood pound in his temples. He no longer knew what to think. All he knew was that she stirred his blood, stoked his desire, even as she stood there glaring at him.
“Well?” Brenna asked, clasping her hands in front of herself. “Have ye not anything more to say on the subject? Another quip, perhaps?” He was silently watching her, an altogether strange look upon his features. She could almost swear she saw desire in his eyes. Did he think her clay in his hands, so easy to manipulate? A look, a touch, and she would bend to his wishes?
He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it decidedly more mussed than before. “Yes, well. Actually, I did come here today with a purpose in mind.” He reached into his pocket, rummaging around with a frown. Pulling out a black velvet pouch, he withdrew something from within, closing his fingers around it.
Brenna’s breath caught as he reached for her hand, then sank to one knee beside her.
“I know we’ve had a...well, an unfortunate start to our betrothal. Still, I’d hoped to do this properly.” He held up a ring—an exquisite oval aquamarine set with diamonds—and smiled up at her uncertainly.
Despite her resolve to resist his charm, her heart soared at the sight of him kneeling before her, looking so very hopeful and vulnerable. So devastatingly handsome.
“I very much hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife, Brenna. Though God knows I don’t deserve you.”
Brenna covered her mouth with one hand, temporarily rendered speechless. Her gaze briefly met his questioning one, then slid back down to the ring he held out between his forefinger and thumb like an offering. It was exquisite, really. Far more beautiful than any jewel she’d ever owned. “Oh, Colin, ‘tis lovely.”
He rose to stand before her. “It was my great-grandmother Rosemoor’s. As soon as I saw it, I knew you must have it. The stone is exactly the same shade as your eyes.” Again, he reached for her hand. “A perfect match to your beauty, your strength, your brilliancy. Will you have me, Brenna?”
His words touched her heart, brought a tear to her eye. Still, she couldn’t help but notice he made no mention of love. Why did the omission bother her so? She was a sensible girl, a practical girl. Before coming to London, she’d never entertained the notion of marrying for love. Love was for silly, foolish girls, for those at leisure to fritter away their days, lost in lofty daydreams. Yet here she stood, her heart near to breaking for the lack of that very same emotion. Her desire for him was surely leading her down a path toward love, a journey on which she feared Colin would not join her.
She sighed deeply, knowing there was naught she could do about it now. “Aye, Colin. I will have ye.”
He nodded, then slipped the ring on her finger. Brenna stared at it in amazement, a smile tipping the corners of her mouth. ‘Twas a perfect fit. “I think I may need my head examined, but I do accept ye willingly.”
“As do I,” Colin said at last, his expression solemn.
“Accept yourself?” Brenna teased. “And willingly, too?”
“Hmm, very amusing. I was striving to be serious, you know. Now you see why I don’t often bother.” He held her hand in his, examining the ring on her finger with a satisfied smile. “You’d never have accepted me under normal circumstances, would you?”
“Truly, Colin, there’s no telling what I might have done. Even I canna say for certain where ye are concerned.”
His eyes began to twinkle with mischief. “Do I really have that effect on you? Fascinating.”
“Isn’t it?” she replied wryly. “‘Twill be the undoing of me yet.”
“Might I test the theory with a kiss? For the sake of science, of course.”
She shook her head. “‘Tis perhaps not the best idea.” Heaven forbid she might end up on the carpet, half-clothed again. Being discovered once in such an embarrassing fashion was quite enough for a lifetime. Even now, her cheeks grew warm at the memory.
“Still, I’m tempted all the same.” He moved closer, his purely male scent suddenly overpowering her.
Sandalwood, tobacco. For once, the smell of brandy was absent. Curious. She hadn’t time to consider it before he gathered her in his arms, his touch gentle as his mouth found hers. Her arms stole around his neck, her body pressing urgently against his.
Yet his usual sense of urgency was gone. Instead, his kiss was slow, tender. His lips brushed against hers in a tantalizing fashion, his tongue parting her lips with such controlled restraint that she feared she might cry out with longing. Instead, a small moan of pleasure escaped her lips, and she felt him go rigid against her in response.
Regrettably, his mouth abandoned hers, his breath coming fast against her ear as he buried his face in her neck. “I must stop. Otherwise, I might...well—”
“Aye, you must.”
“You’re trembling,” he said, pulling away to peer down at her anxiously.
“I dinna ken why. I’m a wee bit nervous, perhaps. The wedding...’tis so verra soon. What must your mother think of me now? How can I face her, after—”
“Do not trouble yourself about that, Brenna. Despite the initial shock...” He cleared his throat, no doubt remembering that his mother had seen her with one breast nearly half-exposed, the effects of his mouth still visible on her bare skin. �
�Despite that,” he continued, “she’s delighted about the marriage. Jane speaks so very highly of you, and my father holds Lord Danville in esteem. Like any mother, she’s dedicated her days to marrying off her children, one by one. This is her final triumph. She’ll take it however she can get it; trust me. After that unpleasant business at White’s and all that followed, I’m sure she despaired of ever seeing me honorably wed.”
“Which reminds me, what are we to do about that? About Hugh and Lord Thomas? When shall I make my statement?”
Colin’s jaw flexed. “There will be no statement.”
“Whatever do you mean? We canna let them get away with such despicable behavior.”
“As much as I detest the notion, I’m afraid we will.”
“But why? I dinna understand. Just because we are to be wed—”
“I will not put my wife in a position to be called a liar in public.”
“But—”
“No buts. Your family will soon be mine. I will not cast aspersions on their name, not now. Nor will I give Lord Danville further reason to detest me. We will simply move forward and try to forget the past.”
“We canna do that. ‘Tis not fair. I canna abide by it, not when I know the truth.”
“You can, and you will.”
“Ooh,” she huffed. “Now ye sound like Lord Danville, telling me what I can and canna do.”
“Have no fear, it’s not something I’ll attempt often. But in this case, you must see it’s the only way.”
“So ye will just accept it, then? Being expelled from your club? Falsely named a cheat?”
His features hardened, his eyes regarding her warily once more. “It’s the price I must pay for marrying you.”
Brenna’s mouth fell open, and she could only stare at him in surprise. The price he must pay? And what of her costs?
“Blast it,” Colin said, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. “I did not mean to phrase that so poorly. It’s a price I pay willingly, and without regret. I say—”
“I think we’ve said enough for one day,” Brenna snapped. “I’m sure ye must have business of some sort to attend to.”
“Not particularly,” he muttered. “But, alas, I’ll leave you to your rest. You look as if you sorely need it.” He strode toward the doorway, then paused. “Oh, and Jane said she’d likely pay you a call this afternoon. She’s been unwell these past few days. Wanted me to tell you that’s why she’s not called since the betrothal was announced. Anyway, I said I would relay the message.”
“And now ye have.”
“I have, indeed. Well, then. Good day.” He offered her a stiff bow. As he straightened, his gaze fell upon her hand, to the ring adorning her finger. A slow smile spread across his face. “It looks lovely on you, doesn’t it?”
Seemingly involuntarily, her hand rose to her breast, her fingers running along the edge of her bodice. “It does, Colin. I canna thank ye enough.”
“You like it, then?”
“I do. Verra much.”
“I’m glad. You didn’t notice the inscription, did you?”
“Inscription?” Brenna asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “Nay. Whatever does it say?”
Colin only quirked a brow in response.
She tugged the ring from her finger. Holding it up, she squinted at the single word engraved in script inside the band. Unbidden.
“Unbidden? Whatever does it mean?”
“Hmm, let’s see.” He stroked his chin. “Unbidden. An adjective, I believe. Something that isn’t bidden, that comes uninvited, of its own will.”Brenna could not help but laugh. “I know verra well what the word means, Colin. I only meant, why? Whatever does it mean to us?”
Colin opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, then turned to face her once more. “You’ll understand its meaning soon enough, my sweet.” He would do his damnedest to make sure of it.
Chapter 17
“I say, it all went rather well, didn’t it? Lady Danville did a remarkable job, in so short a time.”
“She did, didn’t she?” Brenna answered, self-consciously arranging her personal articles on the vanity while her husband stood behind her, languidly leaning against the bedpost, his coat thrown carelessly over one shoulder and his cravat untied and hanging about his neck. In the glass, her eyes skimmed his reflection as he reached up to undo the top buttons on his shirt, revealing the firm, muscular planes of his chest. She swallowed hard at the sight.
Her husband. She dropped her gaze to her hands and, despite her rational thoughts, nearly gasped at the sight of the simple gold band encircling her finger. The morning’s ceremony was nothing but a blur in her mind. She’d stood there beside Colin in her pale gray silk gown, thinking how very sorry she was that the Maclachlans hadn’t lived to see her made a bride. She’d never imagined her own wedding like this, surrounded by people she’d known for so short a time. When it had been her turn to repeat her vows, she’d stood there like a fool, lost in her thoughts, staring at the floor beneath her slippers. Jane, standing beside her as her sole attendant, had to reach out and pluck her sleeve to gain her attention.
Afterward, they’d enjoyed a lavish meal, one that had gaily continued on for hours. At last the sated guests had departed, and Brenna’s trunks had been loaded onto the carriage. They’d driven the short distance to Rosemoor House—her new home—in silence, Hera in her traveling case between them.
“I apologize that we cannot take a wedding trip right away,” Colin said, drawing her from her ruminations. “I must first settle some matters here in Town.”
Financial matters, no doubt, Brenna thought.
“Later, perhaps, once we are more settled,” he continued. “In the meantime, is this bedchamber to your liking?”
“’Tis lovely, Colin.” Brenna’s voice sounded unnatural to her own ears. She set down her brush and met Colin’s eyes in the looking glass. A shiver began at the base of her spine and worked its way up to her neck, and she clasped her arms about herself in an attempt to quell it.
“I’m glad to hear it. You mustn’t get too comfortable, though. It seems my father has purchased us a town house on Henrietta Street as a wedding gift.”
“Indeed? How verra generous of him,” she murmured.
“Yes, quite a turnabout,” he answered, his voice laced with bitterness. “It wasn’t so long ago that the man was threatening to cut me off without a shilling. Anyway, tomorrow you shall go with my mother and Jane to order some furnishings and whatever else we might need to set up housekeeping.”
Brenna’s palms grew damp at the thought. Furnishing a London town house was not something she had ever aspired to. In fact, she’d never given it a single thought nor paid overmuch attention to her surroundings at Danville House. “I’ve no idea what will be required, ye know,” she said, panic rising in her voice. “‘Tis not as if I were raised in such surroundings.”
“And that’s precisely why my mother and Jane shall accompany you. No doubt Lucy will tag along, too. You’ll manage well enough.”
They’d all think her an incompetent ninny. Such domestic duties were simply not among her strengths, and she disliked engaging in activities she did not succeed at. She’d have a better time of repairing a dwelling’s roof than she would of suitably furnishing it.
“And it also seems we’ll have use of one of my father’s lesser estates, a modest country house in Kent. If you’d like, we can take a brief wedding trip to Brighton at the close of the Season, and then retire immediately to Kent. I think that perhaps I’ll begin raising hunters. I’ll look to acquire some breeding stock from Lucy’s stables—”
“Nay, I must go to Glenbroch at the Season’s end,” Brenna cut in, her chest tight. “I thought ye might wish to see Hampton’s lands, now that they are rightfully yours. Get to know your tenants and—”
“I’ve already dispatched my man of affairs there to see to it. It isn’t necessary for us to travel there right away.”
“But I’ve
much to do at Glenbroch. I’ve been away far too long as it is. I must speak with Mr. Moray about the harvest, discuss the spring crops. We’ve much to do before winter’s arrival. I thought ye would understand that I must return home—”
“This is your home now, Brenna,” Colin said, his voice firm.
“Nay, ‘twill never seem like home to me,” she said, her voice hoarse.
Colin regarded her silently for several seconds. When he spoke at last, his voice was gentle, placating. “It’s late, and you must be weary. Can this discussion not wait till tomorrow?”
Nay, she wanted it settled now. She reached up to stifle a yawn, her lids growing heavy. Blast it, but she was exhausted—perhaps too much so to make a persuasive argument. Colin was a worthy opponent in a match of wits, and this was a match she must win. She would not yield. Perhaps now was not the time to press the matter.
“Verra well,” she conceded, yawning again. “But we will speak of it soon.” Her gaze was drawn to the bright green eyes peering out from under the bed. Hera. Poor cat, she’d lived her whole life at Glenbroch and now had been uprooted twice in so short a time.
Colin cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from Hera. He pulled off his cravat and unbuttoned his waistcoat before fixing his gaze most uncomfortably on her burning face. “Perhaps I should give you a moment to prepare, and then you will join me in my chamber?”
Prepare? At once her mind snapped into focus, her cheeks growing warm with the significance of his words. To consummate their vows, he meant, and Brenna wasn’t certain if he meant it as a request or a command. Either way, ‘twas expected on their wedding night. Besides, she could not deny that a part of her burned with curiosity, desperate to finish what they’d begun only a fortnight ago in his parlor. Her mouth suddenly too dry to speak, she simply nodded her assent, her stomach fluttering nervously in anticipation as she watched him disappear through the doorway that connected their chambers.
Colin paced on the other side of the door, wondering just what was taking her so bloody long. His coat, cravat, and waistcoat lay discarded in a heap on the chair beside him, his valet long dismissed. It had been more than an hour since he’d left her, sitting at her dressing table, blushing furiously.
Undressed (Undone by Love) Page 19