Evelyn nodded and smiled as they donned their masks and walked into the great entryway. After they were properly introduced, Royce held out his arm and led her into the ballroom. Brilliant colors of red and white were littered everywhere within the ballroom. It was a romantic's dream come alive. It was supposed to be the perfect night for him and Evelyn, but instead he sensed her pulling away from him.
Evelyn tensed next to him "Maybe they'll be dancing; we should split up…"
"Don't. Evelyn, you need to know the truth. What happened. I can explain."
Pulling away from him, she said through her teeth, "I think I've seen enough to come to my own conclusions, Royce."
Insanity seeped into his brain again. Upset more at himself than at poor Evelyn, he did the only thing he knew to do. He grabbed her arm and began pulling her past shocked guests. He led her down the hall and threw open the first door he found. Luckily it was unoccupied.
"Sit." His voice was commanding.
She followed orders but still refused to meet his gaze.
"Evelyn, look at me." She shook her head and clenched her fists. "Evelyn, look at me right now. Let me explain myself, and then you can be angry. I'll even let you take my pistol if it makes you feel better."
"Do I get to point and shoot, Royce?"
He chuckled. "That's my girl. Yes, you get to point and shoot. Just try not to look so thrilled about it." He lifted a silent prayer that God would give him words. "Evelyn, I love you. I'm an idiot and a fool, and I love you. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone but you."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but he pressed on. "I was at Madame's house today in the broad daylight, where anyone could see me, and I didn't care. Do you know why I didn't care?"
She swallowed.
"I didn't care because I don't want that life anymore. I can't even believe it was me living that life. I let my family down; I let down the woman I would one day love, and I hate myself for it. I went to let go of my past. To apologize to both women whom I've hurt. Yes, one of them ran after me, but it was only to say thank you."
His shoulders trembled as he knelt on the floor before Evelyn. "I'm the worst type of man. But you make me want to be better. Being with you makes me better. I'm better than this. I let a time of grief over my father dictate my choices. And for that I'm sorry, because it shows you my weak character. I love you, Evelyn. And…" he took another deep breath. "I want to make you my wife. Forever. I want to bind myself to you for eternity. I want to spend my life serving you rather than myself. I want to put your needs before my own. I want—"
"Shh!" Evelyn's fingers brushed his lips. They tasted of salt and … dare he hope? Forgiveness. He did hope, for he never wanted to be the cause of her tears again.
"I love you, too."
"What?" Voice hoarse, he gazed into her eyes. "What did you say?"
"I love you—"
He didn't wait. Kissing her lips first, then her eyes, then her neck. He covered her with reckless abandon.
Royce lifted her off of the small chair and carried her to the sofa. Reluctantly he pulled back and gazed at her grief-stricken face. "I never want you to cry again. If you cry again, I might have to jump in front of a moving carriage. I cannot handle your tears."
Evelyn laughed a rich laugh and pulled him toward her. "Then you shall have to try to make me so very happy, future husband, for I would hate to see you injured by a carriage."
"Well, when I said carriage, I meant a small carriage—pulled by donkeys, not horses—so, in all honesty, I'm not sure how injured I would be. Maybe a swollen ankle you could nurse back to health with your kisses, or your body, or—"
Evelyn silenced him with a kiss. Growling, he pulled at her hair, allowing it to fall across her shoulders. "My God above, you are beautiful."
Lifting an eyebrow, she touched his face. "I hope that was said in reverence."
He rested his forehead on hers and whispered, "Oh, it was, my love. It was."
Chapter Fourteen
"I knew it! I just knew it!" Mr. De Jarlias' voice boomed into the room, nearly giving Royce a heart attack. Thanking his lucky stars that it wasn't anyone else who could easily ruin Evelyn's reputation, he let out the breath he had been holding.
Then he saw Mr. De Jarlias' face. Royce glanced down at Evelyn with new eyes and suddenly realized what it must look like. Royce on top of Evelyn. Her hair down around her shoulders, face entirely flushed and lips swollen, and naturally, Royce's hands were resting dangerously close to Evelyn's breasts.
Perfect.
At least he had a chance at love before he was shot.
Slowly, as to prolong the time before his demise, he pushed away from the sofa and walked the plank towards Mr. De Jarlias. It was at that moment his mother walked in and gasped.
Make that two killings in one night. If it was possible to be killed twice, that is.
He opened his mouth to speak just as Mr. De Jarlias opened his.
"By all means…" Royce said, allowing him to speak.
"You must marry at once!"
"Oh." Royce looked at Evelyn and laughed. "Whatever shall we do, Evelyn?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, and he winked.
Evelyn, wide-eyed, gasped then and cried, "Are you sure, Daddy?"
"Oh, I'm sure!" Apparently Southerners could yell quite loudly.
Royce shrugged his shoulders in mock surrender. "Well then, sir, I should like to make my offer. May I have your daughter's hand in marriage? You see, well, I'm sure you can see here, it's best we get married sooner rather than later. Don't want any grandchildren out of wedlock, now do we?"
Evelyn turned an attractive shade of red. "Royce!"
Mr. De Jarlias turned the same color.
Royce grinned fiendishly.
His mother scowled. All in all, it was a normal day in the life of Royce McArthur.
"You've, you've…" Mr. De Jarlias couldn't seem to get the words out.
"Consummated?" Royce offered.
"Royce McArthur!" His mother, appalled and embarrassed, raised a hand to slap him, which he knew he deserved, but he ducked anyway.
"All of you stop this at once! Royce, I have no idea what has gotten into you. Oh well, fine. I know exactly what's gotten into you. You're insane, but you've been insane since I met you, so why should I be shocked?" Evelyn's voice was also loud but pleasing to his ears. "Daddy, I'm marrying this man because I love him. And no, we have not consummated." The scarlet flush of her face deepened at the word. "Royce, wipe that ridiculous grin off of your face before I take your pistol." His smile froze. "And how dare you come in here and accuse us of going behind your backs and being ill-behaved, when both of you…" She pointed at both parents. Royce crossed his arms and took a seat. It was a good show. "Yes! Both of you—our own parents—were going behind our backs and courting!"
"Courting?" Mrs. McArthur looked sheepishly at Mr. De Jarlias. "We've only been spending time together."
Evelyn laughed. "Drinking wine! Having picnics? Shopping?"
"Have you been spying on us?" Mr. De Jarlias interjected.
"I, uh…" Evelyn looked to Royce for help. He shook his head with a no thanks and invited them to continue with a wave of his hand. Naturally he would pay for his betrayal of Evelyn later, but this was too good to pass up.
However, when all of them began talking at once, he felt the sudden need to settle the mood before the masquerade was ruined. "Let's just be honest. I am in love with your daughter, and it seems you two…" He pointed to both parents. "Find joy in each other's company. Shall we just leave the details to ourselves and enjoy the Valentine's Ball before we ruin the night?"
All eyes were on Royce, each with mouth gaping in turn, as it slowly dawned on them that for once, Royce was the reasonable one. They all nodded, apologized, and walked out into the hall arm in arm.
"I think you'll be a good husband after all," Evelyn whispered.
"I'm shocked and appalled all at once! You had your doubts?"
Her eyes twinkled as she stopped and took his face in both hands. "No, Royce. I no longer have doubts about you. I love you with every fiber of my being."
Her kiss was deep, seductive—he wanted more. "You know, we can always go back into that room and…"
"Royce." Evelyn's voice edged with warning as she gave him a stern look.
"Or," he offered diplomatically, "we can go see what kind of meats are at the buffet table."
When her face lit up, he realized he couldn't wait to spend his life with her by his side.
Chapter Fifteen
The Worthington's Valentine's Ball had been the perfect night for Royce. It was the first time in his life he felt truly excited about the holiday. In his memory it would always serve as a reminder that love really did exist.
They were married quickly the next week, and in typical male fashion he could not wait to be alone with his wife.
As they entered the large mansion, Royce did not allow any time to be wasted. Instead, he gathered Evelyn into his arms and carried her up the stairs. He stopped at his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Never once did his lips leave hers. Tenderly he tugged at her hair, allowing it to flow freely around her shoulders. Her soft moan encouraged him to dig his hands into the thick locks.
He chanced opening his eyes, and then wished he wouldn't have. She was precious—his—perfect. All his.
Royce still couldn't believe that Evelyn's father had agreed to the match so quickly, partly because her reputation would have been ruined, but Royce liked to think that he and Mr. De Jarlias had an understanding. The understanding being that Royce was head over heels in love with his daughter.
Possession like none he had ever experienced in his life pounded into him as his body ached to touch hers. To show her his passion—his love.
The way the firelight danced across her face nearly did him in. Grasping at her body, taking care not to break her, he lifted her onto the bed, covering her with his form as his jacket was pushed off his shoulders by her delicate hands.
Never had a woman's hands felt as warm and possessive as Evelyn's.
He prayed this moment would be sealed into his memory forever; then as she kissed innocently along his jaw he knew it would. How could something so perfect ever be lost in his memory?
"I love you," he said, voice hoarse.
Evelyn smiled. "And I love you."
Royce met her forehead with his own and closed his eyes. A soft thump was heard in the distance. "Did you hear that?"
Evelyn nodded her head and pulled back. "Someone's just outside our door, I think?"
Royce motioned for Evelyn to stand back as he opened the door to their bedroom and peered down the hall. His mother had left the entire house to them for their wedding night, which he was more than pleased about.
And then he saw someone hurry down the hall.
"Halt!" he cried, then realized that people didn't really say that anymore. Must be the excitement of being with Evelyn. Alone. At last. It was drawing him towards madness.
The person in question turned around and glared.
"Mr. De Jarlias?"
"Daddy?" Evelyn peered around the corner of the door.
"Stuart," a hushed whisper was heard at the end of the hall and than a giggle "Stuart, hurry up. We don't want to get caught."
Royce cleared his throat and glared at Mr. De Jarlias as his mother appeared through the adjoining hallway.
"Just what are your intentions with my mother, Mr. De Jarlias?" Royce's voice held a hint of humor.
Evelyn's father had the good sense to blush as he looked at Royce's mother then back at his accuser. "About that."
"You really were courting one another, weren't you?" Evelyn's eyes widened in shock as her father looked to the floor.
"Guess we have a lot to discuss later," he said, finally meeting Royce's amused gaze.
Royce pulled Evelyn into a tight hug. "Well, at least you're keeping it all in the family."
"Royce McArthur!" His mother's voice could have shattered mirrors, it was so loud.
He lifted his eyebrow sending her a silent message of "Calling the kettle black, aren't we?"
"We were just packing up something before going to…" his mother looked to Evelyn's father for help. He shrugged and let out a hearty laugh before walking over to where she stood. "I asked your mother to stay at the De Jarlias house while you two honeymooned."
"Chaperoned?" Royce asked.
His mother opened her mouth to say something. Mr. De Jarlias answered before she had the chance. "Naturally."
"Good," Royce said.
"Fine," Mr. De Jarlias barked back.
An awkward silence ensued as all guilty parties looked around. Then everyone began talking at once.
"—Must be off, early day tomorrow."
"—Let me just grab my suitcase then."
"—It is, after all, our wedding night."
And then finally, a resounding, "Good night."
As Royce shook his head and ushered Evelyn back inside the room, he heard both parents mumbling something about being chaperoned as they bounded down the stairs.
"So, I guess you want to gloat now?" Evelyn said as she sat on the bed.
"Gloat?"
"Yes. After all, you were the suspicious one. Remember, it started our entire whirlwind romance."
Royce grinned wolfishly at his wife. "And it's for that reason alone that I don't chase after our parents and give them a good talking to."
Evelyn lifted an eyebrow and brought her delicate finger to the top of her neck, drawing his eyes to the swell of her breasts. "Would you rather stay here and have an adventure?"
"Yes," he croaked.
"Good, because I've been waiting for some time alone with you."
"Uh‐huh." Her hands went to his chest as she rained kisses across his jaw.
"And you promised it would be worth my while…"
"I did." His body was pulsating with heat.
"So…" She backed away from him and immediately dropped the silk negligee from her shoulders, revealing creamy smooth skin.
To this day Royce still couldn't recall what in the blazes she had been talking about. But he didn't care. He was in love. And his wife was perfect.
About the Author
Rachel loves to read almost as much as she loves to write. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and her dog Sir Winston Churchill. Although she loves to write contemporary romance, her heart will always be with historical and regency romances. Glittering balls and dangerous rakes hold her captivated like chocolate and Starbucks. You can follow Rachel's adventures on her blog, Twitter, or Facebook.
Also by Rachel Van Dyken
Prologue
Oh no. This is not happening, not happening!
I wipe my hands over my pleated skirt, a nervous habit. Sweaty hands aren't attractive, or so Brad Macintosh said when he held them during couple's skate my seventh grade year.
It's my first choir solo ever. Why couldn't it be our fall concert instead of our Spring Spectacular? I feel ridiculous standing in front of the entire school with my mouth gaping open trying to find a middle C. Not to mention the fact that my mother, who is standing up in the front of the audience waving with video camera in hand, forced me to wear a pleated skirt. Thus the outfit is now screaming "uncool" on my lanky body.
Never am I this mean. But when I get nervous, I tend to snap at people. All week I've been at odds with my mom for taking pictures of me. She was literally documenting every day of my life up until the big solo or as she puts it, "my discovery!" Leave it to my mom to turn a junior high solo into the performance of a lifetime, which will not only get her daughter discovered, but will make her a best selling artist all before her eighteenth birthday. Somehow I don't think MTV is going to be knocking on our door anytime soon for the professional footage my mom shot in order to do a "diary" on my life before I was famous.
Nervous and sweating, I begin my solo, praying I remember the word
s. When I finish, I felt like I'd run the fifty-yard dash the way my heart is hammering, but then I realize everyone is clapping. They're all clapping for me. I did well!
In fact, people are beginning to stand up and clap. I actually feel famous, like I'm a pop star giving my first concert and people love me. THEY LOVE ME!
I bow and do a little curtsy just so they know I'm still humble then wave like Miss America all the way back to my seat with the rest of the choir. Blushing, I try to avoid eye contact with the rest of the choir as they whisper, "good job". I look humble, but I'm actually soaring because of how proud I am. I actually did it! Now if only my mom would turn off that dang camera and sit down. My dad gives me a thumbs up, and oh yes, my mom is wiping a stray tear from her eye. Looking at them you'd assume I've never done anything exciting in my entire life.
****
Our choir director grabs the microphone and clears his throat. The entire audience falls silent like he's the president of the United States about to make his State of the Union address.
Our town is small. Just because our choir director used to be a somewhat famous Christian artist doesn't mean he should be elected mayor or given the key to the town; however, few agree with my practical assessment. After all, he did give me my starring solo, so I should probably act a little more thankful. So I, like everyone else, put the stars in my eyes and listen intently for what he is about to say.
"Now, I know we normally end after the starring solo." He turns and winks at me while I feel my face turn hot as people start chanting my name. "But," he says, holding up his hand, "we have a little treat for all of you today. Preston, why don't you come down here?"
Preston? Weird, I didn't know he was in choir. Poor boy. He'd be more attractive if he traded in the Star Wars t-shirts for some button-ups. He's the only member of the local Star Wars fan club; he refuses to acknowledge that George Lucas did, in fact, make more films. He says it's blasphemy to even speak of it, thus why he's the only member of the club.
An Unlikely Alliance Page 7