The Soul of a Storme

by SOOKOO, SANDRA

  “I appreciate that.” The tiny catch of excitement in her voice intrigued him. Why? Clothing a spouse was what any man worth his salt would do.

  Drew brought her attention to the next item on the paper. “In the matter of living arrangements. While Parliament is in session, of course we will reside in London. However, should we find we don’t get on, you may have the London townhouse. Or, if you’d rather, you may live here at Hadleigh Hall, for you might find that the city doesn’t suit.”

  “My mind is spinning.” Then a frown pulled the corners of her mouth down, and he stared at her lips while his musings delved into all the wicked things she could do with them once they’d wed. “Are these the only two properties you own?”

  The question yanked him from his thoughts. “Of course not. I have a townhouse in Brighton as well as a hunting box in the north of England.”

  “Ah, then I will take the Brighton house.” Her eyes sparkled when she glanced at him. “It sounds more relaxing than London, and if I’m to change my life, I’d rather not spend my days as a neighbor to my great uncle, who has never cared genuinely for me. I imagine I’ll see rather more of him than I’d like once you and I wed.”

  “Fine.” Never had he been in the acquaintance of anyone as pushy or determined as Miss Sarah Copeland. Drew took up his pen, slashed through a line of writing, and then modified it with a heavy scribble. This new concession irritated the hell out of him, for he enjoyed the Brighton property; why should he agree to give it up? Damnation, that’s where he should have gone when he’d run from London.

  But had he done that, he would never have met her…

  “I have many memories of being in Brighton with my father—before he became too ill to travel,” he said as he finished altering the document.

  “Perhaps it’s time to create new ones—with you as the earl.” Her dulcet tones shivered over his skin, tugged at a piece of his soul he wasn’t ready to give up.

  So, he grunted. “Do you remember your parents fondly?” She was intriguing, and he needed more from her than she’d told him.

  “Yes.” The word was said so softly he had to lean closer to hear. Sarah wrapped a hand around the ever-present silver locket. “However, that is a conversation for another time.” She kept her focus on the second sheet of the contract.

  Another stab of hot anger streaked through him. He’d made an overture and she’d rejected it. Damn it, if she wished to close herself off, so be it. Nothing of a personal nature would be shared. “Shall we proceed to the next item? If we part while still wed, all jewels belonging to the Hadleigh estate will return to the estate.”

  “I object.” She raised her head and stared at him over the tops of her spectacles. “If you give me jewelry, I assume they’re gifts. Therefore, I shall keep them.”

  What gammon was this? Drew gritted his teeth. “They would have been on loan. Why should I reward a woman with jewelry if she intends to leave me?”

  Sarah popped a hand onto her hip. Annoyance flashed in her eyes, turning them from plain brown to a whisky hue with golden flecks. “Ah, so anything you give to me is merely a bribe to make me stay, to pretend to fall in love with you? For what purpose? To show the ton you’ve achieved the perfect life?”

  To the devil with her, the annoying little baggage. To alleviate his building rage and the anxiety twisting through his insides, turning her every word into something skewed, Drew picked up an empty brandy snifter from the sideboard and then hurled it against the fireplace. The satisfying tinkle of broken glass echoed in the silence. “Fine. You may have the jewelry, but I ask that you don’t sell the pieces unless you’re desperate.” With savage strokes that tore slits in the paper, he modified the document.

  “How lovely. You’ve devolved into acts of tantrums such as my ten-year-old charge might.” She shoved her spectacles back into place. “It is not acceptable from him, and neither is it from you.” While he gawked, she took the pen from him and proceeded to add notes to the document. “The next item deals with children. Which follows nicely into what I just said. I won’t tolerate your temper, and if we do have offspring as a result of this union, if we end up going our separate ways inside the marriage, the children will go with me. There is no reason for them to witness their father conducting his life as a beast.”

  “Absolutely not!” His roar of objection echoed through the room. Drew rounded on her, turned her to face him as rage boiled in his blood. “I’ll not have you poison my children against me.”

  “Listen to yourself.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I have more class and dignity than that.” As he tugged on his suddenly too-tight collar, the intelligent minx searched his face with her gaze, looking for God only knew what. Did he pass muster even when in the grip of anger? His hands shook from the need to belong. “I would prefer the children to know a loving parent over the company of a bevy of servants. No doubt you will be busy enough.”

  Something inside him snapped. It could have been logic, but the dam that held back the bulk of his rage was no longer there. “How dare you tell me how to run my life. I need air.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he left the study before he said—or did—something he would regret later.

  He’d barely cleared the room when he was obliged to gasp for breath, his chest tight and squeezing. Black spots flirted with the edges of his vision and he sagged, his back against the wall. When would the terrible pressure and impossible burden of who he was lessen? He rubbed the heels of his hands on his closed eyes. With every new day, he found another reason to antagonize her, and anxiety was always a step behind him, taunting him, pointing out all the ways he’d failed—himself and his title.

  Why can I not do better?

  And more appalling yet, if he couldn’t look after himself, what the devil would he do with Sarah? She didn’t deserve the life she would consign herself to, for he wasn’t fit company for anyone. Yet, he needed her. In her, he felt that she’d take him in hand and perhaps pull him from the sucking darkness if only to tell him how wrong he was. Would she remain with him once she knew how mucked up he was as a person, how close to breaking he truly was? Had she only agreed to wed him on an assumption that he would be the strong one?

  Oh, God, I’m going to fail her. He shook his head. No. Whatever it took, she would be the one person that he’d impress. Somehow, some way, he would do right by her. He had to, for he suspected that he didn’t deserve her at all, but he wanted to.

  It took several minutes of deep breaths for his pulse to stop ratcheting and for his temper to fade to a more manageable level. Then, after straightening his spine, Drew returned to his study. “I apologize for my absence. There are times when I must step away to avoid—”

  “I know,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ve seen your battles and witnessed those attacks you have.” When she touched his sleeve, her hand trembled. “Please know I never wanted to add to your concerns.”

  It was as if she’d punched a hole in his chest that allowed some of the hot ire out. The sudden surcease of the turbulence staggered him. “Once we wed, you will become a responsibility. That is inevitable.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m quite capable. If you cannot seem to interact with me unless you’re yelling or storming off, then we shall live separately. All the benefits of the marriage will apply, except for the begetting of an heir. Obviously, the logistics of that won’t work.”

  Was she so anxious to use him for the title that she’d let him go without another thought? The metaphorical hole in his chest closed, and anxiety came swooping back in like a darkened beast. “I am the earl, Miss Copeland, and as such if I tell you to do something, it will happen. There will be no separation until you have borne a son.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like the biggest blowhard alive.

  But how to change that without giving into anger?

  Sarah glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t force respect or compliance, my lord.” She held up the third page of the contract where she’d written in a
paragraph. “In the matter of a divorce—”

  “That will not happen.” Dear Lord, she was thinking of leaving him! Drew crossed his arms at chest level and glared.

  “Perhaps not, but the clause needs to be added all the same, for if you can’t stand to be in the same room with me for the length of time it takes to discuss a contract, it doesn’t give much hope for a lifetime, does it?” Notes of disappointment and resignation threaded through the statement.

  “It’s not you—”

  “Hush, my lord. This is simpler.” She went on as if he’d never spoken. “If you take a mistress, I refuse to look the other way. You are marrying me—no matter the circumstances at the present—and you will honor those vows until you have an heir.”

  “Now see here—”

  “But if you don’t, a divorce will be procured at your expense without fully besmirching my reputation, though the both of us won’t come out of such proceedings unscathed. You will assume all responsibility and fault in those proceedings.”

  What the devil? “You can’t be serious.”

  Sarah continued. “However, if we agree to merely separate and if we don’t have children and you wish to take a mistress, do so discreetly. No harm or foul. Since one of the requirements of this union was for you to have a son.” The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a swallow. “I’m well aware of my age, so I might not be able to bear children at all. If that’s the case, I don’t want you to remain tied to me.”

  His heart gave an unexpected tug, for he’d never thought of any of this from her perspective. “Sarah, I’m… well, I’m glad I picked you.” For the first time in his life, gratitude swamped him. “We’ll weather each storm as we encounter it.”

  “Thank you, Andrew.” When she looked at him, a hint of pleasure warmed her eyes.

  Hearing his name from her lips took him by surprise. Awareness of her skittered up his spine. Grudging admiration snuck in to mix with his anger and took away a portion of the sting. She wasn’t a stupid woman by any stretch, and damn if she wasn’t afraid to meet him toe to toe. “Is that all of your changes?”

  “There is one more item.” She handed him the last piece of paper. “Since my great uncle won’t put a dowry on me, I want one from you.”

  “What?” His eyebrows rose. Was she mad?

  She nodded. “If our marriage goes to hell for whatever reason, I want security in the event of a divorce.” When she met his gaze, uncertainty swam in hers—the first hint of vulnerability she’d shown since marching into his study. “Ten thousand pounds in an account under my name with the Bank of England.”

  “Bloody hell.” He gasped at the princely sum. “And if we remain married?”

  “Bequeath it to our children.”

  Yes, she was exactly what he needed. “Fine.” After taking the pen from her, he scribbled his name onto the contract next to hers. Then he threw both the contract and the pen onto the desk. The need to clear his head grew strong, and his bride-to-be would do nicely. “I’m going into the village tomorrow morning to retrieve the signed common license. Would you like to accompany me?”

  “I would. I’ll need time to find a dress for the ceremony, for I refuse to start a new life clothed in the rags of the old.” When she spun to head for the door, he stepped into her path.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your attention to detail with the contract.”

  Surprise jumped into her eyes. “You’re certainly welcome. I want you to know that you’re not alone. Not anymore.” She pushed her spectacles back into place. “However, you do need to work on that temper. I refuse to live with an abusive man.”

  His respect for her continued to rise, as did his desire. Having her so close and enduring the rapid ebb and flow of high emotions required an outlet. “I’ve never hit anyone, would never lay a hand on a woman in anger. I’d sooner do harm to myself than that.”

  “Good. I draw the line there.”

  “Understandable.” He dropped his gaze briefly to her mouth. Yes, a kiss would do nicely. “Let me buy you a gown for the ceremony. Something worthy of a countess. After that, you can hire a modiste to come here and outfit you.”

  A tentative smile curved her lips. “I would like that. Thank you, my lord.”

  “Andrew, damn it.” Before she could speak again, he whisked her into his arms and brought his mouth crashing down on hers. She felt every bit as good in his embrace as she had the last time.

  It took next to no time for her to return his kiss. Despite the intensity, she wended her hands about his neck and surrendered to his leading. She welcomed him with the same enthusiasm she’d shown in contract negotiating.

  Drew walked her backward the few steps until his desk bumped against her bum and stopped the movement. He slid a hand down her back. When he encountered her hips, he pulled her flush against him. Surely she could feel how much he wanted her. Then, daring much, he ran the tip of his tongue along her lips. When she opened for him, he went exploring, sought out her tongue and asked for anything she wished to give.

  With soft little sounds at the back of her throat, she fenced with him. Satin dueled with silk, and still he devoured her. This woman challenged him on every level, and she’d no doubt lead him a merry chase in the bedroom too. He groaned, his need for her ramping, and as he slipped a hand up her ribcage to cup a breast, she wrenched away.

  Her breathing was as labored as his, her eyes limpid pools of the finest brandy behind slightly steamed spectacle lenses. “Wed me first. Then you can bed me.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, and he nearly lost the last vestiges of his control. “I won’t have you treat me like a fallen woman merely to alleviate your need.”

  Instead of letting irritation surge to the forefront, he laughed. She’d thrown down her opening salvo with the negotiations and he’d countered her with the impromptu embrace. The next move was hers, and oh how he would enjoy this little game of chess. “I shall see you tomorrow, unless you’d like tea before you go?”

  Her throaty chuckle sent a shiver into his groin. “I think it’s safer if I return home. The events of this afternoon have already gone straight to my head.” Gingerly, she stepped around him with one last lingering glance at his mouth. “Enjoy your evening.”

  He would, for the mere fact that he’d think of inventive ways of routing her on their wedding night, which was approaching at a rapid pace.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t become the folly he anticipated.

  Chapter Eight

  June 21, 1817

  Sarah sat in the drawing room opposite her great uncle and aunt as silence rolled heavy through the room. Earlier that day, she’d accompanied Andrew into the village. He’d run his errand to the local vicar while she’d gone into a shop and bought a gown—billed to the earl—for the ceremony. It had been a wonderful moment, especially when he’d joined her and approved of the rich green color she’d chosen, but the joy from that outing faded in the face of doing this current deed. She clasped her hands in her lap to prevent their shaking, for she’d never made an announcement quite like this before. “Well? Have you nothing to say?”

  Her great uncle stared at her with disbelief stamped over his thin face. “You’re marrying the Earl of Hadleigh.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I am. Four days from now, actually.” A tiny tingle of anticipation went down her spine. It was the first time she’d spoken the fact out loud.

  “But… why?”

  It was her turn to stare like a bacon-brained idiot. “Why not? Don’t you think it’s wonderful that I have a future?”

  Where I’m not beholden to you and your grudging charity?

  “You have a future here,” her aunt interrupted. Where her great uncle was tall and thin, her Aunt Maria was short and on the matronly side. Threads of silver wove through her upswept hair, and though the pair was only ten years her senior, they weren’t aging gracefully. “There are years ahead of you with us.”

  An unladylike snort escaped Sarah. “Perha
ps, but I’ve had this opportunity and I’m taking it.” She rubbed her hands on her charcoal gray skirting. “The only reason I’m telling you this now is I thought I owed you the courtesy.” She stopped short of adding some folderol about them taking such kindness with her.

  “But, what will happen to the children?” her aunt continued. Utter bewilderment clouded her eyes.

  “The same things that usually happens to children. They’ll grow through their lives until they’re old enough to leave home for school and university.” Sarah shrugged. “After that, the future is in their hands.”

  “True enough, but what do we do with them in the meantime?” her great uncle asked. Dread and confusion scudded across his face. “They still have need of a governess.”

  “Then you shall hire someone else to the post. If you’d like, I can write out an advertisement and have it placed in one of the papers before I go.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He frowned. “We shall have to…” He gestured about as his words trailed away.

  “Ah.” Sarah huffed out a breath. “Of course, you’ll need to pay them fair wages and give the next candidate all the concessions you never granted to me.” That was the crux of the problem. They weren’t all that sad to lose her as a person, but they were annoyed that they were losing nearly free labor.

  “Yes, but, I rather thought that you would—”

  “Stay here into my dotage or wait for you to turn me out once my usefulness had faded? Remain content with my lot while the children were young?” Sarah slowly rose to her feet. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not growing younger, so it’s time for me to look after myself.”

  Her great uncle scrambled to his feet. He shoved a hand through his thinning blond hair. “I hope you’ll convey our best wishes to the earl.” It would probably physically harm him to congratulate her on landing such a prize as the earl.