Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (81 page)

Once The Cat left Stockport-on-the-Medlock, he would be out from under suspicion. Still, it seemed to her that an Earl of his magnitude could have found other, easier ways to clear his name should it come to that besides assisting in her escape. It would be easy enough to simply turn against her or concoct some tale at having been elaborately duped by the said betrothed. Perhaps a whirlwind affair that addled his brains? Ha, Brandon Wycroft was the least likely of men to have his mind to mush over a woman. Still, he had the papers and could quietly

those to his advantage. Oh, yes, he had plenty of options. He hadn't needed to free her. And yet he had.. . It bore about. The impossible suddenly looked more probable once again. Brandon made it easy to believe.

If her mind had been less absorbed with Brandon and the conundrum of their relationship, she might have noticed the two mounted horseman dressed darkly and discreetly following behind. As it was, she was oblivious to all but reaching Brandon and getting through what would have to be their final meeting.

A single candle

in Mary's window, the usual sign that all was safe for The

approach. Nora swung off the horse and ran to the door. It opened before she could knock and Brandon swept her into his arms, smothering her mouth with a

'Nora, you're here. You're safe.' Brandon tugged her inside, reluctant to let her go.

The cottage was warm and cosy. Mary was conveniently absent, but Jack was there along with a man Nora didn't nise. Nora stiffened at the sight of the stranger by the Fire. Instinctively, she pulled back against Brandon's hand. 'Who is that?'

'My vicar.' Brandon gestured to the tall, balding man who rose. 'He came to the village the same time Eleanor did.'

Nora relaxed slightly. Upon closer inspection, she did recall

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the man. He and the Squire had paid a call on Eleanor. 'What's he doing here?'

The man smiled politely. 'My child, I am here to perform your nuptials.'

Nora turned to Brandon. 'What is the meaning of this?' Did he think to marry her to Jack? The thought was horrifying.

'He will marry us, tonight. You will be my Countess and beyond the reach of Witherspoon or anyone else who hunts you.'

Confusion rioted through Nora. 'No. We cannot suddenly marry. Marriage won't make everything right or the past disappear. I thought you understood. Despite the wig, someone could recognise me and put all the pieces together. It is best if I go far from here.'

'I don't care,' Brandon said firmly. 'You would be surprised at what a peer can accomplish.'

'I have no doubts about what you can accomplish. I've seen you in action. Still, marriage is not something to be rushed into.

We've not ever spoken of it.'

'What do you mean? We've spoken of nothing else. I asked you to stay with me.' It was Brandon's to be confused. 'I have

offered you protection, permanent protection under my care.'

'That was not a marriage proposal. It was a proposition. You and I know very well you were

me to be your mistress.

We didn't even know if my husband was alive or dead at that point,' Nora said slowly, trying to piece together this latest misunderstanding between them.

It seemed as if misunderstandings were abundant in this relationship. She was sick of them and sick of the whole game.

Nothing was clear any more.

Suddenly, she was angry-wholly, completely, irrationally angry. She could not have articulated why, but anger boiled up.

She wanted to fight with Brandon, thrash it all out until nothing remained but the honest

even if that

stung. Even if

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that truth was acknowledging that her feelings for Brandon were unrequited. Certainly such hard

would make it easier

to walk out the door. Freedom lay just eight feet away. All she had to do was span the distance and step out into the night.

Jack coughed in the corner and nodded towards the vicar, reminding them both that they were not alone. 'It might be wise if the vicar and I left the two of you alone to sort out this tangle. Come on, my good man of the cloth, buy you ale at

the inn.'

The door shut behind them. There was no longer any need for restraint. The proverbial gloves were off. She was spoiling for a fight with Brandon, and from the looks of the sparks glinting in his eyes, he was too.

'You are twisting my words. I will not allow you to justify out the door because you think I desired to make a whore out of you,' Brandon responded coldly. 'You think it will be easier to leave if you can convince yourself to believe the worst and not the best about me, about us.'

Nora adopted an aloof pose. 'What exactly is the best? I am unclear on that, beyond the great sex, that is.' She gave him an assessing look that ran up and down his length, hoping the perusal didn't give away her mounting desire. It would be hard to give up this man, body and soul.

'I want to marry you.'

'In case you don't know, you can buy great sex without a marriage licence these days.' She was sarcastic and desperately trying to create some distance, to show Brandon how much he needed to be rid of her.

'Stop it, Nora. I won't be provoked on this. You want a fight. You've used that strategy before. Well, I won't give you one.'

'Just give me the

then.' If he wouldn't argue, she had no choice but to force his hand. 'Do you love me?'

Brandon looked nonplussed and she wished she hadn't

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asked. If she didn't know for certain how he felt, she could let the illusion of possibility fire her empty nights in the years ahead. Maybes and what ifs could keep her warmer than the cold truth that he had not cared for her, not like she cared for him. With four words she'd thrown away that paltry parting

'Do I love you? Don't you know by now how I feel?'

Brandon shoved a hand through his hair in distress and began pacing the room in great agitation. 'Of course I love you. I think I started falling in love with you that night in my study when you dangled your feet over the chair and drank down my expensive brandy in a single swallow.'

'You do?' Her voice was nothing more than a squeak and it sounded very far away to her. He loved her. She had her answer.

'How could you not know?' Brandon's voice was softer now, the frustration of cross-purposes seeping out of both of them. 'What man would do the things I did for you if not out of love, Nora?' He reached for her and she went to him, overwhelmed at his declaration. He

her softly, his tongue lei-

surely tracing the seam of her lips,

her teeth when her

mouth opened. His hands stroked the small of her back, moulding her to him.

'Can I hope, Nora, that you might feel the same? What truth can you give me? I often wondered if I held your affections.

No one has ever led me on such a merry chase,' Brandon whispered huskily, moving his lips to the column of her throat.

'I love you, Brandon.' The words were not as hard to say as she'd imagined. She'd imagined the words would make her feel vulnerable. Tonight, she felt only fulfilment. Saying them had not exposed her, they completed her. With Brandon, she was whole.