HisLadysKeeperfinal.wps (14 page)

She was screwed—almost literally.

She sat down at the table and reached for a piece of toast. She should have washed her hands, but she was so tired. She yawned again. She reached for the cup in front of her, and lifted it to her lips. Without thinking, she drained most of what was in the cup. It tasted like heaven.

“What was that?” she asked, gratefully licking the last few drops off her lips.

Hart grinned. She watched Maeve give him a satisfied look. “That, my lady was my own special hot chocolate.”

Her stomach fell. Recognition dawned. She’d been such a silly nitwit. “The same hot chocolate you gave to Charles,” she deduced with widening clarity. Her stomach did a nosedive. She’d just cooked her own goose.

“Aye, and he’s sleeping like a wee babe now.”

She gasped. And, damn her, she let out another very big, very unladylike yawn.

“My lord! You’ll need to attend to her, she looks like she’s about to nod off!”

Maeve said.

Her eyelids were growing so heavy. She had to sleep.

“Remind me to abstain from your special hot chocolate in the future,” she

murmured, drowsily.

“It won’t harm you, my lady. But you will sleep long and hard, and you’ll dream vivid dreams.”

She yawned again. “Nightmares, you mean. That’s what I’m in the middle of, and only night terrors will haunt my sleep.” Her shoulders sagged. Before she could fall face first into her plate, Hart was at her side, lending her his much-needed support.

“Oh, and Hart?”

“Aye?”

“Damn you.”

“I love you, Gemma MacKinnon.” His last words echoed through her brain, as

she finally succumbed to the sleeping tonic that Maeve had placed in her hot chocolate.

HIS LADY’S KEEPER Marly Mathews 66

Gemma had hoped the last forty-eight hours had been a nightmare. She had been wrong. She awoke to the sound of a ship at sea.

“We will be at our destination soon, Gemma.”

“My ears ring at the horrible grating sound of your voice,” she said snippily, wincing at her harsh tone.

“Many tell me I have a handsome voice.”

“Perhaps, to some people. But not to me!”

He was right. He did have a voice that would entrance many women. Too bad for him, she had become immune to it. He could no longer charm her or woo her with his silver sounding tongue and his chivalrous ways.

“I wish you wouldn’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, seemingly perplexed.

She creaked one eye open and bolted upright.

“How long have you been in my bloody bed?” She should have felt him lying

beside her. She should have had her hackles rise at his nearness. What was going on with her? He was the enemy, and she’d been sleeping with him!

He grinned like a boy. “I wasn’t aware I was in your bed. As far as I know this is my bed … and the bed we will sleep in at our destination, will be our bed. You are my wife—and you will be my wife in more than just name.”

“You keep calling it our destination. Doesn’t this place have a name? Or are you taking me to the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s what you might consider it. Being so cultured and worldly as you are.”

She snorted. “The charade is over, Hart. I heard Maeve calling you my lord.

You obviously hold a rank higher than village baker. What are you? Scratch that, who are you?”

“I have many titles in my family. The only title I hold at the moment is Earl.”

“Earl of what?”

“You don’t need to know that, yet.”

“You are married to me. So unless, you want me to keep calling myself Lady Gemma, you’ll fess up. I must know what I shall be known as.”

“You shall be known as my wife.”

“Lovely. I guess I shall continue to call myself Lady Gemma, or should I take on the title Lady St. Martin?” She laughed. The jest had hit a nerve. He sat upright in the bed. She realized then that his chest was bare, and she daren’t guess at if he had clothing on at all. She swallowed hard. She knew she wore a nightgown, and she could only pray that Maeve had been the one to put it on her.

“Never, say that name again, attached to yours. You are my wife—you have my name now. You are mine! You are no longer a St. Martin.”

“Why? It is my name. It is my birthright. The St. Martin’s are loved and revered throughout England. I shall not turn my back on my family legacy.”

HIS LADY’S KEEPER Marly Mathews 67

“I will not hear you call yourself Lady St. Martin . That title now belongs to your sister-in-law. You are my wife—you have my titles. Do not speak of being Lady St.

Martin ever again!”

“Maybe. But it once belonged to me. You see, my brother Andrew gave me

permission to use it. My father didn’t stop him … he thought it was amusing, and indeed it did give me a tad more respect in social circles … even if they did know it wasn’t my real title. It’s a shame though. Women in England should be able to inherit titles.

Mallory has far too many to his name … he can’t use them all, do you know how difficult it would be to fit all of them on an invitation?”

He hadn’t spoken a word.

“You will have a title, and one day, you will have more than one title. Do not think that I am penniless like your brother was … and do not mistake my family ancestry to be any less noble than your own. You are dealing with someone from your same class in life, Lady Gemma. I will forgive you for the many sleights you made against my character when you believed me to be no more than a brigand. Heed my following words well, you will regard me as your equal from here on in, I will not have you looking down your nose at me, nor will I tolerate you treating my mother like some common woman.

Do I make myself clear?”

She’d never heard him speak in such authority before, especially with her.

Usually, he regarded her somewhat hoity-toity manner with amusement. Right now, though he was far from being amused. He had fallen into the role of her husband much easier than she would have given him credit for.

“I will, of course, afford your mother with respect. It was not her fault that she gave birth to such a—”

He cut her off before she could elaborate further. In a swift movement, he had shortened the distance between them. He hovered over her, his mouth scant inches from her own. She waited, on baited breath. She hated herself. She should have given him some sort of struggle and yet, he now hovered above her in a very commanding position.

She was definitely at a disadvantage. He could take her right now, so easily. And, with the smoldering look in his eyes, and her regrettable temptation to kiss him, she would probably become lax in his arms, maybe even an excited and willing participant.

“You have a silent invitation in your eyes, Gemma. And, it is one way to end the argument brewing between us. I can hardly stay angry at you, whilst I’m making sweet love to you.”

In the next instant, he had claimed her lips, and her thoughts abandoned her. She was lost to him.

Memories flooded her mind. Strength surged within her. She brought her knee up and slammed him soundly with it. He groaned, rolling away from her.

She jumped out of bed. He looked livid. She felt just as livid as he looked.

“Don’t think you are going to get me to play along to your merry tune, Hart.”

He met her gaze. She looked wildly around the room. She had to find something with which to defend herself with.

“What are you doing?” He sounded confused.

“I’m trying to figure out how to defend myself from you—you will no doubt be wanting to take out your retaliation on me.”

“For what?” He craned his neck to the side. “I thought I already made it quite HIS LADY’S KEEPER Marly Mathews 68

clear to you that I wouldn’t lay a violent hand on you. I only beat up men that can fight me. You, my dear, would have no chance against me in a proper range. Not when you are in your nightgown with no weapon to speak of.”

Her breathing slowed. “You aren’t mad at me?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m angry but not for the reason you might believe. I thought you had gotten to a point where you could trust me.”

“Trust you? You are my kidnapper!”

“I am your husband!”

“Yet, you still hold me here against my will. Take me back to my family. Show a gesture of goodwill toward me. Take me home. Please.”

“You are going home. You are going to your
new
home.”

“No. I’m not going to my new home. I will never think of you as my home—I will never think of you as my husband. Kilworth was supposed to be my husband .…”

At her last words, rage filled his eyes. He crossed the distance to reach her quicker than she thought was humanly possibly. Hart defied all rules of human nature.

He grabbed her and pulled her toward him.

“Never speak that little piece of shit’s name again!” he shouted. The intensity of his fury made her shake. “Never!” he reiterated, “Not unless you want to talk about what a horrid man he is. He is sick. He pays to rape his women … do you understand me?

He is twisted.”

“I don’t understand you—he seems like such a refined gentleman.”

“Gentle or man, isn’t something I ever heard his victims say about him.”

She looked away. His grip was tightening. “At this rate—you will end up giving me bruises the size of your fingers!” her voice shook. His announcement had rattled her more than she’d thought. Her breathing came in hitched gasps, her fingers on him tightened. “You lie!”

The stormy glint in his darkly brooding eyes told her otherwise. He wasn’t lying to her, he was telling her the God’s honest truth, and it scared the living hell out of her.

He relaxed his grip on her, but still held her firmly. “I’m sorry if I caused you pain—that was not my intent.”

“I can’t go to Spain—I will die in the sun there.” She had to change the subject; anything to get the horrible altered mental images of Kilworth out of her head. If he really was that sort of man—she’d narrowly escaped a frightful future.

“You won’t have to be in the sun if you don’t want to. You don’t seem to

understand that you will be living in the lap of luxury—you still haven’t come to terms with who I am—and what I am.”

“You are my husband, and you disgust me.” Her hollow words didn’t even

convince her that she spoke genuinely.

His nostrils flared, renewed anger glinted in his dark brown eyes. Her heart skipped a few beats, would he lash out at her now in his tightly controlled fury?

“I can understand from where your resentment of me stems from—I did forcibly take you from all that you loved and all that you know.”

“Not only did you take me, but you took Charles as well—why? Why couldn’t

you have left him behind—he’s been through so much in his short life.”

“He’s having a whale of a good time in his cabin, as we speak. Maeve does have a way with children.”

HIS LADY’S KEEPER Marly Mathews 69

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true—that boy must have been born on a ship.”

“With the sort of mother he had I have no doubt,” she snorted, rolling her eyes.

Hart wrinkled his forehead. “I think I might have known his mother.”

A sinking feeling entered her stomach. “A lot of men knew his mother—she

wasn’t exactly an honorable woman.”

“Hmm…” He started to stare at her again. “Chastity didn’t hold a candle to your beauty. I never knew why Mallory seemed so infatuated with her—the man needed a jolt of reality slammed into him.”

“He now has Elizabeth.”

“We can only hope that will last. Your brother has a habit of getting bored with his shiny baubles.”

“Mallory loves Elizabeth. Even I don’t doubt that. He’s done a lot to aggravate me to no end in the past—but his love for Elizabeth and Susan is true.”

“And his love for the rest of his family?”

“He will send out search parties for me.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt. He’s probably already mobilized all of his

resources. His power is great. He, however, will not be prepared for what sort of power I wield. I played the part of his bloody lackey long enough. He might be an English duke, but my wealth surpasses that of even his precious Elizabeth.”

“Don’t do that!” She pulled away from him. She was surprised to find that he let her go. Then again, he probably felt quite certain that she was as caged as a songbird.

She had nowhere to run—she couldn’t swim. Escaping from him while they were at sea was unthinkable.

“Don’t do what?”

“Talk about Elizabeth in that way. I won’t have it. She’s the innocent party in all of this—she can’t help it that Mallory loves her and you in turn hate all that Mallory loves.”

“I don’t hate you, and contrary to the way Mallory treats you, I do think he loves you as much as he loves all of his sisters. That’s why this will kill him almost as much as it would have killed him if I’d left with Elizabeth and the babe. Besides, I didn’t hear you singing too many high praises of the exalted Elizabeth when I was there.”

“I care for her—she might be a little too perfect and a little too sweet at times—

and I know I’ve said some things about her in the heat of the moment, but I won’t have you talking about her like she’s some prissy heartless woman.”

“Some would say you are a prissy heartless woman.”

She swallowed. Turning her back on him, she looked toward the windows in the cabin. “I will not dignify that statement with a retort. If you think I’m so cold—why did you insist upon marrying me in such haste?”

“I insisted upon marrying you so that you would not be at risk. No man would dare touch my wife—if I’d kept you as my mistress—they might have thought they could share. I don’t like to share the things that belong to me, and your heart, body and soul belong to me.”