Once Upon an Accident 01 - The Accidental Countess (7 page)

When her mother-in-law looked to protest, Colleen forged ahead. “I’ve known most of my life how people view me. I have no problem with the fact people do not find me beautiful. I like myself, and that’s all that matters.”

“You really think yourself plain?”

She chuckled. “I know so. I lived with a mother who was considered a beauty, and a sister who was almost a mirror image of her. I, well, I’m the likeness of my father, except for the eyes. Tall and sturdy, a true Scot.”

“Well, I…I know that if Sebastian proves you wrong, well, he will be gentle. He is really a decent man.”

“Of course he is. He would never have married me if he weren’t.”

She didn’t know how it happened, but she found herself pulled into Victoria’s arms in a crushing embrace. The scent of lavender surrounded her, comforted her. It had been so long since she’d been hugged like this, completely engulfed by a mother’s love. Colleen wrapped her arms around her mother-in-law and squeezed with all her might. Tears pricked her eyes when she felt a gentle kiss on her temple.

“You see what other people don’t, my dear. Keep that in mind when you deal with Sebastian.”

*

Sebastian awaited his mother in the parlor, wondering what kind of punishment she would dole out on his head. He’d seen her look when he had teased Colleen, and he knew he was in for a head bashing.

“You’re in trouble, you know,” his sister said. She sat on one of the sofas, her legs stretched out in front of her.

“Mind your own business, brat. Besides, what the devil is Daniel about letting you two travel on your own? I left you in his care.”

One eyebrow rose. The resemblance between his mother and Anna grew every day. She had that imperious, queen-of-the-castle look down pat. “Well, first of all, I don’t want you losing this wife. I like her, probably more than I do you. Second of all, we do not need permission from Daniel to do what we please. Mother and I have gotten along just fine without his interference.”

“Oh, and what did he say about this little jaunt into the wilds of York?”

“He didn’t say anything because he is not my husband,” their mother said from the doorway. “Anna, really, sit up. You look like a common tavern wench sitting like that.”

“Oh, and when was the last time you saw a tavern wench, Mother?” he asked.

“It’s been a while since I’ve met one of your women, Sebastian.” She smiled sweetly. “Don’t try to outdo your mother, dear.”

“Of course, Mother.”

“Anna, please go ready our things. The hour grows late, and I’m ready to retire to the inn.”

Anna pouted but did as her mother bid, closing the door on the way out.

“Daniel is probably not happy with us. He’d wanted us to stay in London, but I was irritated with his lack of concern on your part. Your uncle dying was bad enough, but the way your cousin died. I guess our messages kept missing you the way you kept moving around.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. He saw the circles bruising the skin beneath her eyes and realized just how troubled she was. For the first time since his father’s death, his mother looked fragile.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” And he was. He never imagined something like this would happen. The strain on his mother had been great, and even though he hadn’t known about the problems, he felt a little guilt for worrying her.

“Yes, well, Daniel said your sister and I were two out-of-control ninny heads with all our thoughts of conspiracy and murder. Your sister and he had a tremendous fight before we left.”

“They always fight.”

“Not like this one. I fear those two will never talk again.” She walked closer and took his hand in hers. “Now, you be kind to your Colleen. She seems strong but there’s an underlying vulnerability to her.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She smiled, and her eyes sparkled.

“I promise.”

“That is all I ask of you.”

Anna returned with their coats, and the coach awaited them outside. After he bade them good night, he locked the door and walked to the bedroom. It was time to join his wife.

*

Colleen, dressed in her favorite white linen nightgown, paced in front of her bed. Irritation and panic had been riding high for the past several minutes. She had no idea just what Sebastian had planned for tonight. Not knowing his intentions, she worried he actually thought to consummate the marriage.

Glimpsing a view of herself in the mirror, she stopped and studied her features. She believed every word she had told her mother-in-law. A little tall, with freckles and a plain face and all of her red hair, she’d known from an early age she was not a beauty. Too many people had told her so. With an older sister whose quiet nature and inward beauty matched her physical appearance, Colleen had lived most of her childhood being compared to her and falling short.

Oh, her parents never compared them, but neighbors, acquaintances, and then as they aged, men did. More than once they were asked if the two of them were really blood related.

Her thick braid fell over her shoulder, a few rebellious strands escaping. She sighed. She wished she had experience dealing with men, but she was sure experience with most of the men in her neighborhood would never have prepared her for her husband.

Her husband
.

For a woman who never planned to marry, she found herself in quite a situation. Butterflies filled her stomach. Not only married but married to a rake, and an earl at that. Footsteps interrupted her thoughts. She jumped into bed and pulled the covers to her chin just as the door was opening.

The breath caught in her throat as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. A wolfish smile curved his lips, and she shivered, but not from the cold. And not from fear. His gaze was warm, his eyes cobalt. Heat spread through her, settling in her tummy.

“Well, my Lady, I’m here to claim my husbandly rights.”

Sebastian inwardly laughed at the expression on his wife’s face. Colleen looked much like a goldfish searching for food. Her mouth opened and closed three times as he approached the bed.

He was not such a beast he would require consummation of the marriage this night. At first, the thought of bedding the chit had not really been of any interest to him. But now, the thought of pulling off her prim nightgown and burying himself deep within her had various parts of him standing at attention. He wanted to find out if she smelled of cinnamon everywhere.

Sighing, he knew he could not venture on the hunt for the answer. The day had been stressful, for both of them, but especially for her.

“You…you do not plan…” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes. Swallowing, she gathered her courage to ask the question. “You do not plan to force yourself on me, do you?”

“It would not be force, my dear lady. It would be my right to take you, but I would not need to force you.”

She opened her eyes and snorted. “I’m not one of your loose women.”

“Really? So what you are saying is that to want a man, like a man wants a woman, you have to be a hussy?”

“Yes.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose and tilted her chin. “Why would a woman want a man to touch her in such a way?”

He approached the bed. Her eyes widened further with each measured step. His body reacted to her nearness, to the thought of slipping beneath the covers and taking his fill of her. Her pulse fluttered in her neck, a telling sign. The problem was he didn’t know if it raced due to fear or arousal.

“Ah, Colleen, a woman, if she were smart, would enjoy her lover’s touch.”

“Her lover?” She clutched at the covers. “Not her husband?”

“Well, if she were lucky, one and the same.”

He had a plan to prove she was a woman of obvious desires. A little design to pay her back for the punch this afternoon. She hid her passions behind those glasses and her attitude, but they were there.

As he sat on the bed, she scooted over so far he was amazed she hadn’t fallen on the floor. He suppressed the urge to smile. Colleen would think he was laughing at her, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. If he did that, his plan would never work.

He removed his shoes and began on his clothes. She yelped when his hands went to his shirt.

“I really must insist you blow out the candles.”

Her voice was slightly muffled. He turned and found a mound of covers he presumed to be his wife. She’d hidden for fear of seeing his naked flesh.

Without warning, a memory flashed across his mind. Her lips pressed to his, his tongue in her mouth, the taste of cinnamon and sugar coursing through him. He shook his head to rid himself of the fabrication, but a shimmer of it remained.

He paused in undressing himself and eyed his wifely mound of bedclothes. “Everyone is going to expect me to spend the night here.”

“It’s just the two of us. No one will know. Many of the aristocracy have separate rooms.”

“Not on their wedding night.”

“Well, they think we’ve already had a wedding night.”

He couldn’t think of a reply to that. He pulled his shirt free of his trousers and tossed it onto the rocking chair situated next to the bed.

“They are not sure. And truthfully, don’t you think they would think it odd that I wouldn’t want to spend the night with my wife? The wife I married because she nursed me back to health, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with her?”

Her snort had him smiling.

“What I don’t understand is how you were going to keep it a secret.”

He studied her mounded figure still covered by bedclothes. Maybe he should tell her that her lowly station afforded him a certain freedom. He could marry her and leave. They’d never told anyone his title. They knew him as Sebastian Ware, but the truth was nobody called him Lord Ware, using Lord Penwyth instead, his official title. He could return to London and disappear from her life. Easy as that.

“That hardly matters now, does it?” She didn’t reply to that. “What were you planning on doing?”

Her comment was muffled.

“What was that?”

She threw the covers aside and sat up. Even in the waning candlelight, he could see her flushed skin and the strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She straightened her glasses.

“I planned on mourning.”

“Mourning?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. It pulled the fabric tight across them. She was generously endowed, but from what he had witnessed, they were the perfect size for his hands. If he concentrated, he could see the outline of her nipples. “I planned to tell everyone you died.”

Heat surged through him. He wanted to see her nipples, free of fabric, basked only in candlelight. His body reacted, his cock hardening at the thought of gliding his fingers over her skin, followed by his tongue. It took a moment for her comment to register.

“Died?” He shoved all thoughts of breasts and nipples and silky skin aside. Well, not all the way to the side, but enough for him to think clearly. He knew this had been their plan all along, but for some reason it was irritating him. Probably because her voice sounded more hopeful about his death than their marriage. “You were going to tell everyone I died? How was I to die?”

She relaxed her arms and played with the quilt. “I…I’m not really sure. I thought something would come to me.”

“Something would come to you?” He stared down at the impossible woman. Women in London would kill their own mama to be in her position, and she was plotting his death.

“Sebastian, we both agreed I would tell everyone you died. Remember?”

At the sound of his name on her lips, lust surged. Wisps of her impossible hair tangled around her face, and her glasses slid down her nose. She grazed her bottom lip with her teeth. He almost groaned.

“Say that again.”

“We both agreed—”

“No. My name.”

Her grey eyes met his and her lips parted.

“Sebastian.”

Desire clawed at his belly. His body shook with the need for release.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.

“What?”

“You look unwell and your voice sounds funny. I hope you are not having a relapse.”

“Relapse?”

She swung her legs to the side of the bed. She stood and rushed to his side. A wave of vanilla surrounded him, enticing him to take a bite. Or a lick. Taking him by the elbow like he was some doddering old simpleton, she led him to the bed.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No.”

“You lie down. I’ll just settle over there.” She motioned to the rocking chair where his shirt now lay.

An idea formed in his mind. If he could appeal to her senses…

“No, you come to bed also.”

She hesitated.

“I wouldn’t feel right taking over your bed. Please, I promise not to force myself on you tonight.”

She studied him a moment longer but relented, walking to the other side. She sat, placed her glasses on the bedside table, extinguished the candle then reclined on the very edge of her side of the bed. Silly woman. She didn’t stand a chance.

He cushioned his head on his hands and thought about this woman who was now his wife. Plain, yes and with principles set so high no one could measure up to her ideals. She dressed like a spinster and kissed like a courtesan. He knew she didn’t want to face the truth, but there would be no annulment. Even she would understand marriage was the only option. Annulment would make a scandal for him, but it would devastate her standing in her small village. And the news would make it here, especially now that he was an earl.

Her even breathing and relaxed posture told him she had fallen asleep finally. He gently pulled her onto her back. For a moment, he studied her sleeping face. In sleep, she looked innocent. Her skin was translucent. For the first time, he noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She’d been through a tremendous upheaval this week. Prior to that, she’d nursed him back to health.

Peace settled over him. There should be no reason why they could not make a go of this marriage. True, it wasn’t a love match. He didn’t believe in the silly emotion anyway. But he’d proved tonight he desired her, at least to himself, and she was levelheaded for the most part. Once they were settled in London, he’d explain what needed to be done. She was a good girl with a mind of her own, but she would understand.

She rolled onto her side and cuddled against his bare chest. Her sweet breath warmed his neck as she molded her body to his. Instantly, his member hardened.

Yes, she would agree eventually. He would convince her. As he wrapped his arms around her, he smiled, thinking of all the ways he could convince her and just how much pleasure both of them would gain from his plans.

*

Six days later, they arrived in London, travel worn and much worse the wear. His Amazon bride did not travel particularly well in a coach. Within ten minutes of stepping foot in the carriage, she became violently ill. And the trip didn’t improve. Each night, he’d carried her to her room, placed her on her bed and left her to the ministrations of Betty, his sister’s maid. Never in his life would he have suspected strong, hard-willed Colleen would turn into an invalid.

He lifted Colleen down from the carriage and experienced the same heady rush. Blood flowed through him like hot molten lava. He just didn’t understand it. Never in his life, even while courting the beautiful Elizabeth, had he felt this surge of awareness of a woman. And for it to happen with this woman—a plain, sharp-tongued spinster—still shocked him.

He stepped down from the carriage and up the steps of his uncle’s London residence. Now his by chance. A wave of nostalgia and pain lanced through him. He would never hear his uncle laugh again—never go hunting with his cousin. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He had busied himself with caring for Colleen the past few days and avoided the pain. And he would continue. He had a mess of an estate and a grieving aunt to tend to. And, he thought, as he shifted Colleen’s slight weight, a new wife.

Fitzgerald, the butler of the Penwyth estate for as long as anyone could remember, stood by the massive doors that led into the mansion. Tall, though not as tall as Sebastian, with a wealth of grey hair and bright green eyes, he’d worked for the Penwyth estate his entire life, following in his father’s footsteps, and his father before him.

“Fitzgerald, good to see you.”

“As well as you, sir.” He looked at Colleen, speculation and disapproval dripping from him. Fitzgerald had very high standards.

“I would introduce you to the new countess, but she’s not much of a traveler.”

Colleen mumbled and shifted in his arms to look up at him. Her clear grey eyes went from confusion to irritation to embarrassment within a moment. Then, in resignation, she closed them.

“Where are we?” Her voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure anyone else heard her but him.

“We are home, Colleen.” He stepped over the threshold, relishing the warmth of recognition that rushed through him. It had always been the same when he came to visit. There had never been any animosity between his father and his uncle. Close in age and temperament, they tended to gravitate toward each other in family gatherings, sometimes excluding their youngest brother, James.

She groaned and snuggled more closely against him. Well, that was one thing. She trusted him when she was sleeping and ill. Not a fantastic basis for a marriage, but it was a start.

The servants lined the marbled hallway, all waiting to greet their new earl and his wife. Once Colleen felt better, she would blame this embarrassment on him, he was sure of it. For now, he reveled in having her close to him, dependent on him.

His aunt Millicent stood at the base of the grand staircase. A small woman, much like his mother, she resembled what Sebastian thought of as the perfect English rose. Fair skin, fine bone structure, Cupid’s bow lips. Unfortunately, the blue eyes that had so often been filled with love and merriment emanated deep, unrelenting pain. Although she stood with the same dignity she had always exuded, an air of defeat surrounded her. For good reason, losing a husband and son in less than six months.

“Sebastian, Victoria, Anna.” She slowly walked forward. The grief in her voice was so profound it nearly unmanned him. Her eyes, which were brimming with tears, shifted to his wife. “I received your message last night.”

“Millicent.” His mother rushed forward and embraced his aunt. She released Millicent but kept her arm around her waist.

“So much has happened in the last few days. Why don’t we go into the parlor while Sebastian takes Colleen upstairs for some much-needed rest?” his mother asked.

Fitzgerald stepped forward. “Refreshments should be ready in a moment. Your rooms are ready if you will follow me, my lord.”

Sebastian followed Fitzgerald up the stairs, realizing that for the first time the estate, these servants, his family were all his responsibility.

*

“She’s Scottish?” asked Prudence, Victoria’s younger sister-in-law.

Victoria had never really liked Prudence. A couple years younger, she remembered the woman when she made her debut. A more mean and spiteful debutante had probably never graced the halls of Almack’s before or since. She’d been after a duke and then settled for a third son. She was a beauty, even today years later, but her mean nature added years to her face.

The note of censure in her voice could not be missed. A snob of the first order, Prudence had thought she missed out on the earldom by marrying a younger son. Victoria finished pouring the tea and schooled her features before turning around to face her.

“Her father was, although she was raised in York. From what Colleen has told me, her parents married against the wishes of both their families. They’ve had little or no contact with them. Even when she found herself alone and handling a small farm, she didn’t go to them. Partially because she doesn’t know where to look, but I think if she did, she wouldn’t.”

“What kind of woman would do such a thing?”