Rory (28 page)

When she had raced into his arms and held her tight, she knew that marrying him was the right decision. She had found her security in this man who would be her husband.

And everything would be all right. She felt it in her bones. Even more, when Anna had left without saying a word, Marilyn felt only a hint of sadness.

“You’re trembling,” Stanley whispered against her hair.

“Am I?” she asked, glancing back at him.

He was such a comfort to her, such a sweet soul, and she was
so very thankful she had met him. Her loving baron. She reached up, took his hand in hers, and kissed his fingers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“I couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

He glanced past her to the carriage. “Do you love her, Marilyn? Do you love Lady Anna?”

Stanley was not stupid, and although she might have thought she’d kept her admiration for Anna private, he had obviously caught on to her affections. “I care for her as one does a friend.”

His gaze returned to hers. “But nothing more?”

She shook her head. “Nothing more.”

“When you had left London without a word, I thought perhaps you had left me for her.”

“It is because of Anna that we discovered Clinton murdered Shannon and Zachary’s parents.”

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb over her lips, sending a shiver up her spine. “If you need time to decide about us–”

Her stomach clenched. “I’ve had more than enough time to ponder my future, and my future is you. I want to marry you. I want to be your wife, and I cannot wait to start our life together.”

She saw the shock in his eyes, the love and adoration that had been there and grown with each meeting.

“I only wish that your parents shared your–”

“My parents have given their blessing, Marilyn,” he said, his eyes dancing.

She watched him closely. “What?”

“My parents realized they were being brutish and bull-headed. They said they want my happiness … and they realize that my happiness requires that you are my wife.”

She hugged him tight and pressed her cheek against his chest, flush against his fast beating heart.

His hand moved up and down her spine, and the hair on her arms stood on end. She lifted her face to his and he kissed her, his lips as soft as a butterfly’s wings.

She deepened the kiss, and he moaned low in his throat and pulled her tightly against him. Feeling the heat of his cock against her, she cupped the high globes of his buttocks. “I want to make love to you.”

He pulled away enough to look down at her, his brow furrowed.

“I want you, Stanley.”

“But what of our wedding day?”

“It will still be special.”

He swallowed hard. “What of the rest of the household?”

“They are far too busy with all the turmoil of late. They will not notice our absence. Plus, they think we are both resting. No one will come looking for us.”

She started to unbutton his waistcoat and she knew he would not stop her.

“Lock the door.”

He nearly stumbled over his feet in his haste. Walking toward her, he slid the jacket off and lay it over the back of a high-backed chair, then finished unbuttoning the waistcoat.

She turned her back to him and let him unbutton her dress, her heart racing nearly out of her chest.

The gown fell to her feet and she stepped out of it.

“Marilyn, are you absolutely certain?” he asked, his gaze devouring her, his hands hovering at the buttons on his trousers.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” she said, smiling as she helped him with the buttons and pushed the pants past his hips. His cock stood at attention and her inner muscles tightened in anticipation of what was to come.

She sat on the settee and he followed her down, kissing her senseless. The feeling of his body covering hers was exquisite,
and as he cupped his hips, she did likewise. He shifted slightly and looked down into her eyes. “I have a confession to make.”

Her pulse skittered.

“I have never made love before.”

She saw the vulnerability in his eyes, and it only endeared her to him even more, while guiding him into her slick entrance.

“We will be each other’s first,” she said as he slid inside.

From yet another window at Claymoore Hall, Lady Rochester watched the retreating carriage. She turned to Lillith, who played cards with Katelyn. “I never thought I would say this, but I have to admit that I’m rather happy to see that woman leave.”

“I rather liked her,” Lillith said, setting a card down on the table. She had come to enjoy her mother-in-law’s company, even though she was extremely opinionated and didn’t mind speaking her mind.

Katelyn frowned and picked another up on the stack. “I agree. Lady Anna has a good heart.”

“I do not speak of Lady Anna, you two.” Lady Rochester frowned at them both. “I meant Lady Kinkade. How dare she try to accuse our Shannon of stealing her jewels.”

“Indeed,” Lillith replied, eyes wide in surprise, still finding it hard to believe anyone would go to such lengths. “People do the oddest things when they are desperate.”

Georgiana had been adamant that Shannon and Zachary had stolen her emerald necklace and earrings, and that was why they had left Claymoore Hall. Lillith had been fearful of the accusation, and being that they had fled with no reason had only added credence to the woman’s claim. Thank goodness Greta, a housekeeper who had been sharing a room with Shannon, had stepped forward last night and said that she had seen Georgiana slip into her room and put something inside the dresser drawer
beside Shannon’s side of the bed. Greta had waited until the woman left to see what it was.

Greta said she had not come forward sooner for fear they would accuse her of stealing. Lillith could certainly understand the woman’s concerns but was glad she had stepped forward to defend her employees.

When Greta had insisted that the woman in her room that night had been Georgiana, Lady Kinkade had flushed to the roots of her hair and denied any involvement, saying that Greta must be insane.

When Lord Rochester had suggested the magistrate be called in to deal with the matter, Georgiana had agreed for all of five minutes. Then she had graciously said not to bother, packed her bags, and left, conveniently with Lady Anna.

“I am certain Rory will be happy that she is no longer here,” Katelyn said with a small smile, as she set a card down and took another from the deck.

“He never did like her, did he?” Lady Rochester said, falling into a nearby chair.

“I believe his heart was already taken by the time he met Lady Kinkade.” Lillith glanced at her mother-in-law, who smiled.

“I knew he was in love with that girl the first time I saw them in the same room.” A pleased smile teased the corners of her wrinkled mouth. “I have a feeling a marriage is on the horizon, my dears. Yes, indeed … I am a happy woman. Three daughters and a grandchild on the way.”

Katelyn looked up at Lillith and cleared her throat.

Betsy glanced from one to the other. “What?”

Lillith lay the playing cards on the table. “I am pregnant, too, Mother Rochester.”

Lady Rochester’s brow pinched. “But I did not think you were able–” She clamped her lips shut.

“Nor did I, but I was wrong. I am going to have a child. I visited the physician before I left London. Victor and I wanted to wait until Lord Rochester arrived, but we have not felt that with everything going–”

Betsy was out of her chair and hugging Lillith the next second.

Lillith smiled over her shoulder at her niece, who had tears in her eyes.

“I am the happiest of mothers,” she said, kissing Lillith’s cheek. “Truly. I could not ask for anything more.”

Nor could Lillith.

Lady Anna sat back against the velvet seat across from Lady Kinkade, who still looked agitated about being called out for trying to set up Shannon and Zachary.

On a whim, Anna had decided to leave Claymoore Hall too. She had realized since arriving at the manor that the curiosity that Marilyn might have felt about her had faded. That had become excruciatingly obvious when Stanley had arrived late last night.

Marilyn had been so excited, and the love she felt for the man so apparent to everyone, that Anna knew the right thing to do was to leave.

This doing the right thing was not so bad. Indeed, she rather liked how it made her feel.

“Do not look so grim, Lady Kinkade. There are other men besides Lord Ambrose in the world.”

Georgiana sighed heavily. “But none so beautiful.”

That was true. Of all the women she could have seen her friend end up with, she would have never anticipated Shannon O’Connor. How ironic that the girl had ended up not being a servant, after all, but a wealthy heiress.

Lucky, lucky girl.

“I hear you are to marry an American,” Georgiana said, lifting a brow.

“I am not certain if I shall marry him or not.” It seemed every few minutes she wavered.

“America is a long way away.”

“Indeed.” But the distance from England and her grandparents was not the only thing keeping her from saying yes to her American plantation owner.

Georgiana’s eyes lit up. “You like someone?”

Was it that obvious? Since arriving at Claymoore Hall, she’d been unable to get Thomas out of her mind. At first she had thought perhaps it had to do with the fact she had first met him at the manor, but as the days went by, she realized what she felt for him was more than just friendship.

“Who is
he?”

“A friend.” Thomas was not a titled lord, but he was filthy rich, one criterion that her grandparents absolutely insisted on.

But would he marry her? He had gone to Claymoore Hall in order to find a wealthy bride, so why not her? Plus, they were so very good together. They liked all the same things, and no one could make her laugh like Thomas could.

“Come, I can keep a secret.”

“Only if you tell me one of your own?”

The other woman pursed her lips and then sat forward, urging Anna to do the same. “Shake on it.”

Anna shook her hand and a little shiver rushed up her spine.

Georgiana released her hand. “There is a man in Liverpool whom I love.”

She knew Lady Kinkade had lived in Liverpool with her husband from the stories she had told while at Claymoore Hall. “And?”

“You go.”

Anna smiled slightly, liking the woman’s spirit. “I have a friend, or rather a lover, who I think I would like to marry.”

Georgiana licked her lips. “Go on.”

“In fact, I think I love him.” The admission shocked even her.

“I, too, have a lover.”

Anna schooled her features. Lady Kinkade’s reputation had been sterling. Not a blemish. “You must have been discreet.”

“He lives in my household, so it is not so very difficult.” Her gaze shifted to Anna’s lips.

“A servant.”

“No.”

Anna saw the pulse beating erratically in the other woman’s neck, the slight flush that rose to her cheeks. Kicking off her shoe, Anna slid her foot up the inside of her ankle.

Georgiana’s breath caught in her throat.

“Who, then?” Anna asked, leaning forward, her hands pushing up the other woman’s skirts and up her stockings that stopped at mid-thigh.

“My stepson,” Georgiana said breathlessly, and Anna smiled inwardly.

“Oh, that is wonderfully scandalous, Lady Kinkade,” Anna said, and Georgiana leaned forward. Their breath mingled. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“You do not think me wicked?”

“It depends. How old is this stepson of yours–thirty?”

Lady Kinkade shook her head. “No.”

“Twenty-five?” Anna said, lifting a brow when Georgina shook her head again.

“He is twenty. Six years younger than I.”

“If men can do it, then why not women?”

Georgiana laughed under her breath. “Truthfully, Lady Anna, do you think me terribly wicked?”

Anna’s lips touched hers, and she kissed her lightly. “No, I think you are a woman after my own heart,” she whispered.

S
hannon opened her eyes and found herself looking into brilliant blue eyes framed by lush, thick lashes.

Rory flashed a wolfish smile. “Good morning, wife.”

She smiled at the declaration, at knowing this beautiful man, body and soul, was her husband, and that every single morning from this day on, she would go to bed in his arms and wake up in his arms. “Good morning, husband.”

The small cabin was on the acreage at Claymoore Hall, an old hunting abode that had been used for generations by the Rayborne men. Lillith, Katelyn, and Marilyn had spent an entire afternoon decorating the one-room cabin in white lace and rose petals.

“I could stay here forever,” Shannon said, brushing a lock of dark hair off his forehead.

“As could I.”

The past week had been a time for celebration. Zachary had been moved from the Clemens’s to Claymoore Hall, and the entire family had celebrated his return.

Lord Rochester even had a bit of color to his cheeks during
the ceremony, and Zachary had been well enough to attend the service that had taken place out on the verandah. Though he was still extremely weak, and could not move his leg very well, or walk, he talked of the future and his hope to one day see Ireland again.