Susan Johnson (33 page)

And much later, when the house had quieted, when the last child had been tucked in and had fallen asleep, when the final guests had retired to their rooms, Robbie and Roxane entered their bedchamber and, turning to
each other, smiled, a secret, sly smile of deliverance and tantalizing excitement.

Taking her hand, Robbie gently traced his finger around her wrist. “While our wedding day was perfect, it was
very
long.”

She knew what he meant. “But we’re finally alone.”

Lacing his fingers through hers, he lifted her hand palm to palm with his as if determining some esoteric standard. “It feels different, doesn’t it?”

She mutely nodded, intangible emotions tumbling through her mind.

“We’re one life now,” he murmured, his simple phrase miraculously making tangible the intangible.

“Not me here and you there …”

“But us.”

Her heart filled with tenderness and passion, all her quiet and unquiet needs fulfilled by this beautiful young man.

“Are you tired?” His tone was solicitous, oddly grave.

“Not
that
tired, if you’re asking.” Her mouth curved into a faint smile.

Curved to kiss, he thought, and leaning forward he delicately touched her lips with his.

“A husband’s kiss,” she whispered when his mouth lifted from hers. “When I want a lover’s kiss.”

His dark brows rose in speculation, his gaze drifting over her moist lips, rosy pink, damp from his kiss.

“I want you even more than before, if that’s possible,” she breathed, slipping her hand from his, sliding her arms around his waist, molding her body against his tall, muscled form.

“And you want different kisses,” he teased.

“Kisses and more.”

“Ill give you a thousand kisses and then a hundred more and whatever else you want.”

She could feel him hard against her, his arousal rising, swelling. “And if I become demanding?”

“So long as I can breathe,” he said with a smile.

“How nice,” she said, contented, beguiled, “for I find myself obsessed with making love to you, as though I’ve lost all sense of proportion. Elizabeth noticed at dinner tonight whenever I looked at you.”

“Is not wifely adoration your duty?” he playfully observed.

“While you have husbandly duties, no doubt.”

“To keep you properly fucked, you mean.” His voice was lush and low.

“An astute man,” she purred, “although I’ve been waiting for at least—”

“Five minutes?”

“Five minutes too long, my bonny husband.”

He chuckled. “You understand, there
will
be times when I have to attend to matters outside the bedroom.”

Her pout was delicious. “You didn’t say that
before
we were married.”

“But everything is quite different after marriage. You know the rules,” he silkily murmured. “I’m lord and master now.”

“Lord and master …” Her voice dropped a seductive octave and, stepping away, she curtsied prettily, gazing up at him from under her lashes. “Pray tell, will I like your sovereignty?”

He observed her from under half-lowered lashes, his
glance amused. “So long as you do what’s required of you.”

“You have requirements?”

“Only that you be biddable,” he blandly said.

“And if I am, you’ll reward me?” Her voice was velvety soft, the focus of her gaze on his breeches, stretched taut over his erection.

“I could be generous, I think.” One brow lazily arched upward.

An immediate quivering response rippled through her. “If you but indicate what’s required of me,” she whispered, desire flaring in her eyes.

“Such eagerness …”

“You’re not exactly uninterested, my lord.”

He glanced downward, as though he’d not taken notice before, and lightly brushed his fingertips down the length of his arousal. “You’d like this?”

“Very much.” She trembled as the size swelled larger; her fingers clenched hard against an overwhelming urge to touch him.

“Then you must have it,” he gently replied. “As soon as you indulge my whims.”

“Anything,” she whispered, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him, her body pulsing, wet with desire. For the briefest second, she chastised herself for such abject submission, but the impulse quickly passed, inundated by more compelling urgencies.

“Such gratifying compliance,” he murmured, moving forward to take her hand. “I look forward to my husbandly role.”

“As do I,” she replied.

A
N INTERVAL LATER, STILL PANTING, ROBBIE MURMURED
, “This … must be … heaven.”

Eyes shut, Roxane smiled.

Bending his head, he licked the tip of her nose. “Or
my
heaven.”

Her lashes slowly rose. “One of blissful contentment, because of you.”

Propped above her, he offered her a shameless grin. “Because of me?”

“Of course. That’s why I chose you.”

“
You
chose me?” His laughter exploded, swirling around them in the canopied bed. “As if I would have let you get away.”

“Are you saying you caught me?”

“And don’t forget it.”

“Am I caught literally or figuratively?” she seductively murmured.

His dark brows flickered in ribald amusement. “Ready again, are you?”

“Do you mind?”

He shook his head. “Not this side of death.”

“What a charming man,” she whispered, tracing a delicately placed finger down his chest.

“A charming
husband”

“Yes, yes. And mine …”

Her smile gladdened his heart and he gave her all his love, that delectable first night of their marriage when the world was fresh and new.

R
OXANE WENT INTO LABOR TWO MONTHS
early, and even though four midwives had been brought into residence at Bransley Hill, no one was fully prepared. The delivery turned out to be difficult, and as the desperate hours lengthened, all Robbie could think of was the scores of women he’d know who’d died in childbirth. It was all too common. Sitting beside Roxane’s bed with her hand in his, he watched his wife’s strength wane with a terror he’d never before experienced.

“Someone do something,” he said, his voice tight with fear.

Unwilling to bear responsibility for the countess’s death, the women suggested the two local doctors be called in. When Robbie took issue with the doctors’ competence, they recommended a woman healer as well.

After the three were swiftly fetched and interviewed, Robbie was more prone to put his faith in the young woman. Unlike the doctors, she hadn’t advised bleeding.

“The countess will slip away if they bleed her,” the woman warned, and when Robbie had visibly paled,
she calmed him. “Don’t worry, my lord, your lady is strong yet. And the babies can be moved.”

“Babies?” His astonishment was unmistakable.

“Two, my lord.”

It took him a moment to come to terms with the surprising news. “Are you sure?” The woman looked too young to be so confident, her small, slender stature and braided dark hair only adding to her adolescent image.

“I’m certain, my lord.”

A small silence ensued while he studied her, wishing he felt as assured, wanting surety for his wife’s survival. But when he finally spoke, his tone was brisk, his judgment made. “Tell me what you need and I’ll see that you have it.”

While Robbie held Roxane’s hand and prayed to any god who would listen, the young woman set to work with quiet authority. The babies were presenting abnormally, she explained. Moving the first baby into position with slow deliberation and neat-handed skill, she soon delivered a tiny baby girl, so small she fit into the cradle of Robbie’s palms. When a boy was born shortly after, fragile and precious like his sister, the babies were put into baskets heated with hot, wrapped bricks.

Roxane’s lashes fluttered open as Robbie kissed her cheek. “It’s over,” he whispered, stroking her hand with exquisite tenderness. “Rest now. I’m here.”

Her eyes closed before he’d finished speaking. He glanced across the bed at young Margaret, who had performed such miracles. “You must stay until my lady is well again.”

She nodded. “The next forty-eight hours will be critical, my lord, with the risk of childbed fever.”

“Well have to see that the countess is spared,” he said, as if he could ward off the evil by sheer will. And for the next two days, Robbie left the room only briefly, to assure the children of their mother’s health and to introduce them to their new siblings, who were being cared for by the nursery staff and wet nurses.

As the third day dawned, he came awake with a start when Roxane moved. Raising his head from the bed, he looked into her eyes and smiled before pushing away and dropping back into his chair.

“You look terrible,” Roxane whispered.

Three days’ growth of russet stubble covered his jaw, and dark shadows rimmed his eyes. “You look wonderful,” he breathed.

“The babies—”

“Are doing well.”

“The children?”

“Impatient to see you, whenever you feel strong enough.”

“I feel awake, at least.”

“Good.” Not wishing to tempt fate, he didn’t say more, but he surveyed her with the vigilant exactness he’d acquired in the last few days, looking for any sign of fever. Her cheeks were rosy, not flushed, and he felt a measure of relief. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“I am hungry.”

Leaning over, he delicately patted Roxane’s hand. “I’ll get us some breakfast.”

After Roxane ate, the children were allowed a visit.
Having been warned their mother was still weak, they hugged her gently and spoke in rarely heard hushed tones. Until their new brother and sister were brought in. Excited to tell their mother of all the babies’ feats, the children returned to their normal levels of clamorous noise.

In the months that followed, the earl’s large family settled into a peaceful country life, far from the political machinations in London and Edinburgh. And in the succeeding years, the Carre brothers concentrated on their shipping trade, reaping extravagant profits from the lucrative markets in the American colonies. Their economic success marked a personal freedom from British rule, and in some small measure served as recompense for England’s domination.

With determination and resolve, the Carre families cultivated their estates and businesses while studiously avoiding any political entanglements. Away from the world dominated by the English court, their families grew and prospered, their happiness increasing in equal measure. Home and family became the source of their greatest pleasures, fortune smiled on them, and the magical wonder of love, once found, endured….

SOME READERS MAY HAVE NOTICED THE CHANGE IN ROBBIE’S
title from Master of Graden in
Outlaw
to the Earl of Greenlaw in To
Please a Lady.
As Johnnie Carre’s heir, Robbie was Master of Graden—the Scottish designation “master” connoting an heir to a peerage. Once Johnnie’s son, Thomas, was born,
he
became Master of Graden. Johnnie’s larger properties, inherited from his father, were now passed on to his son. But in Scotland, peerages can descend through the female line as well, so Robbie had inherited, through his mother, the titles of Earl of Greenlaw, Viscount Kin tire, Laird of Tron. Her properties in East Lothian passed to him with the titles.