Texas Viscount (46 page)

      
He felt warm as a Texas sunrise when he saw the glow of unconditional love in her eyes. “Then you won't mind coming to America with me—just to check on my businesses and to visit a few special friends now and then.”

      
“Your ‘aunts’ who helped Miss Gertie raise you?” she asked with a smile. “I would love to meet them and to see if your Texas is half as grand as you've always bragged it is.”

      
“What a woman!” he exclaimed, picking her up and whirling her around by the edge of the fountain. “Uncle Ab got the pick of the litter for me, he surely did. I reckon he’s the smartest fellow ole King Eddy's got working for him.”

      
A slow grin tugged at her lips, matching his. “King Eddy?” she echoed teasingly. “I believe that's
lese majesty.
”

      
“There you go with more ten-dollar words...and in French, even.”

      
“Then I suppose I shall have to start teaching you French in addition to deportment,” she murmured, letting her arms glide around his neck.

      
He chuckled. “Darlin’, the young gals at Gertie's already taught me enough French so I can give
you
lessons.”

      
“Joshua Cantrell, I suspect you're being bawdy again,” she murmured.

      
“Naw, darlin’, just in love,” he protested innocently.

      
She slid slowly down his long, lean body, holding fast as his mouth slanted over hers, sealing their love with a kiss. They would start the French lessons after the wedding…

Epilogue

Five years later

      
Trunks were piled high in the foyer as Nash fussed over assigning his most reliable footmen to load the wagons. The viscount and his family were making their annual trek to the wilds of America tomorrow, and everything for a three-month stay had to be safely stored aboard the ship by morning. Young Master James and his sister Abby came racing down the hallway of the city house, filling the air with squeals of glee when they saw the mountain of luggage.

      
At once, like a pair of monkeys, the four-year-old boy and his three-year-old sister began to climb atop the highest pile. Distraught, the butler was forced to snatch the two squirming children from near disaster before their nurse came rushing into the foyer.

      
“I’m that sorry, Nash, but I turned me back only long enough to fetch a toy box for the maid who was packing and they were off and running,” the breathless woman said.

      
“Quite all right. A propensity for mayhem runs in the family,” he replied in resignation as he handed the giggling children over to her. Oh, for the days when only his lordship the earl was in residence here. He would roundly enjoy several months of peace and quiet, with only spies and Foreign Secretaries coming and going!

      
Josh stood at the top of the stairs, observing the pandemonium below. His children were growing fast as Texas tumbleweeds in a high wind. So was young Maggie, now down for her afternoon nap in the nursery adjacent to their bedroom. Being raised a lone boy surrounded by older females, he had never imagined how much he would enjoy being a father. His three children were the light of his and Sabrina’s lives, not to mention the earl’s, who now felt the Hambleton succession was secure.

      
Just then Josh’s wife and Dru walked through the front door. As always, his face lit at the sight of Sabrina, who had a smudge of chalk dust on the shoulder of her dark blue suit. She and Drucilla Whistledown had a great deal to discuss, since Edmund's bride was taking on the considerable responsibility of administering The Cantrell School for Young Ladies while Josh and Sabrina were in America.

      
His viscountess had made quite a success of the venture, with financial backing from Uncle Ab and himself, but it was Sabrina Edgewater Cantrell who was the driving force behind everything. Over the years, hundreds of girls had been rescued from the slums of London. She and her staff taught them the same stern values of education and independence she herself had exhibited as a twenty-year-old from the Berkshires facing the vast harshness of a city that often left such girls no options save starvation or prostitution. Now they were given the opportunity to become self-sufficient young women, entering service as upper household servants, clerks, nurses, governesses and teachers.

      
As Edmund Whistledown strode confidently down the hallway and bussed his wife lightly on the cheek, Josh had to admit that the damn fool boy who'd barely escaped prison or death for treason had done amazingly well for himself. After two years as Uncle Ab's secretary, he had been encouraged by the earl to begin the study of law. This past year he'd been admitted to the bar. Now he used his considerable talents, not the least of which was play-acting, to win over juries on the behalf of unjustly accused clients. He was even considering the possibility of standing for a seat in Commons.

      
The Chiffington clan had been delighted to see their second—and as far as they were concerned, unmarriageable—daughter wed. Even if her husband did not possess a title, he was connected to the Earl of Hambleton. The good offices of the earl had soothed the old marquess, but the money Edmund earned as a barrister and his growing political influence went a long way toward sweetening the bargain. Being a self-made man himself, Josh took pride in seeing Edmund succeed so spectacularly, especially considering that it meant “polluting” the snobby Chiffington bloodlines.

      
When the Whistledowns had announced that they were expecting their first child at dinner last night, Josh had proposed a toast using words to that effect. Sabrina had kicked him so hard under the table that he grunted. But the earl had joined Edmund and Dru in a hearty chuckle.

      
As Edmund and Drucilla departed, Sabrina ignored the pandemonium around her and looked up, feeling her husband's eyes on her. She could always tell when her Texas Viscount was watching her. He was ecstatic over their return to his ranch in Texas. Of course, they would make obligatory stops in New York for business meetings and in Washington so Josh could confer with his old friend the president before heading for Dallas. She had a bone to pick with him about what was to occur when they reached the ranch.

      
Determinedly she made her way up the stairs to where her tall, grinning husband stood waiting for her. She could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he had another matter entirely on his mind. Sabrina was determined not to let him distract her. But when he reached out and pulled her into his arms, she could not resist a warm kiss hello.

      
“I missed you, darlin’. Uncle Ab’s kept me hopping faster than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest—”

      
“Another folksy analogy, you silver-tongued devil,” she said, placing her fingers over his lips. “Josh, what ever shall I do with you? You are incorrigible.”

      
He nibbled on her fingers as he led her down the hall. “Oh, I have an idea or two,” he murmured in a husky voice.

      
“None of that until we talk,” she said in the sternest voice she could muster.

      
In answer, he brushed the chalk dust from her jacket, deliberately running his palm across her breast, knowing how that would affect her. “Not sporting,” she protested softly.

      
“Sporting is exactly what I have in mind,” he murmured as he pulled her inside their bedroom and closed the door.

      
The lock clicked. “Now, what were you fixing to say?” he asked as he began unfastening the frog closures on her jacket.

      
“There is a serious matter—”

      
“Only an hour before Maggie wakes from her afternoon nap, and you know she sets up a holler like a treed bobcat. Now, that's a serious matter,” he crooned, nibbling her earlobe as he eased her jacket off and tossed it on a nearby chair.

      
“You intend to present James with a horse when we reach the Circle C, do you not?” she persisted, placing her hands flat against his chest.

      
He shrugged, knowing she would not be distracted until they talked it over. She could be stubborn as one of those Missouri mules when she had a cud to chew. “He’ll be five this spring. In Texas a boy rides before he learns to walk. Not a landowner in the Berkshires would let his son go this long without riding, either. Your daddy agreed with me.”

      
“Papa! I might have known the two of you were conspiring about something last weekend,” she said, feeling miffed that her father would take Josh's side on this; although, considering how horse-mad the squirearchy as a whole was, it was hardly surprising.

      
“Hell, darlin', it's only a pony, not a full-grown horse. He's a blood bay, the same color as Comanche. Jimmy will be crazy about him, and he's gentle as a lamb.”

      
She scoffed, ignoring his use of profanity. At least he was careful not to use it around the children...most of the time. “What would a cow smasher know about lambs, anyway?” she asked with a saucy grin.

      
Josh sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward, ignoring her use of Michael's favorite expression. “For your information, we are now also sheep smashers. I just bought two sheep ranches—in Australia. I figure next January we'll head down under and check ‘em out.” He started nuzzling her throat as he bared the skin beneath her now unfastened blouse. “We could use a change from the cold drizzles of English winter.”

      
“I understand the seasons are reversed in the southern hemisphere. Lovely and warm in January...but climatology can wait,” she murmured, getting into the spirit of the seduction. They actually had less than an hour until Maggie would awaken screaming for her afternoon feeding.

      
“Any time we're together, it's more than warm, it's hot as—”

      
“Don’t you dare say it,” she interrupted playfully, kissing him full on the mouth as she started to work on the studs holding his shirt closed.

      
“How’d you know what I was gonna say?” he murmured, cupping a breast swollen from nursing their three-month-old daughter.

      
“ ‘Hot as the hinges of hell’ is one of your favorites. Oh! Joshua Abington Charles Cantrell, you are a terrible influence,” she said, but the conviction in her voice faded as he lowered his head and took a bared nipple in his mouth. All that remained of her reprimand was a low, satisfied moan of pleasure.

      
“I sure hope so. Somethin’s got to counter all that propriety you’ve beaten into me.”

      
“For all my success, I might as well have tried beating crumpets into a stone wall,” she said while he unfastened her skirt and petticoats, letting them drop in a pouf at her feet.

      
“Now, that's not true,” he averred. “You reformed a hell-bent—er, heck-bent hell-raiser.” By now her blouse had joined the growing pile of clothing on the chair.

      
As she slid his shirt from his shoulders, Sabrina chuckled, shaking her head in resignation. She would never change Josh. And she never wanted to. Instead, she reveled in the dark skin and hard muscles of his shoulders and arms. Carelessly he shrugged the garment off and tossed it. When they were in residence at their country estate, he insisted on working in the stable yards without a shirt. But only she was privileged to see the sharp line of demarcation at his waist and the much paler skin on his hard buttocks, long legs...and other places. She began unbuttoning his fly, eager to free that thick, hard proof of his desire and take it in her hands.

      
“You always forget,” he said in a voice made raspy with desire. “Boots first.” With that he scooped her up and tossed her gently on the bed, sitting on the edge to tug off his footgear, then turning toward her. “Now...where were you?” he murmured.

      
She completed her task with delicacy and skill, eliciting groans of pleasure from him as he kicked his trousers over the foot of the bed. When he started to caress her legs and peel down the silk stockings and garters, she murmured dreamily, “I seem to recall a prudish miss who was ever so embarrassed to have made love while wearing these. What a twit she was.”

      
Josh considered for a moment. “Well, she was...but I loved her anyway,” he said, adding, “You've always been the best part of me, darlin’... always will be.”

      
“I believe you, my lord.” She helped him slide her chemise and under drawers off, loving the way his eyes swept over her body. Although the birth of three children had put extra pounds on her, he always assured her that they were distributed in the best possible places. Seeing the hunger in his eyes as he caressed her breasts, she sighed in bliss and arched up, offering them to him with a soft murmur, “Leave something for Maggie...”

      
He licked and teased the extra-sensitive nipples, gently cupping the fullness of her pale, sweet flesh, then nibbling his way downward to her once again flat little belly. His tongue flicked inside her navel, then moved lower toward the golden bronze mound, where he buried his head.