The American Earl (14 page)

“Your father! But I thought—”

“We haven't seen each other in over a decade. I thought it was time.”

She stepped back, shocked, wary, trying to remove her hand from his. But he tucked it firmly between his side and elbow, then led her farther into the room as the others watched with undisguised interest.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why now…and without warning me?”

“Now, because you told me once that life was too short and family too important to shut out. Why not tell you ahead of time? Because you wouldn't have come, and you had to be here.”

“I don't understand.” Her heart filled her throat. This was all too overwhelming.

“You are the guest of honor,” he murmured with a devilish smile she found as disturbing as it was seductive. His lips brushed her ear, and she had to stop herself from jumping away from the heat in his touch.

Before she could object or ask anymore questions, Matt began the formal introductions. The wives of his two brothers she knew were both American women. She liked them both immediately. Diane was a down-to-earth brunette with four children, three by a previous marriage that, Abby gathered, hadn't been as happy as the relationship she now enjoyed with Thomas Smythe. Jennifer lived with Lord Christopher Smythe in a Scottish castle they were restoring. They were still newlyweds and had that honeymoon glow about them. The king and queen were dazzling. But Matt's father carried himself with stiff solemnity that bespoke a man of stature and importance. His sharp eyes never left Abby during the introductions.

“And now, the reason for our being here,” Matt announced.

Abby turned back to face him with a frown. She felt at a disadvantage; everyone else in the room seemed aware of what was going on but she didn't have a clue.

Matt reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket and withdrew a small jeweler's box. Her first thought was that this was a belated parting gift from the company. But, if that was so, why was his family present? Then the truth struck her with an impact that wrenched the breath from her lungs.

“Oh no, Matt…” She tried to turn away, but he
seized her wrist and brought her back around to face him again.

“You have to let me do this,” he said firmly. “Answer as you will, but let me say my piece.” His eyes blazed darkly at her.

She stood, her body shaking, certain she would collapse on the floor in the middle of this distinguished assemblage. Closing her eyes, Abby wished for invisibility, a stock market crash, an earthquake…anything to stop Matt from saying the words she knew she could never believe to be true.

“Everyone in this room has been waiting for this moment for a very long time,” he began. There was a low murmur of agreement. “For two reasons. The first is, I have held myself separate from this family for far too many years. I needed someone in my life to make me realize that one loss doesn't mean I should turn myself away from love forever.” Abby stared at him. “The other reason is, they've wanted to see me settle down and do something with my life other than make more money…as lovely as it is.”

There was gentle laughter now. But it stopped as soon as Matt opened the box in his hand and displayed a diamond the size of a large almond. Abby fell back two steps, but ran into Diane, who whispered in her ear, “Steady, girl.”

She blinked at the stone as Matt slid the gold ring with the enormous solitaire onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “Oh…I don't know what to say!” Tears were flowing down her cheeks. This was all so confusing. It seemed such a cruel hoax. How could she ever believe that Matt meant to marry her when such a short time ago he had told her he could not?

With a heavy heart, she looked around at the smil
ing faces surrounding them. They were waiting for her answer. The world was closing in around her.

“I can't,” Abby sobbed. Pulling off the ring, she pressed it into Matt's palm.

Abby ran for the veranda doors, pushed through to the garden and didn't stop running until she came to the far end of the flowerbeds. She collapsed onto a stone bench, buried her face in her hands and wept.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there before a deep voice spoke to her. “He's used to getting what he wants. Too much like his stubborn father.” When she looked up, the old earl stood before her, his expression gentle and concerned.

“I'm sorry,” Abby whispered. “I behaved badly in there. That wasn't a very gracious refusal.”

“Do you mind my asking why you have turned down my son's proposal of marriage?” He waited but she could give him no answer. She couldn't trust her voice not to break. “To my knowledge,” he continued, “no other woman has been worthy of his offer. Did you refuse him because you don't love him?”

She shook her head. “It's because I know, in his heart, he doesn't want to be married—to me or anyone else. I don't think he'll ever trust a woman to stay in his life. So he will eventually feel compelled to leave her…me.”

“Because of his mother,” the earl stated.

“Yes.”

He walked around to her other side and sat on the bench beside her. “This is a good deal my fault. I turned my back on my family the day Anna left me. I gave up on my boys.”

Abby turned to him, moved by the deep emotion
in his voice, something she was certain he rarely revealed to others.

“You loved her very much,” she whispered. “What happened?”

“Anna was a free spirit, and I had a title, responsibilities, a serious nature. She stayed longer than I thought she would, giving me three sons. But when she did finally leave, after saying for years that she felt trapped, I was shocked. I didn't handle it well.”

Abby was struck by a tenderness in his voice that seemed inconsistent with a man deserted by his wife. “You still love her,” she whispered.

“Yes, although it took me a very long time to admit it.” He gave her a sideways look. “I can only guess at the heartbreak my son has put you through, while trying to work out his own feelings. But I can tell you this. The four short years that I shared with that woman made everything else worthwhile. No one can guarantee love will last forever, but I believe that Matthew has come to believe, as his brothers recently have, that the risk is one worth taking. He loves you, Abigail. And you love him. What more can two people ask?”

There were tears in the old man's eyes when he finished. Swallowing over the lump in her throat, Abby blinked away her own tears. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his whiskered cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

They sat in silence for a moment before she became aware of a shadow falling between the lights from the house and the garden bench. She looked up to find Matt watching them.

“You see how clever I am? Sending in the wiser, older man to soften you up?”

She laughed, her mouth still tasting salty. “You Smythe men are relentless.”

“Aren't we though?”

“I'll excuse myself,” the elder earl said, rising stiffly. “I believe the rest is up to you, my boy.”

Before his father had disappeared through the hedges of roses, Matt knelt before Abby. She started to object, but only smiled at the old-fashioned gesture. “I don't know if you can trust me to give you what you need,” he said, holding her hands tightly between his own. “But I swear I couldn't live without you now, Abby. You're in my soul. Marry me, please. You won't regret it, and neither will our children.”

“Oh, Matt,” she cried. “Is this real?”

“Absolutely real, my love.”

Flinging her arms around his neck she squeezed hard as he stood, lifting her with him in strong arms. He kissed her soundly on the mouth. Their kiss deepened, and her heart soared. But she was the one to pull away.

“What's wrong now?” he asked, looking worried.

She beamed up at him. “Before I say yes, let me have another look at that outrageously immense ring.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

A
bby's days took on a Bermuda-pink hue. She telephoned her new employer in Chicago and quit her job, then called Dee. Even after Matt's brothers, their wives and his father left for England, she drifted through rose-dawned mornings, sun-bright tropical afternoons and star-studded nights of bliss. Yet it still sometimes seemed too good to be true. And Matt must have understood her wariness for one evening as they dressed for dinner, he asked, “Are you still concerned about something?”

“No,” she said brightly, then adjusted her answer. “Not concerned as much as puzzled.”

He took her hand and they sat on the wide bed facing each other. “Tell me.”

She struggled to find words that would make sense of her feelings. “It's just that you fought serious relationships and marriage for so very long. Then you
seemed to so easily change your mind. I have trouble trusting sudden changes in people.”

He smiled down at her and combed his wide fingers through the screen of burnished hair that had fallen across her face as she gazed down at their linked hands. “It wasn't as sudden as you might think, or as easy. But the battle has been won, believe me.”

She lifted her eyes to him. “How do I know?”

He thought for a moment. “Because it was such a difficult thing for me to do, taking that first step to reconcile with my father. For all my adult life I believed it would be impossible to approach him, to tell him how I felt—about my mother, about his rejection. Then I met you and I needed you in my life. And there seemed no other way to convince you I wanted to be part of a family, other than taking that dreaded first step to mend my past.”

“You did it for me?” she whispered.

“Initially, yes. Later, after I'd spent several days in London with my father, I realized it wasn't all for you. I hadn't felt that good about myself in a very long time. I felt—” he hesitated, searching for the words “—whole again. Mended. Capable of being a strong partner in marriage, and a father.”

Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she kept them back. Even happy tears had no place in this room with them.

“I am so very proud of you,” she murmured and pulled him toward her for a sweet, sweet kiss.

The moment lingered.

And so did the kiss. It deepened and Abby felt a peace and trust that seemed as perfectly natural as the little frogs' concert outside her window. She let Matt pull her onto his lap and let out a soft gasp of surprise
and pleasure as his lips trailed down her throat. She felt his fingers unbuttoning the front of her dress that she'd just finished buttoning. His hands moved inside her clothing. She pressed into them.

“I thought we had seven o'clock reservations?” she whispered.

“We do.” He kissed the soft rise of her breast.

“We don't have much time.”

“We have all the time in the world,” he breathed, his eyes flashing darkly up at hers. The passion she beheld in his features left her weak inside, and summoned a familiar heat from low in her body.

“Perhaps, if we're just an hour late Maurice will hold our table.” She arched her back as he leaned down and took her near nipple between his teeth and teased it.

“I expect it will be closer to two hours before we make it to the restaurant.”

She smiled dizzily. Delighted. “Two hours?”

“Maybe more.” His hands were very, very busy. And so was his clever mouth. Her body responded to him, as it always had and always would.

She leaned back against his strong, encircling arm and together they fell back against the bed. Reaching down, she freed him from his clothing and stroked the evidence of his arousal until he groaned deep in his throat. And when they were both wild with hunger for each other and neither could wait another second, she opened herself to receive him.

He filled her. Completed her. She gave herself up to him—heart, soul, and body—in the ecstasy of their embrace.

No longer did she doubt. No longer did she wonder at the miraculous changes she'd witnessed in this
man. He was hers, she his. And the world with all its turmoil receded to a distant place that couldn't touch them as long as their love remained strong.

 

The castle rose above the village in Elbia, dwarfed only by the snow-covered mountains surrounding the ancient town. Locals called their royal family's residence, the Crystal Palace, for when the sun hit the rare white Russian marble, carved from quarries threaded with pearl-white quartz, its turrets glistened like cut glass. The day of Abby and Matt's January wedding, the sun's reflection off the sugar-white mountains and the castle walls was nearly blinding.

At first Abby had told Matt that she wanted only a simple family ceremony on her parents' farm. But as soon as she accepted the young earl's ring and proposal, the women of his family took charge of the arrangements.

“No, no,” Jennifer insisted, “you must marry in London, in a beautiful old church. I can show you a dozen that would take your breath away.”

Diane looked at King Jacob, as if they'd already discussed the matter. “There is another option.”

The young monarch nodded at his best friend's wife then turned toward Abby and Matt. “My queen and I would be honored to offer the palace as a setting for your nuptials.”

Abby gasped in surprise. “Oh, but we couldn't…” she shot Matt a look of mixed shock and delight, “…could we?”

“The decision is yours,” he said with a smile.

“Well, I've always wanted to see Europe.” She barely took a breath before making up her mind. “I'd love it.” And so it was decided they would have as
big and as formal a wedding as they liked, inviting all they knew to share their joy. After the ceremony, she and Matt would spend a month-long honeymoon touring the continent, from Paris to London, Madrid to Vienna. For Abby, it was more than a dream come true.

Dee was her choice for maid of honor and Paula, in addition to two of her best friends from college would be bridesmaids. The entire wedding party, including Abby's proud parents and Matt's family from England, were flown to Vienna and from there transported in small, joyful batches by royal helicopter to the landing pad at the far end of the palace gardens.

Abby wore a butter-soft, cream-colored velvet gown with fitted sleeves tapering to points at the back of her hands. The neck scooped low in front and rose in a high collar, elegantly framing her throat and face from behind her neck. Her soft red hair was piled high, and tiny pearls nestled in the center of each glistening curl. She felt like a fairy-tale princess, and Matt was no less than her Prince Charming.

In the days that followed the elaborate ceremony, the guests gradually left and life in the palace returned to normal. The King offered Matt the use of his jet to speed them between stops on their honeymoon.

“What do you think?” Matt asked Abby. “Do we zoom across Europe following each day's whim, or stick to our original plans?”

Abby thought for a moment. “I'd rather it be just the two of us, driving between cities, enjoying the countryside along the way. Would you mind terribly?”

“Not at all,” he said. “That would be my choice.” He kissed her on the lips and she looked up at him
with love in her eyes. A love he feared he'd never quite deserve, yet would do all in his power to hold on to.

“Come on,” he said, seizing her hand. His eyes were bright with boyish mischief. “I have something for you.” He started up the wide sweep of stone stairs toward the private quarters on the upper floors.

Abby grinned and tugged on his hand. “If memory serves right, you gave me
something
already this morning…and last night as well.” Would she ever get enough of his lovemaking, though? Perhaps not, but she didn't want to give his ego too much fuel.

“Not
that,
” he said, laughing, “although it's a tempting thought. This is a wedding present. I ordered it weeks ago, but it didn't arrive until today.”

“I hardly need another present,” she said softly.

“You'll like this one.” He winked at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

They climbed the winding stone stairs, hand in hand, and she felt a bliss she'd never expected to know. Matt opened the heavy wooden door that led into their private chambers. The furnishings were massive, dark wood, centuries old, rich with history. On the bed, piled high with satin bolsters, was a tiny box wrapped in lavender paper. She sat down and picked it up.

“Open it,” Matt said, watching her with delight and pride.

“All I wanted was you,” she whispered. “We have truckloads of beautiful things to take home with us.”

“Open it,” he repeated firmly.

“Yes, Lord Smythe,” she teased. Slowly, Abby pulled layers of paper from a white box, stamped with a distinctive gold emblem. Waterford.

“Crystal?” she asked. The box hardly filled the palm of her hand. “But it must be so small!”

“Something to add to your collection.”

Grinning, she brushed her fingertips tenderly along the strong line of his jaw. She was touched that he had even noticed her inexpensive assemblage of glass creatures in her old apartment in Chicago. “How do you know it won't be similar to one I already have? Did you ask Dee for help?”

“I knew you didn't have this one. I commissioned the piece directly from one of the Waterford designers.”

She stared at him in amazement. “You're kidding. It must have cost a fortune.”

“Open the bloody box, woman.”

She did, then lifted out a tiny, glittering figurine. Instead of being an animal, a fanciful unicorn or a butterfly, the delicate piece resting in her cupped hand was of two human figures. A mother and child locked in a loving embrace.

Tears filled her eyes. “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” she whispered.

“I thought it appropriate, knowing your feelings about children. Besides, my love,
it's time.
”

“Time?” she asked, tipping her head to study his mystifying expression. He seemed serious, yet….

“You mean,
now?
You want to start a family so soon?”

He nodded, his eyes bright with anticipation.

“But you have a deal pending with that California vineyard, and there's the Russian caviar exporter.”

Matt reached out for her and pulled her across the bed toward him. “Bermuda taught me one very important lesson. Work will always be there waiting for
me. The people I love may not be. I want to fill up my life with you and our babies, Abby. There will never be a better time to start our family.” He kissed her softly, lingeringly, then took the crystal figures from her and placed them gently on the table nearby.

“I've always said,” she murmured, undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one, as she pressed her cheek to his strong chest, “there's no time like the present.”

“Agreed, Lady Smythe.” He laid her back on the bed. And that afternoon, with a passion that would remain alive between them throughout their long marriage, they conceived their first child.