The Babe and the Baron (27 page)

Priscilla decided to take exception to the transfer. She bawled as the maid carried her upstairs, and furious screams came from above. Tears stung Laura's eyes as she turned to the fireplace. The silliest things made her want to cry nowadays, though so far she had managed not to weep until she was alone in her bed at night.

Her eyes were soon stinging in earnest. Inattentive, she had put a damp log on the fire and choking smoke billowed out. The tears that poured down her face were not all smoke-caused, however, as spluttering she groped for the fire-tongs.

Then through the haze strode a familiar figure. Gareth removed the tongs from her grasp and the offending log from the fire. His arm around her waist, he propelled her out to the tiny hall at the foot of the stairs. Priscilla's wails resounded, but Gareth paid them no heed as he folded Laura in an irresistible embrace and kissed her thoroughly.

Clinging to him, she kissed him back. She had never known a kiss could set her blood on fire and make the rest of the world vanish.

“My darling, I love you,” he said at last in a shaky voice. “Will you be my wife?”

“But I have mud on my face,” she protested weakly.

He held her away from him and studied her with care. “Not much. I expect most of it is on mine by now. Laura, my dearest girl, you cannot kiss me like that and then refuse to marry me.”

Laura flushed and lowered her gaze to his mud-smeared cravat. After hiding her love for so long, she had given away the secret. To deny it now was to proclaim herself a slut. Was it possible he truly loved her too? Or was it only words, to persuade her to take Priscilla back to Llys?

But he had ignored the baby's howls—was ignoring them as they grew suddenly louder—

“Beg pardon, my lady, my lord, but it's her supper Miss Pris wants, and right this minute.”

Her cheeks aflame, Laura escaped into the parlour. She crossed to the window and stood fiddling nervously with the cord tying back the curtain. A moment later, scarce long enough for Gareth to greet Myfanwy and kiss Priscilla, whose yells instantly changed to coos, the door thudded shut behind Laura with a click of the latch.

His firm footsteps sounded on the brick floor. His arms closed around her and he nuzzled her neck, sending a tremor through her body.

“Well?”

“Gareth, it is not...it's not that you want Priscilla so badly you are prepared to marry me to get her?”

He laughed, the wretch! “Beloved, much as I love Pris, the one I want badly is you, and not at all in the manner in which I want Pris!”

“Truly?” She turned in his arms, her gaze searching his face. “But I know I'm not attractive in that...that way.”

“What the deuce makes you think not?” he exclaimed, his clasp tightening.

Laura hid her face in his shoulder. “Freddie,” she said in a muffled voice.

“Damn Freddie! He told you so? He was a sad rattle but I had not thought him cruel.”

“Oh no, he was never deliberately cruel. He just never... that is, he hardly ever...” She took a deep breath. “He eloped with me out of kindness, because I was so unhappy at home, but he never touched me, not before we were married. He was too busy gambling with his friends. And afterwards, he was rarely at home, and when he was, generally in his cups.”

“Good gad! Yet, having known Freddie for a baconbrained clunch any time these twenty years, why should I be surprised to learn he was blind to the charms of the most desirable woman in the world?” With one finger Gareth raised her chin till she was forced to look up at him, to see the sincerity in his deep blue eyes. Then he bent his head and kissed her lips very gently. “You are, you know, to me. Why else should I break my vow never to wed?”

“Gareth, you don't... You say I'm the most... You don't want a marriage in name only, do you? Because I don't think I could bear it.”

“Confound it, no! Have you not understood a word I've been saying, little goose? Not to mention actions, which are supposed to speak louder than words.”

“They do,” Laura said pertly, reassured at last, pressing herself against him. “But I shall not let you wrap me in cotton-wool when I am in the family way.”

“I know it,” he said with a rueful smile, which swiftly gave way to the pleading look she knew so well. “Laura, you don't object to preventing conception by artificial means, do you?”

“Is it possible?” she asked in astonishment.

“Quite possible. I have made it my business to find out—That's why I went to London, incidentally. You see why I could not explain my absence! The method I learned about, though not infallible, is not difficult when you know how.”

“I have no religious objection, if that is what you mean. But I want your children!”

“And I yours. A few. What I don't want is for you to be worn out by child-bearing, like Mama. I love you too much.”

“Enough not to care if you are ostracized for marrying me?”

“Quite enough, but it is not a fate I expect.” Raising his determined chin, Gareth looked down his aristocratic nose at her. “Much as it grieves me to boast, I must inform you that my consequence is sufficient for both of us.”

“Hoity-toity!”

“Not that it will be needed. Aunt Antonia is all agog to welcome you as my bride, and when people see both her and your family accepting you—”

“Truly?”

“Truly. Another reason I went up to Town was to speak to your father. Oh, I've just had a simply splendid notion.” His eyes gleamed. “I shall make Aunt Sybil hold a betrothal party for us.”

“No, Gareth, you must not!”

“Your wish is my command,” he said mournfully. “But you will marry me, won't you?”

“Yes, my dearest, I will.”

A highly satisfactory embrace followed, cut short—but not very short—by a piercing shriek from the kitchen.

“Oh dear,” Laura sighed, “I'm afraid that means Priscilla wants me to give her supper. She lets Myfanwy do everything else, but not feed her.”

“A female of decided opinions, like her mama.” Gareth released Laura and looked her over by the last of the evening light. He grinned. “Not much worse than when I arrived. I daresay Pris won't mind tousled hair and a dirty face if I don't.”

“Heavens, I forgot.” A warm happiness filled her from tip to toe: He loved her even in her present state. “You are not much better yourself. Come on.” She took his hand and led the way out to the hall, where another shriek greeted them. “Do you know, Pris said ga-ga today and I was sure she was trying to say Gareth.”

“She will have to learn to say Dada or Papa now.” He held Laura back for a moment and kissed the nape of her neck before they entered the kitchen.

Yet another shriek cut off abruptly at their appearance. Priscilla beamed. “Da-da-da-da,” she said obligingly.

Copyright © ; 1997 by Carola Dunn

Originally published by Zebra (0821755439)

Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.