THE DEFIANT LADY (23 page)

The aging Marquess was busy engaging the Duchess of Cavehill in conversation, and she was doing her best to pretend she was not enjoying his attention. Lord and Lady Fitzgerald along with their daughter, approached their group.

Lord Fitzgerald said, “Congratulations on your wedding, Stanton.”

“Whatever are you going to do with the wedding preparations already in place?” Lady Fitzgerald asked.

The Duchess of Cavehill smiled smugly. “My other granddaughter, Miss Willow Sinclair, will marry the Marquess of Westonshire’s heir, the Earl of Bedford, on that day.”

Willow turned to Miss Fitzgerald and smiled sweetly, “Will you be able to attend?”

Before the chit was able to reply, her father spoke up, “No, afraid not. My daughter is going to spend some time in Brussels with her relatives.” He shot his daughter a meaningful look.

“I am looking forward to seeing my extended family,” Miss Fitzgerald intoned blandly, though her face colored in anger.

“Yes,” Fitzgerald nodded. “We expect her to make a wonderful match abroad.”

Ivy was glad to know that Miss Fitzgerald would be nowhere near London for a long period of time, and with Caldwell bound for America, their lives were dangerously close to perfection.

“The look on Miss Fitzgerald’s face was priceless,” Willow remarked when the Fitzgeralds had moved along.

“She was quite unable to conceal her annoyance at having another bachelor snatched from under her nose,” Stanton agreed with a smile. “By another Sinclair woman, no doubt.”

Willow smiled boldly in Bedford’s direction. “Can you believe we are getting married in a week?”

“Six days, actually,” Bedford corrected.

“To think,” Willow said with a shake of her head, “My grandmother pretended she did not approve of you.”

“I only knew that would make you want him more,” her grandmother replied, overhearing their conversation. “And that you would fight for him.”

Willow blushed.

“You did not approve of my grandson?” the Marquess demanded brusquely. “He is a fine catch!”

“Of course he is,” the Duchess soothed. “I knew they would be perfect for one another, and to ensure they realized it, I had to give my granddaughter an obstacle to overcome.”

“You gave me your own obstacle,” Willow said to Bedford. “Pretending to court Miss Fitzgerald made me miserable.”

“It made me miserable as well,” Bedford said, causing everyone to laugh.

Langley grabbed his wife’s hand and kissed it, and said, “Let us dance.”

“Langley! Whatever has come over you? You loath dancing!” the Countess jested.

“I am in a celebratory mood,” he said.

“Why is that?” Ivy inquired.

“Shall we tell them?” Langley whispered to his wife.

“In eight months, Malcolm will have a little brother or sister,” the Countess of Langley said shyly.

When the three couples had taken to the dance floor, the Duchess looked at her granddaughters with pride in her eyes. They had brought laughter and joy back into her home; she was no longer alone or lonely. She never could have guessed that her son’s indiscretions would give her a family she was proud of. Soon, Ivy and Willow would have children, and the thought of hearing soft, childish giggles filled her with delight. Through the years, she would watch their family grow.

She had done well for them.

Her gaze lingered on Ivy who looked like a young version of the Duchess. Ivy stared adoringly into her new husband’s eyes, the devotion and love she felt clearly evident for all to see. The Duchess’s heart beat once again with the remembrance of excitement, youth and love.

Yes, she had done well for them.

***

The smell of sea and fish assaulted Caldwell’s senses. He attempted to move, but his body ached in protest. As he regained full consciousness, he remembered his fight with Stanton. It had ended with Caldwell squirming on the ground in pain.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He nearly screamed at his surroundings, but his throat was too dry, and no sound came out. A swarthy, stout man with a grizzly beard leaned over him, silhouetted by the rising sun. The scent of stale sweat, putrid deck wood and brine was overwhelming, and Caldwell wanted to turn his head and retch. The rocking of the sailing ship made his broken nose and bruised body throb.

The burly pirate cackled, showing decaying teeth. “Finally awake, are ye?”

“Where am I?” Caldwell asked, licking dry, cracked lips.

“Aboard the mighty
Sea Serpent
, bound fer America.”

Caldwell paled and tried to stand up. “But…how did I get here?” His head was fuzzy and his stomach rolled as the ship swayed on choppy waves.

His new companion shrugged. “Two men carried ye aboard last night with instructions te work ye hard an’ make sure ye earn ye keep. They brought with ’em a vast purse fer the captain to keep ye onboard.”

A sheen of sweat beaded Caldwell’s forehead, and he felt shaky. He had never done a hard day’s work in his life, and now he was on a ship in the middle of the sea being carried further and further away from his home. He figured at best it would take a month to get to America if the weather was favorable, and another to return.

“When do we head back to England?”
 
Caldwell gripped the wooden rail without thinking and instantly gasped in pain due to the shattered bones in his swollen hand.

“A year. Maybe two,” the man said. “We aren’t
just
goin’ te America. Now that yer awake, grab that bucket an’ brush. The deck needs a good scrubbin’. If ye shirk yer duties, the captain has no qualms about throwin’ ye overboard an’ lettin’ the sharks take a bite out o’ ye.”
 
The strapping sailor eyed Caldwell, taking in his broken nose, ruined hand, and grayish face. “An’ from the looks of ye, I doubt ye’d be able te swim three feet before the sharks get ye...”

Caldwell closed his eyes.
This has to be a nightmare
, he thought.

He heard scuffling around him, and as he opened his eyes again he saw the ship’s crew start to emerge from the doors hinged to the deck. One had an eye patch, and another had scars up and down his arms. They were all filthy, heavily tanned, hideous, muscular and scowling at him.

“Look at what we got ’ere,” a crewmember with very little neck taunted.

“
Fresh meat
,” another answered with a sinister grin.

Caldwell swallowed audibly as the group of men began to edge closer.

He wondered if he would ever see England again.

***

London, England

The Earl and Countess of Stanton left the Bellington Ball early and as they made their departure, the ballroom erupted into applause and laughter. Smiling, Cy whisked his bride away. He was planning on locking himself and his wife in the bedroom for a full week, and then maybe he would let them out to rejoin the world.

 
His heart swelled when he escorted her into his townhouse. He would never have to be separated from her again. Her home was with him now, and he could not wait to have her in his bed, every night for the rest of their lives. The thought was both enjoyable and humbling.

When they were in the foyer, he scooped her up into his arms, causing her to laugh.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her face flushing beautifully.

“Taking you to bed. I thought it was obvious.”

“Of course. You have also alerted all our servants to your intention.”

He looked at her tenderly. “We are married, sweetheart. Let them speak of my love for you as well as my unquenchable desire.”

“There are worse things for them to know, I suppose,” she teased.

Carrying her up the stairs and down the hallway, he stopped in front of a closed door. “This is your room.”

Grasping the knob with one hand, he stepped into the bedroom. He enjoyed watching her mouth part in awe when she saw the splendor of the room. It was decorated in pale pink and white and lit with a dozen candles.

“I had the room redone. Do you like it?”

“It is beautiful. Will you put me down now?” she asked.

“No,” he said good-naturedly.

He went to the connecting door and pushed it open to reveal his own bedroom, adorned with dark wood furniture, and red linens that covered the massive bed. Candles were lit, gilding everything in romantic shadows. It was a room for passion.

Unceremoniously, he dropped her in the middle of his large, spacious bed. Her eyes tracked him, but she made no move to scramble away.

“I plan on doing a lot of things to you in this bed,” he said with a heated look.

“Things I will like?” she asked breathlessly.

“No doubt.”

“I was going to put on a lace nightgown,” she murmured as he began to strip out of his formal attire. He threw his jacket carelessly on the ground. His cravat followed moments later.

“It would be destroyed in a matter of seconds.” He reached for his trousers.

She sighed when he stood before her, unashamedly naked. His erection was hard, throbbing, and ready for her. Her green eyes glowed with desire.

“Do you realize, dear husband, that this is the first time we will have made love in a bed?”

He laughed, his voice thick with lust, when he said, “True. Our other trysts have involved rather uncomfortable settings.”

“And yet you still gave me so much pleasure. I would like to do the same for you.”

She got up off the bed and kneeled in front of him. She ran her hands up his muscular thighs and then slowly caressed him. Cy leaned his head back in exquisite bliss. She moved her hands to grasp behind his thighs and pulled his body closer to her waiting, greedy mouth. She presented an erotic picture, on her knees, still in her ball gown with her hair pinned back. When her tongue lightly touched the head of his shaft, he thought he was going to burst from her tender assault. She continued to lick and sucked gently, and Cy groaned.

“Your skin is so soft and hot to the touch,” she whispered. “It is almost like you have a fever.”

Cy thought he was going to die from the delectable torture, and so he took a step back and helped Ivy to her feet.

“Did you not like it? Did I do it wrong?”

He kissed her hard on the mouth and his tongue moved to touch hers. “You were perfect, and I loved every moment of it, but I want to feel your skin against mine. I need to take you into my arms and plunge into your heat. I must be inside you,” he growled.

He removed the pins from her hair, pleased when it fell in gentle curls down her back. His hands went to her dress, but his rabid desire strained his patience as he tried to unbutton the tiny hindrances to her gown. Cursing, her ripped it, sending the tatters of the ruined dress to the floor.

“Oh, yes, I see what you mean. That could have been my nightgown,” she murmured.

He went for her chemise and helped her out of it and then lay down on the bed on his back. When she looked confused, he held out his hand and said, “Come here, love, I will show you. Straddle me.”

She did as commanded. His hard length teased the wet entrance to her body, and Cy’s heart hammered in his chest.

Gently touching her thigh, his hand moved between her legs. She was slick and ready for him, and he could not wait any longer. He urged her body onto his and he grinned when Ivy gasped in enjoyment as he penetrated her. He went in deep. When he began to guide her hips to teach her the rhythm, she gave in. Cy bucked beneath her, loving the feel of his wife’s creamy flesh in his hands as she rode him. Faster and faster they went, until she cried out her fulfillment. Cy thrust one last time and came with a shattering release.

She lay on his chest, and pressed her face to his shoulder. “Loving you will be the death of me,” she whispered.

He chuckled and replied, “The night is far from over, love, and when my strength returns I will show you.”

“How long might that be?” she wondered.

Rolling her onto her back, he grinned. “Sooner than we both thought.”

***

It was early afternoon the next day when Ivy awoke. She snuggled into her husband’s arms, pressing a kiss to his bare chest. Their night of passion had been exhilarating and thoroughly exhausting, and she was famished.

Quietly, she got out of bed, went to her bedroom and pulled on a robe. She rang for a maid and requested a breakfast tray. Traipsing back into Cy’s room, she frowned when she saw he was still asleep. She climbed into bed and let her hand rove over his hot skin.

He stirred, but his eyes were still closed when he pushed her hand lower. She chuckled and obliged, caressing him gently for a few moments.

“What a pleasant way to wake up.” His voice was raspy with sleep and lust.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“So far I like it.”

“Not
that
,” she said with a laugh.

He finally opened his eyes and frowned. “You are dressed.”

“No, I am in a robe. I rang for a breakfast tray.”

Scratching his stubbly jaw, he sat up. There was a knock on the door and Ivy went to answer it. She took the tray from the maid and brought it back to bed. When they finished tea and pastries, she got up.

“Where are you going?” he demanded when he saw her walk to her own room.

“To get dressed.”

“Why?”

“You are insatiable, My Lord,” she purred.

“Ivy!”

“Get dressed, Cy. I want to show you something.”

He did as she commanded, but grumbled when she insisted they leave the bedroom.

“We can come back up later,” she promised with a smile. Taking his hand, she led him to the ballet studio, and removed her outer clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing for you,” she said.

“In your chemise and a pair of breeches?”

“I told you it was a surprise.”

She tied on her ballet slippers and then moved to the bar. She started her warm up and went to the center of the room. Taking a deep breath, she raised an elegant arm and began a series of movements that included twirls and pirouettes. She danced around the room, leaping like a graceful, long-legged animal. Time stopped for her as she shared the deepest part of herself with her husband. When she finished, she turned to look at him.