The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) (35 page)

She grinned at Roark. “I’ll race you!”

Taking a shortcut through the woods, Adaira led him past the far side of Loch Arkaig, glistening aqua in the late afternoon sun. Bending low over Fionn’s neck, she gave him his head. He’d missed these rides. Leaning to the side as the horse rounded a bend, she sliced a swift glance behind her.

Atlas thundered behind Fionn, Roark low in the saddle, grinning like a buffoon. Adaira laughed. He urged Atlas on, sending the cranes standing in the shallow water near the shore into panicked flight. Their great wings whooshed no more than a foot above her head.

She slowed Fionn to a trot, guiding him to an unimpressive grove of aspens a stone’s throw from the dungeon entrance. The horses could rest in the shade and nibble on the sweet grass below the trees. Dismounting, she tied the stallion’s reins to a stout branch. She turned as Roark hopped to the ground beside her.

She almost laughed at the look of confusion on his handsome face.

After tying Atlas to the tree, he swung Adaira into his arms. “I’ve never seen you race.”

He chuckled and shook his head, then kissed her on the nose. “You’re incredible. I confess, I’d never have believed a woman could ride so superbly.”

Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees. A bird chirped a warning overhead. She angled away from him, arching a brow. “And why not?”

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, although you’re adorable when vexed. I meant it as the greatest compliment. You sit a saddle as well, or better, than any man I know.”

With an arm cradling her waist, he turned them toward the castle. “Why are we here?”

Adaira grinned and grabbed his hand. “I want to show you something.” She moved toward the keep, coming to an abrupt halt when Roark didn’t budge. Sending him a questioning look, she urged, “Come along.”

He stood his ground. “I’m not going in there.” He pointed to the barely discernible door nestled in the time-worn grayish-brown stones.

“No?” She stood on her tiptoes. Holding his face between her hands, she kissed him, using every seductive wile he’d taught her.

He succumbed without resistance, enveloping her in his arms. She looped hers behind his neck. Several lengthy moments passed as they explored each other’s mouths.

Adaira trailed kisses to his ear, whispering suggestively, “I thought I might attempt to seduce you.”

A lazy grin creased Roark’s face, a dazzling contrast to the fire in his eyes. “You don’t say?”

He marched to the entry, tossing over his shoulder, “Well, are you coming? Don’t dally.”

She snickered, pushing on the stone that exposed the latch to the door. “Now you’re in a hurry? Help me. It’s heavy. Watch that rose bush. It smells wonderful, but its thorns are wicked.”

Roark pressed his shoulder into the stone. With a groan, the entrance swung open.

Adaira stepped inside, the familiar dankness enshrouding her. She lifted the lantern from a hook beside the door. Striking a flint, she swiftly lit the wick. “You can close the door.”

The heavy stone slid shut with a soft thud. With an exaggerated courtly bow, he said, “Lead on, Lady Clarendon.”

Curling her hand in his, Adaira led him through a couple of corridors and a set of doors. No rats scurried before them, but familiar weighty coolness permeated the air, causing her to shiver lightly.

“Where are the rats?” Roark peered about, seeking the vermin that had once populated the bowels of the keep.

“Gone, for the most part. A few weeks ago Yvette gave kittens to two orphans who help in the kitchen. Shortly afterward, Seonaid rescued a mother cat and her older kittens from a villager who was going to drown them. They spend a few hours down here every day. They’re excellent hunters. The first couple of weeks they left dozens of rodents on the landing atop the stairs.”

Adaira didn’t slow her pace. The only sound was their steady tread echoing along the stone tunnels. Her fear of the dungeon had diminished with the knowledge Godwin hadn’t despoiled her. “Here we are.”

Speechless, Roark stared at his former jail. The cell before him didn’t resemble the chamber he’d been imprisoned in. Adaira rushed inside and set about lighting two lamps.

“What do you think?” she asked a trace of apprehension in her voice. “I hung tapestries along the walls, and with this carpet on the floor, much of the austerity is eliminated.”

A narrow bed, topped with an indigo counterpane and heaped with mismatched pillows, rested against the far side of the tiny cell. A wingback chair and side table completed the decor.

Roark planted his hands on his hips, scanning the chamber. It held little resemblance to his prison cell. He crooked a brow. “Why?”

Adaira colored and fiddled with her cross. “I. . .”

Grasping her braid, she lifted it over one shoulder. She untied the ribbon and began to separate the interwoven strands.

“It sounds silly when I say it, but I convinced myself it was to banish your presence, and Godwin’s, from this place. Truthfully, after I furnished it, I ventured here only once more.”

Her hair at last free, she ran her fingers through its length. Sitting in the chair, she pulled off her boots before removing her stockings. “It’s odd, but I almost missed your presence.”

She stood and unfastened her breeches. With a couple hip wiggles, they slipped to the floor. Only her shirt and chemise remained.

Roark grinned and untied his neckcloth. “You missed me?”

She tossed her head. Tilting her chin upward, a spark of mischief glinted in her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t stand you, remember?”

His grin widened. “Yes, so you say, but you did this.” He spread his hands. He ran an appraising glance over her shapely ankles and calves. “Do you mean to seduce me, vixen?”

Her eyes half-closed, she murmured, low and sultry, “I’m trying, but you keep rattling on.”

Roark moved to her. He loosened the laces of her shirt. He drew the garment over her head. Adaira shivered. From cold or arousal, he couldn’t be certain. He reached for her chemise, but she swatted his hand. With a giggle, she scampered to the bed, snuggling beneath the blanket.

“Not until you’re undressed too.”

He wasted no time obliging her. Within moments, he snared her in his arms. He nuzzled her neck. “We’ll make new memories of this place. Ones to replace the tormenting ones we have, my love.”

Adaira’s eyes darkened. She traced his lower lip with her finger. “Am I? Your love? Truly?”

Roark raised himself slightly. He kissed her palm before pressing it to his heart. “I didn’t know what love was until you captured my heart. I’ll live every day thanking God for bringing you into my life.”

He lowered his head, kissing her tenderly.

She graced him with a beatific smile. “As will I.”

Adaira opened her legs. “Make a memory with me, husband, to carry with us for a lifetime.”

And Roark did. More than once.

EPILOGUE

Cadbury Park, Late June 1818

Standing outside the paddock beside the massive new stables, Adaira rested her back against Roark. His arms encircled her extended belly. They watched Tenacity try to nuzzle her offspring. Kiki ran in circles around their ankles barking at the foal.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Roark?”

The spirited silver-colored filly, kicked up her heels, and skipped away. Little puffs of dust stirred in her wake.

Adaira chuckled and caressed her stomach. “Though, she is a saucy girl.”

Roark’s laughter joined hers. “Precisely why we named her Vixen.”

Fionn neighed a greeting from an adjacent pasture. He tossed his head and pranced along the fence. The leaves on the trees bordering the meadow had begun their transformation to warm autumn hues. “He doesn’t understand why I haven’t been riding him these past months.”

Roark’s arms tightened. “I won’t risk either your health or our child’s. You rode him far longer than I was comfortable with as it was.”

Vixen galloped to her mother. She circled Tenacity before dashing off to stop several feet away, taunting the mare to give chase. Kiki yipped at the filly’s antics.

The babe in Adaira’s womb moved abruptly. Roark rested a hand on her stomach. “I hope our son isn’t quite as naughty.”

Adaira sniffed in disdain. “Or daughter.”

“Or daughter.” Roark kissed the crown of her head.

“The babe can’t come soon enough for me,” she groaned, rubbing her belly.

“I eagerly await our child’s arrival too,” he admitted.
“Sethwick is beyond obnoxious, toting Broderick about, showing him off every time we see your family.”

She grinned, then winced as the babe kicked especially hard. “He’s a proud papa. The baby is a good distraction for Mother. She’s been lonely with Dugall away at university and Seonaid’s extended visit to Tante Floressa’s.”

Adaira shook her head. “I’d never have thought Seonaid would venture to France. Isobel, yes. Seonaid, never.”

“I’m sure Yancy’s frequent visits alleviate a portion of your mother’s loneliness.”

Roark snorted. “I’ve never known him to be so eager for Sethwick’s company.”

Adaira chuckled. “You know as well as I do, discussing politics and business with Ewan is only a ruse. Lord Ramsbury is determined to court Isobel.”

Tenacity nickered.

Adaira cast a glance over her shoulder.

The breeze increased in momentum, scattering the crisp golden-brown leaves on the ground. They crackled in protest. She tugged her wool shawl tighter. Roark turned her in his arms, hugging her close to his chest. She nestled into his welcome warmth, breathing in his familiar scent.

Canting her head, she murmured, “Even after everything Edgar did, you showed compassion and buried him in the family cemetery.”

Roark rested his chin atop her head. “He was as much a victim of my father’s cruelty as me. We responded differently. Edgar became like our sire, while I did everything in my power not to.”

He firmed his grip across her back. He rubbed the length of her spine in a soothing motion. “I’m sorry to say, I cannot be as forgiving of Helene and her cousins. I still don’t know how they caught wind of the charges you and your family brought against them.”

Adaira freed a hand from her shawl. She caressed Roark’s cheek. “We’ve no need to concern ourselves with them. They won’t dare set foot on British soil again. Besides, I actually owe them a debt of gratitude.”

Skepticism whisked across his face. “Indeed? And pray tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?”

She raised her other hand. Looping it behind his neck, she brushed his warm lips with her own. “Because, dear husband, their trickery forced us together and brought about our hasty marriage.”

A mischievous expression settled in his eyes. He gave her a lopsided smile. “And here, I thought you were going to confess their abduction attempt forced you to admit you loved me.”

Balancing on her toes, she pressed as close to him as her swollen abdomen would allow. The babe in her belly leapt.

“I already loved you, and will ‘till the day I no longer breathe,” she murmured against his mouth.

“And I’ll love you until the oceans of the world cease to ebb and flow, Lady Clarendon.”

Roark sealed his vow with a scorching kiss.

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