The Gift (2 page)

"Aye, my lord," Nathan answered. "You are my patriot king."

The baron's admiration for the marquess increased tenfold. He could see from the king's smile that he was also pleased. Nathan's relatives weren't. Their scowls were hot enough to set fires. The Winchesters couldn't have been happier. They snickered in glee.

Nathan suddenly bounded to his feet in one fluid motion. He turned to stare at the Winchesters for a long, silent moment, and the look on his face, as cold as frost, seemed to chill the insolence right out of the men. The marquess didn't turn back to the king until most of the Winchesters were intently staring at the floor. The St. James men couldn't help but grunt their approval.

The lad wasn't paying any attention to his relatives. He stood with his legs braced apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and stared straight ahead. His expression showed only boredom.

Lawrence walked directly in front of Nathan so that he could nod to him. He wanted Nathan to know how much his conduct had pleased him.

Nathan responded by giving the baron a quick nod of his own. Lawrence hid his smile. The boy's arrogance warmed his heart. He had stood up to his relatives, ignoring the dire consequences that were sure to come, and had done the right thing. Lawrence felt very like a proud father—an odd reaction to be sure, for the baron had never married and had no children to call his own.

He wondered if Nathan's mask of boredom would hold up throughout the long ceremony. With that question lurking in the back of his mind he went to fetch the bride.

He could hear her wailing when he reached the second story. The sound was interrupted by a man's angry shout. The baron knocked on the door twice before the earl of Winchester, the bride's father, pulled it open. The earl's face was as red as a sunburn.

"It's about time," the earl bellowed.

"The king was delayed," the baron answered.

The earl abruptly nodded. "Come inside, Lawrence. Help me get her down the stairs, man. She's being a mite stubborn."

There was such surprise in the earl's voice, Lawrence almost smiled. "I've heard that stubbornness can be expected of such tender-aged daughters."

"I never heard such," the earl muttered. " 'Tis the truth this is the first time I've ever been alone with Sara. I'm not certain she knows exactly who I am," he added. "I did tell her, of course, but you will see she isn't in the mood to listen to anything. I had no idea she could be so difficult."

Lawrence couldn't hide his astonishment over the earl's outrageous remarks. "Harold," he answered, using the earl's given name, "you have two other daughters, as I recall, and both of them older than Sara. I don't understand how you can be so—"

The earl didn't let him finish. "I haven't ever had to be with any of them before," he muttered.

Lawrence thought that confession was appalling. He shook his head and followed the earl into the chamber. He spotted the bride right away. She was sitting on the edge of the window seat, staring out the window.

She quit crying as soon as she saw him. Lawrence thought she was the most enchanting bride he'd ever seen. A mop of golden curls framed an angelic face. There was a crown of spring flowers on her head, a cluster of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her brown eyes were cloudy with more.

She wore a long white dress with lace borders around the hem and wrists. When she stood up the embroidered sash around her waist fell to the floor.

Her father let out a loud blasphemy.

She repeated it.

"It's time for us to go downstairs, Sara," her father ordered, his voice as sour as the taste of soap.

"No."

The earl's outraged gasp filled the room. "When I get you home I'm going to make you very sorry you've put me through this ordeal, young lady. By God, I'm going to land on you, I am. Just you wait and see."

Since the baron didn't have the faintest idea what the earl meant by that absurd threat, he doubted Sara understood any better.

She was staring up at her father with a mutinous expression on her face. Then she let out a loud yawn and sat down again.

"Harold, shouting at your daughter isn't going to accomplish anything," the baron stated.

"Then I'll give her a good smack," the earl muttered. He took a threatening step toward his daughter, his hand raised to inflict the blow.

Lawrence stopped in front of the earl. "You aren't going to strike her," he said, his voice filled with anger.

"She's my daughter," the earl shouted. "I'll damn well do whatever it takes to gain her cooperation."

"You're a guest in my home now, Harold," the baron replied. He realized he was also shouting then and immediately lowered his voice. "Let me have a try."

Lawrence turned to the bride. Sara, he noticed, didn't seem to be at all worried by her father's anger. She let out another loud yawn.

"Sara, it will all be over and done with in just a little while," the baron said. He knelt down in front of her, gave her a quick smile, and then gently forced her to stand up. While he whispered words of praise to her he retied the sash around her waist. She yawned again.

The bride was in dire need of a nap. She let the baron tug her along to the door, then suddenly pulled out of his grasp, ran back to the window seat, and gathered up an old blanket that appeared to be three times her size.

She made a wide path around her father as she hurried back to the baron and took hold of his hand again. The blanket was draped over her shoulder and fell in a heap on the ground behind her. The edge was securely clasped under her nose.

Her father tried to take the blanket away.

Sara started screaming, her father started cursing, and the baron developed a pounding headache.

"For God's sake, Harold, let her have the thing."

"I'll not," the earl shouted. "It's an eyesore. I won't allow it."

"Let her keep it until we reach the hall," the baron commanded.

The earl finally conceded defeat. He gave his daughter a good glare, then took up his position in front of the pair and led the way down the stairs.

Lawrence found himself wishing Sara was his daughter. When she looked up at him and smiled so trustingly he wanted to take her into his arms and hug her. Her disposition underwent a radical change, however, when they reached the entrance to the hall and her father once again tried to take her blanket away.

Nathan turned when he heard the noise coming from the entrance. His eyes widened in astonishment. In truth, he was having difficulty believing what he was seeing. He hadn't been interested enough to ask any pertinent questions about his bride, for he was certain his father would have the documents overturned as soon as he returned to England, and for that reason he was all the more surprised by the sight of her.

His bride was a hellion. Nathan had trouble maintaining his bored expression. The earl of Winchester was doing more shouting than his daughter was. She, however, was far more determined. She had her arms wrapped around her father's leg and was diligently trying to take a fair chunk out of his knee.

Nathan smiled. His relatives weren't as reserved. Their laughter filled the hall. The Winchesters, on the other hand, were clearly appalled. The earl, their unspoken leader, had pulled his daughter away from his leg and was now involved in a tug of war over what resembled an old horse blanket. He wasn't winning the battle, either.

Baron Lawrence lost the last shreds of his composure. He grabbed hold of the bride, lifted her into his arms, snatched the blanket away from her father, and then marched over to Nathan. With little ceremony he shoved the bride and the blanket into the groom's arms.

It was either accept her or drop her. Nathan was in the process of making up his mind on the matter when Sara spotted her father limping toward her. She quickly threw her arms around Nathan's neck, wrapping both herself and her blanket around him.

Sara kept glancing over his shoulder to make certain her father wasn't going to grab her. When she was certain she was safe she turned her full attention to the stranger holding her. She stared at him for the longest while.

The groom stood as straight as a lance. A fine sweat broke out on his brow. He could feel her gaze on his face yet didn't dare turn to look at her. She just might decide to bite him, and he didn't know what he would do then. He made up his mind that he would just have to suffer through any embarrassment she forced on him. He was, after all, almost a man, and she was, after all, only a child.

Nathan kept his gaze directed on the king until Sara reached out to touch his cheek. He finally turned to look at her.

She had the brownest eyes he'd ever seen. "Papa's going to smack me," she announced with a grimace.

He didn't show any reaction to that statement. Sara soon tired of watching him. Her eyelids fell to half mast. He stiffened even more when she slumped against his shoulder. Her face was pressed up against the side of his neck.

"Don't let Papa smack me," she whispered.

"I won't," he answered.

He had suddenly become her protector. Nathan couldn't hold onto his bored expression any longer. He cradled his bride in his arms and relaxed his stance.

Sara, exhausted from the long ride and her strenuous tantrum, rubbed the edge of her blanket back and forth under her nose. Within bare minutes she was fast asleep.

She drooled on his neck.

The groom didn't find out her true age until the barrister began the reading of the conditions for the union.

His bride was four years old.

It was going to be a clean, uncomplicated kidnapping.

Ironically, the abduction would probably hold up in the courts as a completely legal undertaking, save for the niggling breaking and entering charges, of course, but that possibility wasn't the least significant. Nathanial Clayton Hawthorn Baker, the third marquess of St. James, was fully prepared to use whatever methods he deemed necessary to gain success. If luck was on his side, his victim would be sound asleep. If not, a simple gag would eliminate any sounds of protest.

One way or another, legal or nay, he would collect his bride. Nathan, as he was called by those few friends close to him, wasn't going to have to act like a gentleman—a blessing, that, considering the fact that such tender qualities were completely foreign to his nature anyway. Besides, time was running out. There were only six weeks left before he would be in true violation of the marriage contract.

Nathan hadn't seen his bride since the day the contracts were read fourteen years earlier, but the picture he'd painted in his mind wasn't fanciful. He didn't have any illusions about the chit, for he'd seen enough Winchester women to know there wasn't any such thing as a pick of the litter. They were all a sorry lot in both appearance and disposition. Most were pear-shaped, with big bones, bigger derrieres, and, if the stories weren't exaggerated, gigantic appetites.

Although having a wife by his side was about as appealing to him as a midnight swim with the sharks would be, Nathan was fully prepared to suffer through the ordeal. Perhaps, if he really put his mind to the problem, he could find a way to meet the conditions of the contract without having to stay with the woman day and night.

For most of his life Nathan had been on his own, refusing to receive counsel from any man. Only his trusted friend Colin was privy to his thoughts. Still, the stakes were too high for Nathan to ignore. The booty the contract afforded after one year's cohabitation with Lady Sara more than made up for any repulsion he might feel or any inconvenience he might have to endure. The coins he would collect by the crown's decree would strengthen the fledgling partnership he and Colin had formed the summer before. The Emerald Shipping Company was the first legitimate business either man had ever attempted, and they were determined to make it work. The reason was simple to understand. Both men were tired of living on the edge. They'd fallen into the business of pirating quite by accident—had done fairly well for themselves, too—yet they felt that the risks involved were no longer worth the aggravation. Nathan, operating as the infamous pirate Pagan, had made quite a legend for himself. His list of enemies could carpet a good-sized ballroom. The bounty on his head had increased to such an outlandish amount that even a saint would be tempted to turn traitor for the reward. Keeping Nathan's other identity a secret was becoming more and more difficult. It was only a matter of time before he was caught, if they continued with their pirating escapades, or so Colin relentlessly nagged, until Nathan finally agreed.

Exactly one week after that momentous decision had been made the Emerald Shipping Company was founded. The offices were located in the heart of the waterfront, the furnishings sparse. There were two desks, four chairs, and one filing cabinet, all blistered from a previous fire. The former tenant hadn't bothered to cart them away. Since coins were at a premium, new furniture was at the bottom of their list of purchases. Additional ships for their fleet came first.

Both men understood the ins and outs of the business community. They were both graduates of Oxford University, although as students neither had anything to do with the other. Colin never went anywhere without a pack of friends in attendance. Nathan was always alone. It was only when the two men were partnered as operatives in a deadly game of secret government activities that a bond formed between them. It took a long while, a year or so, before Nathan began to trust Colin. They had risked their lives for each other and for their beloved country, only to be betrayed by their own superiors. Colin had been stunned and outraged when the truth became known. Nathan hadn't been surprised at all. He always expected the worst in people and was rarely disappointed. Nathan was a cynical man by nature and a fighter by habit. He was a man who thoroughly enjoyed a good brawl, leaving Colin to clean up the mess.

Colin's older brother, Caine, was the earl of Cainewood. He'd married Nathan's younger sister, Jade, just the year before, and in so doing unknowingly strengthened the bond between the two friends. Colin and Nathan had become brothers by marriage.

Because Nathan was a marquess and Colin was the brother of a powerful earl, both men were invited to all the affairs of the ton. Colin mingled quite easily with the staunch upper crust and used each occasion to mix pleasure with the business of building their clientele. Nathan never attended any of the parties, which was, as Colin suggested, probably the reason he was invited. It was a fact that society didn't consider Nathan a very likable man. He certainly wasn't bothered by the Ion's opinion of him, though, for he much preferred the comfort of a seedy tavern on the wharf to the stiffness of a formal salon.

In appearance the two men were just as different. Colin was, as Nathan liked to remark whenever he wanted to prick his temper, the pretty one in the partnership. Colin was an attractive man with hazel eyes and a strong patrician profile. He'd taken to the unsavory habit of wearing his dark brown hair as long as his friend's, a lingering leftover from his pirating days, but that minor fashion sin didn't detract from the perfection of his unscarred face. Colin was almost as tall as Nathan was, but much leaner in build, and as arrogant as Brummell when the occasion called for it. The ladies of the ton thought Colin incredibly handsome. Colin had a noticeable limp due to an accident, but that even seemed to add to his appeal.

When it came to appearance, Nathan hadn't been as blessed. He looked more like a warlord from the ancient days than a modern Adonis. He never bothered to bind his auburn-colored hair in a leather thong behind his neck the way Colin usually did but left it to fall past his shoulders as was its natural inclination. Nathan was a giant of a man, muscular in both shoulders and thighs, with nary a pinch of fat on his frame. His eyes were a vivid green—an attention-getter, to be sure, if the ladies weren't in such a hurry to get away from his dark scowl.

To outsiders the two friends were complete opposites. Colin was considered the saint, Nathan the sinner. In reality, their dispositions were very much alike. Both kept their emotions locked inside. Nathan used isolation and a surly temper as his weapons against involvement. Colin used superficiality for the same reason.

In truth, Colin's grin was as much a mask as Nathan's scowl. Past betrayals had trained the two men well. Neither man believed in the fairy tale of love or the nonsense of living happily ever after. Only fops and fools believed in such fantasies.

Nathan's scowl was in full evidence when he walked into the office. He found Colin lounging in a wingback chair with his feet propped up on the window seat.

"Jimbo has two mounts ready, Colin," Nathan said, referring to their shipmate. "You two have an errand to do?"

"You know what the mounts are for, Nathan. You and I are going to ride over to the gardens and have a look at Lady Sara. There's going to be quite a crush of people in attendance this afternoon. No one will see us if we keep to the trees."

Nathan turned to look out the window before answering. "No."

"Jimbo will watch the office while we're away."

"Colin, I don't need to see her before tonight."

"Damn it all, you need to get a good look at her first."

"Why?" Nathan asked. He sounded genuinely perplexed.

Colin shook his head. "To prepare yourself."

Nathan turned around. "I don't need to prepare myself," he said. "Everything's ready. I already know which window belongs to her bedchamber. The tree outside will hold my weight; I tested it to be sure. There isn't a lock on her window to worry about, and the ship is ready to sail."

"So you've thought of everything, have you?"

Nathan nodded. "Of course."

"Oh?" Colin paused to smile. "And what if she won't fit through the window? Have you considered that possibility?"

That question got just the reaction Colin wanted. Nathan looked startled, then shook his head. "It's a large window, Colin."

"She might be larger."

If Nathan was chilled by that possibility, he didn't let it show. "Then I'll roll her down the stairs," he drawled.

Colin laughed over that picture. "Aren't you at all curious to see how she turned out?"

"No."

"Well, I am," Colin finally admitted. "Since I won't be going along with you two on your honeymoon, it's only decent to satisfy my curiosity before you leave."

"It's a journey, not a honeymoon," Nathan countered. "Quit trying to bait me, Colin. She's a Winchester, for God's sake, and the only reason we're sailing is to get her away from her relatives."

"I don't know how you're going to stomach it," Colin said. His grin was gone, his concern obvious in his expression. "God, Nathan, you're going to have to bed her in order to produce an heir if you want the land, too."

Before Nathan could comment on that reminder Colin continued. "You don't have to go through with this. The company will make it with or without the funds from the contract. Besides, now that King George has officially stepped down the prince regent will surely rule to overturn the contract. The Winchesters have been waging an intense campaign to sway his mind. You could turn your back on this."

"No." His tone was emphatic. "My signature's on that contract. A St. James doesn't break his word."

Colin snorted. "You can't be serious," he replied. "The St. James men are known to break just about anything when the mood strikes them."

Nathan had to agree with that observation. "Yes," he said. "Regardless, Colin, I won't turn my back on this matter any more than you would take the money your brother offered. It's a point of honor. Hell, we've been over this before. My mind's made up."

He leaned against the window frame and let out a long, weary sigh. "You aren't going to let up unless I agree to go, are you?"

"No," Colin answered. "Besides, you'll want to count the number of Winchester uncles there so you'll know how many you have to contend with this evening."

It was a paltry argument, and they both knew it. "No one's going to get in my way, Colin."

That statement was made in a soft, chilling tone of voice.

Colin grinned in reaction. "I'm well aware of your special talents, friend. I just hope to God there isn't a bloodbath tonight."

"Why?"

"I'd hate to miss all the fun."

"Then come along."

"I can't," Colin answered. "One favor deserves another, remember? I had to promise the duchess I'd attend her daughter's recital, heaven save me, if she could find a way to get Lady Sara to attend her party this afternoon."

"She won't be there," Nathan predicted. "Her bastard father doesn't let her attend any functions."

"Sara will be there," Colin predicted. "The earl of Winchester wouldn't dare offend the duchess. She specifically requested that Lady Sara be allowed to join in the festivities."

"What reason did she give?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Colin answered. "Time's wasting, Nathan."

"Damn." After muttering that expletive Nathan pulled away from the frame. "Let's get it done, then."

Colin was quick to take advantage of his victory. He strode out the door before his friend could change his mind.

On their way across the congested city he turned to ask Nathan, "Aren't you wondering how we'll know which one is Sara?"

"I'm sure you have it all figured out," he remarked dryly.

"That I do," Colin returned in a gratingly cheerful voice. "My sister Rebecca has promised she'll stay close to Lady Sara all afternoon. I've hedged my bets, too."

He waited a long minute for Nathan to inquire as to how he'd done that, then continued. "If Rebecca is waylaid from her duty, I've lined up my other three sisters to take turns stepping in. You know, old boy, you really could show a little more enthusiasm."

"This outing is a complete waste of my time."

Colin didn't agree, but he kept that opinion to himself.

Neither man spoke again until they'd reached the rise above the gardens and reined in their mounts. The cover of the trees shielded them well, yet they had a clear view of the guests strolling about the gardens of the duchess's estate below.

"Hell, Colin, I feel like a schoolboy."

His friend laughed. "Leave it to the duchess to go overboard," he remarked when he noticed the crowd of musicians filing toward the lower terrace. "She hired an entire orchestra."

"Ten minutes, Colin, and then I'm leaving."

"Agreed," Colin placated. He turned to look at his friend. Nathan was scowling. "You know, she might have been willing to leave with you, Nathan, if you'd—"

"Are you suggesting I send another letter?" Nathan asked. He raised an eyebrow over the absurdity of that possibility. "You do recall what happened the last time I followed your advice, don't you?"

"Of course I remember," Colin answered. "But things might have changed. There could have been a misunderstanding. Her father could have—"