The Notorious Bridegroom (23 page)

He asked the question that had hung on his lips since hearing her cries outside her door. “Were you crying because we made love?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

She looked in shy surprise at him. “No, my lord. I wanted to be with you.” Then she hung her head, unable to respond to the demanding stare. Silence. She knew he was waiting for an explanation and would not leave without one.

Patience settled back against the bed’s bolster and sighed. “I’m worried about my brother. Will he ever be free to go home?” That part was certainly true. “And I’m afraid someone will try to kill him. Perhaps one of the constable’s men or one of the French spies.”

Bryce leaned back on his elbow to watch her and shook his head slightly. “No, the constable wants him alive to answer questions about his cousin’s death, and the spies are much too busy with plans of their own to warrant interest in Rupert.”

Patience blinked in astonishment. “Do you think my brother is guilty of treason?”

His lips twisted. “Patience.” He reached out a hand to stroke her exposed arm. “I do believe in your brother’s innocence. Unfortunately, what I believe and what the constable believes are not necessarily the same. It is only his opinion that counts.”

“You can convince the constable to let him go free.” She unknowingly grabbed his hand to her breast in her ardent plea.

Bryce liked the feel of his hand against her heart. “If there is anything in my power to liberate your brother, I will certainly do so. I have my staff at Paddock Green keeping a watch for your brother, but so far, no one has seen a sign of him. At this uncertain time, we’re all on alert for a possible invasion. We need to learn what the French spies are planning.”

“Do you think Sansouche is dead?” she whispered.

His gaze never left her countenance. “As of yet, no trace has been found of his body. That could mean a number of things.”

She nodded absently, exhausted by the events of the entire evening, still clinging to his strong hand.

“Patience?” Bryce asked her quietly. He had a question that needed answering, one he had thought of often.

She glanced at him, patting her wayward hair behind her. “Yes, my lord?”

“Why did your brothers send you to Winchelsea to help Rupert? It seems to me unconscionable to send a lone woman to a strange town to find her brother and free him from treason charges. Ludicrous, even.” Traces of anger fed his words.

She wasn’t insulted at his lack of confidence in female ingenuity. Smiling tremulously, she leaned back against her throne of pillows, his hand released. “My eldest brother, Louis, Baronet Mandeley, is rather sickly. All his life he has suffered from a weakness in his lungs. We have had to watch him very closely, and we are quite lucky his health has slowly improved.”

She sank farther into the bed’s depths, engrossed in her story. “My second eldest brother, James, is our parish’s cleric and has been the unwanted family conscience for years.”

Bryce lazily blinked, his lips thinned wryly. “Oh, yes, our brother James who detests a woman’s tears.”

She sent him a censured look. “James has a good heart and works very hard for his parish. He couldn’t leave his people for any length of time, and we were unsure how long this would take.”

He reached for her nearby calf crossed beneath her and caressed the velvety white skin, closing his eyes to listen to her story.

“Then there is dear Benjamin. He works with our land tenants, enjoys tilling the fields and talking with the farmers. For any matter other than agriculture, Benjamin is unknowledgeable. Out of the field, he is, shall I say, out of his depth?”

She sighed. “Ever since our parents were killed in an overturned coach accident when I was fifteen, I have been taking care of my brothers. Ensuring Louis took his medicine, that James did not become too pompous and overbearing, and assisting Benjamin in keeping his records have kept me quite busy, with little time for anything else.” She stopped her soliloquy, remembering and missing home.

“Then there is of course, Rupert, a rather a wild one. Always getting into scrapes.” She smiled sadly. “When this latest trouble arose, I made the decision to come to Winchelsea to help Rupert. None of my elder brothers were entirely convinced it was a good idea or even that I would succeed. However, no argument could persuade me not to attempt the trip.” She trailed off miserably.

Bryce slowly sat up, frowning. “While you were busy taking care of your brothers and every wounded animal or lonely child, who looked after you?” his question almost rhetorical.

Patience shrugged, a little amazed at his question. “I’ve always taken care of myself.”

“Was there never anyone in your past? A beau? Someone who would look after you? Even now, I’m sure your brothers are managing admirably in your absence.” His heart stilled awaiting a reply.

Her enchanting green gaze drifted past him to a forgotten memory. “There was a friend of Louis’s. His name was Richard, a widower, several years older than I. He proposed marriage one summer and then left for a trip to the Continent.” Her voice had lowered to a hush that required him to bend forward to catch her words. “He was gone for over a year and a half. I kept waiting and hoping. But word finally reached us that he had been killed in a skirmish with French soldiers. Apparently, Richard happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He struggled to speak his next words. “Did you love him?”

Patience’s gaze came back to linger on his shadowed face, missing the concerned tone and the apprehension in his eyes.

“I loved him…as a brother. He reminded me of Louis, only in stronger form. Our time spent together was in quiet appreciation of literature, a good game of chess, or his indulgence in my hours in the garden.” She would have wondered at his question if she was not so lost in the past.

Her eyelids began to drift to her cheeks. “Perhaps, you should leave now,” she murmured, reaching for his hand and clutching it to her chest.

Bryce had no recourse but to mold his body along hers, feeling her rounded bottom above his groin. She held his hand snugly between her breasts, nestling back against his hard form.

Almost asleep, she whispered, “I never knew real love until I met you.”

Her curly hair tickled his nose. He allowed himself the pleasure of stroking the silky strands, reflecting on the silken strands of Patience’s web she had spun around him. A strange feeling slowly stole over him, at first unrecognizable.

It was fear. Cold, irrational fear. Sweeping long loops from her ear, Bryce leaned down and breathed quietly to her, “Please don’t love me…It will only hurt all the more when you leave.” But Patience was already in Morpheus’s arms.

Patience woke languidly and stretched her toes beneath the covers. A perfume of lilacs assailed her senses. She sat up in bed and discovered three branches of lilacs lying next to her. Brushing away the cobwebs of sleep, she picked up the flowers and wandered over to the window, drawing the curtains to allow sunlight to shower the room.

Today felt wonderful. She loved Bryce and planned to tell him. She suddenly wanted to be free of all the lies and traps she had made for herself.

Together they would write their own happy ending, just like Sally’s Sleeping Beauty. The rumble in her stomach intruded on her carefree thoughts as she prepared to head down to the dining room for her repast. She dressed hurriedly in a sky blue muslin dress with white pinafore and fichu, not wanting to call a maid for assistance. A ribbon to corral her thick curls completed her toilette, and with her heart in her hands she ran lightly down the stairs in hopes of finding Bryce still in the house.

She slowed her progress on the last few stairs. The cavernous hallway bloomed with flowers—lavender, pink and yellow lilacs, roses, gardenias, and hydrangeas tinted the long entryway, a beautiful indoor garden. The sight of all those flowers made her heart smile.

Sally watched one of the housemaids place yellow roses in a tall white vase near the door when she heard the sound of Patience’s footsteps.

The little girl ran to Patience, yelling, “Miss Patience, we ’ave a garden growing in the ’ouse! Are the flowers not beautiful?”

Patience smiled down at the child. “Yes, they are lovely. These flowers certainly brighten up the vestibule, and their perfume is absolutely wonderful.” She noticed Stone standing nearby. Have you seen his lordship this morning?”

“Miss Mandeley, Lord Londringham left a short time ago, advising he would return with a surprise for you,” his tone cool and judgmental.

“I wonder what it could be. Thank you, Stone. I think I shall have something to eat. Want to come along, Sally?”

The two entwined hands and walked down the hallway to the dining room together.

Later in Patience’s bedchamber, Martha caught Patience’s gaze in the mirror and grinned in amusement. Patience nervously tried to button the white cotton shirt of Martha’s riding habit, with little luck.

“It appears that you are a bit more amply endowed than I am in this area,” Martha told her, smiling.

Patience grinned. “It does appear so,” she answered as she looked nervously into the looking glass. She tried not to think about Bryce’s proposition, and had thought of every excuse she could to dissuade him from teaching her to ride. But finally she agreed after he assured her that her horse would be as docile as one of James’s congregation. She must somehow overcome her fear of horses, to please Bryce. Without time to have a riding habit made, she had to borrow Martha’s.

She pulled on the short dove-gray basque and noted the buttons did not quite meet across her bosom. “It will simply have to do, Martha. Thank you kindly for allowing me to borrow it.” She carefully placed the matching gray hat with its fashionable feathers atop her hair, the only piece of the ensemble that did fit, and turned to face her friend for approval.

“I have seldom had occasion to wear it myself. Perhaps tonight I can alter it for you.”

Patience hugged Martha. “I am so glad Lady Elverson thought to send you to me as my chaperone. I’m indeed so lucky,” she told her friend as they walked down to the vestibule together, where Martha watched her depart from the steps.

Late afternoon, Lucky and a groom drove Patience to Hyde Park in the earl’s carriage while Bryce rode behind on Defiance with Red Tattoo beside him. Patience’s mare, Apples, followed behind their carriage, newly purchased at Tattersalls this morning, after her previous owner assured Bryce the mare would handle perfectly for a novice rider. With a tame name like Apples, Bryce thought she might be perfect for Patience.

The little white mare paraded proudly, her silky tail bobbing nobly with her even gait, keeping pace with the other two larger horses beside her.

After reaching Hyde Park, Red Tattoo untied Apples while Patience climbed down from the carriage. She struggled to jerk her basque down over her cramped breasts, not noticing the light in Bryce’s eyes. She nervously rearranged her little hat while awaiting instruction from Bryce.

“Would you rather take a ride in the carriage?” In fact, he thought, the way her breasts threatened to burst from their containment, that might indeed be a better idea.

Patience straightened her shoulders, chin high, and replied, “No, I need to try. I’m sure that with your assistance, I will manage admirably.” Courage ringed her words, no coward she.

Bryce smiled approvingly. “Good. First, let me introduce you to the lady who will be providing your ride.”

They walked in front of Apples, who stood at attention, watchfulness in her big brown eyes. As Patience pet the little mare’s nose, Bryce pulled off one of her gloves, and placed a shiny red apple in the palm of her hand, his hand warm on hers.

“Since she loves apples, this seems an appropriate gesture of friendship. Keep your hand very flat, like this,” he said, demonstrating by straightening her fingers, each touch a caress. Patience shivered in the sunlight from his heat, having to remind herself to pay attention to his instruction, his
riding
instruction. Oh, bother.

Together, they fed Apples before returning to the horse’s side. While Bryce prepared to lift Patience into the saddle, he watched as she wet her lips and hesitantly reached out to stroke Apples’s fine white coat, calling, “Easy, girl. Be gentle and stay still.”

She placed her foot in the stirrup and with Bryce’s help, raised herself into the saddle, swinging her right leg over the pommel. She sat still, adjusting to the feel of the mare beneath her as the horse grew accustomed to her. With his hand still on her calves, he looked up at her and asked, “How does she feel?”

“Good, I…I think,” her smile a bit confident and a bit shaky.

“Right then.” He leaned over to capture the reins and handed them to her. “Hold them here, but not too tight. Allow her some head. But not too much, show her who is in charge,” he told her in a calm fashion.

“Yes, not too tight and not too much. I shall try to remember.” She became a little frantic when the groom came to lead Patience and her mount around in a circle. She held her breath as Apples moved slowly and passively, following the lead. Bryce and his valet reseated themselves on their mounts with Bryce keeping a careful eye on his pupil.

After several circles, he called to her, “Do you think you can walk Apples on your own?”

She glanced at Bryce, and her excited expression captured his breath. With her lovely hazel eyes shining and the sun glinting red-gold on her hair, she was a vision. He allowed himself a moment of contentment and pride. She was truly his.

Single riders and carriages mobbed Hyde Park. More than one male rider stopped to admire Patience’s form on her little mare, but it only took a glare from Bryce to send them on their way.

Finally, at a signal from Bryce, the groom released the reins, and Patience nudged Apples toward Bryce and Defiance.

“How am I doing?” she asked brightly.

“Beautifully, as if you were born to ride,” he said, chuckling to himself about his double entendre.

“Shall we venture further afield, my lord?”

“With pleasure.”

As they walked their horses along the stone path, Patience explained, “When my father tried to teach me to ride astride, the horse spooked, and I fell off the horse. In the fall, I broke my leg and swore I would never mount another one of those beasts. You have disavowed my oath, my lord.” She turned to bestow another dazzling smile to the man beside her.

“Would you like to learn to ride astride? Perhaps when we return home to Paddock Green we can continue our instruction. Here in London, I fear, that unladylike behavior would cause too much gossip.” The way she looked at him made him want to promise her anything, as long as she never withheld from him that same warm smile.

Patience looked at him curiously but didn’t respond. Home, to Paddock Green? He planned to take her back with him? What did this mean? He had not yet mentioned love or marriage. Her heart tightened in a silent ache. What she wanted was to be with him, even forever would not be long enough. What about Rupert and her brothers? They needed her, and she knew they would find it difficult to live without her.

A loud sound snapped her out of her reverie. A gunshot blasted from a nearby copse of woods, frightening Apples. A woman screamed as the little mare took off with Patience clinging to the pommel, the reins dragging uselessly on the ground. Patience heard shouting behind her but could only hold on for dear life. She felt herself falling to the left, and fear seized her, remembering the broken leg years ago and knowing the pain would be much worse.

Several horses started out of her way as Apples swerved around other riders and carriages. The yelling from behind was deafened by the loud and rapid beat of her heart and the mare’s heavy pounding hooves. The pommel slipped beneath her gloved grasp, and she closed her eyes, her body tensed for the hard ground.

Just then Bryce brought Defiance beside her and made a grab for her as she slipped from the saddle. With great strength, he pulled her from Apples and lifted her onto his lap. A slow ripping sound accompanied his movements.

She clung to him, shaking at her near fall. He stroked her back while reining his stallion to a halt. He had to catch his breath, lost in fear when he saw the little white mare charge off down the path. Patience could have been seriously hurt, and he felt responsible. He held her tightly, noting one of the grooms had captured the runaway mare and brought her under control. Red Tattoo rode up beside him and shook his head.

Bryce’s mouth turned thin and grim. He nodded, turning Defiance to trot back up the path toward their coach. By the time they had reached his carriage, Patience’s breathing had returned to normal. She had lost her hat, and no amount of patting and puffing could undo her wayward hair. Her face pinched white, she gladly welcomed assistance dismounting from Bryce’s horse, still needing his steady hand when she reached the ground.

Throwing the reins to the groom, he assisted her into his carriage before turning briefly to Red Tattoo. Out of Patience’s hearing, his valet told him, “No sign of whoever it was shootin’. I think he was on foot and is probably lost in the crowd.”

Bryce’s face was a mask of controlled anger, a look Red had seen only a few times before. His lordship planned to do battle, and woe to his enemies unknowing of his reprisal.

“Do you think that bullet was meant for Patience?”

“It was terribly close to her mare,” Red at last told his master.

“Red, I’ve been careless where Patience’s safety is concerned and have no idea why someone would want to harm her. Now that I’ve been warned, I shall safeguard her with everything I have.” An avowal made from his heart. That part of him he had long forgotten after Edwards’s death. He could finally feel again.

Bryce climbed into the carriage and signaled Lucky to take them home. Surprisingly, Patience sat dry-eyed, staring dismally at her riding habit, more concerned over the habit than over her close chance with danger. The torn white shirt left a gaping hole to expose the tops of her creamy-white breasts. A tear in the basque’s shoulder revealed further damage.

When Bryce dropped onto the seat beside her, she sighed. “This is Martha’s. I don’t know if it can be repaired.” Her voice sounded so sad, she seemed on the verge of tears. Over a torn riding habit?

Puzzled, he did the only think he could think of, he drew her onto his lap and into his arms. She melted against him and all tension seemed to flow out of her body. They remained like this as Bryce tried to offer comfort to Patience and keep his body under control, obviously becoming increasingly difficult to do. The sight of her exposed skin aroused him most painfully. Surely she could feel his hardened member beneath her bottom. He willed his mind to put his own needs aside and concentrate on hers.

What was that? A warm mouth found the bottom of his jaw. In fact, Patience feathered the edge of his face with tiny kisses. He groaned, then turned to meet her seeking lips. She met him with an utmost urgency, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, probing, hot, and wet. She softly bit his lower lip before her teasing tongue came out to assuage the pleasure-pain. He reluctantly tore his lips from hers and sought the whiteness of her breasts, planting wet kisses along the warm mounds, swelling under his careful ministration.

His hands came up alongside each breast underneath her jacket to ply her hardened nipples. She sighed, willing his touch to continue.

Suddenly he broke away, carefully placing her on the leather seat and moving to the opposite side of the carriage. He should be more concerned about the disaster that had almost befallen Patience instead of pawing her beautiful form.

“How are you feeling? You must have been terrified when Apples took off with you. This experience may have only redoubled your fear of horses.” His concerned gaze captured her unfocused one.

Patience frowned in sweet confusion. What did he say? Something about apples and horses. Conversation for another time. She held out her arms to him, wanting him to return to her, offering a muted passionate plea.

But Bryce kept ahold of his gallantry and other senses, and held up his hand to forestall her with a smile. “No more. You must be in shock. You could have been killed.” He was trying to tell her something, but she resolutely closed her eyes, determined not to think about her near miss with death, only to dwell on that sinful mouth of his.

“You saved me,” she told him sweetly. “You always save me.” She smiled a little smile.

Bryce shook his head and leaned across to tip her face to his to gain her attention. “Little one, I hope I do not need to continue to rescue you. After all, how many lives do you have?” He knew he would come to her rescue whenever she needed him and refused to think about a possible time when he would not be there for her.