The Wagered Bride (24 page)

"Very
well, Stephen. Let me inform you, since you have not deemed it necessary to
ask. Your visit is a waste of time."

"Is
it, Elizabeth?"

Thunder
sounded in the distance.

She
shifted her gaze toward the fields. Wind rushed past his ears, almost drowning
out her words. "You never wanted me. Why come all this way to tell me
so?"

He
stepped in front of her, sheltering her from the battering rain. "I want
you, Elizabeth, or I would not be here."

She
glared at him, tears now flooding her sky blue eyes. "Yet you handed me
back to my father as if I were nothing."

"I
had my reasons."

She
brushed past him. "Reasons? That is no excuse for breaking my heart."

Hope
lifted inside him. "I broke your heart?"

She
faltered and took a right turn down another lane.

Stephen
followed, the carriage clattering behind them. "You have every right to
think badly of me. But why do you think I reversed your father's debt?"

He heard
her sniff and his own heart stumbled as if it had been given a push. "Do
not judge what you did not see." He raised his hands for the coach to stop
and the jingle of harnesses ceased.

"Elizabeth,
wait I have something for you." He opened the carriage door and pulled out
a small covered basket, handing it to her. "I thought you might need
this."

"I
have no need of your gifts, my lord." She shoved the basket into his
stomach.

He kept
his hands like leaden balls at his sides, refusing to take back his gift.
"Take it anyway."

Without
another word, she turned and approached the cottage, basket in hand. He stood
rooted in the graveled path, the rain streaming down his face, watching her,
wanting her.

"I
love you, Elizabeth. Does that not matter?"

He saw
her hesitate and then run toward the cottage.

"I
love you," he shouted. "I love you! Blast it!"

But it
seemed Elizabeth wanted nothing from him. She opened the cottage door,
disappearing from sight.

Stephen
brushed a hand through his wet hair. He would not give in to her silence. He
would not. She loved him, and by heaven, he would prove it to her.

Elizabeth
whipped off her cloak, but not before she peeked inside the basket to see the
small black kitten curled up asleep.

"Oh,
Stephen," she said, stifling a sob.

Mrs.
Baskers came up behind her, shaking the water off the cloak. "Goodness,
child. I knew you should have taken Mr. Baskers with you. He would have made
you stay in town until this nasty weather settled. I just told him to go fetch
you."

"You
were right Mrs. Baskers." Elizabeth wiped her face, trying to conceal her
tears. "What a ninny I was to go out in that."

Mrs.
Baskers regarded her, then gazed perceptively at the small kitten in the basket
and took the burden from her.

"Love
is not always what we want it to be, my dear. Now you get out of those wet
things. I'll make you a nice warm drink and you can sit by the fire. I can take
care of this wee little thing too."

"Its
name ... is Pharaoh," Elizabeth said with a sob and fell into the woman's
soft arms.

"There,
there, dear. Is it that bad?"

Elizabeth
nodded, her throat tightening with grief. The soft aroma of lavender lingered
in the air. Milli's scent from the basket. Her sister had trusted Stephen
enough to give him her direction. Could Elizabeth trust him too?

With a
few words of encouragement, the lady helped Elizabeth upstairs and into some
dry clothes. The entire history of Stephen and William Shelby came out in one
long rush. All the while Mrs. Baskers listened without judgment.

A few
minutes later, they made their way into the kitchen where the housekeeper
brewed some tea.

Elizabeth
sat on a scarred oak chair and warmed her hands around her cup. "I must
look a sight after all that crying."

Mrs.
Baskers' lips curved into a sympathetic smile. "You still love him?"

Elizabeth
blinked back the tears. "Yes. But how can I live with him after what he
did?"

"He
did what he thought best, dear. Everyone makes mistakes, even sons of
nobility."

Elizabeth
raised her blurry gaze toward the window that Mrs. Baskers was opening. The
rain had stopped and the air smelled of freshly cut flowers.

"He
said he loves me," she admitted, knowing she didn't care a whit if Stephen
was the fourth son of a duke or not.

Mrs.
Baskers took a seat beside her. "Love is never a simple thing. 'Tis work
sometimes."

"At
first I thought he gambled with my father to trade back the debt so he would be
free of me."

"And
now you believe differently?"

She
heaved a trembling sigh. "Since I've had some time to think, I realized he
freed us both from an obligation that hindered our relationship. But he should
have told me the truth from the very beginning."

"I
see, and he finally came to claim you, and you, with your pride, told him to
leave you alone."

She
nodded again, stifling another sob of regret. Afraid she would be hurt again,
she had pushed him away.

The
older woman patted Elizabeth's shoulders. "If he does not come back, he is
not worthy of your love. But I believe that if he came this far with that
adorable kitten in tow, he will come again and again until he has you for
himself."

A few
hours later Elizabeth was reading a book by the fire when Mrs. Baskers came
rushing into the parlor, her face flushed with excitement. "My dear. Come
quick."

Startled,
Elizabeth rose from her seat, setting her book aside. "What is it?"

"Saints
preserve us! A sight I have not seen in at least twenty years!"

Elizabeth
was a bit worried at the way the lady's hands were wringing her apron as she
ran out the door and down the path. She was moving far too fast for a woman her
age.

Elizabeth
followed. "Mrs. Baskers, please slow down."

"Mr.
Baskers just informed me," the housekeeper said breathlessly, gazing over
the hill, "and I cannot believe it."

"Informed
you of what?"

"He
will be coming soon."

"Mr.
Baskers? Is he hurt?"

Mrs.
Baskers spun around. "Goodness, child! Not Mr. Baskers!"

A
heartbeat passed and the elderly woman turned toward the lane, her finger
shaking in the air. "There, dear. Look there!"

Elizabeth
squinted in the noted direction where the sun began to peek through the clouds.
Water glistened like diamonds, both on the road and on the limp branches of the
trees. "A rainbow?"

"No,
no. Can you not hear it?"

Elizabeth
paused. There, in the distance she could hear the clopping of hooves and the
jangle of metal.

"He's
here!" Mrs. Baskers grabbed Elizabeth in a death grip. "Did I not say
he would come?"

Elizabeth
blinked at the rider coming into view. The horse was as white as snow, and the
man ... what on earth—

"Oh,
my dear, how romantic," the older lady sighed, tears settling on her short
lashes.

Elizabeth's
heart came to a sudden halt as the magnificent knight in full mesh galloped toward
her, his metal suit clanging like that of a medieval warrior's.

The
large ominous figure stopped before the gate and turned his helmeted head
toward Elizabeth.

Mrs.
Baskers clapped her hands together, pushing Elizabeth forward. "Go on, my
dear."

"Miss
Elizabeth Shelby." The velvety timbre of Stephen's voice sent Elizabeth's
knees knocking. He had come back.

"W-what
are you doing?" she asked faintly.

With
some effort he slipped from the horse and walked toward her, his suit of armor
rattling like ten buckets of nails. "I have come to sweep you off your
feet, my lady."

He knelt
down in the mud, tugging his helmet off his head, and grasped her hand in his
metal-gloved one. "I came to ask for your hand in marriage, my sweet,
adorable Elizabeth. I am a poor dumb knight begging your forgiveness. Begging,
mind you."

The
clank of metal turned her heart as he shifted his balance. "I will love
you and honor you all the days of my life. I never meant to hurt you. You are
everything that is precious to me. I gave you back to your father so that I
might love you without any obstacles between us."

Deep
brown eyes peered up at her, pleading. "What say you, my beautiful
princess? Will you marry a dumb knight such as I?"

Mrs.
Baskers let out an audible sigh.

Elizabeth's
heart soared as she fought back a giggle. His charms were as devastating as
ever. Not only that, his hair was mussed in a devil-may-care style, making him
look like a dashing rogue of old. He was beautiful. And he loved her.

She drew
in a shaky sigh, knowing he would not have come if he did not want her. She
brought his hand to her heart. "I say yes. I love you, my dear knight."

A bright
white smile flashed across his face as he struggled to a standing position.
"Give me a moment here, sweetheart." He was just about upright when
he fell flat on his face in the mud. A muffled curse flew from his mouth.

She bent
down to help him, trying not to laugh. "Stephen?"

He sat
up, a wicked sparkle in his gaze. "And I love you, dear Elizabeth."
It took a few amusing seconds before he stumbled to a standing position.

He
grunted and groaned as he pulled Elizabeth toward him and cursed as his armor
snagged against her gown. "Devil take it!"

Mrs.
Baskers came to his rescue. "Come into the house, my lord. We can fix that
as right as rain."

Grinning
from ear to ear, Stephen grabbed hold of Elizabeth's hand and clanked into the
cottage. Within minutes his suit was off, and he had cleaned the mud from his
face.

He stood
arm in arm with Elizabeth in the parlor while the housekeeper went to fetch
some tea. "Now, my sweet," he said with a kiss, brushing his warm
lips against hers.

Elizabeth
could not help but laugh. "Where did you obtain your proposal suit?"

He
lifted a brow in amusement. "Mr. Baskers had the suit back in his shed. It
seems he used it years ago. The white horse, you ask? It's owned by the
blacksmith in town."

Elizabeth
laughed. "No!"

Stephen
snaked a hand around her waist and hauled her against him. "Yes. And if
you dare say one word of this to my brothers, I will have to take drastic
measures."

She
gazed up at him, teasingly. "Oh, my, drastic measures?"

He gave
her a delicious smile that told her he meant every word he said. Before he
could speak again, he glanced over his shoulder as Mrs. Baskers entered with
the tea tray. The older woman smiled and took a seat across from the couple.

Stephen
frowned when Elizabeth stepped away from him to sit near the fireplace.
"Do you have some cakes to go with this, Mrs. Baskers?" he asked
hopefully, looking down at the lady.

The lady
smiled up at him. " 'Course I do."

Yet to
Stephen's displeasure, the lady sat there, not willing to move. He cleared his
throat, taking a look out the window, then back at her. "Well, do you mind
fetching some?"

She
lifted her head and smiled back. " 'Course I do."

Elizabeth's
eyes twinkled when she noted Stephen's hand curl at his side.

"I
wish to be alone with Elizabeth," he said stiffly.

"
'Course you do."

Elizabeth
bit back her laughter.

Stephen
heaved a frustrated sigh and scratched his head. "Have you something
against me, Mrs. Baskers?"

Rather
intrigued, Elizabeth regarded the scene between the steadfast housekeeper and
the handsome lord. This was better than Milli on stage.

"'Course
not, my lord." Mrs. Baskers gave a knowing look toward Elizabeth.
"But drastic measures will not be taken here. They are reserved for after
the marriage vows. Beggin' your pardon, your lordship."

Elizabeth
could not believe the crimson color that blotted Stephen's cheeks.

"Mrs.
Baskers!" The woman jumped as Mr. Baskers appeared in the doorway, his
bulky figure shadowing his wife.

The lady
smiled at her husband. "Yes, dear."

"I
have need of your assistance."

The lady
shifted her gaze between Stephen and Elizabeth, and sank back comfortably into
her chair. "It can wait, Mr. Baskers."

The
older man heaved a sigh and strode into the room. "Forgive me, my
lord." He shot Stephen a wink. "But I believe this calls for drastic
measures." Before his wife knew what was happening, the man scooped her
into his beefy hands, sweeping her over his shoulder.