Untamable Rogue (Formerly: A Christmas Baby) (12 page)

“Thank you Grandfather,” Ash said, tongue in cheek, and judging by the brow raised his way, it seemed as if Lark had been the only one to hear the wit in his caustic tone.

“Nonsense my boy. The least I could do. The Chase has been in the Blackburne family for centuries, after all. Too bad to lose it now.” The old man turned back to Lark. “Ash’s blighted father—the Black Blackguard many called him—inherited it with debt, added more debt in his life, and predicted with certainty that Ash would be the one to lose it, you see, which is why our boy is so stubbornly determined he will not.”

“Grandfather, please,” Ash said, for the old charlatan had revealed so much more than Ash wished Lark to learn as yet. Besides, in addition to revenge against his father, Ash wanted to save the place for his mother. ‘Twas the least he could do for all but stealing her life.

“Nonsense boy, Lark’s a member of the family now. She needs to know what a scurvy sot you come from.” The old man returned his attention to Lark, and Ash prayed he might be struck mute before Lark learned the disgraceful truth about what he’d done to his mother.

“Because of the reprehensible way Ash’s father treated my dearest daughter, neither Ash nor I can bear to let the blighter win even in death.”

“Grandfather,” Ash said, “I do believe Lark has learned enough of our tedious family history for one day. She does not appear at all well for what she has already learned.”

His grandfather regarded Lark with a keen eye and patted her hand. “Go and rest, my dear. We will continue at another time.”

Lark thanked him, excused herself, and left the dining room, her last fleeting look at her husband boding him ill.

“How did you know?” Ash asked his grandfather, that I married at all, given the fact that the ceremony was a hasty one.

“I keep my ears open. Knew you’d paid a trollop to wed you, didn’t I? Knew if she took money to do the deed, she’d take more not to.”

“You paid the trollop, er, I mean the actress not to wed me?”

“Tripled her earnings and sent her to France.”

“You pernicious old meddler. I should be furious,” Unfortunately, Ash could only contemplate the horror of having a trollop rather than a guttersnipe for wife. Then again, he shuddered to think of the ramifications. “This could all have gone tragically wrong.”

“But it did not, did it? You deserved better than the trollop. Looks like you found better, and sooner than I expected, I am forced to concede. Good job, Boy.”

“Hah! Now I wish I had introduced you to Lark on our wedding night,” Ash said with due disgust, though his grandfather’s foul means had garnered a surprisingly optimistic result … perhaps. “You like her then?”

“She is a bit rough around the edges, I’ll grant you.”

“If only you knew.”

“Whatever the problem, I’d warrant she can be fixed.”

“Perhaps. Only time will tell.”

“We do not have time. At Christmas, your bride must be heavy with child. You have barely enough time to insure that happens. And you will make it happen, come fire or flood, if you know what you owe your mother.”

“Right.” There it was, glaringly loud, however unspoken, between them, a reminder of his insidious sin, his greatest failure, a failure for which his mother had paid. “I will not run from my responsibilities again,” Ash said.

His grandsire was almost as talented a schemer as his father, Ash thought, and he, himself, nearly as bad as both of them. But he had one worthy bone in his body, revenge, and one bit of himself to give—repentance, to what was left of his mother—to his tenants, and to Larkin and the children they might have, despite the fact that he’d had to sell his soul to his grandfather to do it.

When the old man was set to take his leave, Lark returned to stand beside Ash at the top of the Chase steps. She embraced and kissed his grandfather as if he were her own, affectionate and loving, and she smiled as they waved him off. And when the old man’s carriage cleared the gates, she rounded on her unsurprised husband. “You have to get me with child before Christmas?”

“Those are his terms for me to inherit.”

She whipped a small packet from the folds of her skirts and shoved it at him. “Read this to me.”

Ash hesitated before he took the packet. “What is it?”

“His will, he said. Go ahead. Read it, and you had better not omit anything important.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I found it.”

“Where? In my grandfather’s pocket?”

Lark shrugged and dragged him, awestruck, and certain his suspicions were correct, into the drawing room to sit. “Read it,” she said.

Ash shook his head and read the bloody will, because frankly, he had always wanted to be certain he would face no surprises after the old scoundrel stuck his spoon in the wall.

For fully ten minutes after, Lark sat in amazed and uncharacteristic silence.

“Speak to me,” Ash said. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“You should have told me the final stipulation. I once thought you the most forthright of men.”

“You were wrong.” Ash knew, if his bride did not, that he was everything his father said—a good for nothing, a rogue, a scoundrel, who’d as good as killed his own mother with selfishness.

“Your grandfather is difficult to read,” Lark said. “I cannot decide whether he is proud or ashamed of you.”

“And I cannot decide if you are a lady or a pickpocket.”

Lark tilted her head, as if deciding whether to answer, but she remained silent.

“As to whether my grandfather is proud of me, he is not. We dislike each other tremendously, always have.”

“That, I did not realize. You put on a good show.”

“He disowned my mother when she married my father, and when I was born he disowned me by association. We had no contact for years and have one thing, and one alone, in common. We both detested my father and everything he stood for. Ours is a pact of vengeance, pure and simple.”

“But your father is dead. And what about your mother? Where is she? Both you and your grandfather spoke so little of her, it made me wonder.”

His mother was all but dead as well, Ash thought, swallowing regret. “May I reserve the right to tell you my mother’s story at another time?” he asked.

His wife regarded him curiously then, and he saw recognition in her gaze, of sorrow perhaps, with a spark of understanding as well, and she nodded.

“My mother loved Blackburne Chase almost as much as she loved me. I intend to save it for her, and for her grandchildren, by God, even if that means making a pact with the devil, which is where my grandfather came in.”

“So you and your grandfather created a hell into which I stumbled?”

“Into which your father pushed us both, make no mistake, not that either of us is wholly without blame.”

“Right,” Lark said. “You have me there.”

CHAPTER NINE

Ash stood staring into the fire in the drawing room, aware he must convince Lark that it would be in her best interests to aid him in his determination to become his grandfather’s heir. She had intelligence and a ready wit, and must understand the importance of his need. Besides, there was no getting around the old codger’s determination any more than his own.

“When were you going to tell me of this final stipulation? That was the last, was it not? You did read to me every word on that will? I am not to bear six babies in six years or any such wild requirement am I?”

“A babe in my bride’s belly by Christmas was the final condition. To be truthful, I did consider telling you last evening, after I got you drunk.”

Lark raised a brow. “I knew you were up to something.”

“But you let me hold you in my lap, a clear indication you understood nothing of my intent.”

“I had told you my sister’s story and frightened us both. I felt safe enough and sleepy enough not to worry. Foolish probably, but I survived. We both did.”

Barely, Ash thought, remembering the hard night’s sleep he’d had later, the worse for having spilled his seed in her hand, and for the erotic dreams he’d weaved as a result. “Twas a true story, then?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Since, for the most part, all is laid bare between us what do you say to helping me?”

Lark started. “Help you do … what?”

“Save Blackburne Chase by bearing my child?”

“That is an excessively large and … personal request.”

“I swore to take revenge upon my father in my mother’s name. You would take revenge upon your sister’s tormenter, if you could, would you not? I would help you vilify
your
own sire, if you wished it. He deserves taking down, that one. I detest the way he treated you.”

That brought her head up. “May I call upon that offer at some future date, perhaps?”

“I will be at your service, and will you be at mine? Is having children not what married people do, after all?”

“People who are married in the conventional way do, without stipulations. But since we were not married without conditions … on
your
part….”

Ash prepared for battle. “I feel an additional requirement coming on.”

“My sister’s babe….”

“It lived, then?”

“It did. She did not. It is—he is— Micah, his name is Micah. He lives still in the country, and because I pay them to care for him, they treat him almost as a member of the family, but that is not the same as a family of one’s own, do you not agree?”

Lark rose as well, forestalling his response. I will go along with your grandfather’s requirements, if you bring Micah here and raise and educate him as you would your own son, and—”

“And?” Ash asked, encouraging the thought she had abandoned.

“When you inherit, you put ten thousand pounds in each of our names, mine and Micah’s, as security against an uncertain future.”

“That’s robbery.”

“Equal to the deceitful trick you were planning that might have broken my heart.”

Ash scoffed. “Is a guttersnipe’s heart so delicate, then?”

Lark paled, “
You
will never know,” she said, raising her chin. “For my heart will never be open to your view. But if you wish to get me with child, I’d as soon know the reason why beforehand and not lay it at the door of a foolish notion like forever or any such rubbish.”

Ash hated himself for the angry insult. “Speaking of rubbish, what do you mean by demeaning such a cherished notion? Many a lady has lived on the hope of forever.”

“Many a lady has also perished from such an ill-fated aspiration, besides I am no lady, as
you
just pointed out.”

“I have been known to be wrong-headed as well as fork-tongued. Remember that you are
my
lady. You will accept my apology.”

“I will accept ten thousand pounds for each of us,” she said, stubborn as ever.

“For what uncertain future? You are my wife, until death us do part. No uncertainty exists in those words.”

“Unless you leave this earthly plane and another of your relatives with more money than brains writes a will with the power to send me packing. Besides, ‘tis for your own good as well as ours.”