With His Ring (Brides of Bath Book 2) (19 page)

Glee turned to Melvin. "Could I persuade you
to wager for me?"

Melvin's eyes flicked to Gregory's.

"He will not!" Gregory said sternly.

Staring at the canvas surface where the
fighters were to face off, she spoke with controlled anger. "You're
being a positive ogre, Blanks."

"Me? What about my wife who's forever
thinking of new ways to put me out of charity with her?"

"Well, well," a man to the side of them
said.

Gregory spun around to face William
Jefferson as he walked up beside Glee.

"Fancy that!" Jefferson said. "Mrs.
Blankenship at a mill! And dressed as a male." His eyes met and
held Glee's.

Gregory would love to get him in the ring
right now. "My wife goes wherever I go," Gregory defended.

"How cozy," Jefferson said, not removing his
gaze from Glee.

"I suggest you take your seat for the
fight's about to begin," Gregory told Jefferson.

He doffed his cap at Glee, then left.

Once he was gone, Gregory spoke sternly to
his wife. "I don't cherish the idea of my wife being the most
shocking woman in Bath, and I don't like Jefferson getting the
wrong idea about you."

"I have been most vexing to you, Blanks. I
will
try to be better."

He instantly softened toward her, repressing
the desire to take hold of her hand—which wouldn't do at all. One
could not hold hands with one's tiger. And he was not about to let
it out that his wife had demeaned herself by traveling to a mill.
Dressed as a male, no less.

Soon the two magnificent specimens they had
come to see joined one another on the center of the canvas, and the
crowd hushed.

"I've never seen such huge men!" Glee
exclaimed.

Unable to remove his own approving gaze from
the fighters, Blanks nodded.

When the two principal participants moved
away from each other, the crowd turned so silent, a single sneeze
would have been an intrusion.

As soon as the bell struck, the crowd began
cheering and shouting, their favor evenly divided between the two
fighters. Gregory and his friends, too, yelled out instructions.
Gregory leaped to his feet, shouting encouragement to The
African.

Sweet heavens! but the man was quick on his
feet, dancing away from every jab thrust by Steady Eddie. Soon,
though, he lunged toward Steady Eddie, his fist colliding with
Eddie's cheek. The crowd—at the sight of blood spewing from Steady
Eddie's nose—began to cheer wildly.

Glee shrieked and Gregory spun around to see
what was the matter with her. She buried her eyes in her hands but
did not appear to have sustained an injury.
Feminine vapors.
His gaze shot back to the fight.

Another jab from The African caused Steady
Eddie's eyes to swell shut, but he would not give in, despite that
blood flowed from his mouth now. Another punch sent Steady Eddie to
his knees, but still he managed to pull himself up.

Glee shrieked.

Why had the maddening woman interrupted
Gregory's long waited-for amusement? "What's the matter?" he asked
impatiently.

Her head still buried, she shook her head,
her shoulders shaking as if she were crying. His heart tripped.

"I can't watch," she finally managed between
sobs. “It's so horridly brutal! Can't you stop it?"

He scowled. "I cannot. I told you this was
no place for women."

"But I hadn't thought they would throw
punches into one another's faces!"

"What in the blazes
did
you
expect?"

She continued to babble into her wet palms.
"I thought they would punch one another on the arms or the chest or
the stomach."

"Wouldn't be bloody likely to knock out
their opponents that way," Gregory said.

"You mean. . .that's how the winner is
determined? The one who's left standing?"

"Of course," he answered impatiently. "He's
got to leave his opponent senseless."

"How dreadful," she shrieked. "How can you
bear to watch?"

He mumbled under his breath. He could not
bloody well watch it now, with her distracting him like she was
doing. His eyes darting from the match to his huddled wife, Gregory
sat back down. Glee looked a most pitiful sight, indeed. He spoke
softly. "It's not so bad as you think, Glee. I've never seen anyone
killed. These chaps have uncommonly hard heads."

Her little shoulders shook with the effort
of her sobs. "It's so brutal."

"Why do you think women don't attend these
affairs? They're for men's eyes only."

"They're barbaric!"

"Come on, I'll take you home," he said
gently.

Chapter 16

Men did not like crying women. With that
thought in mind, Glee dried her tears and faced the angry man who
was her husband. He flicked the ribbons in his haste to return her
to Bath. She supposed he would wish to return to the mill. Her
desire to become one with his friends had sadly misfired on her.
Instead of capturing his admiration, she had drawn his wrath,
thoroughly succeeding in ruining Blanks's excursion. What had
happened to her plan to swaddle him in her love?

She felt remorseful, indeed. "Oh, Blanks,
I'm truly sorry for ruining your fun—though I fail to see how such
a barbaric sport could bring you pleasure."

He slid a frown at her.

"You're sure to regret marrying me," she
said, whimpering. "Especially when I promised you we'd have a good
time together, that we'd be the best of friends. I've only been
trying to share things with you—to be a true friend."

He loosened his white-fisted hold on the
reins, relaxed against the back of his seat, and spoke gently to
her. "You aren't expected to share everything with me—though I
appreciate your intentions."

"You do?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded.

A moment later, a smile on her face, she
asked, "Do you know what day it is today, Blanks?"

He thought for a moment. "It's the
nine-and-twentieth day of March."

"No, silly. That's not what I meant. It's
our two-week anniversary."

"Good God, has it only been two weeks?"

"It does seem longer, does it not?" she said
wistfully. They went some distance further when she shrieked. "Oh,
Blanks, do put me down right here."

He reigned in. "Why?"

"Because it's not fair for me to spoil your
time. You have so been looking forward to the fight. I can easily
walk the short distance back to Bath."

"I won't do any such thing. Besides, you
can't walk that far alone!" He scowled. "I won't have it."

"But no one will know I'm not a lad," she
protested.

"I'll know, and I won't tolerate it."

"Oh, dear," she whispered. "Whatever you
say, Blanks. I'll try to be a humble wife."

"And the queen will wear rags," he mumbled
angrily.

"I really don't mind if you wish to return
to the fight. I don't mean to interfere with anything that brings
you pleasure." Her husband, she knew, possessed an especially keen
appreciation for merrymaking. And no wonder! That horrid stepmother
of his had likely thwarted his every grasp for happiness. No wonder
he had preferred to spend his school holidays at Hornsby, and no
wonder that—when he obtained his majority—he tended to excessive
indulgences. Now that Glee had met Aurora, she understood why
Blanks had gone overboard in his quest of pleasure. He'd had
precious little of it during his entire childhood.

Glee cast a sideways glance at his alluring
profile. His face was uncharacteristically somber, his dark eyes
inscrutable. Her glance trailed to his powerful hands that grasped
the reins. She fought an overwhelming urge to throw her arms around
him and kiss him senseless.

If only she could do something to make him
happy. Besides pugilism, what was there? She had not lived nineteen
years with her brother not to learn a thing or two about what made
men tick. "I shouldn't be offended, Blanks, if you should choose to
see Mrs. Ennis." Thank heavens a bolt of lightning had not struck
her down for telling so outrageous a lie! The very idea of Carlotta
Ennis within Blanks's embrace had the power to rob Glee of her
breath—and of all hopes for happiness. But she did love Blanks so.
And his happiness is what mattered most to her. Even if that
happiness included the purple-hued doxy!

He pulled the reins until his bay came to a
screeching halt, then Gregory sat glaring at her. "You might not
object, dear wife, but I do. I should not like for my brother to
get wind of so . . .so awkward an alliance."

Oh, dear. Glee couldn't seem to do anything
right where Blanks was concerned. She could not bring herself to
look at him. Instead she sat staring at the soft hills west of
Bath, her face contrite. "Of course, you're right. You have an
impeccable sense of propriety. A pity I'm such an albatross to
you." A mock laugh broke from her lips. "And to think, all I ever
wanted was to bring you happiness."

He cupped his hand under her chin and turned
her face to his. His eyes suddenly went all mellow and soft.
"You're not an albatross."

Now, she went all mellow. She was powerless
to stop herself from stroking the strong planes of his cheeks, from
being compelled to peer into the depths of his deep amber eyes.

He seemed to be moving closer to her. And
she ever so slightly moved toward to him. She saw the stubble of
this morning's shave and drew in his subtle musk scent. His lips
then settled over hers. Soft, pliable lips. Lips that pierced to
her very soul.

It was sheer delight, this taste of her
lover. Magical. Soul-numbing. Blending. And she never wanted it to
end.

Her arms closed around him, and she melted
into his powerful chest, his arms closing around her. Their mouths
were open, and their breathing was ragged and labored.

To her great distress, he pulled away, then
took each of her hands and kissed them. "Forgive me," he said
throatily.

Feeling bereft beyond words, she caught her
breath and murmured, "You've nothing to be sorry for. You are,
after all, my husband. My purpose in life is to make you
happy."

He laughed a bitter laugh and picked up the
reins, flicking his bay toward Bath.

What had she done which caused the kiss to
terminate? Everything had been so utterly wonderful.

Her face crimson, she thought on it during
the short ride back to Blankenship House. Obviously, she had not
satisfied him. She supposed kissing was something for which a great
deal of expertise could be accumulated. And, heaven knows, she had
precious little experience. She had never kissed the man she had
thought to run off with when she was seventeen. She had only been
kissed twice, both times by Blanks. Though their first kiss
wrenched her with unexpected, all-encompassing tenderness and a
hunger for something deeper, this second kiss consumed her with a
near debilitating passion. A passion as terrifying as her
unwavering love for Blanks.

She had not thought she would enjoy that
open-mouthed kissing, but with Blanks, it seemed to draw them
closer. Closer than she had known two people could be. Was this how
it was with Diana and George? And Felicity and Thomas? Could they
claim such boundless pleasure every day of their lives? Her heart
thumped. Had it been thus for Blanks and Carlotta?

All that Glee knew was that she had never
truly lived before she had come alive in Blanks's arms.

"I think I'm getting a knack for kissing,
Blanks," she said in a husky voice. "Perhaps I'll be so improved
next time, you'll not hasten to put me at a distance."

He burst out laughing.

What had she said to generate such
mirth?

"I would say you're doing extremely
well."

She tossed a glance at him and saw he was
winking at her! "You're making fun of me!"

"I am not," he protested. Then he grew
serious. "It's just that. . .I feel such an utter cad, taking
advantage of you."

"You could never do that," she said
softly.

* * *

How could that wife of his be so maddening?
On the one hand, she was a constant thorn in his side. On the
other, she enticed him as no other woman ever had. How could one as
innocent as Glee elicit such hunger in him? What a brute he was to
force himself on her innocence!

He drew up in front of Blankenship House and
assisted her in disembarking. He looked down at her in the kelly
green livery she wore. How could he have ever taken her for a lad?
She sent his palms to sweating and his heart to pounding. He fought
the urge to settle his lips over hers once again. In broad daylight
in front of Blankenship House! Good God, but he wanted to.

"Please go back to the fight," she pleaded.
"I feel dreadful for causing you to miss it."

"If I know The African, the match is already
over."

"Then I sincerely hope no one was
injured."

"Don't worry so. I'm sorry the
brutality
upsets you."

"I had no business going. It’s not a sport
that beckons women, and now I realize why."

He smiled down at her and patted her head.
"Go change your clothing, and I'll give you some pointers on
driving your new phaeton."

"But it's being painted," she said with
fallen face.

"Red?"

She nodded solemnly.

"I can show you in mine," he offered.
"They're much the same."

"That's what Timothy said."

"I don't above half like you calling him
Timothy."

"But you never objected when I called my
brother George."

"That's different. George is your
brother."

"As is Timothy. And the twins. At least,
that's how I feel toward them."

He gazed hungrily at her, his voice lacking
confidence when he asked, "Am I just another brother?"

"Silly, you're far better than a brother.
Haven't I always told you that?"

He nodded solemnly.