Chapter Seventeen
“Eve.”
Something jarred her—hard. Her head swam.
“Eve, wake up.”
She burrowed deeper into the surrounding warmth.
“Eve, the marquess is calling for us.”
Eve’s eyes popped open and she bolted upright in bed. The room swam around her for an instant, then Grace snapped into focus where she knelt on the bed beside Eve. The fire in the hearth had burned to coals and no light shone through the colored glass window.
“What time is it?” Eve croaked.
“Three thirty in the morning.”
“Holy God,” she breathed. “Whatever can they want at this hour of the morning? Do you know what has happened?”
Grace shook her head. “Lady Rushton came to me. She asked that I wake you. She will return presently and take us to the marquess’ library.”
Eve sat for a moment, unable to move. “I cannot imagine why they would call us at this ungodly hour. Why not wait until the morning? Papa must know we are all right. Surely, he didn’t have us wakened just to see us.” And he wouldn’t. She threw back the covers and stood for a moment at a loss as to what she was looking for, then realized she wanted the dress she had draped over the corner chair. She started toward it, but stopped upon realizing Grace hadn’t moved, nor was she dressed. “You had better dress.”
“What if Papa is angry?” Grace said.
“You only just now realized he might be angry?”
She looked at Eve, eyes wide. “I thought I would be married by the time he saw me and that would soften the blow.”
“Nothing will soften the blow.”
Grace paled and guilt stabbed at Eve. Despite her woman’s body, Grace was only nineteen, and Eve, after all, had gotten her into this mess. Grace would never have thought of kidnapping Lord Rushton, and Eve couldn’t blame her for readily agreeing to come to Mull. After all, Lord Rushton would have tossed Grace into the carriage just as easily as he had Eve if she’d balked.
“This is what you have been waiting for, Grace.”
“Not exactly. I was waiting for Lord Rushton to whisk me off to visit a magistrate.”
“That might yet happen. Now, we had better dress.” Eve would rather find the closest mouse hole and crawl inside, but kept the sentiment to herself.
Fifteen minutes later, Lady Rushton appeared at Eve’s door.
“Can you tell us nothing, ma’am?” Eve asked as Grace closed her bedchamber door and the marchioness started forward with them.
“I am as much in the dark as you,” she said. “The marquess woke me and told me to bring you both to his library.”
“So you did not see our father?” Grace asked.
“I have not yet met him.”
They fell into silence until they reached the library door, which stood open. The marchioness entered first, and Eve almost lost her nerve when she glimpsed her father sitting in a wingback chair with a small table between him and another chair where the marquess sat. Neither man wore cravats, their shirts were open at the neck, and a nearly empty decanter sat on the table between two partially filled glasses. Had they been discussing the situation all these hours? Eve caught sight of Lord Rushton and Lord Somerset sitting on a couch and she slowed when she saw that a stranger sat on the couch with them. He, like Lord Rushton and Somerset, seemed to have dressed in as much haste as had she and Grace.
“Papa,” Grace cried, and hurried to him.
He rose and she practically fell into his arms. He hugged her close and to Eve’s relief, Grace didn’t cry, though she feared she might.
He pulled back from Grace and looked at her. “You are well?”
“Quite well,” she said. “Lord and Lady Rushton have been very kind.”
He nodded and looked at Eve. “And you, Eve?”
“I am well, sir.”
“Sit down,” he instructed them.
“You, too, if you will, my dear,” the marquess said to his wife.
The three of them sat on the sofa to the left of the marquess.
“We have been many hours sorting out this mess,” the marquess said. “Tolland and I considered each taking aside our respective offspring and dealing with them separately, but the task is too daunting—not to mention, we will take no chances this time that the three of you might scheme behind our backs.”
“Four of them,” their father said. He pinned his stare on Eve. “Oscar isn’t present, but he is as much a party to the situation as you are. Eve, you kidnapped an earl. You are lucky he and his father didn’t have you thrown into prison.”
“The earl fought a duel,” Eve said. “He is as guilty as me.”
“Indeed, he is.” Her father turned his stare onto Lord Rushton. “The only reason I did not chase after you to Gretna was because I assumed Eve was getting married.”
“Me?” Eve blurted. “Why would you think that?” Then she knew. “My God, you told him to kidnap me.”
“I would have kept that bit of information to myself, if I were you, Tolland,” the earl muttered.
“Oh, this is rich.” Eve couldn’t believe it. “How can you possibly convict me of the very crime for which you are guilty?”
“I can,” her father said in a dark voice that cut off any further retort.
“As can I,” the marquess said. “But as a marriage contract has been signed, it would seem the matter is settled.”
Fear rendered Eve speechless, but Grace spoke up. “What marriage contract?”
“The one I drew up in Manchester, signed by me and the earl.” He nodded to a secretary against the left wall and Eve spied several sheaths of folded paper.
Grace looked from her father to Eve in confusion. “But who is the bride?”
“Grace,” the earl said in a gentle voice, “I did say I was going to marry your sister.”
“But Eve doesn’t want to marry you,” she protested.
“Signed in Manchester?” Eve cut in. “You signed the contract before going to Gretna?”
“No,” her father answered. “He had his solicitor sign for him, then sent it to me, along with the letter he posted from Gretna, which instructed me to meet you on Mull.”
“Miss Crenshaw,” the earl said. He rose, walked to where she sat, then squatted eye-level with her and took her hands in his. “Let us be honest. Things were bad enough when I came into your room at the inn. There might have been a way to redeem ourselves at that point, but once we ended up at Gretna…well, even I knew there was no turning back.”
“You neglected to tell me you had signed a marriage contract,” she said.
“It made little difference at that point. There was going to be a wedding. You cannot doubt that.”
“It is unfair.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Not completely unfair,” her father said.
“I’m sure you do not think so,” she snapped. “You are simply relieved to have me married off.”
“Did it occur to you that Lord Rushton made sure the contract was dated and signed for the day before you left for Gretna in order to save your reputation?”
“What possible difference could it make when the contract was signed?”
“Eve, don’t be an idiot,” Grace said. “The fact the contract was signed the day Lord Halifax kidnapped you, tells the polite world that Lord Halifax did, indeed, kidnap you, and that Lord Rushton defended your honor because you were to be his wife. Even my reputation is unscathed. It is just as I said, only you are the bride, not I.”
“I am sorry,” Lord Rushton said.
“It is your loss, I assure you, my lord,” Grace said in an airy tone. “Though Eve is a fine catch, and you would do well not to forget that.”
Eve stared at her sister. She had expected tears, shouts, perhaps even the stamping of feet if Lord Rushton didn’t marry her. Instead, she was acquiescing with poise and refinement befitting the marchioness she one day hoped to be. This was all wrong.
Eve looked at the earl. “And if I don’t sign the contract?”
“You have no choice,” her father boomed. “The earl owned up to what transpired between you two.”
Lord Rushton shoved to his feet. “Tolland, leave well enough alone.”
“I will not. Eve, you have gone too far this time.”
Eve recalled the night in the ship’s cabin a little over a day ago when she and Lord Rushton were alone. In truth, allowing the earl to touch her as he had was enough to warrant that they marry. But no one knew about that. Did they?
“What do you mean ‘what transpired between you two’?” she asked her father.
His mouth thinned. “Will you make me say it? At least Rushton was honorable enough to admit the truth and do the right thing.”
“Tolland,” Lord Rushton growled.
“How dare you?” Eve jumped to her feet and slapped him.
The room went silent.
The earl shrugged. “It was bound to happen eventually.” He addressed his father and her father. “My future wife and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Erroll,” the marquess began in unison with Eve’s father’s, “Here, here,” but he cut them off.
“We will be in the hallway. Have no fear, we won’t run away. We would not get even to the stables, and I do have the presence of mind to know, Tolland, that you would chase me this time with murder in your heart.” He grasped her wrist and started toward the door.
She yanked. “And if Miss Crenshaw has no desire to speak with his lordship?”
He didn’t stop. “Oh, but she does.”
“Lord Tolland,” Eve heard the marchioness say.
They reached the door and Lord Rushton opened it and pushed her into the hallway. He paused and looked at the gathering, “Be warned, any interruptions will result in my taking Miss Crenshaw back to England where none of you will be welcome in our house.” He closed the door behind him.
Eve whirled on them. “You told them we-we—”
“Not here.” He grasped her arm and strode down the hallway.
She was forced to take quick steps in order to keep up. “What are you doing?”
He stopped beside a large tapestry and twitched aside the fabric. Eve saw a hidden alcove an instant before he pushed her into the shadowy space. She retreated when he stepped inside and released the tapestry behind him, cutting off the light from the hallway. They weren’t in total darkness as they had been in the hidey-hole at the party in Manchester, but that didn’t stop her heart from jumping into an erratic rhythm.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Getting us a moment of privacy.”
Anger shot through her. “That is what got us into trouble in the first place.”
He snorted a laugh. “You are right there. But it matters little at this point.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about?” she demanded. “You lied. You told my father that we-we—you know what you told him.”
“I told my father, actually, but yes, I did imply that I had compromised you in the worst way.”
“You are no better than Grace,” Eve said. “You lied to get what you want.”
“I might as well have done what I said I did, for I compromised you beyond all redemption—and you allowed it,” he said. “More than once, I might add. So pray, do not waste your time comparing me to your sister.”
She didn’t need to compare him to her sister. Eve remembered all too well that Blane also had lied in an attempt to get what he wanted. “You are not the first man to lie about me.”
“You refer to Lord Blane, I presume.”
“Gossipmonger,” she muttered.
“He lied about you?”
“I was not pregnant with his child.”
“But the rest was true?”
Eve gave him a cold smile. “As a man, you probably think that by giving him my virtue, I gave him the right to lie about me.”
“Did he have reason to believe you were pregnant?”
“No.”
Lord Rushton shrugged. “Then he was wrong.”
“Yet your lie is justified?”
“Tell me you would rather marry Somerset and I will step aside. Heaven forbid I should stand in the way of true love. Do you love him?”
“Love has little to do with marriage when one is forced to choose a husband,” she muttered.
“Does that mean you choose him over me?”
“I shouldn’t have to choose.”
“If you can convince your father of that, then I’ll not insist you marry me.”
“I imagine not,” she retorted. “You have made it perfectly clear you have no wish to marry me.”
“No, I made it perfectly clear I have no wish to marry your sister.”
She snorted. “You have no wish to marry anyone.”
“Will your father let you remain unmarried?” he demanded.
“You know he will not.”
“Then it is Somerset or me. I am willing to be the jilted lover. It’s no less than I deserve and no one will be surprised.”
“Better the jilted lover than to be saddled with a wife.” And that, she realized, had been his plan all along. “I see now,” she said with feeling. “Very clever of you, my lord.” Eve swallowed. “You didn’t sign that marriage contract in order to save my reputation. You signed the contract hoping I would refuse your offer, then you wouldn’t be obligated to marry Grace, either.”
“So you believe that if you absolutely refuse me that our fathers will let me go my merry way?”
“You are the one who told me to hold fast and we would be free of one another,” she countered.
“That was before we ended up in Gretna Green.”
Eve snorted. “They cannot insist you marry Grace after you signed a contract for marriage to me.”
“Make no mistake, Miss Crenshaw, our parents are decided that I will marry you or your sister. But, if you have doubts, we will ask them. First, however, you will answer one question: would you rather marry Somerset?”
“Yes.”
Her heart broke as the seconds of silence passed, then he canted his head. “You will marry Somerset, then. Shall we inform our parents?”
“There is nothing to tell them. I may prefer him, but that doesn’t mean I will marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” she broke off, silently adding, because he prefers my sister—and because I am a fool, then said, “Because I am ruined for any man of character.”
“But Somerset is a man of character and he did ask you to marry him, repeatedly.”
“That was before.”
Lord Rushton leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Before you sullied yourself with the likes of me?”
“I doubt it would matter who the man was,” she said.
Eve hadn’t lied when she told Grace she wasn’t angry that Grace was more beautiful. Eve had had her share of suitors, a few who she felt sincerely held some genuine affection for her. But to discover that the man who had only days ago threatened a duel in her honor had fallen in love with her sister hurt.
“I doubt any other man could have incited you to kidnap him,” Lord Rushton said.
“That is most certainly true.”
“You need never fear that I will think you unworthy of my esteem.” He flashed a smile. “As I am not a man of character, there is no danger of you falling from grace.”
Had she heard right? “How am I to take that, my lord? Does your lack of character mean you don’t care that I am no better than you? Or is it that since I have fallen to your depths, you see us on even footing? Or perhaps I should take comfort in the fact you have no character, therefore, you do not require a wife of character?” She gave him a cold smile. “I suppose I win in any case.”
“A woman who can depend upon her husband’s feelings remaining constant is fortunate,” he said.
Yes, she was fortunate. He didn’t love her and never would. Her father had been right. “I am the most fortunate of women.”
“Not yet,” he said, “but you will be.”
“I shall be the envy of every eligible—” and many an ineligible “—lady of the ton.”
“Yes, you will—if I do my job properly,” he drawled.
Dear God, the cad actually sounded pleased with himself.
He lifted a brow. “Perhaps you would like a taste of your good fortune?”
“A what?”
“This.”
His hand shot about her waist and he yanked her to him. Her breasts and belly crashed against his hard body and liquid fire ignited in her core.
Eve gasped. “Have you gone mad?”
“I believe I have,” he said. Then kissed her.
Eve slammed her palms against his shoulders to shove him away, but his mouth ravished hers with such insistence that the strength ebbed from her. This wasn’t the slow assault he’d waged on her in the ship’s cabin. This, she realized with a jolt, was unadulterated lust. His mouth slid down her cheek and along the curve of her throat. She became conscious of the steel rod pressing into her abdomen, then his mouth found the curve of her breast above the fabric of her dress. He tugged her bodice and cool air washed over her breasts.
“Sir!” Eve grabbed for her bodice.
“Hush.”
He grasped her wrists and pushed them behind her back as he urged her backwards against the stone wall. His head dipped and he closed warm lips around one nipple. He suckled so hotly Eve found herself stunned by the intense pleasure that tightened her sex. She drew a sharp breath when he clamped her wrists together with one hand and began hiking up her dress with his free hand. His warm palm came in contact with her hip as he flicked his tongue against the rigid peak of her nipple. The place between her legs throbbed in unison with the action. His fingers slid over and brushed her curls.
“This is madness.” She couldn’t think. “Our families—”
A long digit caressed her swollen sex. Eve shuddered. He rubbed gently. Hot need surged through her. Insanity. If they were caught—his finger dipped between her moist folds. His finger slipped inside her and she froze as he began to stroke. He shifted to her other breast and sucked, still stroking inside her. A tremble radiated from her stomach. Pleasure coursed like a whirlwind with his finger its vortex centered between her legs.
“My lord,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“Quite the contrary,” he withdrew his finger and began rubbing her swollen nub again, “this is exactly what we should be doing.”
“Oh my goodness—” She tensed. What was he doing to her? Faster, he stroked faster, while he flicked his tongue against her nipple, mimicking the action of his finger. Heat rushed through her. “Why-why is this exactly what we should be doing?” She drew a harsh breath.
“So that you will know no other man will do for you what I can do.”
He was right. Blane certainly hadn’t made her feel like this.
Reality washed over her like ice water and she stiffened. “You are not the first man to put the wedding night ahead of our wedding.”
He stilled. Slowly he straightened, but his finger remained on her sex. “I promise you, the wedding night will be far superior to a little pleasure in an alcove.”
Gaze locked with hers, he massaged her sex. Her stomach flipped.
“Did Blane do this for you?” Lord Rushton leaned closer. “Can Somerset please you like I can?”
Eve closed her eyes, but the ache only engulfed her.
He pressed close to her hip, rubbing his engorged shaft against her. “Did they want you this badly?” he asked. She didn’t answer and he bent and whispered in her ear. “Did they, Eve?” He stroked faster. “Did you want them?” Faster he stroked. “Did you?”
She shook her head as much to ward off the need that gripped her as to answer his question.
He ran his tongue along the shell of her ear. “Do you want me?”
She wanted him and—Holy God—she wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. Eve moaned.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He released her wrists and wrapped his arm around her, while stroking her in small circles, tormenting her until her breath caught and light danced across her closed eyelids. Pleasure burst over her, swallowing up her senses and centering on his touch.
“Yes, love,” he whispered.
His voice washed over her and she shivered as another wave of pleasure weakened her knees. He caught her to his chest as he slowed his strokes. An echo of pleasure rippled through her, then another followed until she released a slow breath. He removed his hand, pulled down her dress, then held her close. Eve sagged into his warmth.
It seemed they held one another for hours, until Eve realized that her bare breasts were pressed against Lord Rushton’s shirt—and he hadn’t satisfied his lust, although the bulge in his pants had receded somewhat. She had the unexpected desire to do for him what he’d done for her—had no idea how to go about it—but good sense kept her from asking.
He drew back. She started to straighten her bodice, but he grasped the fabric and lifted it over her breasts, then released a breath.
“Are you ready to return to the lion’s den?” he asked.
“You once told me you would not willingly go into the lion’s den.”
He traced a finger down her cheek. “For you, madam, I will.”
She blinked. Then he smiled and her breath caught.
“We had best return,” he said. “I doubt my threat will keep our families at bay indefinitely.”
Eve froze. Everyone was sure to know the earl had made love to her while they’d sat chatting in the library.
*****
Erroll pulled back the tapestry and stepped from the alcove. “Miss Crenshaw.”
She joined him, glanced in the direction of his father’s library, then looked up at him. His mouth went dry. Her cheeks were still flushed with the remnants of pleasure. She was stunning. His cock throbbed again. He was going to make her a very rich widow before he’d had a chance to truly take a husband’s pleasure.
“They will know…” she said, and Erroll feared she might be right. Unless…
“They already believe it is true,” he said.
“Believing we have been intimate and finding out we dallied while they waited a few feet away is quite another.”
That was true, and the distinction that might get him shot. He shrugged. “Do we care what they think?”
Her brows snapped down. “I am not a woman who allows a man to tumble her anywhere.”
“Not any man, love. Me. That is a point I will be very particular about.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” she retorted.
He grasped her elbow and started down the hallway. “Of course it makes it better. Our parents can’t fault a man for finding his future bride irresistible.”
“They would never believe that, and even if they did, it is unseemly.”
It certainly was and he wanted to do it again, so answered honestly, “What else would anyone expect from me?”
“I told you, I will not live that sort of life, my lord.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant by ‘that sort of life.’ Miss Eve Crenshaw was clearly a passionate woman, and she was going to have a devil of a time hiding that fact from him after the way she’d reacted to his touch.
“You are overwrought, Miss Crenshaw, and not thinking clearly. There is a vast difference between unseemly and completely dissolute. I promised to be a decent husband, but that doesn’t mean I have any intention of becoming a saint.”
“You, sir,” she said as he opened the door, “are anything but a saint.”
Her words rang through the room and all eyes turned on her. Silence reigned for a long moment before his mother said, “Come in, Erroll. Miss Crenshaw, come sit with me.” She patted the place beside her on the sofa. Miss Crenshaw didn’t move and Erroll gave her a gentle push. She kept going and reached the couch, then sat beside his mother.
“I assume everything is settled,” his father said.
“It is,” Erroll replied.
“Good, then Miss Crenshaw need only sign the contract and the Registrar will complete the forms.”
Shock rolled over Erroll.
“Registrar?” Eve shot to her feet. “You—” her eyes cut to the stranger, then she whirled toward their fathers “—him? He is a Registrar? But that-that means we are to be married now?” She faced Erroll. “You knew.” Her words dripped with accusation.
“No,” he stated flatly. “I am as surprised as you.”
“You expect me to believe that you sat here and didn’t ask who the gentleman was?” she demanded.
“You did the same. My father ordered me to sit and be quiet.” Erroll saw the hurt in her eyes, and his mind snapped from limbo. He quickly added, “I understood that we were to attend church tomorrow to hear the reading of the first of the banns.”
Her brow furrowed and he could see that she, too, knew they were to attend church tomorrow. Eve still stared, but her expression had gone blank. Was she deciding whether or not he had manipulated her? He had, but not as badly as she might think. He’d seen the way Somerset looked at her sister—not to mention Grace Crenshaw’s reaction to him—and realized the viscount had fallen in love with her. Erroll suspected Eve had observed the same and wouldn’t marry a man who preferred her sister, which meant Eve had no choice but to marry him.
“You have both missed the mark,” the marquess said.
Apprehension coiled in Erroll’s gut. “Would you mind explaining, sir?”
“Technically, you are already married,” Tolland answered. “The promise of marriage along with an intimate relationship constitutes a legal marriage.”
Good God. So his lie that he had taken Eve’s virginity is what had done him in?
“Already married?” Eve echoed.
“There was even a notice in the paper,” Tolland said.
“I never agreed to any of this,” she said in a whisper.
“Are you telling me Rushton forced himself on you?” Tolland demanded. “If you tell me that, Eve, I will shoot him here and now.”
Her cheeks reddened. “No, no, of course not. It is just…”
She looked at Erroll and he knew she was thinking of the pleasure he’d given her moments ago. By God, he’d made a mess of that, hadn’t he? He thought he had three weeks to allow her to come to terms with marrying him so he had…had what? Bloody hell, he had no idea anymore.
“Apparently, all of Gretna Green knows you dueled Halifax because he kidnapped your betrothed,” the marquess said. “That public announcement was simply the confirmation of marriage.”
It was so ridiculous Erroll wanted to laugh. “You do remember the duel, my dear?”
“It is burned into my brain.”
His as well.
“I told you that duel was a bad idea.” She dropped down on the seat beside his mother. “Just as I told you that coming uninvited into my room was a bad idea.”
“Indeed, you did.”
She addressed her father. “If Lord Rushton and I are married, why are we here?”
“It is best you sign the marriage contract and that the Registrar witness and record the marriage,” he replied.
“As we are already man and wife, this could have waited until a more reasonable hour,” she said with asperity. Erroll barked a laugh and she shot him a recriminating look, then demanded, “Where are the papers?”
Erroll’s father rose and retrieved the documents from the desk in the corner. He brought them, along with a pen and book.
“Please sit down,” he told her.
She sat on the couch and signed each document as instructed. “I assume you saw to everything in the contract, Papa?”
“I did.”
“Then I need not worry for an instant.” She signed the contract with a flourish that told Erroll the wedding night might not be all that smooth, then laid the pen on top of the document, and the marquess took everything to Erroll, who did the same.
“Is it official?” Erroll’s mother asked the Registrar, once Erroll had signed the last paper and the marquess had handed him the documents.
The Registrar flipped through the papers, signed one sheet, then looked at her. “It is, my lady. You have Lord and Lady Rushton.”
Erroll glimpsed the flicker of panic in his new wife’s eyes. He didn’t blame her. Any woman of character would react with shock at hearing herself called by his name—one very good reason he had so determinedly avoided the ladies who had decided they wanted the title: lack of character.
His mother took Eve’s hand in hers. “We welcome you to the family. We will plan a party for the day after tomorrow.”
“Do not put yourself to any bother,” Eve said.
“A party is never trouble for Mother,” Erroll said.
“Indeed not,” she said. “I adore parties. However, that is for us to worry about tomorrow. It is still the wee hours of the morning, and I think everyone would do well to retire.”
“Thank you,” Eve said. “It has been a trying day.” She rose and everyone followed suit.
Her father came to her and grasped her shoulders. “I know this is not what either of us planned, but you could have done far worse.”
Erroll wondered if Tolland was thinking that Eve could have ended up married to Lord Blane, who Erroll had heard was so deep in gambling debts that it was expected he would turn up dead or disappear on a ship bound for Australia.
Tolland hugged his daughter and stepped back as Grace Crenshaw offered what appeared to be sincere congratulations. Eve accepted all this with polite acquiescence, then allowed Somerset to bow over her hand as he congratulated her.
“I will show you to your room,” his mother said at last.
“Thank you, but I can find my way,” Eve said.
“No, my dear. We have one of the private suites ready for you and Erroll.”
Eve’s mouth parted in surprise and for an instant Erroll feared she would cry. He started toward her, but his mother pulled her into a hug and Erroll halted as he glimpsed the shock on Eve’s face. To his surprise, she hugged his mother fiercely, then seemed to recall herself and stepped back.
“I am ready.”
Erroll was caught between wanting to laugh and the dawning comprehension that he was married without so much as a kiss or a drink to herald the event. He was also struck with the realization that the next woman he made love to would be his wife. By God, was he ready?