Chapter 5
Walker felt that every eye was upon him as he watched Lady Belinda move closer until she stopped only feet in front of him.
He smelled her fragrance first…jasmine and damask rose, a seductive combination that would stir any man’s senses.
Just as his senses were aroused by her incomparable blond beauty for again, how could any man’s not be? Yet what struck him next was the cool appraising glint in her eyes, the stunning blue devoid of any warmth that would have made her almost impossible to resist.
A warmth he’d glimpsed in another young woman’s eyes tonight, innocent and sincere, that even now made his blood course hotter at the memory of it.
He knew Marguerite Easton stood not far behind him. That she must be watching him and wondering, her breath coming faster with the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.
She hadn’t needed to say a word for him to know she’d felt much as he had when they had danced together, her rosy lips parted and her gaze locked with his. He hadn’t wanted the moment to end and neither had she. It was all he could do not to turn around and give her a reassuring glance, but now was not the time. He had Jared—by God, his best friend!—to deal with first and his father’s lofty expectations.
Yet he knew he had made his choice for a bride, the rightness of his sudden decision as plain as day to him. He must take a wife…and it wasn’t the beautiful woman standing in front of him though Lady Belinda gazed at him as if she already imagined their wedding day.
“I would never have thought it possible,” she breathed, her voice as silky as cream. “You look so much like my beloved Andrew…”
Her softly uttered sentiment didn’t reach those cool blue eyes, and Walker found himself wondering if Lady Belinda had loved his twin brother at all, poor devil. No wonder his true mother, Anne, hadn’t cared for her.
Lady Belinda glided a step closer and he inclined his head gallantly, though he felt reluctant to kiss her proffered gloved hand as he had Marguerite’s. It seemed everyone around them had their ears pricked to their every word, and even Prince George watched with great interest from his gilded chair while he quaffed his wine.
“My lady,” Walker murmured, pressing his lips only briefly to the top of her hand before straightening again to face her. “I’m sorry for your loss—”
“Call me Belinda, please,” she broke in, and then gave a plaintive sigh. “A pity, truly, but what better end than to so gallantly give one’s life for one’s homeland.” She glanced pointedly at Prince George, who raised his goblet to her, and then back to Walker, placing her hand upon his forearm. “As soon as I heard you were alive, I hoped for your return, Alexander. And now you’re here! It’s a miracle, is it not?”
She hadn’t directed her query to Walker but to the surrounding crowd, who broke into enthusiastic applause and nods of approval. Clearly she was a woman used to swaying others with her charm, and she focused all of her feminine wiles now upon Walker by flashing him a brilliant smile.
“I’m so happy that we’ve finally met! Dance with me, Alexander. We’ve so much to talk about…so much to share with each other.”
Now Walker did hear an audible gasp from somewhere behind him, and he didn’t have to guess that it had been Marguerite. His first thought was to politely decline. Yet Belinda was already moving toward the center of the room in a swaying rustle of silk as if she had no doubt at all he would follow, while Prince George roared for his courtiers to join them as well.
Walker sighed to himself and strode after her, a night that hadn’t seemed so dismal once he’d seen Marguerite now looming ahead of him again.
He didn’t glance in her direction, he couldn’t at that moment. Strangely he felt so bound to her already that the last thing he wanted to see was hurt in her eyes.
Beautiful brown eyes tinged with iridescent green that had mesmerized him and made him feel wholly unlike he had ever felt before.
He had never allowed himself to care for any woman before, only availing himself of carnal pleasures…which he imagined was why Jared had appeared so irritated with him tonight. Of course Jared would be protective of his wife’s best friend’s sister—but dammit, did he think that Walker had no heart? That he couldn’t change once he had met—formally, this time—the angel of his dreams?
Soft sultry laughter tore him from his thoughts as Belinda turned around and fairly sank into his arms, the music swelling around them.
Only then did Walker glance past the other dancers to the throng still gathered around Prince George to discover that Marguerite, Donovan, Lindsay, the Arundales…all of them were gone.
***
“I’m sorry we had to leave so abruptly,” Donovan said more to Marguerite than anyone else in the dimly lit carriage, the mood not at all lighthearted as it had been on their way to Almack’s.
How could it be? A messenger had delivered a note to Donovan right there in the assembly room that there had been an accident at Arundale’s Kitchen in Cornwall, a dozen tinners trapped deep in the mine. They had left the ball at once to return to the town house…although for Corie and Donovan, not for very long.
They would leave London that very night to return to Porthleven, taking the twins, Estelle, and Linette with them while Corie had insisted once again that Marguerite remain behind with Lindsay. Just as Corie had insisted that she would accompany Donovan tonight rather than wait to follow him in the morning, although he had tried to convince her otherwise and that he would ride out ahead.
There was no arguing with Corie once her mind was made up. She cared for the tinners and their families as much as her own, and would share their suffering at Donovan’s side. The carriage had then settled into a deep somber silence but for the clattering of the wheels upon the cobbled street, broken only by Donovan’s grim voice.
“There will be other balls, Marguerite.”
“We’ll not think of that now, brother, of course we couldn’t stay,” Marguerite said as she glanced at Corie, who sat beside her. Her sister’s face was so pale, Marguerite knew Corie’s thoughts were only upon the tinners, their wives, and their children.
“If there is anything we can do, Donovan, you must let us know,” Jared said as grimly, his hand tightly gripping Lindsay’s.
If there had been any disharmony between them, Marguerite saw none now in the flickering light of the oil lamp hanging in the opposite corner. Lindsay’s other hand rested protectively upon her rounded belly as the driver urged the horses onward at what felt like a breakneck pace through the darkened streets.
Marguerite knew they would arrive soon at the Dovercourt town house, and all she wanted to do was flee to her room, undress, and jump into bed.
It had been kind of Donovan to say there would be other balls, but Marguerite had already vowed to herself that she would not attend another one.
She would suffer no further humiliation from Sir Russell or anyone else’s insults for that matter…and she never wanted to see Walker Burke again.
She’d had no idea why Jared might have said so heatedly to Lindsay that Walker wasn’t the man for her…until his attention had turned so abruptly from her to Lady Belinda as if he hadn’t just held Marguerite in his arms.
As if he hadn’t looked at her when they were dancing as though she were the only woman in the room.
The man was clearly a rogue! Perfidious and inconstant as the day was long!
She wasn’t one to swear, but Walker could have his damned ducal title and ladies swooning at his feet.
From this wretched night onward, he was no more the man of her dreams than the…the bloody man in the moon!
***
“You’d never know there’s been so much commotion in the house from how sweetly he’s sleeping,” Lindsay murmured to Jared, who hugged her close as he gazed at their eighteen-month-old son.
Such a welling of emotion struck him that Jared didn’t speak, but so he always felt at these quiet moments with his beloved wife in his arms and Justin fast asleep in his crib.
After they had donned their nightclothes, it was their evening ritual to visit the nursery for a last glance at their little son before retiring to their bedchamber. The nanny had stepped outside the room to give them some privacy, the only sounds the gentle rhythm of Justin’s breathing and the soft chiming of the clock upon the mantel.
Half past eleven. Donovan and Corie and their family had already packed up and left for Cornwall, their visit cut short by the tragedy still unfolding in Porthleven. Lindsay and Corie had clung tearfully to each other at their goodbyes, which had made Jared all the more certain that he’d made the right decision in returning to England.
Lindsay needed her friends, her family. She had not uttered a word of complaint during their three years in Boston, but Jared would never forget the joy in her beautiful blue eyes at the news from Donovan of a royal pardon.
They could go home again…even though for the longest time, England had represented nothing to Jared but pain, treachery, and a burning quest for revenge.
Yet that tortured past lay behind him now. Thanks to Donovan’s help—spurred on, Jared knew, by Corie’s impassioned urging—he had regained his title, Dovercourt Manor, and Lindsay once more being closer to her best friend. Her happiness meant everything to him. He drew her closer to press his cheek against her silky blond hair.
“We’ll have them back soon, I promise,” he whispered against her ear, not surprised when she gave a small sigh. He sensed from how quiet she’d grown that she missed Corie terribly, but at least Marguerite had remained to keep her company.
That thought made him sigh, too, but from aggravation. The image of Walker holding Marguerite so close against him at Almack’s earlier that evening still fresh in his mind, Jared wasn’t surprised, either, to find Lindsay studying him in the flickering candlelight.
He could read the way her eyes searched his face as clearly as if she’d spoken to him, and he knew that she, too, thought of Walker. The peace of the moment fled, Jared took her hand and together they walked quietly from the room so as not to wake Justin. At once the nanny went back inside to take their place, while Jared led Lindsay past the room where Marguerite slept to their master suite at the end of the hall.
Lindsay clutched his hand so tightly now, he knew she was holding her tongue only until they’d entered their room and closed the door behind them. The click of the latch had barely sounded when she heaved a sigh of pure exasperation and spun to face him.
“Oh, Jared, Walker is your best friend! You’ve saved his life and he’s saved your life time and again—and yet you would deny him—and Marguerite!—a chance for happiness?”
Jared didn’t answer, his jaw grown tight. Instead, he moved past Lindsay and shrugged off his robe. He’d known this discussion would come, he’d told Lindsay as much at Almack’s, but the matter was disagreeable to him all the same.
Walker Burke was his closest friend—but blast it all, the man was incorrigible when it came to women. Not callous or cruel, mind you, tavern wenches to bored merchants’ wives all adored him, and therein lay the problem!
“Come to bed, wife.” Jared heard Lindsay’s indignant intake of breath as he stripped off his breeches and moved to the huge four-poster that seemed to dwarf the room. “Perhaps stoke the fire on your way—”
“Come to bed? Stoke the fire? Is that all you have to say to me, Jared Giles?”
Naked now, he turned around to face her, his intent to distract her from the unpleasant topic blessedly working. Her widened eyes dropped from his face to his erection, her cheeks flaring pink.
“Y-you’re trying to change the subject.”
“I am indeed. How about I stoke the fire while you undress and climb under the covers.” His voice grown husky at the thought of the lushness of his wife’s body beneath her silk dressing gown, Jared took a few steps toward her. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to assist you…”
She squealed when he suddenly lunged for her and caught her in his arms, her laughter joining with his as he carried her to the bed. An instant later and he had divested her of her clothing. His breath caught at the sight of her, all curves and creamy white skin and the rounded belly where her fingers were splayed. He bent his head and kissed her there, gently, reverently, for truly he worshiped this woman whom he loved more than life.
Just as Lindsay tunneled her fingers in the burnished gold of his hair, this man she loved more than life. Without a word he lay down beside her and drew her into his arms, the hard length of his muscled body pressing against her womanly softness.
A moment ago she had been so vexed with him—well, not really that vexed—and now she wanted nothing more than to feel his kisses raining down upon her face, her neck—ah, God, her hardened nipples.
Lindsay moaned as he captured a rosy nub in his mouth and suckled, her breasts tender and swollen from the new life growing inside her. She buried her fingers deeper in his hair and arched her back. The world seemed to spin around her at the heat of his mouth upon her…and then he was gently rolling her onto her side with her bottom flush against his hips.
Gently, oh so gently he entered her from behind and she was wet for him, his enlarged flesh slowly easing into her as his fingers massaged the sensitive bud at the very heart of her.
It didn’t take long; it never did these days as if every nerve, every fiber in her body had grown even more responsive to his caresses and his slow rhythmic thrusts.
“Jared, my love…” Her climax came so swiftly upon her that Lindsay could only groan her release, while she felt Jared shudder deep inside her, his body grown rigid. Then he sighed deeply, heavily, and pulled her closer against him, a powerful thigh draping over her legs as they lay as one together, their breathing gradually returning to normal.
She even felt herself drifting off to sleep until his fervent kiss at her nape roused her, the weight of his hand caressing her upper arm. She could tell that his mind was already elsewhere, perhaps once again upon Walker. She knew he wouldn’t sleep until they’d made some peace about the subject, though she didn’t really know where to start.
“Jared…”
His heavy exhalation told her that she had guessed correctly the direction of his thoughts. She tried to sit up so she might look at him, but he held her fast, his voice grown almost gruff.
“I love Walker like a brother, but he is not the one for Marguerite no matter your romantic notions, Lindsay. You must trust me in this. I’ve known him for years, and he’s never settled upon one woman—”
“Nor had you, husband…until I stowed away aboard your ship. You believed you could never love…but you do love—oh!”
Jared had rolled her over onto her back so suddenly that Lindsay could but gaze up at him in surprise, though his expression was somber.
“I won’t say that Walker will never love, but would you have Marguerite suffer a lifetime of his mistresses if he cannot be true to her? Leave him to the course he knows, Lindsay. I’d wager that Lady Belinda will be more than happy to give him an heir in exchange for wealth and position…and then be willing to turn a blind eye to any indiscretion. She’s been groomed for such a life…but not Marguerite. Corie would agree with me, I know it…and so do you.”
Lindsay gave a small nod, but she didn’t believe it—no, she wouldn’t!
She had seen how Walker had looked at Marguerite when he first saw her at Almack’s—and Marguerite at him!—and how he had held her when they danced. If love had eased the terrible pain that had once gripped Jared’s heart, then surely her instincts must be right about Walker and Marguerite…
“Sleep now, wife. I’ll be leaving early in the morning after all. A few more weeks and the renovations to our home will be done, and then I will no longer have to leave you.”
He bent his head to press a kiss to her lips, but already Jared’s hold upon her had loosened as he then settled himself snugly against her.
She knew how tired he must be. He had only arrived in London two days ago so he might greet their guests and attend Marguerite’s special night at Almack’s, but she’d known his visit would be short. He was determined to complete the renovations to Dovercourt Manor as soon as possible so they might all be together again.
He’d had the house fairly gutted, not only to mend the disrepair from lying vacant for three years but to erase any trace of the treachery that had gone before. His much-loved sister, Elise, had died there after suffering so tragically—
“No, that’s in the past,” Lindsay said under her breath, gently caressing Jared’s forearm as he slept soundly beside her. Love had mercifully conquered his heartache and misery so there must be hope for Walker Burke, too.