Chapter Seventeen
Fortunately, they had the hotel dining room to themselves, for breakfast turned out to be a rather noisy and hilarious meal. Something of the fun spirit of Daxton’s and Tamar’s duel remained, together, perhaps, with relief that the Shelbys had been dealt with. Both Leigh and Dr. Lampton remained with them, and toward the end, the Grants appeared, since rumor had clearly been flying around the town.
“So, what did you do with Jem Brown?” Mr. Grant asked.
“Let him go, too,” Dax said with a shrug. “Couldn’t drag him before the law when I’d let his paymaster go.”
“He seems to have a fancy for adventure,” Tamar added. “So I sent him to see Alban.”
“Well that should keep in order,” Grant said, amused.
“Probably more constructive than breaking his legs,” Dax agreed, “which was Carson’s preferred alternative.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s all worked out,” Kate said with a quick smile at Willa as she rose to go. “Welcome to Blackhaven.”
“Is it always as hectic as this?” Willa asked, amused.
“Surprisingly so,” Kate replied. “I used to think small towns were dull, but somehow Blackhaven never is.”
Lampton left with the Grants, and Leigh and Tamar followed shortly afterward, just as Cousin Harriet arrived to collect Lady Romford.
With the dining room quiet at last, Willa glanced at her husband. “You wondered if it was Lord Tamar, didn’t you? That’s why you arranged the duel immediately after Sir Jeremy’s.”
Dax shifted uncomfortably. “It crossed my mind,” he confessed. “And I acted on impulse. As usual. I hadn’t seen him since we were fifteen years old. He could have changed, and I could see he liked you. Jealousy is a nasty trait. I never noticed it in myself before. Perhaps you’re bad for me, Willie Blake.”
“Willa,” she said dangerously. “Willa Dacre.”
He smiled, “Lady Dax,” he teased. “Shall we go up?”
He seemed unusually thoughtful as they climbed the stairs and entered their rooms—where yet another surprise awaited them.
In the middle of the sitting room, stood Clara, wrapped in Carson’s powerful embrace. They sprang apart immediately, both of them blushing a fiery red.
“Sorry, m’lady,” Carson muttered. “But it’s not what you think.”
Willa, peering at Clara in vain for any signs of distress, said, “I don’t know what I think.”
“I want to marry Clara,” Carson said firmly.
“Marry her?” Dax exclaimed. “Damn it, man, you’ve known her little more than a fortnight!”
Carson looked at him. “That right?” he said sardonically.
Willa couldn’t help laughing. “Perhaps two weeks is a long courtship by our standards, but Clara is only nineteen years old.” A mere year younger than herself.
“But it seems right, m’lady,” Clara said anxiously. “With Jem, and Dan, it was never right.”
“You’ll have to tell Dan,” Willa said firmly. “And your father, Clara.”
“I know. And we won’t rush it, honest. We won’t get married for a few months yet.”
“Go and see your parents, then, and take Carson with you,” Willa advised, going into her bedchamber to deposit her cloak and bonnet. “But speak to Dan first.”
“No elopement for them, then,” Dax said, wandering after Willa. Deliberately, he closed the door.
Excitement twisted through Willa. “Just as well,” she said lightly.
“Oh, I don’t know. I rather enjoyed ours.”
“You were drunk or asleep through ours,” she pointed out. “You barely remember it.”
“I remember everything,” he assured her, advancing. “Including a rather delightful and passionate interlude in the chaise. I kissed you here.” He caressed her lips with one finger and then slid it downward over her chin and neck to the pulse that beat at the base of her throat. “And here, and here.” Her breath caught. Teasingly, his hand slid lower to cup her breast. “And here. The only real mystery left to me is how I managed to fall asleep with you half naked and willing in my arms.”
“A three-day spree and no sleep for twenty-four hours,” she managed.
“What a waste of a life,” he observed. “And certainly of those few hours in the carriage with you.”
“Are you declaring your reformation?” she asked lightly.
“No, I wouldn’t keep such a promise,” he said frankly.
She reached up, slipping her arms around his neck to press her cheek to his. “I don’t want to change you, Dax. I never did.”
“It wasn’t fun anymore,” he said into her hair. “I woke up every morning knowing I would do the same thing. Drink and behave badly. Whenever I tried to do something different, something worthwhile, like at Daxton, I was thwarted, and instead of working at making it happen anyway, I just drank even more and behaved more badly yet. With you, I enjoy my fun again. There is more fun. I mean the convivial games and late-night sessions, all the old stuff, but also there is you. Every minute with you is fun.”
She closed her eyes, smiling against his skin. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“There’s more. You never have to fear the humiliation of Helena or any other woman. Now there is only you. I will keep to that promise.”
“Thank you,” she said again, with more difficulty. “I only ask for discretion—.”
“No, you misunderstand,” he interrupted. “Don’t thank me when it’s what I want—I’m not granting you a favor here. I don’t want anyone else.” His fingers curled in her hair, drawing her head back to look into her face, his own unexpectedly fierce. “Willa, you’re my rock, my life. I love you.”
Her mouth opened in soundless shock. Sudden tears sprang into her eyes, her throat.
He stroked her hair, smiling. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t cry. I ask nothing more of you than what we already have. We are friends and lovers, and that is more than enough. God knows it’s more than I ever deserved.”
She took his face between her hands to make him listen. “Stop, Dax. Do you really not know that I love you? That I always have?”
His breath came quick and uneven. He said, “I know there was some childish hero-worship—”
“It’s not childish now,” she interrupted.
He stared down into her face. “You really love me,” he whispered in wonder, touching the escaped tears trickling down her cheeks.
“You really love me,” she said on a sob, and then he fell on her mouth with such overwhelming passion that she stumbled backward. Fortunately, the bed was there to catch them.
After that, there was really only one possible ending to the discussion. It was long and sweet and unbearably tender, an open and very sensual giving and receiving of love.
When the storm calmed, they lay in each other’s arms. Willa had never believed such total happiness was possible.
Dax said, “Willa?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like to elope again?”
“We’re already married.”
“We can still run away together. Get up and just go.”
She smiled. “Go where?”
“Daxton?”
Her new home. Her new life. With Dax—fun, flaws, and all.
“Yes,” she replied, sitting up. “Let’s just go.”
And they did.