Alex finished helping Samson pack up the remains of their picnic. The poor man was not a traveler and the last two days on the road had taken their toll on the aging butler. Instead of wasting time staying in inns along the way, Samson, Alex’s main driver and he had taken turns rushing through the night. They wanted to put as much distance between themselves and London as possible.
Greyland, on the other hand, handled the excursion like a seasoned professional. She never complained, not even once. Alex assumed years of travel with three men helped with this. Still, he was impressed. She did, however, grow easily bored. Just eight hours into the trip she insisted on driving the carriage to which he firmly said no.
No was either not a question his willful finance was used to hearing or it was one she was used to overcoming. She changed tactics like a crafty man-of-law and proceeded to bombard them with a relentless string of questions regarding the mechanics of the rig. After thirty minutes, every man in their traveling party was out of answers to inquiries that went beyond even the most skilled carriage makers understanding. Alex gave in and handed her the reins. The lesson went quickly, and so did Samson’s lunch.
Alex chuckled as his thoughts traveled back to the night of their engagement party. The evening had gone off with nary a hitch, no guest the wiser that Alexander was about to flee town with his young future-bride in hopes of avoiding a band of power-hungry Irishmen looking to overthrow the Crown.
They had stolen away in the middle of the night immediately following the ball with two carriages, three footmen, Malikite, Socrates, and the fine dark bay Arabian mare Alex had gifted Greyland for her engagement present. His beautiful bride-to-be had bestowed on him a gift of her own. A mahogany case that held a pair of rare silver-mounted ivory inlaid pistols, their barrels engraved with his family crest. Alex had wasted no time trying out the exquisite pair the following day when they made their first stop. Greyland, in turn, had wasted no time setting a new record for the fastest anyone had ever ridden over the English countryside.
Alex felt himself smile as he handed Samson the last of the breakfast china and began making his way back to the spot where they had broken their morning fast. Another thing he would have to grow accustomed to, Alex mused as he trudged up the small hill, was having a bride that literally threw caution to the wind on a daily basis.
He reached the top of the hill and froze. The picnic blanket was all that remained in the spot where he had left Greyland to rest. Alex turned in place, frantically looking around the sprawling countryside.
“Greyland!”
A singsong laugh drifted up from the other side of the hill. Alex moved quicker than he thought possible toward the sound. As he drew near the edge of the tree line, Malikite bounded out, seemingly pleased with himself.
Alex ducked under a low-hanging limb. The branch snagged his shirtsleeve. He cursed when it tore. His inappropriate words brought forth a chorus of laughter. Alex looked up to see three ruddy-faced children, two girls and a boy. All knelt beside Greyland on the forest floor.
“Language, Lord Hamilton!” Greyland chastised.
Alex arched a brow. It had little effect. She returned her attention to whatever she held in her hands.
Alex kept himself from shouting as he delivered the next words. “You should always let me know—”
“Can we keep it?”
She dodged the scolding, lifting her head and presenting what she held to her chest. A solid white puff of a kitten.
“No.”
Greyland looked genuinely taken aback at his prompt denial. Her smile wilted on her lips and she handed the cat back to one of the three sets of disappointed eyes. The looks on their faces made him feel as if he had just run the tiny animal through with his rapier blade. He faltered a little.
Was she giving up that easily?
“It is just that...” Greyland began. Of course not. “I was not able to take Churchill, since he is the family cat, Edward’s really, though he will not admit it, and,” she pouted. “I thought we could buy the kitten. The children could use the extra coinage since their mother is sick and unable to work.”
My word, she is good.
Alex ventured a glance at the children. They joined in Greyland’s act like a well-rehearsed traveling band of gypsies enacting a roadside play. Greyland stood and ruffled the hair of the child directly in front of her before she moved to step away. As if planned, the girl thrust the animal back towards Greyland. “You can keep him, me lady. We cannot afford to feed him no more. We do not want him to die.”
“Oh, for the love of God!” Alex was man enough to know when he had been outmaneuvered. “Fine. Keep the blasted cat. But do not let it mess in the carriage.” He lifted his hand to wag a finger, but quickly placed it back at his side when he realized how closely he must resemble his childhood mathematics tutor.
Greyland jumped with glee and hugged the kitten to her chest again. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Sir George thanks you.”
“Sir George?”
She turned. “Why, yes. Named after the fine young man over there who showed him to me.” She gifted the small boy of the trio with a lovely smile. The boy hooked his sights on his threadbare boots to avoid showing his bright-red blush.
Alex fished two shillings from his pocket and grinned as the children’s eyes grew wide. He placed the coins in the hand of the eldest. “Take this straight to your mother. Understand?” The three nodded and dashed off with their loot.
Alex took Greyland by the arm and led her back to the clearing. “Malikite will choke on all the fur, I am afraid. Maybe you should have named your cat Sir Wolf Snack.”
She whirled to face him, mouth agape. “I will have you know, Lord Doom, Malikite actually licked him when I introduced them.”
“Did he, now?” Turncoat dog. He paused as Greyland walked ahead, admiring the view. He said, “It is quite amazing how much you can accomplish in the span of a few minutes.”
She glanced back over her shoulder with a sly smile. “I will be happy to show you just what one might accomplish in a shorter amount of time if you like?”
Alex’s mouth went dry. She had mastered the art of flirting, almost too quickly. His mind played tug-o’-war with the possibilities.
They traveled on for another five hours. Alex ordered the carriages to stop on the opposite side of a small brook that parted the woods from a field. On the other side of the field, a dirt road would lead into a village. He took Arnold, the strongest of the three footmen, to procure much-needed supplies from the local villagers. Greyland, Samson, his two remaining footmen, and his driver remained at their small camp.
The trip into town went smoothly but took longer than expected. He and Arnold collected a wheel of cheese, four bottles of wine, cold chicken, smoked ham, an assortment of fruit, and two loaves of freshly baked bread. This would make for their dinner, and later tonight he would allow them all to get a good night’s sleep at an inn in the next village, about three more hours down the road.
They would not make it to Foxburg, where the vicar resided that would marry them, as Alex had originally hoped. Alex was not used to traveling with a party so large, its occupants so vast in experience and age. Despite the cushion-of-time he had factored into the hasty journey, they were still about half a day behind schedule.
But, he would not dwell on the uncontrollables. They were still making good time and after tonight, and the short journey on to the village of Foxburg in the morning, he and Greyland would officially be man and wife. Then he could relax a fraction of a degree.
Once they finally reached Greenshire Castle, Alex planned on keeping Greyland awake the whole night in celebration of their nuptials. The thought stirred a familiar ache in his nether regions. Yes, he mentally concurred. She definitely needed her rest tonight.
Everything in order, he and Arnold made their way back across the field to their traveling party by the brook. The sun was just retreating behind the horizon, so they had to tread with extra care through the tall grass. They waded across the ankle deep water of the creek and climbed up its small embankment on the other side.
And that was when they saw the oddest of sights.
There, between the two parked carriages, in the faint glow of a torch light, one of his footmen danced. Wearing what appeared to be a bonnet and an ill-fitting petticoat, the man, Michael, twirled before Alex’s unblinking eyes.
Both Alex and Arnold went quiet as death when Danny, another footman, jumped down from a box and knelt at Michael’s feet. Alex heard a burst of laughter from two very familiar voices: His impish, soon-to-be Duchess, and Samson. At least he assumed it was his butler, though the man never laughed, and certainly not like this.
“What, art thou ashamed of me?” shouted Danny on bended knee, in what Alex guessed was supposed to be his best Shakespearian voice. The young man was not half-bad. Alex shook his head.
The motion caught Danny’s eye and he went rigid.
Michael, unaware of the duke’s presence, delivered his next line in a high-pitched voice. “No, sir. God forbid but ashamed to kiss.”
Danny cleared his throat in warning.
Alexander rounded the carriage and beheld the guilty party. Even Malikite looked embarrassed. Greyland, Samson, and his driver sat on a blanket.
Alexander's eyes traveled straight to the mastermind behind the escapade. “My dear, what on earth is this all about?”
Greyland had the courtesy to look worried, but before she could say a word both footmen interceded for her.
“It was my idea, my lord,” said Danny.
“Your Grace, it was my fault,” added Michael. “The lady had naught to do with it.”
They had known her for all of two days and she had won their loyalty as if she were their blasted Queen. Alex looked from one brave face to the next and realized that, indeed, she did inspire them as if she were their sovereign. His raven-haired, green-eyed beauty conducted herself with the enthusiasm and authority of someone of royal birth. He was once again brought face-to-face with the fact that she was a direct descendant of one of the most influential bloodlines to ever rule.
But…she was also his, and they were his servants. He paid their wages, he kept them fed; he was their benefactor.
He was jealous.
The thought brought him up short. Alex had never been jealous of anything in his whole life. He had also never won over complete strangers with just his sparkling personality. He had to give her credit where credit was due. Greyland was a beacon of light in the darkest of tunnels. Who else could get grown men to dress up as star-crossed lovers and reenact Shakespeare?
Greyland arose and confidently strode toward him. “I know this must appear unsatisfactory, but we had a bet you see...”
“Gambling?”
“We were playing a card game and a friendly wager was made,” Samson spoke up. “The lady did nothing more than take a small amount of pleasure in an otherwise tiresome day, your Grace.”
“And, this was your wager?” Alex spread his hand in an arching fan that swept over the motley crew. “I am guessing you two lost?” He looked pointedly at the now bashful footmen, who nodded their heads in agreement.
“Taming of the Shrew,” admitted the quiet little soprano in front of him.
Alex covered his mouth with his fist to keep from laughing out loud. How fitting a choice for his willful little fiancée.
Alex attempted to straighten his face. He turned to address the group as a whole and mustered the stern demeanor befitting a man that could control his own household.
They all remained as silent as a tomb.
“Greyland,” Alex said. “Come here.”
Greyland, looking a tad bit uneasy, stepped forward.
Alex reached out for her, hooked an arm around her waist, and yanked her close.
“Well then,” he said, projecting his best Shakespearian voice. “Kiss me, Kate!”
Greyland awoke sometime later in the carriage to Alexander’s gentle touch. She lay in his lap, looking up into his blue eyes. He moved the curtain back to look out the window. Greyland admired his beautifully sculpted jawline as she reminisced on their journey thus far. She had learned so much about him. For one, he was the most competitive man she had ever met. That was saying a lot, considering her two brothers were in constant competition. He was patient with her, too.
Thus far he indulged her more than she had expected—only really putting his foot down when she asked to ride Socrates. Not willing to give up so easily, she had put fought a theory that it was not the mount, but the rider that determined the victor of a race. She knew full well it was both rider and horse that made the winning team, but she desperately wanted to ride the spirited stallion. Unfortunately, her fiancé was not incentivized to test the ‘said’ theory. He said Socrates was a one-man horse and that it would be too dangerous. Of course, this had made her want to ride him even more. He had a lot to learn about telling her no.
Realizing she was awake, Alex smiled down at her. “Your cat is vicious.” He held out his hands, palms turned down, to reveal tiny scratches.
Greyland grinned. “I can see. Where is our ravenous mountain lion?” She looked to the seat opposite them. He was not there.
Alex glanced down to the floor of the carriage and her eyes followed his trajectory. There, at his feet, was an overcrowded Malikite asleep with a fluffy snow-white ball curled neatly on his back.
“Like I said. Savage beast.”
“I take it you played with him?” she asked through her giggles.
“I do not know if I would call falling under attack play.”
Greyland playfully pushed his arm as she sat up. “What, have you never had a cat before? It is how they show they like you; rather an honor for a feline to pay you any attention.”
“Ah, so a feral cat has deemed me, the Duke of Ravenswood, worthy?”
“He is not feral. And it appears he has. However, I would not go shouting it from the rafters. He probably only chose you due to your close proximity to me.”
Greyland adjusted herself to see out the window. “Will we be passing over a river, or by a lake anytime soon?”
Alex cocked his head in an amused fashion. “We will be crossing by a river. Dare I ask why?”
“Well, I know we are in a hurry, but I would very much like to go for a swim before our wedding. Rinse off the dust from the past three days.”
“You wish to bathe in a river, my lady?”
“I used to swim daily on our estate in New Orleans. I have missed the water immensely since our trip to London.”
When he gently shook his head, she inquired, “Do not tell me the women in England refrain from swimming?”
He looked back out his widow, but the movement had too much jerk to it. She immediately felt foolish.
Christ almighty! The man’s mother drowned!
“Oh Alex, I am sorry. I never meant to bring up painful memories.”
“It is fine.” He gave a reassuring half-smile but kept his gaze set off into the distance of the advancing night.
The carriage wheels continued to roll as if counting the passing of time. Greyland let him have his silence.
“I have tried very hard to put that dreadful day behind me, but it still gets the better of me from time to time,” he confessed.
She felt the tendons in his forearm tighten where her hand rested. “I learned how to swim the week after she passed. I thought I could rewind history somehow, and the next time, save her. I practiced swimming that river every day.” Alex turned back to face her.
Greyland said softly, “I am sorry for reminding you. I cannot imagine how a child could go through something so dreadful. I never meant to…” She choked on the last words, her emotions getting the better of her.
Alex cupped her face in his hands and pulled her to him. “Never be sorry for me. I have had enough pity. And never fear to be yourself around me, either. I fell in love with you for your uniqueness. You are much like her in many ways. And while I wish you to guard your hasty actions, I will never get tired of your wonderful mouth that always speaks its mind.”
He drew her in for a quick kiss and then pulled back again. “Women and men do not swim together as a rule, but I plan on breaking that one as soon as we get you home. Then you can have the ocean as your bath.” His smile narrowed into a sensual smirk.
“I would not want it any other way.”
“Tonight, we will sleep in a real bed. I know this quaint little tavern that has the best meat pie. We will all benefit from a good rest. And a bath.”
She looked about them, suddenly alert. “Do you think it is safe to slow down for the night?”
“Yes. Anyone who wished to engage with us would have already been reported. I hired two outriders before we left. One set out ahead of us, and one rides behind. If either of them returns with information, we will have time to act.”
Greyland snuggled up close to Alexander again, loving how the warmth of his body, combined with his distinctive masculine aroma, sent tiny spirals of energy bursting through her every nerve ending. He pulled her to him. One more night and she would understand just what that tantalizing sensation evolved into.
She heard herself sigh, a mixture of eagerness and fear; she really hoped she would be decent at the act of lovemaking.
Once inside the small bedchamber at the Fox and Hound Tavern Greyland shrugged out of her long coat and laid it across the footboard of the bed. Alex sank down on the chair beside the fire, that had so thoughtfully been lit. He poured them both a glass of wine from the side table, then removed his jacket.
“Take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable,” he said. “They will be bringing a bath up shortly.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Thank you.” She paused for a minute, suddenly confused. “Will we be sharing the bed?”
“I have a room right next door,” he said, grinning. “Though it pains me to say it, I cannot share a bed with you until tomorrow.”
“Alex, we will be wed tomorrow. Surely you can sleep beside me tonight. Why, we have slept together in the carriage.”
A knock came before Alex could respond.
“That was quick.” He opened the door and beckoned the two men carrying the tub to enter. Four women followed next with buckets of water in each of their hands. Greyland’s muscles began to relax just watching the steam rise from the bath as they poured the pails in.
Alex handed one of the men some coinage and then pursued them to the door.
“Are you leaving?” Greyland queried when it looked like he might follow them on out.
Alex appeared to regard the question with great consideration for a moment. “I thought you might like some privacy while you bathed.”
“Surely you could just face the other way.” She bent over and pulled off one of her tight slippers. The soft rug felt like a cloud beneath her foot. She quickly removed the other bothersome shoe. She had been too many days in corsets and restrictive cage shirts. Her toes suddenly begged to feel the soft carpet without the hindrance of her stockings.
With that singular goal in mind, Greyland hitched her dress up past her knees to the garters tied at her thighs and began working her silk hose loose. A moment passed before she realized the room had gone so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
She looked up. Alex stared as if he had been cast in stone where he stood.
“Alexander, are you hale?”
He crossed the room in three long strides, placing himself directly in front of her. “I believe you require assistance with your dress.”
Faster than any dressing maid Greyland had ever had, he pulled her silk blouse over her head, turned her around, and began working loose the laces of her corset.
“I have done this myself every day since we left London,” she said, feeling the need to point this fact out.
His reply came in the form of a soft kiss placed perfectly in between her shoulder blades. Oh! He continued to trace kisses up her spine, one vertebra at a time, pausing only to move her hair over one shoulder. Her knees went weak when his hot breath lingered on the nape of her neck.
This had nothing to do with helping her. A nervous shiver raced up her spine.
“Alex?”
“Can I help you out of this?” he purred.
Her equilibrium swayed dangerously. “Please.” She more begged than answered.
As if by magic the corset and over shirt came off and were tossed on the bed. His movements slowed when the only thing left to remove was her thin cotton shift. Greyland felt goosebumps raise to the surface of her skin, though she was certain it was not from a draft.
His fingers slowly skimmed the back of the scooped material. Suddenly, the most basic of Grayland’s many articles of clothing became the most coveted. She inhaled slowly as he carefully slipped the only remaining layer off her shoulders, exposing her bare back.
He let the gown hang at her waist for a long moment before gently encouraging the garment over the curve of her hips. It fell to the floor. The cool of the room prickled her bare skin, yet it did nothing to stop the slow smolder that spread throughout her insides.
She heard the floorboards squeak as he took a step back. Greyland closed her eyes and fought to avoid blushing from head to toe under his intense inspection.
“Turn around,” he commanded.
She turned slowly to face him, her hands raising bashfully to cover her breasts. Her eyes locked on his. What she saw burning in them was unquestionable admiration and something that closely resembled hunger.
“Please lower your arms.”
She swallowed hard and did as asked.
He stared, and finally managed, “My God. You are beautiful.”