Baron of Clubs: Lords of Scandal Page 4

  He shook his head. “That’s up to you, I think.”

  Those words surprised her. No one ever asked her what she thought should be done about anything. “Up to me?”

  “That’s right,” he answered.

  She nibbled at her lips. “Let’s see. What are my options?”

  Colton grimaced. “Hmmm. Plead your case.”

  “That’s a good one.” But then her brow crinkled. “Though I have to confess, I’m not certain I know exactly how.” Did she tell her brother she’d fallen in love when she hadn’t, or did she go for a more honest approach and confess she’d done all this for his benefit rather than hers? Somehow, she didn’t think he’d appreciate the sentiment nearly as much as she might hope.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…if I tell him that I eloped with you for him, he’ll only say that it wasn’t necessary and that I should come home. But I don’t want to be the girl that just follows her brother around anymore. I’m capable too and—"

  He gave her a knowing smile. “So, it isn’t just for him then. It’s for you too.”

  “Oh.” She partially sat up, careful not to hit his chin. “I suppose you’re right.” As their gazes met, she had another thought. “And why do you wish to marry me?”

  His eyes widened the smallest bit as he pulled his face back a bit, creating more space between them.

  Was he frightened of her now? Or at least of her question? “You’re titled,” she said. “Handsome. Wealthy. At least I think you are.”

  He quirked a brow then. “I do very well, and you won’t want for anything during our marriage.”

  Lizzie inwardly winced realizing if she’d gone through proper channels, her brother would have asked all these questions and negotiated her own holdings to provide for her in all circumstances.

  He seemed to sense her hesitation. “When we return to London, I’ll see that money is set aside for you as you have no dowry; I will provide your income in case you are widowed.”

  She stared at him, her lips parting. His offer was very generous, but it brought her thoughts back to her original question. “Why would you do all that?”

  He grimaced.

  The gesture was slight, a small tightening before the look disappeared, replaced with his usual implacable expression. “Any man worth his salt would do the same.”

  “I would argue that’s not true, but regardless, why would you? Why marry me at all?”

  Silence filled the space as she waited for his answer.

  Lizzie might consider herself immature, but no one would mistake her for simple-minded. The question was shrewd, it struck right at the heart of him and his past.

  Why did a baron run off with a girl he’d just met who had no dowry? “I had no appetite for courting.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Eloping seems far more difficult than courting.”

  “True.” He chuckled. “Though far more fun.”

  She gave a pointed look around. “We’re stuck in the mud in the pouring rain. This is fun?”

  “Better than dancing,” he said, meaning every word. “I’d much rather chase thieves and gallivant across the country, pushing out stuck wagons than attend a ball.”

  “Still. I’m sure scores of ladies would agree to a quick wedding with you, sparing you from courting.”

  He watched her as he answered, “None of them as pretty as you.”

  He loved her blush more and more and his words were rewarded as that perfect pink flooded her cheeks once again.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So you wish to wed me because you hate courting, and you think I’m attractive.”

  “And sweet,” he answered honestly.

  More color flooded her skin, spreading down her neck. “And that was enough to run away with me?”

  Damn. She’d come back to the heart of it again. He drew in a breath. “I spent most of my late teens and twenties working first as a horse trainer, then breeder, and finally purveyor of horse flesh. I still sell a quality line, which adds a fair bit to my earnings.”

  “But how did you manage that and the barony?”

  “My father handled the barony until two years ago.”

  “But you’re training,” she continued. “Didn’t your father wish to prepare you for the title?”

  He looked out the window where the rain had stopped. “Likely yes. I wouldn’t know. We didn’t speak for the decade prior his death.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, her hand tightening on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He was a cruel man and treated everyone, myself included, with the hard edge of his temper. My life is infinitely better for his absence. And while I plan to nourish my lands and the people who depend on the title, Lizzie, I have little appetite to rub elbows with the ton. They’re all too much like him for my liking. I hope you’re all right with that.”

  She sucked in a little breath. “Oh. I see. And I begin to understand. I’m not from the elite. Not really. My brother stumbled into the title and…”

  He nodded. “That’s it precisely. I don’t want a wife from that world. Not entirely.”

  She nipped at her bottom lip. “So we’re a perfectly odd couple.”

  “That’s an excellent way to put it.”

  She wiggled in his lap, sitting up straighter and he nearly groaned. Her lush curves had been pressed up against him, but now they rubbed, making everything muscle hard as granite. “Will we still go to London? My brother is there and…”

  He squeezed her a bit tighter. Both because she felt to damned good and because he wished to provide some reassurance. “Of course. I still have the club. I still conduct the bulk of my personal business from the city.”

  Relief made her press closer once again. “Oh good.”

  She was so close, her scent soft and sweet with a touch of citrus filling his nostrils.

  “I hope my brother forgives me. I would miss him terribly if I didn’t get to see him.”

  He tried but couldn’t quite find the words to say that he hoped that too. When he’d told her he thought her sweet, he’d realized it was deeper than that. He found the bond between the siblings commendable and inspiring.

  She gave so much to Edgemere and him to her.

  They loved each other.

  He’d tried his whole life to connect with someone like that and somehow, with Lizzie, knowing that she knew how to care like that, perhaps she could teach him.

  Then again, he might just not be capable.

  A dull ache throbbed in his chest. He’d been honest about his father. The man had never given Colton a kind word.

  Sent off to school at a tender age, he’d been better off away and yet, he’d ached as a child for a real connection to someone. Anyone. He’d tried once. Back from holiday, he’d met Mary in the village who’d been two years younger than him and they’d made fast friends. Even faster when he’d learned about her family. Where she came from…

  “Tell me more about your father,” she said, resting her cheek on his chest. “You said he was cruel.”

  He shook his head. He’d said more than enough. More than he usually shared with anyone. “There isn’t much more to tell.”

  That was a lie, but the goal here was to share enough to gain her trust without really putting himself in danger.

  “Really?” she lifted her head again.

  He sighed. Clearly, she needed a bit more. “My mother died giving birth to me. A nanny once told me that he loved my mother and looking at me made him sad. I couldn’t say. All I know is that he never had a kind word for me. The little I was home was punctuated with a barrage of criticism and peppered with beatings. I can’t remember a single kind thing he said to me my entire life.”

  She pressed her palm to his cheek, looking up into his eyes. “That is awful. Every child deserves love.”

  He’d not realized that he’d been waiting his entire life to hear those words until she said them, but once they were out, his heart pounded to hear them in her soft voice.

  And when her arms wrapped about his neck, holding him close, he sank into her softness.

  It was only as she pulled away again, her eyes meeting his, their bodies still so close, that the intimacy of the embrace jolted through him. “Thank you for that.”

  “For what?”

  “For understanding.” He could not look away and he found himself leaning closer until their foreheads came together, their eyes still locked. He had no idea how long they stayed like that. He lost all sense of time. But as their breath mingled, he gained something else. The walls about his heart didn’t fall, but they…softened. Eased.

  And then, tilting his chin the slightest bit, he captured her mouth with his own.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lizzie’s hand shook as she pressed it to her lips.

  She stood under a nearby tree as five men attempted to heave the carriage out from the mud.

  Not that she even noticed the other men. Her gaze remained fixed on Colton. His jacket and cravat were off, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, his forearms straining as he heaved to push the heavy vehicle.

  Like this, he appeared so natural. And handsome. Even more so than when in his jacket and cravat. He was a man meant to be physical. Her heart stuttered as she watched him. Why was his sheer male strength so interesting?

  Her breath caught as she continued to stare. A man was a protector, after all. Shouldn’t he be strong?

  But she couldn’t articulate her feelings any more clearly than those vague ideas about masculinity. Her feelings, however, were crystal clear. This man had captured her attention like no other and…he belonged to her.

  Well, nearly.

  She pressed her fingers closer to her lips
as, with a great heave, the carriage lurched forward out of the mud.

  The men gave a cheer, and Colton walked around the carriage, reaching in to withdraw a satchel of coins.

  He paid the men, then they left, and Colton walked toward her, splashing through the puddles as though he didn’t care a lick if he was wet.

  Without a word, he swung her into his arms and began carrying her back toward the carriage, then carefully placed her inside so that she was still dry.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as he climbed in behind her.

  He sat next to her and opened his arms. “You might as well rest. We’re not likely to sleep much tonight.”

  With a nod, she settled against his chest, thinking that her wild heartbeat would never allow her to rest. But then again, she’d not miss the opportunity to snuggle against him.

  He closed his arms about her, and they started again.

  They stopped for dinner and then rode on through the night, a dizzying drive of attempting to sleep while stopping every few hours to change horses.

  By the next afternoon, Lizzie was so tired, not even Colton’s embrace could excite her or provide comfort.

  She wished for a bed and uninterrupted sleep with her legs stretched out and not crooked by the narrow confines of the carriage. She groaned as they hit another pothole, her teeth jarring together.

  “We’ll rest at the inn tonight,” Colton murmured, his fingers dancing down her spine as she lay against his chest.

  “All right,” she said, her voice unable to muster any enthusiasm.

  He grazed her forehead with his lips. “We’re halfway there. A few more days and we’ll reach Gretna Green.”

  She nodded, attempting a smile for his benefit. “Good.”

  He looked down at her. “You can be irritable if you’d like. I won’t mind.”

  That did make her smile, a bit of energy returning. Two days of using him as her personal pillow and she’d grown quite comfortable touching him. Reaching up, she brushed his hair from his forehead, loving the feel of the strands as they slipped through her fingers. “Why would I want to be irritable with you? You’re attempting to give me what I asked for.”

  His brows lifted. “A silent slog north?”

  She sat up then. “It has been quiet but also comfortable. You make an excellent rest for my head and torso.”

  He gave a small laugh. “I see.”

  “When I was little, my family and I travelled from Liverpool to Dover to visit my grandmother. We didn’t make the trip often, and I was so excited. As you know, my family wasn’t wealthy or aristocratic, so we didn’t have a carriage of our own. We had to take the mail coach, which was very crowded and while I did get a seat inside, I could hardly move at all.”

  “Sounds dreadful.”

  She grinned wider. “It wasn’t so bad. In fact, the journey was quite wonderful. My mother sang to me during most of the trip and my father told me stories. Reginald was allowed to travel outside atop the coach, so I got the undivided attention of both my parents.”

  He stared at her, his features setting in that look that she found arresting but confusing. She had no idea what he thought when he looked like that. “Tell me more about your family.”

  And so she did.

  She shared stories of their summers. Their winters. Christmases and holidays. In them, she infused some of her own hopes for what it would mean when she had children of her own. “You know, I’ve never asked. I know you wish for an heir, but do you want more than one child?” she asked.

  He sat up too, leaning forward, tension lining his features. “More than one?”

  She nodded. “My brother is the person I love most in this world. I don’t know how I would have survived the loss of my parents without him.”

  “I would imagine that a sibling is a great blessing to one’s life.” For a moment, however, rather than look thoughtful or even interested, he just appeared sad. But then the moment passed, his face returning to its normal unreadable expression. “It’s something to consider.”

  She nodded. “I suppose that’s why I’d like at least two children. Would you mind terribly?”

  “No,” he said, leaning back again, his gaze fixing out the window. He appeared casual enough, but tension still seemed to radiate off him. “I would not mind two children.”

  She nodded, nibbling at her lip. “Did I talk too much?”

  He looked back at her then, that distance expression gone. In its place was the gentle look she recognized from the past few days. “Not at all. I loved your stories. All of them.”

  Her shoulders slumped in relief, but she couldn’t quite shake feeling that she’d missed some critical cue in their last conversation.

  The sun was setting, the carriage dim, and so she could no longer read his expression. She studied his profile, wondering how to ask when the driver called, “I see the next village, my lord.”

  “Good,” Colton replied. “We’ll stop for the night.”

  Lizzie appeared dead on her feet.

  And while Colton hated to see her looking so exhausted, he was thankful for one small favor. She was too tired to notice how pensive he’d grown.

  He’d been telling the truth. He loved her stories. Every one of them. And as he’d listened, he’d grown more and more certain he’d made the right choice in her. She’d create the loving family he’d never had.

  But the more she’d talked of her brother, the more he’d mourned his own past. What should have been.

  Mary.

  The name cut him like a knife to the chest.

  He ushered her up the stairs to her room, Lizzie’s body pressing into his side. Wrapping an arm about her waist, he brushed a quick kiss on the top of her head. He’d do better this time. He’d not fail Lizzie the way he had Mary.

  He’d rather die himself.

  He knew that he’d promised himself distance between him and Lizzie, but this was different. He’d failed Mary by not providing basic safety. He’d never make that mistake again. What was a sibling for if not to help keep a person safe?

  Opening her room, he ushered her inside and then quickly returned downstairs, getting two bowls of lamb stew and a few hunks of bread.

  But when he returned, he found her sound asleep in her bed, still fully dressed.

  Setting the tray of food on a table, he crossed to the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair back from her cheek. “Lizzie.”

  She didn’t respond. Didn’t even move.

  Much as he knew she needed sleep, she also needed food and she’d sleep better without the dress and corset. “Lizzie,” he said again, louder.

  She jerked awake, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. “Yeths?” The slur in the single word made him smile.

  “You need to eat, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes closed again. “I’m too tired.”

  “I’ll undress you at least,” he said as he pulled her up.

  “I’ll be fine.” A giant yawn made her jaw crack. But then she looked over at the tray. “Oh, it smells heavenly. Perhaps I’ll have a few bites, after all.”

  They ate in silence and the moment their plates were clean, Colton stood, helping Lizzie up as well. Undoing the buttons of her dress, he made quick work of her clothing until she wore nothing but her chemise and stockings.

  She sat on the bed, her eyes heavy and sleepy, as she pulled the hem of her chemise higher, untying the ribbons at the top of her stockings.

  Colton stopped. Undressing her had been torturous enough, but now, the entire length of her shapely leg was exposed for him to see.

  Her toes pointed as she rolled the fabric down over her foot and then she started on the other.

  He dropped to one knee. “Let me.”

  He knew he shouldn’t. Undoing her buttons had been torturous enough. But to skim his hands along her skin? He couldn’t resist the urge.

  He wanted to do this right. For her but for himself too. He hadn’t grown up with a family like hers. He didn’t know how to give love or how to receive it for that matter. And rather than court her, he’d stolen her like a thief himself. Not the best way to prove he was capable of being the husband that would live up to her family’s standards.

  But he could start by being a real gentleman on this journey.

  They’d not share her bed until they were properly wed.