Читать книгу The Complete Regency Season Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 55

Chapter Fourteen

‘I trust you know that I am still very angry with you for behaving so recklessly, madam?’

Mariah was nestled comfortably against Darian’s shoulder, held securely in his arms as they travelled back to London in his ducal coach several hours later. Despite the lateness of the hour neither one of them had wished to remain at Eton Park a moment longer than they had to, once the worst of the furore had died down.

Clara Nichols had been hysterical, of course, as had many of her female guests, at learning that her friend and lover Wedgy now lay dead upon the terrace at Eton Park, a bullet through his heart.

The gentlemen present had been more prosaic regarding the situation, readily accepting Aubrey Maystone’s explanation of Lord Wedgewood having been caught in the act, by the Duke of Wolfingham, of forcing his attentions upon the Countess of Carlisle, before then being accidentally killed by his own pistol in the tussle that had followed. An act witnessed and confirmed by the Dukes of Sutherland and Rotherham.

It was far from an accurate account of the truth, of course, the fatal bullet having been fired by Aubrey Maystone himself. But none present had wished to challenge the word of men as powerful as Lord Maystone, and the Dukes of Wolfingham, Rotherham and Sutherland. And Clara Nichols had been too hysterical to question the fact that Lord Maystone, and the Dukes of Rotherham and Sutherland, had not even been invited to her masked ball.

No doubt the other woman would remember that fact once she had calmed down, but she had been far too busy enjoying being at the centre of the scandal, and the scandalous success of her masked ball, when Darian and Mariah had quietly taken their leave earlier.

The two of them had gone up the stairs to their rooms so that Mariah might change her bloodied clothes before departing, leaving Mariah’s maid and Darian’s valet to pack up their things before following tomorrow.

‘Mariah, you are not to fall asleep until you have listened to what I have to say!’ Darian gave her shoulders a shake to prevent that from happening. ‘Do you have any idea how I felt when I looked down and saw you unconscious upon the floor and covered in blood?’ he demanded harshly, his impatience barely contained. ‘Do you even realise that my own heart stopped beating, when I thought Maystone had missed Edgewood and had shot you instead?’

Mariah was too tired, felt too safe in Darian’s arms, to care about much of anything else at the moment. ‘As you see, by my presence here, he did not and I was not.’

‘Mariah!’

‘Darian.’ She moved slightly in his arms so that she might look up at him in the lamplight, noting the dark shadows in his magnificent green eyes, the grey tinge to his tightly etched face and clenched jaw. She reached up now to gently touch that clenched jaw. ‘I am safe. We are both safe.’ Darian was safe. Which, after all, had been Mariah’s only intent earlier, when she hurried across the ballroom in order to reach William Edgewood’s side ahead of Darian.

Her only interest had been to prevent Darian from challenging the other man and perhaps being hurt or killed in the process.

Because, she had realised, she was in love with him.

She loved, and was in love with, Darian Hunter, the Duke of Wolfingham.

And strangely that realisation no longer terrified her. The emotion was no longer something for her to fear. Nor did it make her less, as she had believed loving someone would, but somehow more.

Darian now repressed a shudder. ‘He might have killed you.’

She smiled. ‘But he did not.’

Darian looked down at Mariah searchingly, noting the calmness of her expression and the tranquillity in those beautiful turquoise-coloured eyes.

While he was still a churning mass of emotions. Fear, for Mariah’s life. Devastation, when he had believed her dead. Relief, when he had realised the blood on her gown was from Edgewood rather than her own. Elation, when she had opened her eyes minutes later and smiled at him.

Unfortunately, all those emotions had been followed by anger. That Mariah could have been so reckless as to have put herself in danger in the first place.

‘What possessed you?’ he demanded now. ‘What on earth went through your mind when you deliberately placed yourself in a position of vulnerability by going outside alone on to the terrace with Edgewood?’

Her smile became rueful. ‘I do not believe I was thinking much of anything at the time. It just seemed— It was the right thing for me to do, Darian.’

‘It was the worst thing you could have done!’ he contradicted explosively.

Her fingers rested lightly against the tautness of his cheek. ‘Let us not discuss this any further just now, Darian. It is over. The Prince Regent is safe. The would-be assassins are all dead or in custody. Napoleon himself has been thwarted in his plan to devastate the alliance. It is all finally over, Darian.’

He tensed beneath those caressing fingers. ‘We are not over, Mariah!’ His arms tightened about her. ‘We will never be over!’

She looked up at him quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Exactly as I say.’ A nerve pulsed strongly in his clenched jaw. ‘We have begun something this weekend, Mariah. Something good. Something wonderful. And I will not allow you to just calmly walk away from that. To walk away from me!’

Leaving Darian was the last thing that Mariah wanted to do. Indeed, she never wished to be apart from him ever again. Wished to spend her every waking moment with him, and her sleeping ones, too, for the rest of her life.

That was how much she had realised she loved Darian. More than life itself. More than any of the fears of love and intimacy that had plagued her for over half of her lifetime.

She looked up at him shyly beneath the sweep of her lashes. ‘Did I say that I wished to walk away from you?’

‘Well. No. But—’ He looked nonplussed. ‘It will not do, Mariah. I will not have you running all over London and putting yourself in danger as you have been doing these past few years. I will not countenance—’ He broke off as she began to chuckle softly at his bluster, a dark scowl on his brow. ‘I fail to see what is so funny, Mariah.’

‘We are. The two of us.’ She sobered as she saw that Darian was still bursting with anger. ‘We are both so afraid to admit that we might care for or need anyone. In any way. Darian, I will not walk away from you once we are returned to London,’ she assured him seriously. ‘I will be yours for as long as you wish me to be,’ she assured him huskily.

‘You will?’

‘I will,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘Of course there are still many things that need to be discussed between the two of us.’ Her supposed affairs with other men being one of them. Her lack of experience in physical matters being another. ‘But I am sure, once we have done so, that we will be able to come to some sort of arrangement, whereby the two of us—’

‘Arrangement?’ Darian repeated softly, dangerously. ‘I am talking of the two of us marrying, Mariah, not forming an arrangement!’

The shock on Mariah’s face at his pronouncement might have been amusing, if Darian were not so much in earnest. If he did not love this woman more than life itself. If he did not love, admire and respect Mariah more than he had realised it was possible to love, admire and respect any woman.

Except he did. Knew that he felt all of those things for Mariah. So much so that he really had thought his heart had stopped when he looked down at her earlier, covered in blood, and had thought her dead. His own life had ended, too, in those few brief moments. He had ceased to exist. Darian had ceased to live or breathe, in the belief that Mariah Beecham, Countess of Carlisle, and the woman he loved, no longer lived or breathed. All that had remained was a shell, a body, without emotions or feeling.

Until Mariah’s eyes had fluttered open and she had looked up at him and smiled.

It was at that moment that Darian had decided that he was never going to let Mariah out of his sight ever again. Whatever he had to do, however long it took, he intended that Mariah would be his wife, his duchess, and at his side for the rest of their lives.

‘I love you, Mariah,’ he told her now, fiercely, his arms tightening about her. ‘I love you and want to marry you. To spend the rest of my days and nights with you. I love you, Mariah,’ he repeated determinedly. ‘And however long it takes to convince you, I intend having you for my—’

‘Yes.’

‘—wife,’ he concluded purposefully before his gaze sharpened as he realised what Mariah had said, if not why. ‘Yes what?’ he questioned guardedly.

‘Yes, I will marry you, Darian!’ She smiled up at him glowingly, tears now glistening in her eyes. ‘I love you, too, my darling Darian. I love you!’

Darian continued to look down at her searchingly. Hardly daring to believe—to hope that—

‘You love me? How can you possibly love me?’ He frowned darkly. ‘When I have been nothing but judgemental of you from the first. So disapproving. Scornful. Critical—’

‘And kind, caring, protective and passionate,’ Mariah spoke huskily. ‘Would you prefer it if I did not love you, Darian?’ she added teasingly as he still looked down at her in disbelief. ‘I suppose I might try,’ she continued conversationally. ‘But it is so very difficult, when I believe you to be so much all of those things I mentioned in regard to how you are with me. I could try not to love you but— Darian!’ She gave a strangled cry as his mouth finally claimed hers, his arms gathering her in so close against him it felt as if he was trying to make her a part of himself.

And perhaps he was, because for the next several minutes there was nothing else between them but those passionate kisses interspersed with words of love and adoration.

‘I intend that we shall be married as soon as is possible,’ Darian finally warned as he continued to hold Mariah tightly in his arms, as if afraid, if he let her go, she might disappear in a puff of smoke. ‘I believe the least we are owed, for helping to foil this plot against the Prince Regent, is the granting of a Special Licence. Unless, of course, you would prefer to have a big grand wedding, with all of the ton in attendance?’ he added uncertainly as the idea occurred to him that Mariah had never really had a happy wedding day. ‘I suppose I might be persuaded into waiting for a few weeks longer, as long as you will allow me to spend all of my days and nights before the wedding by your side.’

‘A Special Licence sounds perfect,’ Mariah assured him happily. ‘I have already had the big white wedding attended by the ton,’ she dismissed huskily. ‘Neither it, nor that marriage, brought me any happiness.’

‘Apart from Christina.’

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I have always seen Christina as somehow being apart from that marriage. As if she were only ever mine, to love and to cherish. Does that sound ridiculous, in the circumstances?’

Darian’s arms tightened about her. ‘Nothing you say ever sounds ridiculous to me. But I hope— I sincerely hope, would deem it an honour, if you would allow me to become another father to Christina once the two of us are married?’

Mariah’s heart was already full to bursting with the love she felt for Darian, but in that moment she believed it truly overflowed with the emotion. ‘I should like that very much,’ she accepted emotionally. ‘As, I am sure, would Christina. Martin was never a proper father to her anyway.’ She frowned. ‘He took as little interest in her as he did in me.’

‘Carlisle was a fool.’ Darian scowled. ‘But his loss is my gain,’ he dismissed firmly. ‘I assure you that I intend telling and showing both of you, each and every day, how much you are both loved and cherished.’

‘I know you will.’ Mariah smiled up at him gratefully, before biting her bottom lip worriedly. ‘There are still some things we need to discuss, before we make any more of these wonderful plans. Things you need to know about me—’

‘No,’ Darian bit out harshly.

‘But—’

‘I do not need to know anything more about you, Mariah, than that I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters but that,’ he stated firmly.

‘You have no idea how happy that makes me, Darian.’ Mariah smiled tremulously. ‘But these are things you really do need to know, if you are to become my husband.’

‘I most assuredly am!’

‘Then you must listen to me, Darian,’ she insisted as he seemed about to deny her once again.

His jaw was tightly clenched. ‘Not if you are about to tell me about the other men who have been in your life. I do not want to know, Mariah. They are unimportant, irrelevant—’

‘Non-existent,’ Mariah put in softly, although it inwardly thrilled her to hear Darian dismiss the existence of those lovers as being irrelevant to the two of them.

Darian’s voice trailed off as he seemed to hear what she had just said, a frown between his eyes now as he looked down at her searchingly.

A searching look that Mariah returned with a steady gaze as she began to talk again. ‘Seven years ago I discovered, quite by chance, that my husband was a traitor to the Crown. Let me tell all, before I lose my nerve, and then you may speak, Darian,’ she pleaded as he would have interrupted once again.

‘Very well.’ Darian nodded slowly; in truth he was still completely stunned at Mariah’s claim that she had taken no other lovers.

And so he listened. As Mariah told him of her husband’s treachery to his country. Of how she had gone to London, and Aubrey Maystone, with the information. And how Aubrey Maystone had used that knowledge, and Mariah, to garner even more information from Carlisle during the last two years of that man’s life. Of how she had continued her own work for the Crown for these seven years, and the sense of self and self-worth it had given her. The first she had known in her life, apart from being mother to Christina.

Darian was finally left speechless when Mariah confided in him that there had been no lovers in her life. That she had flirted, cajoled, teased information from certain gentlemen, but that she had never bedded a single one of them. That the rumour and speculation of scandal about her had grown over the years, because pride had dictated that none of those gentleman had ever wished to own to the fact that they had not been, nor ever would be, a lover to the Countess of Carlisle.

The conclusion this final revelation gave Darian was simply mind-numbing. ‘Then that single, awful occasion with Carlisle, the evening Christina was conceived, was the only occasion—’

‘Yes,’ Mariah confirmed flatly.

‘My darling!’ Darian gave a pained groan. ‘Then our own lovemaking—the things we did together—’

‘Were utterly beautiful,’ Mariah assured him firmly. ‘You could not have been a more gentle, more caring, a more passionate lover, even if you had known the truth, Darian.’

Darian begged to differ. If he had known, if he had once guessed at Mariah’s innocence in regard to physical love, then he would have taken things more slowly, more gently, been less physically demanding.

That Mariah had been able to respond so passionately as she had earlier today to his caresses, that she had attained her peak not once but three times, was a miracle!

Although Mariah’s revelations did help to explain those puzzling moments of innocence he had sensed in her, those blushes that had seemed so out of character with the experienced siren she was reputed to be.

‘I trust you are not having regrets about our lovemaking earlier today, Darian,’ Mariah now teased him reprovingly. ‘Because I am dearly hoping that we shall be continuing with my education, in that regard, as soon as we reach London. Christina is away until tomorrow evening,’ she reminded huskily. ‘And we shall have the house all to ourselves till then...’

Darian would like nothing more than to spend the night with Mariah, to make love to and with her for hours and hours without end. But he would also settle for just being in the same bed with her, of just holding her, as difficult as that might be, if she would rather wait until they were married for them to make love again.

‘I would not be at all happy to wait,’ Mariah answered decisively, Darian’s first indication that he had spoken his reservations out loud. ‘Darian, I am simply dying for us to make love again. I have so many years to make up for. So much I have missed. That I want to learn about and enjoy.’ She curved her body seductively against his. ‘You are not going to continue to deny me, are you, Darian?’

How could Darian ever deny this woman anything?

This woman whom he loved, and would always love, with every fibre of his being.

* * *

‘Do you know what I thought after we had made love at Eton Park earlier today—yesterday now?’ Mariah realised after a glance at the bedside clock revealed it was well after midnight, her fingers swirling in the darkness of the hair on Darian’s naked chest as she leant up on her elbow beside him in the comfort of her dishevelled bed.

‘Earlier today?’ He arched his brows as he glanced down at their satiated and well-loved nakedness.

‘Earlier today,’ she insisted firmly. ‘I thought, so this is what poets all write about, singers croon over and lovers will risk anything to possess. But I was wrong, Darian, because this, the absolute joy we have just found in each other’s arms, is what poets write about, singers croon over and lovers will risk everything to possess!’ Their lovemaking had been a revelation to Mariah.

She had never dreamed such pleasure existed, had never realised how wonderful it was to literally become a part of another person. To be joined to them, body, soul and heart.

To be joined to Darian, body, soul and heart.

‘I love you, Darian,’ she told him achingly, emotionally. ‘I love you so very much, my darling.’

‘As I love you.’ His arms tightened about her once again. ‘And I will love you for the rest of our lives together.’

‘Promise?’

‘Without a doubt. You?’

‘Oh, yes!’

Mariah had absolutely no doubt it was a promise they would both cherish in their hearts and happily keep.