Royal's Bride

Lily felt the tug of Royal’s hand and followed once more in the direction he beckoned. The maze had suddenly become more exciting, the solitude more intriguing. Royal seemed even taller in the narrow confines of the hedgerows, his presence all the more powerful out here where they were alone.

She could tell he knew exactly which way to go to reach the fountain in the center of the maze, stopping where it seemed the least likely, turning one way, then heading another. He took another avenue, chose an unlikely path that seemed to lead nowhere and pulled her that way. When they came to a choice between three paths, he stopped and looked down at her.

“All right, you choose which way we should go.”

She bit her lip, studying the different routes, deciding on the least obvious one. “The path to the far left.”

He laughed. “We could get there that way, but it would take us a whole lot longer. This is the way.” He drew her forward and she smiled as she came up beside him. They followed several more twists and turns and finally stepped into the clearing in the middle of the garden.

The fountain loomed ahead and Lily let go of his hand and hurried toward it, thinking the journey had been worthwhile.

“It’s lovely,” she said, running her fingers round the rim where the water slipped over the edge onto the level below. “I love the sound. There’s a fountain in the gardens at Meadowbrook and I go there whenever I can. The sound of the falling water helps me forget my cares.”

One of Royal’s dark blond eyebrows went up. “You seem happy in your circumstance. What cares do have, Lily Moran?”

She sat down on the bench that encircled the base of the fountain, and Royal sat down beside her.

“I worry about my future after I leave the Caulfields’. I worry that what I’ve saved won’t be enough to open my shop. I worry that if somehow I do manage, the shop won’t be a success.”

“I don’t think you need worry in that regard. My aunt told me how good you are at what you do. She said your hats are quite amazing. I gather she commissioned a bonnet for herself.”

She smiled. “In fact, she ordered several. I’m hoping she will like them. It would certainly help my reputation as a milliner to have a countess among my patrons.” She looked up at him. “Your aunt is a lovely woman.”

“She’s very dear to me. To all of us.”

“I think you are very dear to her, as well.”

A long sigh whispered out, his mood abruptly changing. “She wants me to be happy, but—” He broke off as if he worried he might say something untoward.

“It’s Jo, isn’t it? You are afraid the two of you won’t suit.”

Royal raked a hand through his hair, dislodging the gleaming strands. “It doesn’t really matter. She’s beautiful and charming, well schooled in the things a woman should know in order to become a duchess. The marriage has been arranged. All that’s left are the formalities.”

“I—I’m sure it will all work out. You and Jocelyn make a lovely couple.”

He scoffed. “On the outside, perhaps. But inside …”

Lily’s heart went out to him. She couldn’t imagine marrying a person someone else had chosen. “Tell me what it is you fear.”

His golden eyes came to rest on her face. “Inside it seems as if we are two completely different people. It is difficult to explain. It is just that we seem to think differently, view the world in a different manner.” He sighed and shook his head. “As I said, it really doesn’t matter. We shall marry and afterward we will make the best of things. Jocelyn will gain a title and high-ranking social position and I will gain the money I need to rebuild Bransford Castle and reestablish the Bransford fortune. That is the way it works.”

But he was looking at her as if he had hoped for much more. Looking at her as he had that single instant when their eyes had met that day in the entry. Looking at her as if she was the one who could give him the happiness of which he had dreamed.

Lily’s heart twisted. Dear God, even were there the slimmest possibility those were his thoughts, she had to stop them. She wasn’t the person he believed her to be. She wasn’t worthy of marrying a duke. She had to tell him the truth.

“I think your father chose very well,” she forced herself to say. “Jocelyn was raised in society. She knows how to behave in those circles, how to mingle with people in the upper classes. I, on the other hand, was raised by a poor schoolteacher and his wife—and an uncle who stole for a living.”

His head came up. “What?”

Lily took a deep breath, determined that she would tell him all and end this mad attraction they both seemed to feel.

“My mother’s grandfather was the Earl of Kingsley. The way Mother told it, the earl’s daughter—my grandmother—ignored her father’s wishes and ran off with a commoner, a farmer, I believe. The earl disowned her and she never saw him again. My mother also married a commoner—as I said, my father was a teacher.” She managed a smile. “Thanks to him, I had a very happy childhood and a wonderful education, but then he and my mother fell ill and died of the cholera, and then …” Her voice trailed off at the tightness constricting her throat.

“Go on, Lily,” he gently urged. “Tell me what happened after your parents died.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Then I went to live with the only relative I knew, my father’s brother, Jack Moran. The problem was, Uncle Jack had even less money than my parents. Where I had lived in a neat little cottage in the country, Uncle Jack lived in a tiny attic garret above a tavern in London.”

She looked up at him, bracing herself to finish the story. “Uncle Jack was a sharper, Your Grace. From the time I was twelve until he left me on my cousin Henry’s doorstep, I lived the same sort of life he did.”

Royal straightened on the bench, his tawny gaze searching her face. “You aren’t saying—?”

“I was a pickpocket at thirteen—one of the very best. I could run a three-card monte and never get caught. I was an accomplished thief who stole whatever we needed in order to pay the rent. When Uncle Jack ran a confidence game, I helped him by playing whatever role he needed. I had always been shy, but I learned to overcome it. By the time I was sixteen, I could play a dozen different parts and in time, I got very good at those, too.”

Royal said nothing, but his jaw looked tight. Lily steeled herself against the disgust she knew he must be feeling. Fighting back tears, she forced herself to go on.

“I had hardly been raised to be dishonest and at first I was sick at the thought of stealing. But then we ran out of food and it looked as if we were going to be cast out in the street. Hunger is an amazing motivator, Your Grace. Though Uncle Jack did his best to take care of me, I realized if I wanted to survive, I would have to learn the things my uncle wished to teach me. I would have to do whatever it took to make ends meet. And so I did.”

She forced herself to smile, but her bottom lip trembled. “So you see, Your Grace. At least with Jo, you will get exactly the woman you see. With me … I am not at all what I appear.”

Her eyes welled. She thought that he would look away from her, perhaps even leave her there in the maze, but instead his big hands reached out and very gently framed her face. “Lily …”

The tears in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. Royal tilted her head back and his mouth covered hers in an achingly tender, breath-stealing kiss. A little sound came from her throat at the jolt of yearning that tore through her, the fierce rush of longing. And though she knew what they were doing was wrong, she couldn’t stop her fingers from curling around his lapel, from leaning closer to press herself against him.

Royal groaned and deepened the kiss, their lips melding perfectly together. Lily had kissed men before. As she grew older, playing the role of seductress was sometimes part of a confidence scheme. But Uncle Jack was ever protective and never let things get out of hand.

Lily knew the feel of a kiss, but she had never been touched by one, never felt the sweet unfurling that blossomed inside her now.

“Lily …” Royal repeated, kissing the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes, then returning to her lips. The kiss turned wild and reckless, his tongue gliding over her lips, sliding inside to taste her. She could smell the lime of his shaving soap and the starch of his cravat. His woolen riding jacket warmed the tips of her fingers.

A soft moan escaped as he moved to the side of her neck, trailed kisses along her throat, gently nibbled the lobe of an ear. Pleasure washed through her and a deep, burning desire. Royal kissed her one way and then the other, kissed her and kissed her, branding her with the heat of his mouth as if he claimed her in some primal way.

Lily trembled. She slid her arms around his neck and clung to him, felt the solid muscles across his chest where her breasts pillowed against him, and inside her chemise, her nipples went hard. The insane thought occurred that she wanted no barriers between them, wanted to press her mouth against his skin, learn the texture, the scent of him. It was madness, she knew, but the thought remained until her body took over and it became impossible to think, and all she could do was feel.

She had no idea how long the kiss went on, or what might have happened if she hadn’t heard a man outside the maze calling Royal’s name. She recognized the voice as belonging to his friend, Sheridan Knowles, and the knowledge of what she was doing hit her like a harsh winter wind.

Lily jerked away. She stared into Royal’s face, saw that he had also been jolted into awareness. His cheeks were flushed, he was breathing hard, and Lily realized her breathing was as ragged as his.

“It—it is your friend.”

He glanced in that direction, his body tense. “They must be looking for us. Sherry came to warn us.” He rose to his feet and adjusted his coat over the front of his riding breeches, reached for her hand and urged her up off the bench. “This shouldn’t have happened. It was completely wrong of me to take advantage. I am terribly sorry, Lily.”

She glanced away, her eyes stinging. “It wasn’t your fault. I should have stopped you. You belong to Jocelyn and she is my cousin. Once you knew the life I had led, you must have presumed that I—”

“God, no! I just … I wanted you, Lily. Hearing what you had been through made me ache for you. I wanted to erase those years, protect you in some way.” He laughed bitterly. “I certainly did a fine job of that.”

He surveyed her dishevelment, wiped the wetness from her cheeks, reached up and straightened her bonnet, tucked away a lock of her pale blond hair.

“We’ve got to go.” Taking her hand, he started walking, leading her rapidly back through the maze. He stopped just before they reached the entrance. “I’ll leave first. Sheridan and I were supposed to go riding. Wait a few minutes then go back inside the house.”

Lily nodded. Royal didn’t say more, but guilt was stamped into his face. Clearly, he regretted his momentary lapse in the maze.

Lily didn’t tell him that long after he was married, she would remember his passionate kiss. And though she would suffer a small ache at the memory, she would know deep in her heart that his kiss was an eleven.

Royal walked up to Sherry and the men exchanged glances. Sheridan was dressed in his riding clothes for their trip to see Squire Brophy. The squire was among several village residents who had volunteered men for the nightly road patrols. Some of the locals had even volunteered to ride themselves.

“I was waiting in your study when I heard the women talking,” Sherry explained. “I realized they were looking for you, and that Miss Moran was also missing. Your fiancée-to-be’s mother did not seem happy about it.”

“What about Jocelyn?”

He shrugged. “She said she imagined you were out in the stable and that Lily was probably in the village buying something for her hatmaking. I don’t think she sees her cousin as much of a threat.”

Royal just grunted. If she only knew. His body still throbbed with desire for Lily. When he moistened his lips, he could taste her there. She had the softest lips he’d ever known, the smoothest, silkiest skin. He hadn’t wanted a woman so badly since he had been a green lad lusting after one of the milkmaids.

Royal sighed as he walked next to Sherry toward the stable. It had taken the full force of his will not to open Lily’s bodice and slide his hands inside to explore the shape of her breasts, not to make a bed of his cloak, bear her down in the grass, slide up her skirts and bury himself inside her.

If it had been any woman but Lily, he might have continued his unplanned seduction. But Lily wasn’t that kind, no matter the years she had spent with her uncle. Royal knew women and this one was innocent of a man’s passions. If he’d had any doubt, her untutored, sweetly arousing kisses today would have convinced him.

His body tightened, the memory of her soft mouth under his making him hard all over again.

“So the two of you were in there together, as I thought,” Sherry said. “I am beginning to understand the way the wind is blowing. Are you ready, then, to give up your heiress?”

Royal sliced him a glare. “It was only a kiss and it shouldn’t have happened. I’m marrying Jocelyn, just as I planned.”

“Well, then, I suppose I shall have to settle for her very lovely cousin.”

Royal stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Leave Lily alone.”

Sheridan’s lips curved in a mocking half smile. “Jealous, are we?”

Royal turned away, determined to convince himself it wasn’t true. “Marriage to Jocelyn will make Lily a distant relative. That means she falls under my protection. She deserves a husband and children—not seduction by a rogue like you.”

Sherry straightened. “I wouldn’t dishonor the lady, my friend—no matter my past indiscretions. If anyone is at risk of doing that, I believe it is you.”

Royal clenched his jaw, but he didn’t argue. His best friend was right. Every night as he conversed with the beautiful Jocelyn, he thought of Lily. Lily sitting on the yellow damask sofa with the sunlight silvering her pale golden hair. Lily’s crystalline laughter. Lily smiling as they held hands and made their way through the hedge maze.

From now on, he vowed, he would stay as far away from Lily as he possibly could. Better yet, he looked forward to the day she went home.

He glanced over at his friend. “Your point is well made. I have postponed the inevitable too long already. Tonight after the soiree, I am going to propose. Once Jocelyn agrees, I’ll go to London to formally ask her father’s permission and finalize the arrangement he and my father made.”

Sheridan slowed on the path to the stable. “Once you do that, you’ll have no choice but to wed her.”

“I never had a choice, Sherry. Not since the day I agreed to my father’s dying request. I thought you understood that.”

It was only a small soiree, no more than twenty people. Lily had helped the dowager countess pen the invitations from a list that included Squire Brophy and his wife, their two sons and their wives; Royal’s friend, Sheridan Knowles; Vicar Pennyworth, his wife and daughter; and Jocelyn’s father, Henry Caulfield. Lady Tavistock had invited several widowed lady friends who lived nearby, including the Dowager Baroness Bristol and Lady Sophia Frost.

The pace of living in the country was slow and people looked forward to any sort of social event. Which was the reason that with little more than a week’s notice, almost everyone who had been invited had accepted the invitation, all but Jocelyn’s father, who was, as always, simply too busy running his numerous businesses to leave his offices in London. Even the incredibly wealthy Marquess of Eastgate, in residence at his country estate near Swansdowne, would be attending, accompanied by his daughter, Serafina.

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