The Chevalier (23 page)

“Then you’ll marry me,” Gareth said with a certainty that infuriated her.

“
Non
, you are a man without feelings. One does not marry merely to give a child a name.”

He stared at her in surprise. “People do it all the time.”

“But they are not me! I have seen marriages with love and those without. I would prefer never to marry at all than live in a loveless arrangement. It would be like being condemned to life in a prison. Do not think a child does not know when its parents do not care for each other. It is no good for parent or child. Better that I live my life alone. I will pack now.” She turned to Anne. “Please send someone to the village, my coach waits there. I want my driver to come as soon as possible.”

“You’ve only just arrived,” Anne said. “Are you so certain that you want to go?” Her cousin viewed her worriedly.

“I must. You understand, don’t you? It’s best for everyone.”

Anne agreed and she quickly left the room in the wake of a stunned silence. As she readied her things, which were still mainly packed anyway, Elizabeth joined her.

“I listened in on everything,” she said. “Please marry my brother.” There was an expression of pleading on the young face.

“It would not work out,” Madeline responded. “Your mother realizes that.” She viewed the child with tender regard.

Elizabeth’s eyes, so like those of her brother, brimmed over with tears. “You must not go; don’t leave again!”

“Perhaps someday, I’ll come visit and stay longer.” Somehow, she knew that was a lie. She was leaving the Highlands never to return, but she could not tell that to the darling child before her.

“No, I don’t think you will be back,” cried Beth.

“Then you’ll come visit me when I’m settled. I will write to you and your mother. I promise. You are true family to me and I won’t forget you.”

Anne came into the room.

“Mither, please make her stay.” Beth’s voice pleaded.

“I canno’ do that. Happen she’s right to leave.”

Madeline stared at her cousin in surprise. She had not expected Anne to speak with such an air of finality.

“Maddy is not in love with Andrew. ‘Tis plain to see who her real love is. Knowing that, I canno’ wish her to remain with us for it will only bring unhappiness all around. Even if Andrew did convince you to marry him, you’d no’ be happy for you’d be wanting the Englishman. ‘Tis clear to me even if no’ to the rest of ye. So I wish ye luck and know you’ll always have our love no matter what.”

♥ ♥ ♥

As Madeline sat in the moving coach, tears rolled down her face. She could not stop herself from crying now that she was alone and did not need to make a brave show for anyone. The pain in her heart was great. Everything she had done was wrong, except telling both men that she would marry neither one of them. She closed her eyes trying to rest as the coach moved along its way.

An hour and a half of travel passed in relative calm when suddenly the ride became faster. Her footman called down. “There’s a man chasing after us, Milady, with pistols cocked. I think it must be a highwayman. We’ll try to outrun him.”

Madeline held her breath, tense and silent. From her previous ordeal, she was too emotionally drained to even feel any sense of fright. It did not seem possible for the day to become much worse than it already had been. Her mother’s jewels were well hidden and she had little coin to lose. With those thoughts, she remained calm and relatively composed. The chase was on but not for long; finally the coach was forced to the side of the road.

“Halt!” a familiar voice boomed.

Madeline peeped out of the window of the coach even as the door was pulled open. “What are you doing here?” she said. “You frightened my driver and footman making them believe you were a highwayman.”

“Perhaps they were right after all, for I did come to steal something.”

“And what would that be?” she said coldly.

“Stand and deliver, Mademoiselle, I’ve come to claim you.”

“What folly is this?” She frowned at him.

“I’ve come to take my bride, pure and simple.” Gareth Eriksen offered a cocky, impudent smile that enraged her.

“Why you arrogant brute, how dare you think so!”

Gareth simply gave her a broad grin and then turned to Jim Welders, her coachman and Warren Sykes, her footman, who both looked stunned, staring at Gareth in mute surprise. “You men, I’ll be riding with the lady. She and I are getting married. You’ll be taking us to my estate after, and you may be witnesses at the ceremony.”

Her coachman and footman turned concerned looks toward Madeline. Gareth still sat astride his great black stallion, pistols aimed.

“You may tie your horse to my coach,” she told him, her eyes meeting his, “but don’t expect that I’ll change my mind.” She folded her hands over her breasts in a gesture of stubborn determination.

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

What an impossible man he was. He obviously thought no woman could resist his charms. Well, she was not going to marry him no matter what he said or did. It was just as well he found that out right now.

He was in the coach with her moments later. “What instructions did you give your driver?”

She stared at him distractedly. “Instructions?” she repeated without understanding.

“Where were you planning to go? London?”

She shook her head. “That would be the last place. I just want to find somewhere to stay in the closest city.”

“Ridiculous, you’re entirely alone except for these two and I think they’ll desert you soon enough. Have you no sense, girl? But we already know the answer to that, don’t we?”

She eyed him angrily. “All well and good for you to speak so, but it’s your fault that I’ve come to this.”

He ran his finger along the side of her jaw in a way that was disturbingly provocative. “So it is, and I intend to take good care of my obligations.”

She forced his hand away from her face. “I’m nothing to you but an obligation, aren’t I? Well, I’ll have none of your charity.”

“Nonsense, I have a duty to perform and am perfectly willing to stand by you.”

She felt like striking him but knew that it would serve no useful purpose. “I do not want a man who considers marrying me out of a sense of duty. You may look at serving in your King’s army as a duty, but marriage should be something quite different. No, it is insupportable; I will not marry you. Please take yourself out of my coach and out of my life.”

“Afraid I really cannot do that, love. You see, I’ve made this decision and it’s really the right one. Your charming Gaelic pride won’t let you see that, but I’m older and far wiser than you. We’ll make a go of it. I’m prepared to treat you quite well.”

“How kind of you.”

“‘Course ‘tis,” he grinned at her in his maddening way, a twinkle in those startling cerulean eyes. “You’re really most fortunate. There are a great many women who will cry hard tears to find out I’m not available anymore.”

“I have no wish to deprive them or you.”

“Sarcasm does not become you. Stop acting like a spoiled child, Madeline. You know you have to marry me.”

“No, I do not. I am a woman of independent means.”

He merely laughed, driving her wild with rage. This time, she found herself unable to stop herself from trying to slap his face. But he seemed to sense what was coming and caught her hand in his strong grip.

“Come now, you really don’t wish to do that. What a spitfire you are. I’ve given your driver orders as to where to go, but till we get there, we can use our time to much better advantage.”

He leaned over her, his handsome face looming large above her. She knew what was coming and quickly turned her head so that his kiss caught only her ear. Suddenly, his hands were holding her tightly so that she could not move.

“Only a few kisses,” he said, “nothing more. I’ll let you save yourself for our wedding night.” His voice was gently mocking, but his expression turned serious as his lips descended on hers.

 
Twenty-Three

Madeline slept for several hours as the coach traveled on. She awoke to find herself in Gareth’s arms, and moved quickly to disengage herself. He laughed at her gesture.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

She frowned deeply at the handsome man with the piercing blue eyes. At best, he was a stranger to her; at worst, he had the capacity to utterly destroy her.

He noted her expression. “Aren’t you happy that we’re soon to be wed?” The mockery in his voice informed her that he knew exactly how she felt.

“I’ve told you that I won’t marry you over and over again. What must I say to make you believe me? You can’t force me into it, you know. Whoever performs the ceremony must ask if I will have you and I won’t. You cannot make me say otherwise.”

“Can’t I?” His eyes were at once fire and ice. “I think I may very well be able to persuade you, my love. You see, if you don’t marry me, I will have no other course of action open but to return you to your brother.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

“Of course, I would. What else could I do? You can’t manage on your own. You’re a lady, an aristocrat. You know nothing of taking care of yourself in the real world. I was forced to learn of it at a tender age and know how difficult it is. You’d never manage.”

“What difference is that to you?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Why every difference, Mademoiselle, you are carrying my child within your luscious body.”

“Yes, I should have remembered your paternal concern. Well, you should know that my brother wishes to do away with my child, or if it does manage to get born, he would force me to give it away to strangers.”

“Lovely fellow, your aristocratic frog brother.”

She ignored his slur. “So you see now why you couldn’t turn me over to him even if I won’t marry you.” She felt a sense of triumph over him at last.

But then she saw the look on his face and realized that perhaps she had underestimated his ruthlessness.

“I would say that is all the more reason for you to marry me. I’m certainly the lesser of two evils, my love.” His voice was cold and sarcastic. Was he angry because she had refused him? Good, he had hurt her greatly. Perhaps it was time that his high opinion of himself suffered in turn. What a beast of a man, thinking that she should get down and pay homage to him for offering her his name.

“Bastard!”

“I believe we’re both agreed upon that,” he said. “And now to the business of our marriage, dearest.” His words bit into her.

“You can’t possibly mean to marry someone who does not wish to marry you.”

“I beg to differ with you, that is exactly what I am going to do.”

“I do not believe that you would really send me back to Roland.”

“That is just what I would do.” His voice was softly menacing.

“You are a bully and a tyrant.”

“I’m glad you understand me so well,” he said in an infuriatingly unflappable manner.

“
Non
, I do not understand you at all.”

Maybe it was the granite set of his lower lip or the way his nostrils flared but at that moment, he looked quite dangerous. His hands reached out and pulled her to him. “I’ve never wanted a wife, never seen the need for one, but if I must have one, I would just as soon it were you, Mademoiselle. Your words are cold and harsh but your blood burns like an erupting volcano.”

His lips took her own before she could protest. He held her in his iron grip allowing her no chance for argument. Her resistance was no match for the drugging assault of his lips upon hers. His nibbling kisses were at first playful and then devouring. She could scarcely catch her breath, and though her nails moved to the bunched muscles at his neck, Gareth seemed unaware of her efforts to elude his grasp. Just for a moment, she managed to break free of him.

“
Non
,” she cried breathlessly.

He laughed in that rich, deep baritone voice that made her think of warm, fine brandy. “All right, I did promise we’d wait as is proper, although you have always had the most amazing effect upon me. I want you, you know. I always do and I always will.” His hand caressed her cheek as his eyes smoldered with incinerating heat.

That, she realized sadly, was probably the closest Gareth Eriksen would come to the expression of any feeling for her. Could she be satisfied knowing that all he felt for her was desire, raw lust? Would that ever be enough?

Tears sprung suddenly into her eyes. Gareth saw them and brushed them away with the tip of his long, lean finger.

“Truly, I am not half the ogre you think me, Mademoiselle. You will see.”

♥ ♥ ♥

Madeline went through the ceremony with Gareth in something of a daze. It all seemed so terribly unreal to her. The mayor of the town where they took lodging on the following evening was prevailed upon to perform the ceremony the very next morning. It was all legal and proper, but everything that should have been part of a real wedding was, it seemed to her, missing. There was no church service, no parents, no friends, no family – and worst of all, no love between bride and bridegroom. Yet when she was called upon to take her vow, she responded in the affirmative. For a moment, she hesitated, but then her eyes met Gareth’s and the expression in his eyes made her quite afraid. There would be a marriage between them, she realized, whether she wanted it or not. Gareth Eriksen was a man who one way or another got his own way, and his decision in this matter was resolute and irrevocable.

There was dinner at the inn sometime later, but Madeline remembered little of it, nor did she manage to eat very much. There was a large choking lump caught in her throat.

“I believe we will stay here one more night in honor of our marriage,” Gareth told her. “We’ll cross the border into England tomorrow. Very soon you’ll be seeing my home. I don’t really think of it that way. ‘Tis where I was raised, but it was never a true home.” She could hear the bitterness in his voice, yet still she did not speak. He glanced at her and then continued. “The estate will belong to Gwenda when she marries. I’m giving it all to my sister as her dowry. That ought to help attract a good young man. Once she’s happily wed, you and I will live at my estate in the lake country. If you think the Highlands are beautiful, you will find you love it even more there. A grand place to raise children is what it is,” he said with a smile, a boyish dimple winking in his right cheek.

She could almost pretend to herself that he really cared for her at that moment. For once his expression was unguarded and he looked optimistic and affectionate. She wished that he would always talk to her this way, look at her this way.

“I am sure it is quite lovely there.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “You haven’t touched your food? Are you ill?”

She shook her head and lowered her eyes.

“Still angry at me? You’ll soon be glad we were wed and realize it was for the best. You’re not as schooled in the ways of the world as you’d like to think, my girl, but I am. I’ve done what’s best for you.”

“That was just what Roland said,” she responded wistfully. “Then he made me a prisoner.”

“Come let’s go upstairs. You’ll feel better after a bit of rest.”

He had left her alone since the night they’d been together at the old castle. Now he would expect his husbandly rights. He had tried to charm her, but she did not wish to be charmed. She did not want to be with him, not ever again. She was hurt, angry, confused and more than a little afraid. Why must everything always be on his terms? Just because he was bigger then she and could physically impose his will upon her? It seemed so wrong and unfair. She was growing weary of the tyranny of men.

“Let us continue on. The day is not over and I have no desire to remain in Scotland.”

At that remark, he smiled. “Is my bride acting the shy virgin or the coy mistress?”

“Neither, I just think we might as well get on with our journey.”

He let out a deep sigh of resignation. “Very well, my love, you see I am quite pliant to your will. I am already the henpecked husband. It shall be as you wish.”

She was relieved that he had agreed for she did not want him making love to her this night. She was too sick at heart. She could not help remembering Maman’s warning regarding Gareth. If only she had really listened.

Her coachman was less then pleased with the decision to continue on, but Gareth assured them that they would stop before the hour grew too late. They journeyed through the afternoon and evening. Madeline turned her back to Gareth and closed her eyes, resting against the luxurious velvet squabs of the coach interior. The emotional trauma of the day had taken its toll upon her and she soon fell asleep. In her dreams, Maman stood looking at her, features pale and disapproving.

“You have not done as I told you,
ma fille
. You have dishonored your family, your noble blood and yourself. How could you give yourself to such a brute of a man? Were you not taught better? Where did I fail you?”

She tried to protest, but Maman would not listen. Instead, she turned her back and walked off into the Highland mist. The next person to come toward her was her Papa. His eyes were grave and accusing.

“The blood of kings runs in your veins, Madeline. You are a de Marnay. You have betrayed us all by behaving like a common tart.”

She tried to deny what her father said but the words would not come out, and when she looked again, it was not her father’s face but that of Roland that she saw. “I used to love you
, ma chere
,” he said, “but I can no longer do so. You have shamed us all.”

She could hardly stop crying now. She was near a great precipice and wished to throw herself from it. But then Andrew MacCarnan came upon her. “No, Madeline, you must not. I love you. But you’ve thrown away my love, and what for?” When she did not answer, he continued to speak, “For one who does not deserve you. I pity you, lass.”

Now she could see Anne and Elizabeth and their eyes overflowed with tears of pity.

“No!” she cried out. “No!”

Someone was shaking her. Strong arms were about her.

“Madeline, wake up.”

“What?” She was completely disoriented.

“You were having a bad dream I believe.”

“Oh, yes, a terrible nightmare.”

His arms were around her now, caressing her hair, pressing her to that wide, hard expanse of chest. She was shivering and perspiring at once, she realized. His large, callused hands comforted her.

“It will be all right,” he whispered in her ear, and she was aware of the soft burr of his North-country accent which was as soothing as the Celtic inflection of the Highlands. He spoke to her kindly and gently just the way he had on the day when he found her crying over her mother’s grave. She remembered how she felt about him at that moment, as if he were her personal savior. She clung to him now as she had then, her softness pressed to his hardness.

He seemed to understand her great need for his tenderness for he was kissing her now, the gentlest and kindest of kisses. He pulled her across his lap, and drew her up to him. The embrace seemed magical.

“You are mine, and I will always take care of you,” he said. “Do not fear me. Remember when you sat on my lap before?”

It seemed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling, that he was capable of reading her every thought. His gaze was intense and mesmerizing. His eyes had darkened to the color of midnight. His hands moved gently over her body, sending fresh chills down her spine. He nibbled teasingly at her ear and then sought out the sensitive hollow of her neck as his hands pulled apart her cloak and sensuously cupped her breasts.

“So magnificent,” he said in a soft, admiring voice.

Her breasts felt incredibly sensitive to his touch as he gently lifted them from the confinement of her bodice. His hot mouth traveled to her nipples, licking, teasing, sucking until she moaned involuntarily from the pleasure he was creating within her.

At that moment, the coach suddenly stopped and there was a rapping at the door. Gareth groaned inwardly. What bad timing, just when Madeline was responding to him so passionately and he was hard as granite.

“Sir, ‘tis midnight and we’ve come into a town. There’s an inn still has lights on just ahead of us. Would you be wantin’ us to stop there?”

Gareth was aware that the coachman’s voice sounded weary indeed. “Yes, we’ll stop here for the night,” he said. “And we won’t leave until well into the morning. Drive on, and make the accommodations for all of us. Our lady is most tired.”

Madeline fixed the bodice of her gown in silence and when she had composed herself, Gareth lifted her into his arms and carried her from the coach.

“You needn’t carry me,” she protested. “I’m quite capable of walking.”

“You’re my bride,” he insisted. “This will be our first night together as husband and wife. I want to carry you to the room we’ll share.” He thought that she looked a little frightened but also a bit pleased.

The accommodations proved adequate. There was a large, clean room, the best the landlord had to offer. Gareth soon discovered that Madeline really was very tired and thought it best to let her rest.