His Remarkable Bride Read online

  Her piercing question came simultaneously with his release. His groan of completion ended up sounding more like a shout of terror. He thanked his lucky stars for the blankets covering him and twisted to look over his shoulder at her.

  “Nothing?” he squeaked, panting.

  One wide-eyed look from Elspeth and he knew he couldn’t hide anything. It didn’t help that a fine sweat had broken out on his brow and he was hot enough to guess he was bright red. The fact that he kept his hand well under the covers probably gave things away too.

  Elspeth’s shock hung on for another second before her lips twitched. She snorted, eyes dancing with mirth, then slapped a hand to her mouth.

  Athos squeezed his eyes shut, praying that in spite of her experience she didn’t know enough about men to guess how they played with themselves.

  His prayer fell on deaf ears as she scooted to climb out of the bed and teased, “I guess I should let you get on with things in peace.”

  He blew out a breath and turned away to press his face into the pillow. “Sorry,” he mumbled into the muffling feathers. “I’m so sorry.” In spite of everything, a giggle bubbled up from his heart.

  “Oh no,” Elspeth insisted. She reached for something in her trunk, then appeared at the very edge of his vision, rushing for the door. “I understand. Men have…needs. Don’t let me disturb you.”

  She pulled open the door, flew into the hall, then shut the door behind her. A muffled laugh followed.

  Athos closed his eyes and did the only thing he could. He laughed at himself, laughed at the ridiculousness of getting caught doing the same thing that Hubert probably lived in terror of being caught at, and laughed because Elspeth was laughing with him. That last filled his heart and soul with a kind of bliss that he never saw coming. She hadn’t screamed or scolded or been disgusted, she’d laughed. She’d understood.

  He sighed and shook his head, rolling over gingerly and slipping out the clean side of the bed. He should have turned to her for release after all. As he walked carefully to the wash table to clean up, he vowed that next time he would.

  Elspeth didn’t say anything about the incident once he had cleaned up, dressed, stripped the bed, and headed downstairs, but she did grin and giggle the whole way through breakfast. They didn’t really talk about anything. All they could do was sit there and snort over their sausages, well aware of the implicit joke in what they were eating. It wasn’t until Elspeth hurried upstairs to dress for church that he realized they’d passed the morning together happy and silly, even though the children weren’t there.

  The sobering truth that the children weren’t there grew even more meaningful when they arrived at church for Sunday services only to find that neither the children nor the Bonneville family were in attendance.

  “I would have expected them to at least bring the children to church,” Athos whispered to Elspeth as they took their seats, waiting for the service to start.

  “Perhaps they decided to conduct their own services at the ranch?” Elspeth suggested.

  Athos shook his head. “I seriously doubt it. Bonneville is the sort who goes to church to be seen, not to worship.”

  That thought and the absence of his family—well, except for Elspeth—stuck with Athos through the entire sermon, making it impossible for him to concentrate. He was a basket of nerves by the time Rev. Pickering finished and adjourned the congregation to the potluck that waited for them under the tent outside.

  The very same tent where his youngest angels had rammed into the Bonneville sisters all those weeks ago, setting the horrible wheels in motion that they were now dealing with. If he had just been a little more contentious of his children. If he had only kept a closer eye on them.

  “I can’t just stand here socializing when my children need me,” he blurted in the middle of a conversation with Pete and Josephine Evans and Libby and Mason Montrose. Whatever they were talking about came to an abrupt stop at his impatient statement. “We should go out there and demand to see them,” he went on, turning to Elspeth.

  “If that’s what you want to do.” Her eyes shown with just the sort of enthusiasm he needed to see from his helpmate right about then.

  “Then let’s go.” He smiled and reached for her hand.

  “Uh, Athos, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Pete asked, holding out an arm to stop Athos and Elspeth from rushing off.

  Athos tripped on his first step away from the gathering and turned to blink at Pete. “Of course it’s a good idea. The Bonnevilles shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.”

  Pete and Mason exchanged looks, but it was Libby who said, “Are you certain you shouldn’t ask Solomon about it first? From what he was telling us earlier, he has a plan for handling the situation.”

  Athos turned to search over the crowd gathered for the potluck. Elspeth searched too. “There he is.” She pointed across the lawn to the church door where Solomon stood talking to Rev. Pickering.

  The sensible thing to do would be to keep a cool head and talk to Solomon. But from the moment Athos had awakened that morning—definitely from that moment—nothing about his day had been sensible.

  “I think we could get away with a quick little social call. Just to be sure the children are all right. They weren’t at church, after all. Something could have happened. We have a reason to check up on them.”

  Elspeth raised her eyebrows, but her expression was as filled with determination as his heart was. “I trust your judgment.”

  He grinned, loving the sound of that. It made him feel competent. It made him feel…heroic.

  “It’ll just be a short, calm visit to be sure the kids are all right,” he explained to Pete and Mason, in spite of their dubious looks. “We’ll be back before the potluck is over.”

  As he led Elspeth away, walking fast enough to draw curious looks from friends and disapproving ones from the likes of Mrs. Plover and Mrs. Kline, Elspeth asked, “Will we be back before the potluck is over?”

  Athos laughed. “I doubt it. It takes about half an hour to drive out to the Bonneville ranch.”

  He was right, even though he drove his wagon faster than he usually would. The roads to Bonneville’s ranch were clear, and they hadn’t had rain for the last few days, so they weren’t muddy. His horse seemed as happy as they were to be able to run as fast as he wanted, and he was bolstered, knowing he was actually doing something instead of just sitting by.

  Those confident feelings were squashed a little as they turned into the lane that led through the Bonneville land and up to the big house. They had barely gone ten yards when riders spaced all along the drive and the edge of the property started whooping and calling to each other. A few turned their horses and ran back to the big house.

  “Looks like they were expecting us.” Elspeth inched closer to him on the wagon’s seat, resting a hand on his arm.

  “Good,” Athos answered. “Then they’ll be expecting me to be as angry with them as I am.”

  Elspeth’s anxious look shifted to an excited grin. Athos didn’t say anything else as he continued to drive his wagon at a steady pace toward the house, but he did sit a little taller. He was in his Sunday best—although he still hadn’t shaved, and if he was honest with himself, a haircut wouldn’t be a bad idea—and with his mood the way it was, the Bonnevilles had better watch out.

  “Get out! You are not welcome here.” It was Mrs. Lyon that came charging down the steps of the Bonneville’s porch to intercept the wagon as they made the last turn into the formal yard. “You’re not allowed to be here.”

  “Papa?” The hesitant call came from the porch around the side of the house. In no time, the kids all rushed around the corner from whatever they’d been doing at the back of the house. “Papa! Papa!”

  Athos pulled his wagon to a stop and leapt down. He ran halfway across the yard to the edge of the porch where his kids were trying to escape before realizing that he should have helped Elspeth down. It didn’t matter, she would und
erstand. And at the moment, he was more concerned with Mrs. Lyon’s four thugs and a pair of Bonneville’s ranch hands who had leapt onto the porch to restrain the children.

  “You keep your hands off of them,” Athos shouted. “I’m only here for a visit.”

  “The court order does not allow you to visit,” Mrs. Lyon insisted. She intercepted Athos halfway across the yard and shook a pointed finger at him. “You are in violation of the terms of the order I received to rescue these children. I demand you leave at once.”

  “Not until I make sure my babies are all right.” He pushed past her, marching on to the porch. “Neva, Millie, are you all right?” he asked the two that had made it farthest along the edge of the porch rail.

  “We want to come home, Papa,” Geneva shouted.

  “It’s boring here,” Millie followed.

  That brought Athos up short. “Boring?” Boring was miles away from frightening or dangerous.

  “Elspeth,” Lael shouted, breaking away from the man who held him back and rushing to the edge of the porch.

  Athos caught Geneva telling him, “Call her Lady Elspeth,” as he pivoted to see Elspeth rushing toward him. She rushed right up to his side, giving him another burst of confidence.

  “What’s going on here?” Elspeth demanded, as furious as he felt.

  “That’s what I would like to know,” Mrs. Lyon snapped. “You are forbidden from setting foot on the Bonneville ranch. Leave now.” This time she pointed her bony finger at Elspeth.

  “Where in that rubbish piece of paper you thrust at me does it say a man is forbidden to make a call on his neighbors?” Elspeth asked with perfect, regal grace.

  Mrs. Lyon’s mouth dropped open, but it took her a moment to gather herself enough to say, “It’s implied.”

  There wasn’t time to pursue the argument further. The children had all started shouting, “Lady Elspeth! Lady Elspeth!” instead of “Papa!” Hubert broke away from Bonneville’s ranch hand that held him, then turned and punched the man in the face.

  “Hubert!” Athos barked, not sure if he should be scolding or congratulating his son.

  Hubert leapt right over the edge of the porch, landing on the grass with a thud. He stood slowly and shook himself, then darted straight for Athos, throwing himself into Athos’s arms. It was as much a shock to have his sixteen-year-old son hugging him as it was to watch him punch a grown man.

  “Son, what are you doing?” he asked as he squeezed his boy tight.

  “The Bonneville sisters are snobs,” he whispered in a rush. “They haven’t been able to stop talking about ‘Lady Elspeth,’ as if she’s some princess or something. They don’t dare do anything against us as long as we tell them Lady Elspeth wouldn’t like it.”

  That was all he had the time to say. The ranch hand he’d hit—who now dripped blood from his nose—tore down from the porch and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. He yanked Hubert away, knocking him off his feet.

  “Don’t touch my son,” Athos boomed. He surged forward and planted his own fist across the man’s face.

  The crack of bone followed, and the drip from the ranch hand’s nose became a flood. Mrs. Lyon screamed, and even Elspeth gasped. On the porch, the children all burst into cheers of “Yay Papa! Papa will save us!”

  “What’s going on out here?” Vivian Bonneville’s shrill voice preceded her and the rest of her sisters out onto the porch. They were all dressed in their Sunday best and kept a suspicious distance from the children and their guards.

  “Eew! Blood!” Bebe shouted, slipping into hysterics.

  Athos shook his aching hand out, knuckles bruised, and watched as Honoria rushed to catch Bebe as she swooned. The injured ranch hand doubled over, bleeding into the grass as a couple of his mates rushed forward to help.

  “Get them inside,” Mrs. Lyon shouted, her voice an octave higher than usual. Her sharp finger was now thrust at the children on the porch. “Get them away from this wicked display of violence and degradation.”

  “If a man attacks my son, you’d better believe I’m going to defend him,” Athos shouted at her.

  His declaration didn’t do much, though. Mrs. Lyon looked at him as though he was a two-headed snake, skirted well out of his way as she side-stepped toward the house, then ran for the porch. Her men had already shooed all of the children but Hubert around the back side of the house. Hubert—who had fallen when the ranch hand yanked him—climbed to his feet, glaring murder at the other ranch hands. He balled his fists and started toward them.

  “Hubert.” Athos stopped him. “Your energy would be better served protecting your siblings.”

  Hubert jerked to face his father. For a moment he looked like he’d disobey him and start a fight anyhow. At what felt like the last minute, he changed his mind. “Just remember what I said about them.” He darted a glance to the porch—where Vivian and Melinda were descending the stairs into the yard—then turned and jogged back to the house.

  Everything had happened so fast that Athos had to take a second to remember what exactly Hubert had said. He remembered in a flash as Vivian squealed, “Lady Elspeth!”

  A man was bleeding, eight children were being held hostage, and the property was swarming with thugs and toughs, but Vivian and Melinda wore pasted-on smiles as they glided across the yard to Elspeth.

  “Lady Elspeth, it’s such a pleasure to welcome you to our ranch,” Vivian went on.

  “We’ve been talking of nothing else since we were introduced yesterday,” Melinda added.

  Both women came to a shuddering halt in front of Elspeth and bobbed crude curtsies.

  Elspeth’s mouth sagged open. She darted a sideways look of disbelief to Athos. For their part, Vivian and Melinda didn’t seem to recognize that Athos was even there, as if he was invisible.

  “Who did you say your father was again?” Vivian asked.

  “The Marquis of Southampton,” Melinda hissed, smacking her sister’s arm as though she’d committed a faux pas.

  “Oh yes, of course.” Vivian laughed in a way that made Athos’s hair stand on end.

  At last, Elspeth caught up to the absurdity of the situation. With one final sideways glance to Athos, her lips forming into an incredulous smirk, she executed a curtsy like Wyoming had likely never seen before.

  “Yes, my father is Nigel Leonard, the Marquis of Southampton,” she said, putting on a cool smile. “And my mother’s father was the Earl of Northrup. His mother’s father was the Earl of Clifford.”

  Vivian and Melinda gaped at her, their eyes glassy with admiration, their mouths open and gasping like trout.

  “My lady,” Vivian said, breathless.

  “Oh, you really have to come to tea now,” Melinda said.

  “Right now.” Vivian regained her own stiff back and haughty demeanor.

  “Yes, come to tea right now,” Melinda agreed. “We can clear everyone else out of the house.”

  “Except for Cousin Rance,” Vivian added.

  Melinda’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, right. Cousin Rance can stay.” She shot her sister a teasing sideways look.

  Vivian smacked Melinda’s arm in a gesture that Athos supposed was subtle.

  Elspeth’s lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. She looked fully at Athos as if asking him what on earth was going on. In spite of everything, Athos had a hard time not laughing. And still the Bonneville sisters didn’t so much as blink in his direction.

  “I couldn’t possibly come to tea today,” Elspeth said. She was greeted by sighs of regret from Vivian and Melinda. “But I could come later in the week.” She peeked at Athos.

  Athos nodded. Hubert’s secret flashed to his mind. The Bonneville sisters wouldn’t raise a hand against the kids if they thought Elspeth would disapprove. And chances were that if Elspeth came to visit on her own, she could say or do or discover anything she wanted to.

  His heart swelled near to bursting in his chest, and he gave his wife a subtle nod.

  “Tomorrow,” Melinda gaspe
d. “Yes, we’ll be able to prepare ever so much better if you come tomorrow.”

  “Tuesday,” Elspeth said, chin tilted up.

  Athos struggled not to laugh. His beautiful, charming wife had the situation and the Bonneville sisters completely in her pocket.

  “Yes, Tuesday,” Vivian agreed. “By Tuesday I might have some happy news to share.”

  She peeked over her shoulder, beaming and wiggling her fingers at a man Athos didn’t recognize who had stepped out onto the porch to see what was going on. Melinda snorted. Vivian gave her another not-so-subtle whack on her arm.

  “Ow,” Melinda whined, rubbing her arm.

  “If you will excuse us,” Athos interrupted, “I think it’s about time we went home.”

  Vivian and Melinda turned to him as though just noticing he was there…and just noticing that he was a half-dead, rabid possum.

  “Yes, it is about time you got off our property,” Vivian said with a sniff.

  “It’s a shame what a woman…a lady…has to do to survive in this wretched world, isn’t it?” Melinda added for Elspeth.

  Elspeth’s brow lifted. She balled her hands into fists the same way Hubert had. Athos reached for her arm, looping it in his, and said, “Good day to you.” He turned and tugged Elspeth away toward the wagon.

  “I think one bloody nose is enough for this Sunday,” he whispered to Elspeth.

  Her fury cracked, and a giggle bubbled up from her lungs. “A pity. I was looking forward to spilling blood all over that awful frock the older one is wearing.”

  Athos chuckled. It was baffling to him that he could be in such good spirits when his children were locked inside the Bonneville house and a judge was on the way to determine if they would be taken from him forever. But after everything he’d seen and experienced in the last twenty-four hours, his heart was certain justice would prevail. It was becoming more and more certain of some other things too.

  They reached the wagon, and he closed his hands around Elspeth’s waist to help her up to the seat. A rush of inconvenient excitement pulsed through him. Sure, they had to focus on cleaning the house and weeding the garden once they got home, but perhaps they could find a few precious minutes or an hour for…other things.