My Christmas Knight (The Fairplace Family #1)

Chapter Ten

I t took all of Dennis’s self-control to keep his breathing even. He didn’t know how to respond to the offer. But he didn’t want her to know he didn’t have a ready reply.

His mind whirled. He’d just had the best intercourse of his life with a lady he’d met less than a day ago. He was a prisoner of a religious madman, and he would possibly die in a few hours. But he thought the most about the woman lying in his arms.

Blanche.

A girl of such fortitude and kindness it took his breath away. She didn’t deserve this life. She needed escape as badly as he did—maybe even more. I wish I could help her. Dennis wanted her safe and happy. He imagined her as mistress of her own house, humming as she filled a vase with fresh flowers from the garden. Drinking ratafia anytime she damn well chose. Singing to a baby with thick brown hair and a dimple at his mouth.

And Dennis had just made love to her, for Christ’s sake. What sort of man did that? He didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t wish to be compared to her former lover.

What was he to do with her?

What was he to do with his hammering heart and his aching cock and his dizzy, air-starved brain?

He wasn’t seeking a wife. He wasn’t sure his irritable heart was ready to love someone. But somehow he’d fallen for her.

Dennis closed his eyes. Are my sentiments real? Or are they a product of suggestion, sleep deprivation, and a willing woman? If only they’d met under different circumstances. If only he could trust this bond between them was real and would last. He fancied her. He might even love her, though she was still caught up in her conflicting feelings about that rake. But perhaps that could be enough. They got on well, and he loved her laugh.

I need to help her escape. The thought burned like a bright star in his mind, snuffing all others out.

Blanche shifted in his arms, her breathing evening out. Dennis guessed she’d fallen asleep. He should, too. He had a very big decision to make in a short time.

He woke to a low sound at the door. His body jolted awake. Good grief, how had he even fallen asleep?

Black swathed the room, but if that was the lock it meant dawn arrived. He hurriedly sat up, leaning against the headboard.

“Blanche,” he whispered, patting her shoulder. “Wake up, I think it’s time.”

Muffled voices rose beyond the door, and his heart skipped a beat. It was time. No matter the consequences, he had to follow through.

“Mmm?” Blanche sleepily inquired, voice so soft he wanted to dive back into bed with her and kiss the sleep from her face. But she must’ve remembered, for her body went stiff. “Ah.”

“Quick,” Dennis whispered. “Did you mean what you said? About marrying me?”

Blanche stayed silent for a heartbeat as she, too, sat up to face their wardens. She must’ve been trying to remember the last thing she said. But he didn’t have time for this, so he plowed ahead.

“Blanche, darling, will you marry me?”

She didn’t reply.

Dennis’s heart sank. She wouldn’t do it. He’d have to go home without the one person he’d felt like he could be his true, changed self around. How could he live without her, now that he’d met her?

The door opened, letting in a stream of light.

Dennis squinted, shielding his face.

A lit paraffin lamp illuminated the features of the bishop, whereas cool morning light drifted in behind him. The natural light disappeared as the manservants once again filled the frame of the door.

Too much rage roared through Dennis for him to be embarrassed that he was caught sitting under the covers in bed half-dressed.

“Well?” the bishop snapped. “Did you propose? Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Yes,” Blanche answered. Her hand found his in the rumpled bedsheets and she squeezed it. “Yes, he proposed. And I said yes.”

The nasty old man beamed, and with the way the lamplight highlighted his heavy brow and scowling mouth, he looked like a demon. “We can have the ceremony right now.” He glanced behind him and snapped, “Marcher! Get in here to be a witness like I told you.”

Noise and jostling came from the doorway, the bishop snapping and hissing and the servants falling over themselves to obey.

Dennis looked at Blanche, squeezing her hand under the covers. “Are you sure?” he asked her. “I don’t want you forced into this marriage against your will.”

She smiled at him, and his heart actually skipped a beat. His irritable heart. Her eyes sparkled, and Dennis couldn’t believe he was marrying someone so lovely. Every part of him focused on her. The whole world narrowed to her, and the noise beyond faded away. “I choose you,” she said. “Not because Uncle has ordered me to, not because I’m so ruined the traveling tinker won’t take me, and not even to save your life. Though that is a part of it. I choose you because you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

His heart soared.

“Dennis, are you sure?” Her brow furrowed, and her Geordie slipped out again.

He squeezed her hand again. “I choose you,” he repeated. “Not because the alternative is to die, not because nothing better is in my life, and not even to save you from the cruelty you’ve lived with for so long. I choose you because you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Embarrassed delight spread across her face, and she leaned over and buried her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Dennis turned his head and kissed the crown of her head. That accent was fucking adorable.

“Get up, get up. You must be standing to wed,” the bishop snapped.

Dennis reluctantly got up, grateful he’d buttoned his trousers back in the middle of the night. The cold floor bit through his socks. He held out a hand to Blanche, helping her rise from the bed.

Her nightdress fluttered around her bare ankles as she took her place beside him.

Bishop Badnarrow opened a red leather copy of The Book of Common Prayer and scowled over the top of it at Blanche. “You’re a lucky girl. You should thank me I found your lover. Or even if not your lover, he’s a knight.”

“Skip to the vows, please,” Dennis demanded curtly. He threaded his fingers through Blanche’s. She leaned against him, and her soft body against his made his blood sing.

The ceremony ended quickly; the bishop wanted it done and over before Dennis could change his mind. Not that he would.

They had no rings to exchange, but their vows were no less heartfelt for it. Dennis’s own heart swelled in his chest as it came time for him to say, “I will.”

Finally the bishop made the sign of the cross and announced, “I now pronounce you man and wife. Hurry, sign the license.”

A manservant stepped forward with the thick parchment and an inkpot.

Dennis scowled at the man, but obediently signed his name, using the Book of Common Prayer as a table. He passed it to Blanche, and noted how her fingers trembled when they brushed his. God, he couldn’t wait to get her back into bed.

Blanche finished and politely handed the paper and pen over to her uncle to complete.

Dennis grabbed her about the waist and kissed her, unable to hold back any longer. His lips locked to hers, and he swallowed the muffled sound of surprise she made. She relaxed against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her jawline, and whispered in her ear, “You’re free now, Lady Fairplace.”

Blanche tightened her grip around his neck. “After all that you’ve heard about me?”

“I heard nothing,” he growled in her ear.

“I refused to tell my uncle, but I will tell you. The name of the man is Tobias Varyfield.”

“I heard nothing,” Dennis repeated, and kissed her again.

The voice of the bishop interrupted them. “Please, if you must satisfy your lusts, at least wait until us God-fearing people leave the room.”

Dennis pulled back from Blanche and stared at the old man, though he kept his arms around Blanche’s waist. “Are we married? Is it done?”

The man nodded, smiling in pleasure. “It is indeed. We should discuss how to announce the news. I think joining our families should create quite the soci—”

“Get my coat, hat, and valise. Now,” Dennis barked at Marcher.

She frowned at him, but did as he asked.

Dennis let go of Blanche long enough to scoop up his frock coat, which had grown wrinkled overnight on the floor. He slipped it on, tugged on his shoes, then advanced to the doorway, Blanche’s hand in his. “I am free to leave the room, am I not?”

The bishop stepped backward, which meant the manservants did, too.

Underneath them a giant gear must’ve moved, because the grinding and groaning of an engine started up. The train whistled outside, and the car began to rumble and shake.

“The train!” Blanche grabbed his hand with both of hers, following behind him. “We must be departing for Newcastle!”

Dennis kept walking, furious and confident. “Where is my coat?” he snapped as they stood in the center of the parlor.

Marcher bustled up with all the items in hand. He took the greatcoat first and turned to Blanche. “Darling,” he prompted.

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Blanche put her arms through the sleeves. The coat swamped her, reaching past her knees and covering her hands. Dennis wrapped her up tight in his coat and scarf, then put on his hat and took his valise in hand. “Do you want to take anything?”

She cocked her head, confused. “We’re leaving?”

He nodded. “I think you’re the most courageous person I’ve met, and I’m amazed you’ve survived this long under these conditions. But no more.”

Blanche grinned. “No, I need nothing but you.”

The train chugged and vibrated around them, picking up speed.

Dennis swooped her up in his arms. Blanche shrieked with delight and clutched his neck. Happiness would make his chest burst, he thought, if she pleased him any more. He stalked to the exterior door of the car.

“You can’t go out there!” Marcher exclaimed.

“Get back here,” the bishop whined.

Dennis looked him square in the eye. “Uncle, you have harmed my wife for the last time. Your cruelty and sanctimonious disdain, your lack of charity or compassion should never be felt by a stray dog, let alone an orphan sharing your flesh and blood. This ends now. My solicitor will be writing a complaint to the Archbishop. If you ever come near my wife again, if you ever even send her a letter, by God you shall regret it.” He opened the door and stepped out.

Blanche screamed as he stumbled onto the hard, frozen ground. But she held him tight and didn’t protest.

Wind whipped down the tracks, nearly knocking his hat off. Blanche reached out and caught it before it flew away. Something fluttered in the corner of his vision. Her hair tie must’ve come undone in the haste to leave. Her glorious hair flowed around them as he righted himself.

Two rail workers jogged toward them. “Get away from the tracks! You can’t jump off the moving train!” They waved wildly.

Dennis peered around to see the train platform lay only yards away. They had missed it by a few seconds. He turned and began to walk. The train chugged onward, taking the roar and steam away from them.

“Dennis!” Blanche exclaimed as she nuzzled his face. “Look, it’s snowing!”

And so it was.

Snowflakes swirled around them, lighting in her hair. One fell onto his eyelash, and he tried to blink it away.

Blanche giggled and used her thumb to gently slide it away. Dennis opened his eyes to see her smiling at him.

Snow covered the ground in a thin layer, white and more pure than Dennis had ever seen. For once it didn’t make his stomach turn.

“It snowed. How lovely! Too bad today is the day after Christmas,” Blanche remarked as he reached the empty train platform. He ignored the shocked looks he received from rail workers as he climbed up, his wife still in his arms.

“Today is my Christmas,” he whispered as he strode across the open platform toward the ticket seller’s window. Blanche tried to slip free and put her bare feet on the cold floor. He tightened his grip, not letting her go.

“Excuse me, sir,” the ticket agent blustered, his large mustache flopping as he spoke. “This is a public environment. You and the…lady must leave if you’re going to act so indecorously.”

“We lost our luggage on the last train. This is all we have to wear,” Dennis told him. “Two tickets to Nottingham, please. And do you have a telegraph office here? If I write a message can you telegraph someone in Nottingham now?”

The older man sniffed. “The next train departs in half an hour.”

“Good enough.” Dennis instructed Blanche to pull out his wallet from his coat pocket, and he paid their fare, then scribbled a message to the solicitor so he’d know to expect them. He marched over to the nearest bench and sat, holding her on his lap. Something fluttered above them. He glanced up. A bough of mistletoe swung from a rafter. He nudged Blanche. “Look.”

She glanced up, and her eyes sparkled. A smile stretched across her face, and he knew he wanted to see that smile every day. And that neck. It was just begging to be kissed. He began to learn forward, then remembered. They were in public. She was hardly dressed, and they didn’t need any more scandal. He fell back against the bench but held her tighter.

“Blanche,” he whispered. “I think I love you.”

She stared at him, open mouthed, and for a moment Dennis wondered if he’d gone too far. She doesn’t feel the same way. She needs time and space.

But then she said, “I have one last secret to tell you.”

Dennis’s heart skipped a beat. Oh please be something good and not about fucking Tobias.

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I think I love you, too.”

Dennis chuckled in relief, reveling in the feel of her against his lap. His cock stirred at the warm weight of her on him, and he wondered how he’d survive.

“How long is the train to Nottingham?” Blanche asked.

“Three hours, perhaps.” Dennis nipped her ear. “Why?”

“No reason. I’m merely counting the minutes until we get to your new home, and we can have a proper wedding night.”

Dennis gave her a wicked smile as both love and lust twined together, pumping through his body. “Patience, darling wife. We have the rest of our lives now.”

When the train rolled into the station, bringing soot and steam and screeching wheels, Blanche jumped up, heedless of her bare feet against the frost on the platform and grabbed his hand, tugging him onward. His greatcoat covered even her fingertips, brushing against the back of his hand. “Come on, Dennis.”

And Dennis followed.