Twelfth Night Betrothal

Chapter 11

It was an unmitigated disaster.

Heather stared at the ceiling, eyes dry. She had exhausted her tears hours ago, or so it seemed. She had placed her trust in Flynn, taken a gamble with her family’s future and her own happiness—and lost.

Flynn hadn’t come to meet her this afternoon. It could mean one of two things. Either he had been unable to extricate himself out of the betrothal with the woman his father had chosen for him—or he had lied to her and had never had any intention to do it.

She cursed herself for a fool. How had she thought it would be so simple? Lost in the haze of the most romantic week of her life, mesmerized by deep emerald eyes looking at her as if she were the most precious thing on this earth, filled with hope of a future she could actually stomach, she had lost her grip on reality.

Damn Will and his outlandish ideas! Dazzled by the fantasy he had created for her and Flynn, she had started to dream all was possible. She had wanted to swap one bridegroom for another and as a result had lost both. Now she had no means of supporting her family and no hope of a future match. After the humiliation he had suffered at her father’s hands, the viscount would no doubt spread the word of her defection all over the county, making it impossible for her to attract any other man.

Still, in this moment, she cared not a whit about that.

It was Flynn’s betrayal that hurt, not the loss of her reputation.

All thoughts of sleep forgotten, Heather jumped out of bed. It was too late to save her heart, but she could still save her dignity. She simply couldn’t leave things like this. Flynn would not be allowed to get away with abandoning her without justifying himself. She had to go and find him.

Fortunately, she knew just the man who could help her, and she knew where he would be right now.

****

“How did you find me?”

“Will… Alistair… He told me where your London residence was.”

Flynn grunted. Damnation! Of all men, his friend had to choose Heather’s sidekick as his lover! She had been the last person he’d expected to find in the courtyard of his manor house this morning, yet as he’d made his way to the stables she had been standing by the gate, asking the guards to let her through.

There had been little choice but to order the man to let her in.

He crossed his arms over his chest, not in the least disposed to be polite. “Why are you here?”

Far from looking chastened, she raised her chin defiantly. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d have guessed. I need to know why you did not come to meet me by the river yesterday, as planned.”

He blinked. Was she jesting? “Forgive me for obeying your wishes and your father’s very precise instructions. I was told not to try to see you ever again. I thought that would include our appointment by the river.”

“My father?” Heather opened wide eyes. “When did you speak to my father? He never said you did!”

“Didn’t he? Well, we most certainly talked. I went to see him as soon as I arrived in London, intent on asking his blessing so I could propose to you when we met yesterday.” He might as well tell her the whole truth now, make his humiliation complete. What a fool he’d been to think he had better do things the proper way!

“Y-you asked him for my hand?” Heather sounded dumbstruck. It only incensed him further. What did she think he’d been doing in London? Hadn’t he as good as told her he would, before leaving Redding Castle precipitously?

Yes, he had. That was why she had written to her father to instruct him to put an end to his pretensions once and for all. Presumably, once he was gone she had realized the enormity of what was happening and she had sent a letter to her father to warn him of his pending visit. A newly titled viscount, base born, should under no circumstances be allowed to ruin her life. She hadn’t even had the courage to face him herself.

He had been so dejected he had not found the strength to go see the old crone yet, to put an end to their marriage. He still intended to, but there was no hurry now, since the woman he wanted to marry in her stead did not want him.

“I never had time to say anything. As soon as I introduced myself I was told without ceremony you would never marry Viscount Wexford and did not want to have anything to do with him ever again.”

“Well, yes, I don’t, but that has nothing to do with—”

Flynn planted himself in front of her. Why was she torturing him so? The pain, the humiliation of being told she had been in love with another all along, with a man she’d met during her marriage to the earl, had been unbelievable. At first he had hardly dared to credit it, but then he’d had no choice. Her father had been adamant. She didn’t want to see him and was in love with a man she was set to marry.

In the end, it seemed she had dared to follow her heart, but not with him.

Had their time at Redding Castle only been a game for her? Perhaps. But he could not have mistaken the desire in her eyes every time she looked at him, or the passion in her kiss. So what was she playing at? And what would her precious beloved think? Should he seek him out and tell him all he and Heather had done? All they had almost done?

The petty revenge might soothe some of the burn.

“Will you stop talking in riddles and have the courage of your convictions!” he growled. “If you don’t want to have anything to do with me, then don’t seek me out.”

Thunder fell at Heather’s feet.

Not want to have anything to do with him… There was only one man she didn’t want to see, only one man who had met her father in the last week.

“You don’t m-mean… you are Viscount Wexford?”

“Yes,” he said curtly, as if that fact was of no importance whatsoever. “I told you I had recently inherited my father’s title.”

“Yes but you didn’t tell me what that title was,” she said in a breath.

His father had been George’s cousin, the old man she was supposed to marry? And he had died, unbeknownst to her and her family, only to force his son to replace him as her groom?

Flynn shrugged while she tried to understand what she was being told. “What difference does it make what my title is? Or were you expecting it to be more prestigious? An earl, a duke even? You were a countess before, after all. I can understand why a union with a mere viscount, and a bastard at that, would have been a comedown in the world for you.”

She ignored the slur. “It would have made all the difference, because then I would have realized you were none other than the man I had been sold to by my husband!”

It was Flynn’s turn to look thunderstruck. “You mean… you are the old crone?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Dowager Countess of Marsham? In other words my father’s cousin’s widow? The one I could not stomach marrying?”

“Well, yes. I thought you knew my…” Her voice died in her throat when she remembered Flynn had not known any of the guests at Redding Castle—and she had never told him who she was, apart from “Heather.”

They stared at each other a long moment. Could it be possible?

“So we were supposed to marry all along,” he breathed.

“Yes.” Apparently they had been.

There was a long silence, then Flynn burst out laughing. “Alistair and I were convinced I was set to marry a woman old enough to be my mother.”

“And I was told I would become the wife of my husband’s older cousin, a tormentor and a lecher.”

“Mm. Based on these descriptions, it is no wonder we didn’t recognize each other.”

As if moved by an invisible force, they fell into each other’s arms.

The kiss was urgent, desperate. It was the kiss of two lovers who had almost lost one another. It was the triumph of love over men’s machinations. It was delicious.

When they drew back, Heather was both breathless and incensed. “I blame Will for this! Had he not forced us to use our Christian names when we met, none of this would have happened. We would have been properly introduced and we would have known where we stood from the start!”

Flynn brushed a finger over her cheek. “I suppose we would have. But I would still have fallen in love with you.”

“In love?” She blinked at him. Had he just declared his love for her in such a flippant way?

“Come, Heather, don’t tell me you’re surprised? Weren’t we supposed to fall in love at first sight? I blame Will for this,” he said with a wry smile. “Because I think I did fall for you at first sight, just as he wanted. As soon as I removed the mask covering your lovely face, I knew I had found someone special.”

She sighed. “Oh, if only you had told me your title at Redding Castle!”

He frowned. “I thought I did. On the second evening, when you asked me, remember?” They stared at each other, understanding dawning.

The geese.

His introduction had been cut short by the chaos in the great hall, and he hadn’t been able to finish his sentence. And because by then she’d already been used to calling him Flynn, it hadn’t seemed to matter. Oh, but it had. If only the wretched animals had been released a heartbeat later!

“Will!” she said between her teeth. “I swear the next time I see him I will kill him.”

“And I might well kiss him,” Flynn purred, drawing her back into his arms.

She let out a raspy laugh. “I think Alistair might take exception to that. So why don’t you kiss me instead?”

By the time they drew away from the kiss, every single inch of Heather’s body was on fire. And then… Then her heart exploded.

Because Flynn had gone down on one knee in front of her.

“Heather. Sweetheart. Lady Marsham. Old crone.” His lips twitched. “Will you marry me?”

“I will, Flynn. Beloved. Wicked Wexford. Decrepit old cousin.”

He was back on his feet before she could blink. “So the Lord of Misrule has his Twelfth Night betrothal after all.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” Indeed, today was Twelfth Night. With all the events of the past few days, she had not realized it. “Do you think we could…” She bit her bottom lip. Dare she voice the question out loud? One glance at Flynn’s burning green eyes gave her the strength she needed. This man loved her, and he would be her husband soon. She could be honest with him. “Could we go to your bedchamber? I need to be alone with you.”

Without a word, he offered his arm and led her to a room at the top of a grand staircase. As soon as the door was closed she threw herself into his arms and proceeded to devour him. She was past shame, past everything. He must be desperate for her as well. Why else would he have agreed to take her to his room?

But all too soon he broke the kiss with a groan.

“Sweetheart, wait,” Flynn rasped, stilling the frantic grinding of her hips against his. “I won’t… I will not take you to bed before we are husband and wife. I want to do this properly. Your first marriage was a shocking travesty and your wedding night a shambles.” Thunder flashed in his eyes as it did every time he thought of George. “I want to do this right for you. You deserve as much. I want you to have a husband you can trust and a wedding night that will erase the one you had to endure last year.”

“Oh, Flynn!” That was the most touching thing anyone had ever told her. “I already know I will.”

Though she was bursting with need, she could see what it cost him to be so patient and do what he thought right for her. Already resolving to have their wedding organized before the end of the month, she took a step back from him. It was only fair she did what she could to help him stay in control.

But Flynn drew her back into his arms. He didn’t want to make love to her just yet, but he seemed to have no problem touching her. Grateful for his control, she melted into his embrace.

“Did you know that Will scolded me for not giving you a Christmas present during our time at Redding Castle?” he said, nuzzling at her ear.

“He didn’t!” Heather sighed. “Please feel free to ignore him. He’s not Lord of Misrule any longer. He doesn’t govern us, and besides, there is nothing I want.” Not when she had just been given the most wonderful news imaginable.

“Mm. Maybe not, but there is something you need.”

“Is there?” She could barely think with Flynn nibbling at her throat in such a delicious manner.

“Something long overdue.” Flynn’s brow darkened and her chest constricted. He sounded so irate at the idea of what she had endured, so eager to erase the bad memories… What had she done to deserve such a man? “You told me about your husband. What he did to you in life and in bed… From that, I can easily guess what he didn’t do.”

“What do you mean?”

He brought his mouth to her ear. “I won’t take you until we’re married, but I want to give you pleasure. Now. To show you what you’ve been missing all this time, and will get as my wife, whenever you need it.”

“Pleasure?” she rasped. That one word had seared her nerve endings.

“Pleasure.”

“There will be nothing to unwrap, then?”

He gave a low growl at her provocation. “Not for you, no, I’m afraid. I will be the one doing the unwrapping.”

Before she could say anything he swept her into his arms and brought her to the massive bed waiting for them. Slowly, he started to gather the hem of her skirt up her leg, exposing one silk stocking and then the bare skin above her knee. All the while he kept kissing the sensitive skin at her throat. It was not long before Heather started to squirm.

“Flynn, please!”

“Yes. Let me unwrap this lovely gift of a woman.”

A devilish finger followed a path along her thigh and came to rest on her intimate folds at the same time as soft lips landed on her mouth. The kiss was perfect, but not enough. The caress was heaven, but not was she wanted. She needed more.

As if he understood her desperation, Flynn lowered her bodice and exposed her breasts. “Dear God, you’re so beautiful!” For a moment he just stared at her. Then he dipped his head.

The heat of his mouth on her nipple made her squeal and arch her back. His tongue was teasing it in much the same way his finger was playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. How could anything feel so good? And yet she might well die if he carried on. It was maddening.

“Flynn, wait… It’s too much…”

A deep, sensual chuckle reached her ear. “Oh, my love, we’re only getting started. I’ve touched you. Now I want to use my mouth on you.”

“You already are.” Had he not noticed what he was doing to her breasts?

He growled. “Not where I want.”

“You can’t be serious.” She almost choked on the words when his eyes flicked to the place he was still caressing.

“Deadly serious. I want to taste you. I promise you’ll like it.”

She suspected she might well love it, but surely she should not allow such—

Oh, she absolutely should. As soon as she felt Flynn’s breath on her tender flesh, Heather surrendered. He could do whatever he wanted to her, she trusted him.

A rasp escaped her lips when he licked her, then another when he swirled his tongue, parting her folds slightly. What was the wretched man doing to her? Did it matter? This time she knew it would be enough. That the pleasure would build and build until she shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Mm, you know, my love, I was right the other day by the lake. You do taste of honey. So let me feast.”

He did feast—and she dissolved. All the sensations she was capable of rushed to the tiny point between her legs Flynn was teasing mercilessly. The world dimmed, flickered, and then exploded in a blinding flash of light. Her whole body pulsed, wrenching desperate cries from her throat. Nothing could have prepared her for this experience.

Flynn groaned and she fell back on the bed, all her strength drained away.

“This has to be the best Christmas present I have ever received,” she said in a breath, causing him to chuckle. “But I don’t have anything to give you.”

“You gave me your trust, your hand, and your pleasure just now. I cannot think of a better gift.”

His kiss, wicked and fiery, stole her breath. And incredibly, desire started to blossom anew. As if he’d felt it, Flynn drew back.

“Let’s get married tomorrow and to hell with propriety. I cannot wait another night to have you in my arms.”

She laughed and rewarded this demand with a scorching kiss of her own. If he could give her so much pleasure without actually taking her, she couldn’t imagine what he might do when he bedded her as a husband should. And she couldn’t wait to find out.

“Yes. Let’s do it tomorrow. To hell with propriety.”