Prologue
Dearest Chloe,
How to start this letter eludes me, dear cousin. I am still in shock over the events of the past week and can hardly believe, after months of being betrothed to Andrew, that I am now yoked for life to his conniving brother. I must admit, the news of yours and Andrew’s association wounded me, but I want you to know that I am not angry with you. I cannot fault you for falling in love; however, it may take some time for me to come to terms with the end result. Most of my anger currently lies with Michael, though. He was the one with the most opportunity to tell me the truth, yet he did not.
We are on our way to his estate in Scotland for an indefinite period of time. I write you from a coaching inn somewhere in the north, though I cannot be sure where exactly. I suppose I could ask, but I am refusing Michael the pleasure of my conversation for the time being.
Well, it is late and we have been traveling since early this morning. We have several days ahead of us until we reach the highlands, but I promise to keep you abreast of everything once we are there, and you must promise to do the same.
Your Cousin,
Lizzie
My Dear Lizzie,
Oh, how my heart rejoiced at your letter! The worry has been more than I could bear, for I was sure you would never want to speak with me again. Please accept my sincerest apologies and know that I never set out to deceive you. I cannot speak for Andrew and Michael – it seems their machinations went far beyond my own. But I do know one thing: Michael cares for you deeply. I know you are angry with him now, but perhaps you will find it in your heart to forgive him one day.
I must go. The baby has started moving around in my belly, especially in the middle of the night. She is quiet now, so I must pounce on the opportunity to sleep!
With all my love,
Chloe
Chapter 1
“Are you cold?”
Elizabeth looked up at her new husband and fixed him with her iciest glare. She was freezing but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. She would brave the highland chill without his help.
She gave a terse shake of her head and then turned her focus back to the rapidly moving landscape outside.
“Still not speaking to me?”
This time she did not even bother to turn her head, but instead simply rolled her eyes in response. She wished he would stop trying to converse with her, or trying to get her to smile. His previous attempts at humor had almost undone her, but she would not allow it.
Whenever he tried to say something amusing, she simply remembered his deception and it riled her blood anew.
How could they have done this to me? No, the real question was how could she have let them? How could she have been so very blind not to realize what was happening right before her very eyes. She should have known when her typically reserved fiancé finally succumbed to her pleas for affection. Andrew had never even kissed her and all of a sudden he was fondling her in the garden.
No, Michael was fondling her.
A blush rose to her cheeks at the memory, but she quickly pushed it from her mind.
She’d always wondered if her husband and his identical twin would attempt a deception. But that was early on in her courtship with Andrew. She was sure they must have done so as children, but as they grew closer to the wedding, that concern vanished. She assumed they had grown out of the need for such a childish hoax. Sure, they were known rakehells and it would not have been out of character for them to pull such a prank, but they never had. At least, she didn’t think they had. Not until the eve of their wedding. Not until it was too late for anyone to escape unscathed from such a deception.
Her heart twisted at the thought and she bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling onto her cheeks. She wouldn’t give Michael the satisfaction of knowing she was hurt.
Angry was fine – let him think she was angry all he wanted. Hurt was another story. Hurt indicated that her defenses were lowered, that she was vulnerable, that she needed coddling and reassurances.
She did need those things, now that she was married to the wrong man and being carted halfway across Britain, but she didn’t want them from him. That lying blackguard!
“It won’t be too much longer now.” Michael’s words pulled her out of her silent stew.
Reflexively, she almost turned to look at him, but then stopped herself. She had to appear as indifferent as possible.
“It’s been ages since I’ve been here,” he added. “But I do recognize this area.”
Why was he rambling so? She didn’t care where they were or what he recognized. She just wanted a bed and privacy...and maybe a bit of chocolate.
Lizzie wondered how the manor would look and if it was staffed at all. She’d grown up mostly in London, the daughter of an earl, and had never known much outside of her very comfortable existence.
Visits to her cousin’s cottage in Essex had given her a taste of how the rest of the world lived, but she’d always kept her visits short. Two days without a maid or a water closet was more than enough for her to understand what it would be like to be poor.
Not that Michael was poor. He too was used to the finer things in life, but he claimed it had been years since he’d been to this particular estate. Did that mean they’d truly be rusticating up here in the highlands?
The thought made Lizzie uneasy, but she squelched it quickly. She mustn’t show any sign of weakness to her new weasel of a husband.
“We won’t have to stay for long, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continued. “I’m sure the scandal will blow over in a few months and then we’ll be safe to return. Until then, well...I hope you like your new home.”
Michael pointed to the opposite window and Lizzie’s curiosity won out over her desire to appear indifferent. She shimmied slightly, keeping her face in a menacing scowl as she did so, and peered through the windowpane.
Her breath caught on a gasp as she beheld her new home. Situated beside a sparkling lake, and surrounded by hills and lush greenery, sat a picturesque manor of stone and brick.
Lizzie ignored the fact that it was probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and sat back against the squabs with a shrug. Michael was staring at her, and she looked back defiantly.
“You don’t like it?”
Like it? She loved it. But she’d be damned if she was going to tell him that. For the first time in days she spoke to her husband.
“It will do.”
***
It will do? Michael gaped at his wife, then gaped at the enchanting scene before turning once again to Lizzie. It was bloody amazing and all she could say was “it will do?”
Spoiled wench.
Michael shook his head and chastised himself for thinking such things about his new wife. In truth, he deserved her ire, but it still made him angry. He’d tried for the last five days to talk to her, to make her laugh...anything to alleviate the heavy silence that hung between them.
But the worst had been their wedding night when she insisted on separate rooms and then locked him out. Locked him out! The man who paid for the room and the man who’d said “I will” to her that morning at St. George’s. She was his by right, damnit, and she’d locked him out.
Furthermore, she'd been given a choice. He and Andrew had given her two days to get used to the idea of marrying him - she had a chance to back out and she'd not taken it. And damn her, she was going to make him pay for her decision.
He took a cleansing breath, trying to calm his pulse. It wouldn’t do to get upset – she was already upset enough for the both of them. She would come around eventually and then they’d work things out.
For the time being, he just needed to be patient. To give her space and allow her time to heal. She’d been through quite an ordeal after all and he didn’t want to make it any worse for her. Or him.
“Well, good,” he finally responded. “At least you don’t hate the place.”
When she said nothing, he continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Kerr have kept watch over the place in my family's absence. Once we assess our needs, we can hire more servants. I’m sure you’ll require a lady’s maid and such...”
He waited for Elizabeth to respond, but still nothing. She kept her face turned to the window and her jaw tight. Not even a glimmer of interest flashed in her ice blue eyes.
Michael decided to give up. No sense talking to someone who wouldn’t talk back. She could learn about the estate on her own for all he cared. Right now he just wanted to be alone with a stiff brandy. Maybe then the stiffness in his pants would abate.
Despite his anger towards her, the woman still roused his desires fiercely. She’d deliberately let her riding cloak fall open at the top so he would be forced to stare at her assets all day, every day, for the last week, knowing he wasn’t permitted to touch. That didn’t stop him imagining that he was touching though.
He remembered well what they felt like from their garden encounter several months ago, and that was enough to make him painfully hard.
Michael bit the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing. The last seven days had tested him to his limit, and it wouldn’t be long before he claimed his wife and officially made her his. He just had to figure out how to make her want it.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the manor and Michael leaned forward to open the door. He caught Elizabeth’s eye as he did so and something flickered there. What was it? Remorse? Fear? He couldn’t tell. But it wasn’t the same hardened look she’d worn since their wedding, and somehow that gave him hope for their future.
***
Lizzie took Michael’s hand and begrudgingly allowed him to help her from the carriage. She hated to accept his assistance, but they’d been riding for hours and she didn’t trust her legs to keep her upright.
When their hands met, her mind flashed once again to the masquerade ball when he’d led her into the garden and kissed her. Though he wasn’t the man she was originally intended to marry, she had shared rather intimate moments with him. Her body seemed to remember his touch of its own accord. Heat traveled from her toes until a blush once more infused her cheeks. Even worse, she felt a tingling that reached to her core – it was almost as strong as when he’d actually touched his hand to her breast-
Dear Lord, what was she thinking? This man was a liar and blackguard and she couldn’t allow her memories to interfere with the present. She couldn’t forget – would not ever forget – his deception.
“You’re welcome,” he said flatly when she failed to thank him.
A tiny stab of guilt surfaced. She hated to appear ungrateful, even to him. But she just couldn’t bring herself to say anything that even bordered on pleasant. She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.
Thankfully she was saved from the uncomfortable silence by a portly couple who hurried from the door and down the front steps.
“Oh, Lord Michael, look at ye!” the old woman blathered as she bustled to them. “Why, I haven’t seen ye since ye were a wee thing! Oh, Angus, look! Can ye believe how much he’s grown? Handsome as ever, aren’t ye?”
Lizzie watched in fascination as the woman gathered him in her arms and pulled him close against her breast. She stifled a giggle at his astonished expression and schooled her features back to their impassive state. But it was difficult. His eyes were round as saucers and a hint of pink came to his cheeks. She wasn’t sure if he was a man of six and twenty or a twelve-year-old boy in that moment.
“A strapping man you’ve turned out to be,” Angus agreed with his wife. “’Tis good to have ye home, milaird.”
“Thank you,” Michael said as he extracted himself from the still blubbering Mrs. Kerr. “May I present my wife, Lady Elizabeth Wetherby.”
He turned to look at her and she quickly looked away. She didn’t want him to know she’d been watching the scene with interest. Instead, she pasted on a bright smile and addressed Mr. and Mrs. Kerr.
“I have heard so much about you,” she lied as she stepped forward to shake their hands.
But Mrs. Kerr was having none of it. She ignored Lizzie’s hand and moved in for a tight squeeze. Not wanting to be rude, Lizzie squeezed back. As she did, she looked up over the woman’s shoulder to find Michael red with mirth. How rude. At least she’d had the decency to hide her amusement from him.
“Are ye hungry, my dear?”
Lizzie looked up and realized the woman had been speaking all the while, but what about, she didn’t know. She’d only caught that last bit thanks to her husband.
“Ah, yes, I suppose I am,” she replied.
The portly housekeeper clapped her hands and gave a squeal that would have sounded more appropriate coming from a pig. “Come along then,” she urged, taking Lizzie by the hand and ushering her to the stairs. “We’ll get ye some warm biscuits and a nice cuppa chocolate...”
Lizzie looked back over her shoulder to see Michael standing dumbfounded on the drive with Angus and for the first time in days, she allowed a smile to grace her lips.