Ask for It (Georgian 1)

“That is the point.”

He scowled. “The first time we met, I had only a few moments to speak with you. I couldn’t explain.”

“Explain now.”

“First, you must know I would never hurt you.” His jaw tightened. “I’m attempting to assist you.”

“Why would you wish to do that?” she scoffed. “I am married to a man who would see you hanged if he could.”

“You are my brother’s widow,” he said quietly. “That is all that matters to me.”

“What?” Physically thrown off balance by his statement, Elizabeth reached behind her in an effort to steady herself and instead knocked over several bottles, which crashed to the floor and shattered, filling the room with the cloying scent of flowers and musk.

“You lie!” But the moment she denied it, she knew it was true.

Upon closer examination, the similarities were obvious. Nigel’s hair had been the same dark wheat color and his eyes had been blue although not as brilliant as St. John’s. The nose was the same, the shape of the jaw and chin, the placement of the ears.

“Why would I?” he asked simply.

She examined the pirate in greater detail. His mouth was not the same. Nigel’s had been less wide, the lips thinner, and his skin had been softer, more pampered. Nigel had sported a mustache and Van Dyke. Christopher’s face was clean-shaven. But the differences were minor. Had she known to look, she would have caught the resemblance earlier.

Brothers.

The color drained from her face.

Her lungs sought air, but the restriction of her corset made it difficult to breathe. She felt dizzy and her legs gave way, but St. John caught her to him before she fell. He dipped her over a steely arm, his hand tilting her head back to better open her airway. “Easy,” he soothed in his raspy voice. “Take a breath. Now another.”

“Damn you,” she gasped. “Have you no tact? No sense to know better than to spring such news on me with no warning?”

“Ah, your charm is once again in evidence.” He smiled and looked for a moment very much like Nigel. “Keep breathing as deeply as you can. I have no notion of how you women suffer your corsets.”

The bells above the door chimed merrily.

“The dowager has arrived,” he murmured in warning.

“Elizabeth!” Elaine cried, her voice growing louder as she rushed closer. “Unhand her immediately, sir!”

“I apologize, my lady,” St. John replied with a smile that was charming even from Elizabeth’s underside view. “But I am unable to oblige you. If I release Lady Westfield she will certainly collapse to the floor.”

“Oh,” said the shop girl as she joined the muddle. “Christopher St. John.”

“St. John?” murmured Elaine, trying to place the name.

“’E’s famous,” supplied the girl.

“You mean infamous,” grumbled Elizabeth as she struggled to right herself.

Christopher laughed.

Elaine frowned. Uncertain of how to handle the situation she fell back on her manners. “Thank you, Mr. St. John, for your assistance. I’m certain The Earl will be most appreciative.”

The full lips curved with wry amusement. “I sincerely doubt that, my lady.”

Elizabeth struggled against his thickly muscled chest. “Release me,” she hissed.

He chuckled as he straightened her, making certain she was steady on her feet before dropping his arms away. Then he turned and paid the besotted shop girl for the broken items.

“Elizabeth, are you unwell?” Elaine asked with obvious concern. “Perhaps it is too soon after your illness for you to be out.”

“I should have eaten this morning. I felt faint for a moment, but it’s passed now.”

St. John returned to their sides, gave a courtly bow, and made his excuses.

“Wait!” Elizabeth hurried after him. “You cannot simply walk away after telling me something like that.”

Christopher lowered his voice, glancing over her head at the dowager countess. “Does your mother-in-law know of this affair?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it’s not wise to discuss this now.” He collected his hat from atop the bin near the rear hallway where he’d left it. “I will find you again soon. In the meantime, please be careful and trust no one. I would never forgive myself if something untoward happened to you.”

It was shortly before luncheon when Elizabeth and Elaine returned home. They parted on the second floor landing, both retreating to their rooms to change their gowns. Elizabeth was exhausted, hungry, and totally confused by St. John’s revelations, a combination that gave her a splitting headache.

What was she to do now?

She couldn’t share St. John’s claims of kinship until she knew them to be true. And if they were, her marriage would be a disaster. Marcus truly hated St. John and had wed her for reasons best left unconsidered. What would he do if he knew? Despite how she wished it, she couldn’t see him considering it of no consequence. Certainly it would mean something to him, and Eldridge as well, that the man they pursued with a vengeance was connected to her in so personal a way. And William. All these years it was St. John who bore the blame for nearly killing him. But was that true? Was the pirate so cold and calloused as she’d been led to believe? And Nigel . . . Dear God, Nigel. Working for Eldridge to hunt his own brother. Or perhaps he’d assisted St. John in his activities, which made him a traitor.

She needed time to think and contemplate the ramifications of what she’d learned today. As it was, she was barely able to walk, her steps dragging and her stomach growling. Later, once she was of firmer mind, she would reason out how to share the news with her husband.

Entering her room, she closed the door. She moved to collapse in the large wingback chair by the fireplace and started in surprise to find Marcus sitting there.

“Good heavens, Marcus! You gave me a fright.”

He rose from the chair and Elizabeth wondered if it was her lack of sleep that made him appear taller and more menacing. “Surely not so much of a fright as I received when I discovered you had left the house,” he drawled.

Her chin lifted in response to the sudden leap of her heart. Dressed for riding, he was impossibly handsome and she hated to discover that she still wanted him, even after crying over him all night. “Such care for my well-being. Unfortunate that you had none for me last night.”

When she attempted to pass him, his hand whipped out and caught her upper arm, dragging her to him. “I heard no complaints,” he growled.

“Perhaps if you’d stayed longer you would have.”

“If I’d stayed longer, there would be no complaints at all.”

She yanked free of his grip, her chin quivering at his words, which betrayed his understanding of the pain he inflicted. “Leave me and take your arrogance with you. I must change for luncheon.”

“Despite being de trop, I believe I’ll stay,” he said softly, though the challenge in his eyes was hard.

“I don’t want you here.” His presence renewed the unhappiness she’d spent all morning trying to forget.

“And I did not want you venturing out without me. Sometimes we don’t attain the things we desire.”

“How well I know it,” she muttered, ringing for her abigail.

He released a breath that could only be described as frustrated. “Why must you deliberately ignore the danger?”

“I took the outriders with me and as you can see, I am home and all in one piece. You didn’t mind when I went out before. Am I to be a prisoner now that we’re wed?”

“You have not been out since the stabbing. The danger is greater now, and well you know it.”

Elizabeth dropped into her gilt vanity chair and gazed at his angry reflection in the mirror.

Marcus eyed her closely before resting his large hands on her shoulders and squeezing so tightly she flinched. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then a soft rap came at the door.

F

or the next half hour he watched as her abigail helped her to dress. He said nothing, but his stifling presence made both her and the servant uncomfortable. By the time she finished changing she was certain she was about to expire from hunger and the thick tension radiating from her husband. She was greatly relieved when they reached the main floor and joined his family for the meal. She settled into her seat and ate with as much decorum as she could manage considering how long she’d gone without food.

“I am relieved to see you feeling better, Elizabeth,” Elaine said. “I thank the Lord you were caught by that St. John fellow before you fell to injury, although he did seem—”

“Could you repeat that, Mother?” Marcus said with dangerous softness.