The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(67)

“Richard,” Javan said impatiently.

Caroline regarded him with fascination. “And you imagine my leaving Blackhaven engaged to one cousin and returning there married to the other will not cause comment?”

A quick grin passed over Javan’s face and vanished. “Richard believes he can just tell everyone they were mistaken and that you were always engaged to me. Personally, I don’t see that it’s anyone’s business but ours. We can be married here, now, or we can go home and ask Grant to marry us whenever you like.”

She glanced from him to her mother and the rest of the company and realized that of course this was right. Her mother and Eliza and Peter were here. She was happy. Everyone was happy.

Slowly, she took her hand from her mother’s arm and laid it on Javan’s. She smiled up at him. “Here and now is perfect,” she said huskily, and the wave of joy in his face seemed to be all she could ever need.

*

Even in her wildest, most romantic, youthful dreams, Caroline had never imagined being married by an innkeeper in his coffee room. The morning passed in a blissful daze. Her hand was placed in Javan’s, they made promises, and before the law and God, she was his. Mrs. Javan Benedict.

Rosa was silently delirious and kept hugging both of them. Mrs. Archie provided a wonderful spread, more luncheon than wedding breakfast, and Archie rooted out a few bottles of champagne that he’d never had cause to use before. Caroline felt she would burst with happiness.

And yet, it was a relief to escape for a little and just walk with Javan in the woods beyond the inn. His company both soothed and energized her, and it was unbearably sweet to pause in the shade of a tree and exchange kisses in the sharp, autumn-scented air, while the birds sang above them and the human voices were all distant.

“I do love you,” she whispered.

“I hope you always will.” It was light and gentle, and yet behind it, she recognized a genuine fear. If his first wife had ever loved him, it hadn’t been for long.

But she would not bring that specter to her marriage. She merely kissed him and resolved to banish this shadow along with all the others.

His body grew harder, more urgent, pinning her to the tree as he ravished her mouth and throat with kisses, his hands on her hips to hold her where he wanted her.

“Do you know, my wife,” he said unsteadily, “that Richard told me he would stay away from our chamber until well after midnight?”

The heat of her arousal seemed to flame. Words stuck in her throat. Having lived so long in the country, she was aware of the mechanics of procreation and linked it with some astonishment to the thrilling if unspecific desires she felt in Javan’s arms. The thought of spending time in his bed, of pleasing him in this way both excited and scared her. But there was no way she would ever refuse him, and it had little to do with “duty”.

“Do you want to go there, now?” she whispered.

“Oh yes,” he said fervently, bringing his open mouth down on hers, caressing her tongue with his.

He seemed to wrench his mouth free and rested his forehead on hers, easing his body apart from hers until there was a sliver of air between them. “But I won’t take you until you’re well enough, until we have time and space to enjoy each other. For you, there should be more than a hurried fumble, at least the first time.”

She swallowed, wondering if there was relief among the flood of disappointment. “It is a long time until midnight,” she pointed out. “And I feel very well. My arm barely hurts at all.”

He smiled and kissed her at the same time. “You are a liar, and I love you for it. But I will be good for just a little longer.”

Perhaps, if it hadn’t been for the obvious betrayal of his body, and his devastating kisses, she might have been hurt. As it was, she couldn’t quite understand how it was possible to be so enchanted and so frustrated at the same time.

And so, she spent her wedding night with her new stepdaughter and sister-in-law. And in the morning, she bade farewell to her mother and sister and little Peter, who were invited to Haven Hall for Christmas, and began the journey home to Blackhaven.





Chapter Nineteen





While awaiting the return of Killer Miller to claim the other half of his fee, Marcus Swayle enjoyed himself spreading the word about Caroline Grey’s disappearance. Not that he gave any impression of watching Haven Hall or its occupants. He preferred to ask people if they had seen Miss Grey, then exclaim with worry when they hadn’t. He would then enquire, with obvious suspicion, about Colonel Javan Benedict.

Many people in Blackhaven did not seem to be aware of Benedict’s former rank. Clearly, the blackguard was trying hard not to be connected to the Colonel Benedict of the late scandal. Swayle was happy to enlighten them as to that connection and reiterate the colonel’s brutality to himself and to his wife.

“We truly thought he was dead,” he said frequently. “And I have to say my poor, innocent Louisa had cause to wish he was. When we married, we believed we had a right to happiness. But he defeated both of us by returning. That I could not save her will haunt me forever… But I cannot bear that others might suffer as we did. It is my belief that poor Miss Grey is in terrible danger. And as for the child, whom I love as my own…”

He was slightly miffed that more people didn’t react with sympathy and shock. The devil was in it that Lord and Lady Tamar and the vicar, damn them, seemed to have taken Benedict up. And the dullards in Blackhaven obviously took their cues from them. But they would see, they would all see, when Caroline Grey was found dead and Javan Benedict the clear culprit. With luck, this would turn even Richard against him before he hanged.