Page 74 of The Defiant One
Andrew tucked it into his own pocket. "Much obliged. Now, let's get going. I don't know about you, but I've had all the excitement I can take for one night. You're able to ride, aren't you?"
His brother merely shot him an annoyed glance.
"I thought so," said Andrew, slapping him good-naturedly across the shoulders. He snared Contender's reins, holding him and ready to subtly lend a hand in case his brother couldn't quite haul himself up into the saddle; but Charles was made of strong stuff, and he was soon astride the tall stallion, grim-faced, a little pale, and very, very angry.
Though she eyed him with concern, Amy knew better than to try and persuade her husband to ride in the coach. The major's pride had been sorely wounded; he would ride his stallion, and none of them would try to talk him out of it.
"All right, let's go," Charles growled, guiding the big horse, who was almost tiptoeing in his eagerness not to unseat his wobbly master, back toward their own coach. Try as he might, though, he couldn't get any speed or fire out of the big steed. "'Sdeath, not you too. I've got a wife to coddle me, I don't need a damned horse doing it as well!"
Andrew and Celsie exchanged amused, relieved glances; then, satisfied that Charles was going to be just fine, they followed him, Contender, and Amy back toward the coach.
~~~~
They rested for several hours at a roadside inn, changed horses, continued on, and just before dawn of the following morning, finally pulled up at the tall iron gates of Rosebriar Park. Though Celsie urged her new in-laws to visit for a day or so, they were both eager to press on for their home some ten miles outside of London. Celsie and Andrew bade them good-bye, and stood at the gates watching until the coach, still accompanied by Charles on horseback, faded into the darkness.
"I do wish they'd stayed," Celsie said ruefully, reaching down to gently pull at Freckles's floppy ears. "It's been a long journey, and he really ought to be resting, not riding."
Andrew made a scoffing noise and dismounted from Newton. "Of course he should be riding. He's a toughened soldier, not a baby. Besides, Contender will take care of him for the rest of the way home, and Amy will take care of him once he's there. He'll be fine."
"You think so?"
"Yes, but I don't know about that Eva or Evil or whatever the devil her name was. Once Lucien finds out about the robbery, there'll be hell to pay, and he, unlike Charles, won't grant her the benefit of the doubt — or any advantages — just because she's a woman."
"Knowing Eva, she wouldn't want him to. Ah, but still . . . can't you just imagine? The duke of Blackheath versus Eva de la Mouriére. Now there's a confrontation I'd love to witness . . . from behind suitable protection, of course!"
"She wouldn't have a chance against him, much as I wish it otherwise."
"Oh, I don't know . . . I think I'd put my money on Eva."
Andrew only smiled, for he knew his brother all too well. He handed Newton's reins to the footman and sent the two servants, along with the coach in which were piled his belongings, on toward the house, leaving him and Celsie alone at the end of the drive. Then he turned and offered his elbow to his new bride, wanting to make this last part of the journey only with her. Adjusting his pace so the old dog could follow, he began to walk.
The first blush of dawn was already beginning to plant roses in the gloomy eastern sky. As they moved slowly up the drive, Esmerelda bounding ahead to explore her new home, Andrew felt a strange sense of peace and homecoming that was as surprising as it was welcome. Here he was, beginning a new life as a married man. Here he was, with a woman he actually enjoyed spending time with, a woman whose silken skin and warm flesh he couldn't wait to possess all over again. Here he was — chained in matrimony but free of his Machiavellian brother forever.
Perhaps fate had dealt him a winning hand, after all.
A chilly breeze came up, stirring the fading leaves of the tall, graceful chestnuts that lined the drive. He lifted his face to it, watching the sky lightening to the east, the bellies of the high clouds that slept on the horizon shimmering with brushstrokes of brilliant crimson fire.
Celsie paused with him, and Andrew, after a moment's hesitation, slid his arm around her waist, drawing her close. Together they watched the birth of the new day, their first as husband and wife. He was happy. He was at peace. And his bride didn't stiffen or try to move away, but actually stayed there, as content to be near him as he was to be near her. Maybe, just maybe, this friendship thing was going to work after all . . .
Though Andrew knew as well as anyone that friends didn't keep secrets from each other.
"So much for wedding nights," he said wryly.
"Well, you can't say we didn't have an unusual one. Instead of being robbed of our innocence, we were robbed of the very thing that caused us to lose it."
"My God, don't remind me of that. I think my heart stopped when you got out of the coach and walked up to that she-devil." He shuddered. "I don't know many people who would have had the courage to do what you did, let alone the wisdom to take charge and relinquish the potion to that bloodthirsty witch."
"I had to," she said, obviously pleased but a bit embarrassed by his open compliment. "Besides, I could tell just by looking at you that you were about to do something reckless, brave — and foolish. I couldn't just allow you to throw your life away like that."
"By stepping in, you probably saved it. You know that, don't you?"
"Well, someone had to step in." She grinned. "After all, you men certainly weren't handling things very well!" She sobered then, her eyes going warm and soft as she gazed up at him. "Did it really scare you, Andrew? That is, my confronting Eva?"
"Zounds, yes!" He cleared his throat and then, in a lower, more controlled tone, "Yes."
"Why, you almost sound as though you care about me."
"Whatever made you think I do not?"
