Page 127 of Bride By Mistake
“You managed perfectly well on the ship.”
“It was only once, and it was all one-two-stagger, because of the waves,” she explained to his mother. She turned back to her husband. “I can’t, Luke. I’ll make a complete mess of things.”
“Nonsense,” Luke said briskly. “All you need to do is trust yourself to my lead.” He glanced at her face and laughed. “Oh well, one-two-stagger will do nicely. It’s so crowded nobody will notice. And if they do, we shall set a trend. Come, wife, you vowed to obey me. At least make a pretense of doing so in public.” He took her hand and almost dragged her onto the floor, ignoring her arguments, teasing her, and laughing.
Lady Gosforth, seeing Lady Ripton’s face, broke off from the comment she’d started to make. “Oh my dear, whatever is the matter?”
Lady Ripton’s gaze was fixed on her son and his wife. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“Is it the little Spanish gel? Has she upset you?” Lady Gosforth began.
Lady Ripton shook her head. “Look at my son,” she whispered. “Look at him, Maude.”
Lady Gosforth lifted her lorgnette and peered at Lady Ripton’s son. “What? Looks a damn sight better than he’s looked for years, if you ask me.”
“Exactly. That little Spanish girl—” Lady Ripton mopped away a fresh surge of tears. “Look at him, Maude—he’s laughing. He’s teasing her. He’s dancing. That dear, dear child has brought my son back to me.” She sobbed happily.
“My dear, yes, I see it,” Lady Gosforth murmured.
“All the boys came back changed. Harry and Gabe and my dear Rafe—you know as well as anyone the darkness they brought back from the war.”
“All had demons riding them,” Lady Gosforth agreed. “Wild to desperation, every one of ’em.”
“And Luke was the worst. But over the years, I’ve watched each one of those boys settle down, fall in love, become… happy. But not my Luke, never my Luke.” She wiped her eyes. “And when he told me he’d married a foreign girl when he was just nineteen and she thirteen… Of course I expected the worst. I’ve been so deeply distressed about the whole thing—well, you know all about it. But look at them, Maude. Justlookat my son and that wonderful girl.”
On the dance floor Isabella was twirling lightly in Luke’s arms as if she’d been doing it all her life, gazing up at her husband, her hand clasped against his heart. And Lady Ripton’s tall, beautiful son was gazing down at his little Spanish girl with a look in his eyes that brought fresh tears to his mother’s eyes.
“She adores him,” Lady Gosforth commented.
“And he adores her,” Lady Ripton sobbed. “The dear girl.”
“You were going to tell me something,” Bella reminded Luke that night as they were preparing for bed. Her first ball had been magical. Luke’s friends and relations had welcomed her with open arms. The men had danced with her, their wives had befriended her, and Luke’s mother embraced Bella whenever she saw her. She still felt like dancing.
“Will you look at that,” Luke exclaimed softly under his breath. He’d just removed his shirt and, as was his usual habit, had peered under the gauze bandage that covered his wound.
“Show me.” Bella hurried over.
Luke slowly lifted the bandage off. With it came the dried scab of the wound. Beneath lay new skin. Shiny pink skin, a little puckered. He was scarred, yes, but there was not a hint of a rose anywhere to be seen.
“Oh Luke…”
He picked her up and carried her to bed.
Much later she stirred in his arms, stretching languorously. “You were going to tell me something.”
“Hmm?”
“In the carriage. You started but we were interrupted.” She was hungry for the words.
He pulled her close to him and rolled over so she lay on top of him, naked, skin to skin. “You want all the gory details, do you?”
“Yes.” She kissed his chest. “Every. Last. One.” She punctuated it with kisses.
He thought for a moment. “I’m utterly and totally besotted with you.”
She frowned. “Besotted? That means drunk.”
“Drunk, intoxicated. In love with.”
