Page 6 of The Marquess’s Stolen Bride (Dukes Gone Dirty #3)

6

T he minutes before Hayden’s wedding crawled by.

Hayden thrust a hand through his hair and eyed the bottle of whiskey on Malcolm’s end table in his study.

“Do not even think it,” Benedict growled.

Hayden sighed. “I won’t do it. I know I need my wits about me today more than ever.”

“An odd thing to say on one’s wedding day,” Raff chuckled. “Sounds like you’re about to enter a business negotiation.”

Hayden scoffed. “That part’s done, thank God.”

“How’d it go?” Malcolm asked.

Hayden shook his head, the rage he’d felt the other morning when he’d faced the countess back in full force. “She’s ruthless, that one.”

“Was the mad earl there as well?” Raff sounded curious. “I’ve never even seen the old coot.”

“Neither have I,” Hayden admitted. “He didn’t show. Only the countess and that snake Foley.”

Benedict growled. “What’s he doing hovering around that decrepit old manor?”

“Whatever it is, he’s up to no good,” Malcolm said.

Raff glowered. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

Hayden scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t even want to think about the meeting with the countess, or her smug right-hand man.

“But what’s he about?” Benedict demanded. “He must have some stake in this. We ought to be prepared.”

Raff shook his head. “The man is desperate for power. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that he’d attach himself to a corrupt countess.”

“No doubt they have a common goal,” Malcolm agreed.

Hayden grunted his agreement. “They do, all right. They’re both hungry for a fortune and they’ll do just about anything to get it.”

“I take it no dowry then,” Malcolm said.

Hayden shook his head. “No. But you know I don't care about that.” His father had been a nasty old bugger, but he’d had a head for numbers and the marquessate was flush with coin. “The countess outright asked me for a large sum in exchange for her approval of this marriage.”

The others stared at him wide-eyed.

“She didn’t,” Malcolm said.

“What did you say?” Benedict asked.

“I negotiated. For my bride. She made comments about how I was taking away her best chance for a fortune, and so I owed it to her.” He added the last part through gritted teeth. Because what he couldn’t stand, but what he couldn’t stop wondering was— “What had she planned for Madeline if I hadn’t come along?”

The other three shared wary looks. It seemed no one wanted to hedge a guess.

“But you still gave her the money?” Benedict looked affronted by this.

“Not everything she asked for. She’d overreached, and we all knew it. I agreed to fund some much-needed renovations on their property and have my man advise her son on ways they could shore up their funds.”

Raff scowled. “Where is the son?”

Hayden’s jaw tightened as well. That had been his question, too. The father was clearly ill, mentally and physically, judging by his absence. But what was the son’s excuse? “He’s off managing estates in the south, she said.”

“Does he know how she’d been mistreating his sister?” Malcolm asked.

“Had he known all this time and done nothing?” Benedict added.

Hayden had no answer. He didn’t even know the full extent of what his wife-to-be had experienced in that household. But anyone could see it had not been good.

It rather put his own miserable childhood in perspective.

He eyed the whiskey again, but the twinge of longing to drown his own memories wasn’t as strong as his desire to ensure this day went smoothly for Madeline.

She was likely scared. And who could blame her? He’d visited her every day this week, and they’d gotten on well enough with pleasant, if one-sided conversations. He’d done most of the talking, filling her in on his estates and what she could expect when she came to live with him.

He tried to assess her interests and hobbies, but she was tight-lipped about herself and her past. She had no knowledge of current fashions and had gone along with Vivian’s plan of purchasing her some simple ready-to-wear gowns from a local shop until the seamstress could make her custom collection.

But again, Madeline hadn’t had much of an opinion on any of it. She was polite to a fault with him and the others, but he couldn’t ignore this feeling that she was hiding in plain sight. Trying her best to please and not cause any trouble.

The thought made him frown. He wanted her to be comfortable. With him and with his friends. But how?

A knock on the study door had all of them straightening.

Vivian poked her head in with a smile.

“Is it time?” Hayden asked. His insides leaptwith excitement more than nerves. Which was…alarming. But not bad, he supposed.

This whole situation would be much worse if he was dreading his own wedding. And he wasn’t. His blood ran hot at the mere thought of his bride. She looked healthier with each new visit, and as she’d warmed up to him with sweet smiles, he’d found himself looking forward to those moments when he could steal her away. Have her all to himself.

She was beautiful, he’d always known that, but it was more than that. It was the warmth and intelligence in her eyes, the way she listened so thoughtfully and moved with such grace.

“It’s not quite time,” Vivian said. “But your fiancée would like a word alone with you before the wedding.”

“Oh.” He shot up out of his seat, his heart lurching as well. “Of course. Yes, of course.”

He didn’t miss his friends’ grins. As if any of them had been any more composed on their own wedding days.

He followed Vivian out and up the stairs to Madeline’s room.

“Is she…” Oh, blast. He cleared his throat. “She’s not having second thoughts, is she?”

Vivian’s gaze held more than a little sympathy. “I don’t believe so. But she is understandably nervous.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course.”

And for some reason, learning about her nerves helped to ease his own. He would soothe her and take care of her.

The thought had him picking up his pace, eager to be at her side.

How odd. All these years of avoiding a responsibility such as this one, and now that it was here—he rather liked it.

No, not just liked it. It gave him a sense of purpose that he’d never had before. No one had ever needed him before, and the weight of that responsibility didn’t weigh on him like an anchor the way he’d expected it to. If anything, it was a pleasant weight that made him feel grounded and settled.

Vivian tapped on the door lightly before letting him in. She smiled at Hayden. “I don’t suppose I need to chaperone you two since you’ll be man and wife any moment now.”

He returned her smile, but one glance at Madeline’s rigid form and he said softly, “Let’s leave the door open, all the same.”

Vivian nodded and spoke a little louder for Madeline’s sake. “I’ll be just outside the door if you need me.”

Madeline sat utterly still on the edge of her bed.

She was so still…and so bloody gorgeous that it took Hayden a full moment before he could speak. “You look beautiful, Madeline.”

Madeline blushed and dipped her head.

He approached and sat beside her. “You wished to talk to me?”

When she looked up, her expression was pained. “I wanted to be sure that you knew…before today. Before…”

Before they wed.

“That I knew what, love?” He tensed, unsure what he was dreading.

“That I am not legitimate,” she said.

He let out a rush of air.

“My father claimed me and my mother, er, the countess claimed to be my mother, but…”

“It’s all right, love,” he said. “I figured as much.”

“You did?”

“No mother would treat her own daughter the way the countess treated you.”

He tasted the lie in his words. His father had been cruel to him, and his own mother had abandoned him, but…

But he’d known the moment he’d met the countess that she’d hated Madeline in a way no woman could despise her own flesh and blood. It was clear in the countess’s every look, word, and gesture.

“And you…you would still marry me?” she asked.

He touched her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his. “I made my choice, love. I made it the moment I foolishly decided to climb a tower and prove that you did not exist?—”

This earned him a wobbly smile.

“And I made that choice again when I told your mother I was making you my bride.” He took a deep breath. “This is not to say there will not be challenges in store for you when we leave the safety of this house. You will be gossiped about and judged, I dare say.” He frowned at the thought of it. “I wish I could protect you from every vicious rumor and all the spiteful gossip, Madeline, but?—”

She kissed him. The soft but sudden touch of her lips to his cut him off mid-sentence.

He froze. Or rather, every inch of him flooded with heat, but he forced himself to remain still as her warm, soft lips pressed against his. She did not open them or move them in any way.

It was the untutored kiss of a naive girl, and somehow that made it all the more sweet.

His ribcage tightened, his chest aching horribly at the innocence in that kiss. The trust.

That above all had him holding still despite the fact that his hands clenched and his arms shook with the need to pull her into his arms.

But he had this feeling—a knowing, really—that it would only push her away.

She pulled back after a heartbeat, the kiss lasting no more than a second, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I…I thought…I wanted to see…”

“Don’t apologize.” Ah hell, his voice sounded much too gruff. He reached up to touch her cheek. “Never apologize.” He tried to lighten his tone. “Definitely not for kissing me.”

Her answering smile was shy but dubious. “Did I do it right?”

And there went his heart, twisting and writhing as it gave up the fight. “It was perfect,” he said. “And you are welcome to kiss me whenever you wish. Wherever you wish.” He paused. “For however long you wish.”

That did it. She burst out in a giggle that made his heart slam furiously. He couldn’t have stopped his own answering grin if he’d tried.

“All right then,” she said.

He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “All right then.”

“Shall I…er…” She pursed her lips, her brows drawn together. “I’ve never done anything like this before, shall I…do I go first?”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to give her a quick squeeze. “Truthfully, I’ve never been married before either. Let’s go down there together, shall we?”

She smiled as she nodded, taking his arm when they stood. As he led her down, he couldn’t help but marvel at his good fortune.

To think, all these years he’d avoided matrimony like the plague, so certain he’d never find a woman he could trust. Never thinking he’d find someone sincere, who looked beyond his title and his fortune.

But now here she was. A woman so pure and guileless it tugged at his heart every time he looked upon her. The way she looked at him like he was indeed the hero of the tale, the way she trusted him to take care of her.

He placed his hand over hers as they met up with the others in the parlor where the intimate wedding was to be held.

And he would take care of her. A possessiveness the likes of which he’d never known caught him in its grip and made him feel like another man entirely.

A new man.

A man with a purpose.

And as he gazed down into Madeline’s sweet face, he knew that purpose was her. To protect her. To make her happy.

And to destroy anyone or anything that threatened to harm her.