Tempted By His Secret Cinderella (Allied At The Altar Book 3) Read online

  He stepped away from her, out of range of her foot, and tugged at his waistcoat. ‘Very good, my dear. A satisfactory first instalment. I think we understand each other now. I’ll go back to the party and give you a moment to think things over.’ He made a mocking bow. ‘Remember, Chiara, I know. And I will tell.’ What a pleasant day this was turning out to be: his cousin threatened, a woman blackmailed and Louie Fenworth with the pretty sister waiting to be fleeced at cards. He wondered how long it would take to have Eliza Fenworth in bed in exchange for Louie’s gambling debt. A fabulous day indeed and it was only noon.

  * * *

  Elidh sank on to the arbour bench, trembling. It was him. The blackmailer who’d sent the note was Baxter Keynes, not one of the jealous girls. Somehow, he’d found out something, enough to build his case. Her father would say his case was tenuous at best. What did he know? What could he prove? But her father hadn’t seen the joyous evil in his dark eyes as he cornered her, hadn’t been felt the threat of his body pressed up against her.

  Now that it was over, she didn’t know what scared her the most: what Baxter threatened to expose or what he wanted from her to keep silent. She touched her lips gingerly where he’d assaulted them. She could hardly call what he’d done a kiss. There’d been nothing gentle about it. He’d meant to teach her a lesson—that she was outmanned, outgunned and overpowered. If she didn’t pay the price for his silence, he would shout his suspicions to anyone who would listen, and people would listen. He wasn’t the only one making enquiries, he was just the only one they hadn’t stopped.

  Elidh clenched her hands in her lap, willing them to stop trembling. She couldn’t go back to the party like this or Sutton would know something was wrong and he mustn’t know this; he mustn’t know his cousin had threatened her. He had so many other people to deal with, all those angry fathers who’d hoped their daughters would win the coveted prize. No wonder he liked working with animals better than people. She shut her eyes. This was all her fault. She had done this to him. She was going to betray him. Even leaving would be a betrayal, only a kinder one.

  Kinder? She’d leave him to what? A loveless marriage? Trapped for life with a partner who didn’t understand him? That, too, was unfair. Sutton Keynes was a good man. Why should his life be sacrificed for the fortune? Now that she’d met his cousin, she understood better why he felt the need to not walk away from it. But it didn’t make the idea any more palatable.

  Elidh drew a breath, feeling her thoughts steady themselves, the initial fear of her encounter subsiding. Nothing was done yet that couldn’t be undone. Baxter had only threatened her, only kissed her roughly. Nothing damaging had been exposed and, while she’d been frightened, she’d not been hurt. She needed to put everything into perspective. She needed to set her priorities. What mattered most was protecting Sutton. But she could not protect him entirely. She saw that now. Leaving would only mitigate the hurt. Elidh stood up and shook out her skirts. The game was in motion and it was her move.

  She found Sutton, his head bent low in conversation with a footman near the French doors leading out to the garden. The footman bristled with restrained urgency and Sutton’s posture was tense. She knew the moment he looked up and saw her that something was wrong. Elidh quickened her step, closing the distance between them. ‘What’s happened?’ She reached for his hands without thinking, without caring how the gesture might look to those around them.

  ‘It’s the colt. He’s not nursing. Or the mare isn’t producing enough milk for two. If that’s the case, then the other foal is in danger, too, if they’re both sharing milk for one. It’s hard to know, though.’ Hard to know because he wasn’t there. Instead, he was here, placating jealous fathers, protecting her, running out the clock until he could announce fairly and publicly his choice for a bride at the ball.

  She could see the pain in his eyes at the thought of losing the foal. ‘Oh, Sutton, I am so sorry.’ She could see the dilemma he struggled with, too, how he wanted to be with the mare and her foals. ‘Go to them, Sutton. You saved them once.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t leave again so soon. There’s been trouble with the fathers. You were right. I should not have kissed you in front of everyone. I have fathers pushing for a declaration I am unready to make and now my cousin is here. Have you met him? I hope not. Stay away from him if you can. He’s making trouble and we must talk.’

  ‘Those foals are important, too,’ Elidh argued, her stomach tightening. What had Bax already insinuated to Sutton? She would not have him give up those sweet babies for her. She did not want those horses on her conscience, too. There was so little she could give Sutton, but she could give him this and maybe she could protect them both a little longer. ‘I am going inside and calling for your horse. Meet me out front in twenty minutes. Let these men and their petty daughters do their worst. I would rather have them malign me than have those babies die when you could have saved them.’ When all of this was over, she might not be able to save herself from exposure, from loving Sutton, or from the broken heart that would follow. She might not be able to save Sutton from the consequences of her deception, even if those consequences never became public. But she could give his beloved horses a fighting chance.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Sutton settled in the saddle behind her and they were off, her lavender-chiffon dress rucked up about her knees, her legs bare as they galloped towards the stable. His voice was low at her ear as he whispered, ‘Thank you. For your selflessness, for your courage to put other needs ahead of your own. This is why I love you, Chiara.’

  Elidh leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes, savouring the words. If only they were true. If only he wouldn’t hate her for it in the end.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sutton did not regret going to the stables. He believed there were moments that defined a man’s life, times where a life and what would become of it hung by the thread of those decisions. This was one of those moments and he’d nearly missed it, nearly let the moment define him instead of the other way around. He’d nearly let more than one life slide through his fingers this afternoon, including his own. But Chiara had pulled him back from the brink, made him see sense, made him see what mattered.

  The mare was exhausted from the delivery and from nursing two foals. She rested as they took over. Chiara passed him a fresh bottle of camel’s milk and smiled softly as he fed the foal. She settled on a hay bale across from him, offering a bottle to the other foal to make up for any milk he might have given up to his brother.

  Sutton savoured the quiet intimacy of watching Chiara with the foal, love for the little creature shining on her face as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to spend her afternoons in barns, sitting on hay bales in pretty lavender dresses. The dress wouldn’t last. It was the second dress she’d ruined on his behalf. The delicate fabric wouldn’t survive the prickly hay. But she didn’t mind. In fact, she’d insisted on helping.

  This is why I love you.

  He’d been overcome with emotion when he’d spoken those words, but they were no less true now, surrounded by far less panic. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking them. Everywhere he looked there was a reason to love her. The biggest reason of all was that she’d saved him today, with her insistence he come down here. The foals had needed him desperately. He’d feared on arrival that he was already too late. The first foal was restless and hungry, his appetite outstripping his mother’s ability to provide. But at least he was still on his feet. The smaller foal, however, was curled in a ball and listless. The grooms reported he hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to nurse for two hours.

  For a creature who was supposed to nurse seven times in an hour, it was an alarming amount of time to go without nourishment. Sutton had gone to him, pushing a bottle into the foal’s mouth and massaging his jaw to stimulate a sucking response. It was a slow process and a frustrating one. At times, he thought he got more mi
lk on the hay than in the foal’s mouth. In the end, it had taken both of them to help the foal before he started to drink.

  That in itself would have been enough to make the trip down to the stable worthwhile. But there’d been more. Sutton stroked the foal’s soft head as it dozed off for a milk-drunk nap, its belly full for perhaps the first time since birth. This was what mattered. This was who he was: Sutton Keynes, camel dairy owner and thoroughbred-horse breeder. He was a simple man when given the choice.

  He’d lost sight of that since the day in the solicitor’s office. Money changed people, even when they didn’t want it. Have you thought of giving up the fortune? Chiara’s words whispered through his mind as he watched her. That damned fortune had almost cost him this. Maybe, in the end, it didn’t matter if Bax had the money or not. His cousin was going to continue his nefarious ways with or without it until someone stopped him in a very final manner. Perhaps he took too much on himself when it came to saving the world. He smiled, indulging in a little fantasy—of walking into Barnes’s office and telling the man he was marrying Chiara. If that sufficed for the fortune, great. If not, well, that was just fine, too. Of course, the flaw in that fantasy wasn’t him, it was her. It wasn’t enough that he wanted to marry to Chiara. Chiara had to want to marry him, too.

  ‘What is it? You’re smiling.’ Chiara blushed self-consciously under his stare. The blush made her look maddeningly innocent and provocative.

  He set aside the empty bottle and held out his hand. ‘Come with me? The horses won’t need us for another hour. I want to show you the hot springs.’

  And I want to show you how much I love you, what our lives will be like when all this nonsense is behind us.

  She rose and took his hand, but she was hesitant. ‘Sutton, where are we going? We need to talk.’

  Sutton nodded. They needed to talk about a lot of things: Bax, marriage, what all of that would mean. ‘Walk with me. Not here.’ Not where they could be overheard.

  * * *

  He didn’t speak until they were on the path to the hot springs, well away from any listening ears. ‘Since last night, I’ve been thinking about how all of this ends and who I want to end it with. I am done with this house party and the search for a wife. I’ve found her and I don’t care, do you hear me? I simply do—not—care what any marquis or baron has to say about it. They can make their protests and they can make their threats, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve given my uncle’s little game too much of my time and worry as it is.’

  Chiara had gone pale. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he was expecting. ‘Who have you decided on?’ Even her voice was pale. Did she think his choice wasn’t her?

  ‘You, Chiara. I choose you. Surely that doesn’t come as a surprise?’ How could she even think he’d choose another after last night? Or was it because she knew he’d choose her and she didn’t wish to respond in kind? A new kind of anxiety replaced the upswell of happiness he’d felt a few moments ago. He steeled himself, preparing counterarguments and rationales. She would refuse the first time he asked, of course. There were practicalities to work out. But he would press his case and she would accept, eventually, because she knew in her heart, as he knew in his, that they had chosen each other long before this moment. He had not misread her. She was not Anabeth Morely.

  ‘Oh, Sutton.’ Everything was in those two words; the hope he wanted to hear, the regret he didn’t, and something else he didn’t understand—fear. Fear for him. What did he have to be afraid of? In the next moment he knew.

  He needed to fear teary hazel eyes and soft words that murmured rejection. ‘You know I can’t possibly accept, no matter what my heart feels.’

  ‘If it is only practicalities, we will overcome them,’ Sutton tried to argue without sounding as if he were begging.

  ‘It is not only practicalities.’ She shook her head, but said nothing more.

  ‘Tell me. What obstacles do we need to overcome? I will find a way.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of. That if I tell you, you will be relentless and you can’t be, Sutton. There are things I cannot tell you, except this—I am not worth it.’

  They’d reached the hot springs, the smell of sulphur acutely appropriate for this hell suddenly racing through him. He didn’t understand any of this except that she was refusing. ‘How could you not be worth any effort I might need to make? Chiara, I love you and you love me. I see it in your eyes when you look at me, I feel it in your touch, I felt it in the tremble of your body last night. We belong together. Never mind that you’re from Italy and I’m from England. Never mind that you are a princess and I am a man without a title.’ He paused, the nightmare of Anabeth Morely coming back to haunt him one last time, the old fears rising. ‘Is that it? Is the lack of a title what bothers you?’

  * * *

  She should say yes. She would not be offered a better congé, and what was one more lie after all the lies that had been told? Her father could not have scripted a better opportunity. But Elidh would not do that to Sutton. There was anger and hurt in his eyes now that went beyond this conversation. She understood now. This had happened before. ‘Is that why the other woman threw you over?’ she asked quietly. It seemed that all their ghosts had come out to play here in the little glen: her lies, his past, all conspiring to drive their response to this moment, all things interconnected.

  ‘Anabeth. Anabeth Morely. And, yes, it’s why she jilted me at the last.’ Sutton’s voice held a hint of steel now, trying to protect himself. Against her. It felt awful but necessary to know she was forcing him to arm himself. ‘She was an earl’s daughter, destined for more than landed gentry with money.’

  ‘I am not her,’ Elidh whispered. Sutton would always be enough for her in himself alone. But she could claim no part of him.

  ‘Then why do you refuse?’ He would not give up. She’d come to expect no less of him. He’d not given up on the mare or her foals. She knew empirically he would not give up on her until he understood all was lost. She hazarded part of the truth.

  ‘I will cost you everything. Your cousin...’ She hesitated, fumbling for words to explain Bax’s threat without giving herself away. Anabeth Morely’s betrayal would be nothing compared to the one she’d hand him if he discovered it. He’d be furious, and vengeful. He would exact retribution. She had to prevent that and if she couldn’t, she had to protect herself and her father.

  Sutton pressed a finger to her lips. ‘My cousin? Is that all? Bax cannot hurt us. Why would you think he could?’ A cloud of thought crossed his face. ‘Did he speak with you today? He did, I can see it in your face, Chiara. I can guess what he told you. I spoke with him as well. We needn’t fear him.’ Sutton smiled, appearing to relax. That worried her. It was a sign Sutton thought the discussion over, that he’d resolved their problems when nothing could be further from the truth.

  ‘I can imagine what he told you, though. He and I had an unpleasant discussion in the office earlier. He thinks to make us prove your nobility. He has no proof because his claim is ridiculous. He knows that. His real hope is in running out the clock. But I have that well in hand.’ Sutton’s brow creased as he thought. ‘Is that the same argument he used with you? I can’t imagine what he thought to gain. You would be even less concerned with his threat than I. He would have no leverage there because you do not doubt who you are for a moment.’

  ‘I do not want to cost you the fortune, Sutton. He is right. Proof will take time to send for. Mails are unreliable.’ Elidh thought quickly. She spent too much time these days grabbing at argumentative straws to keep the ruse afloat, another clear sign the ruse was very nearly up. The sands in the hourglass were running out for her as assuredly as they had for Cinderella. The end was finally beginning and it hurt far more than she’d ever imagined because she’d had more than she’d ever imagined with this man. ‘I am sure he was thinking that if I truly loved you, I would want to protect you and the f
ortune. Perhaps he thought I’d give you up in order to do that.’ And perhaps Sutton would remember that logic when he discovered she’d left. She could hardly tell him his cousin knew the truth and had tried to blackmail her with kisses to keep the secret.

  Sutton ran his hands up and down her arms in reassurance. ‘That figures. It’s just like Bax to try to use even something as wondrous as love to divide us. But he won’t win. You needn’t waste another thought on it.’ Steam rose from the pools, beckoning invitingly, and Sutton smiled. ‘Now that’s settled, shall we have a bathe while we’re here?’ Apparently, it was a rhetorical question. Sutton pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, making it clear he’d already decided on the answer.

  Well, why not? It would be the perfect farewell, the last bit of good to come out of this whole disaster. He bent for his boots and desire began to hum through her, desire for him, for one last time. Good lord, how she loved to watch his body, all that rippling muscle and healthy, tanned skin. She wanted to memorise every line of him. When he finished with his boots, Elidh gave him her back. ‘Help me with my laces? I wasn’t planning on undressing when I put this on this morning.’

  Sutton came up behind her, sweeping her hair aside and kissing her neck as he worked her gown loose. ‘I’m sorry this one is ruined. It was pretty, like a summer day,’ he murmured. ‘But I think you look best like this.’ He let the dress fall to the grass and helped her with her undergarments.

  Even in July a breeze could be cool when it fanned across bare skin. Elidh shivered with the novelty of it, of being naked out of doors, of feeling the summer breeze on bare skin, of Sutton’s hands on her body. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her body pressed to his, back to groin, her breasts in his hands. ‘I feel like Eve,’ she whispered. ‘And this is our garden.’ And he was her Adam, rising strong and proud behind her, every inch the primal man. They had one last evening before they were evicted from Eden.