Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Eleven

S hock reverberated through Gemma. Her lips tingled. Her blood rushed through her veins. And her heart fluttered in her breast.

What was this feeling? Was it delayed shock from her father’s decree she marry Harkwell or something else entirely?

The captain’s sumptuous lips drew every thought from her head, dispatching them as easily as he’d extracted Lord Harkwell from her person. Well…truth be told, she had Grandfather’s pistol in the man’s belly at the time. Then again, Captain Broadbank had been so commanding…

He ended the kiss, and her lips cooled instantly. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. “We have much to discuss, Gemma.”

“I am not at all certain you should be allowed to abscond with me this way,” she murmured.

He stopped two steps away from the carriage. He’d rescued her yet again, and still she doubted him! “Shall I return you to Harkwell?”

The revulsion on her face was answer enough. “When Perkins and Grant return, they will have your father’s written permission in hand. Do you require more?”

“I cannot imagine Father would agree. No matter what message your men deliver.”

“He’ll agree.” The captain sounded quite sure of himself. But then, he had from the moment they’d met.

Instead of setting her on her feet as she expected, he shifted her in his arms, opened the door and gently slid her onto the seat before joining her. With a tap to the roof of the carriage, they were off.

“You must understand, Captain. Father is like a hound after a fox when it comes to acquiring coin—he loves it above all things.”

In the dimly lit carriage, his gaze met hers. “More than you?”

Gemma’s throat tightened as a prelude to the tears she refused to shed. Tears had not brought her mother back from the dead, neither had they steered her father away from his idea to marry her to one of his cronies—or a lordling in want of a wife that he was more than willing to pay for.

A lone tear slipped past her guard and was quickly whisked away by a large, blunt fingertip. “If you are truly against marrying me, Miss Atherton,” the captain began, “I shall have the driver turn the coach around and deliver you back to your doorstep.”

She had no doubt he would do whatever she wished. Although why was a bit beyond her comprehension after all that had occurred tonight. She laid her hand on his forearm. “I’d be honored to marry you, Captain Broadbank. Will you have to report to the HMS Britannia right away, or will we have time to become acquainted?”

His deep, rumbling laughter filled the air around them, easing the rest of the knots at the base of her skull. Who would have thought laughter could do that. Mayhap only the captain’s laughter could.

“I gather Mrs. Dove-Lyon failed to mention the change in my circumstances.”

“She spoke of your loss. I am so sorry about your brother, Captain. I know how it feels to lose someone you love.”

This time, he did not laugh. He lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her upturned knuckles. His sigh had her snapping to attention, desperate to ignore the sparks his kiss ignited in her blood.

“I had to resign my captaincy and leave the Royal Navy.”

Hand to her throat, heart in her eyes, she rasped, “Is your father ill?” Before he could reply, she castigated herself, “Do forgive me for being consumed with my problems, Captain. I am dreadfully sorry.”

When he held her gaze without speaking, she shifted closer to his side and slipped her arm more securely through his. “Please tell me how I can help.”

“By marrying me, Lass. I find myself in need of a viscountess.”

“Oh, I thought you could still be captain of your boat…er, ship,” she corrected. “I know very little about the aristocracy, but enough to know I cannot possibly be the right choice for your viscountess.”

“There are reasons I must marry immediately.”

She wanted to demand he enumerate those reasons, but hesitated. Should she trust him?

Without asking permission, he pulled her into his arms and onto his lap, holding her to his pounding heart. “I’ll have you as my wife and no other,” he proclaimed.

“But—” his fingertip against her lips cut off her protest, but only for a moment. Unnerved by the depth of his voice in the close confines of the carriage, she asked, “If you are a viscount, is your father a duke?”

He shook his head. Clearly, she should have paid more attention when her governess had tried to instill the importance of learning the hierarchy of the royals.

“My father is Earl Templeton.”

“I see, and your brother Edmund?”

“May inherit a lesser title in time—a baronetcy from our mother’s side of the family.”

“Do you have any other siblings?”

He shook his head. “It’s just the two of us now.”

“We have that in common. My brother, Simon, is…” her voice trailed off as she realized she hadn’t spared him a thought since the captain had arrived in her room. “I actually have no idea where he is. I expected him to be home when I arrived.”

He tightened his hold on her. “Does your brother know you were going to The Lyon’s Den?”

She tried to shift away from him, but the captain wasn’t having it. “Be still, Lass and answer the question.”

Gemma stiffened as her irritation at his command filled her. “Do you plan on doling out commands such as your last one every day, or just today?”

His sharply indrawn breath was music to her ears. Good! She’d gotten his attention and probably more than a bit of his ire. She’d put up with the second to have achieved the first.

“Well?” she demanded in as rough a voice as she could manage.

“By thunder you’re a hellion!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hellion.”

The carriage rocked to a halt as she shoved off his lap, muttering, “Autocratic blowhard!”

He stared at her, apparently shocked by her insult. Now was her chance. She opened the carriage door and misstepped. She would have fallen if the captain had not reached out of the lurching carriage to grab hold of her. “I’ll have your apology before we enter Templeton House.”

She dared to smile at him as she agreed, “Assuredly, once you have apologized first.”

“Gemma.” Her name was his warning as his grip on her arm tightened as he tried to bend her to his will.

The way he glared had laughter filling her. There was so much about this man to like. That thought was replaced by one that had worry settling into her bones. She’d never spent more than half an hour with any of the men her father invited to dine with them, and never unchaperoned.

Had this man ruined her reputation, or had she managed to do that all on her own? Would her father encourage his staff to say as much? Would the captain’s men? Wondering how to avoid such talk, she was surprised to note his hold on her arm had gentled into a soothing touch.

“Lass, I meant what I said earlier. I’ll not hurt you.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his. In the glow of the lamplight, his storm-gray eyes glittered with an emotion she could not put a name to, though she didn’t think it was anger. “Thank you, Captain. Mayhap we can apologize at the same time, and therefore neither of us shall be the victor or the loser.”

His lips captured hers in answer. The kiss ended before she could protest, and he straightened to his full height but did not ease his hold on her. The warmth of his arm seeped through her gown, branding her as his.

“Well?” she urged, hoping he would agree. It was not in her nature to capitulate, but if it smoothed the way between them so be it. Carriage wheels on cobblestones had her looking over her shoulder, worry filling her. “Is it Mr. Perkins and Mr. Grant?”

“Aye.” He relinquished his hold and offered his arm. “Miss Atherton?”

She sighed. Obviously, their discussion would have to wait until one of them could be reasoned with. She dearly hoped he would be the first to give in. Then again, as she had accepted his offer of marriage, it would probably be best if she were the first to give in to him.

Men were quite fond of getting their way in most things. Weren’t they? She vowed not to do so too often. Their marriage would not be one where she was the one constantly accommodating his wishes. He would have to do his fair share and compromise.

In order to ensure that he did, she tugged on his arm to get his attention.

“Is anything the matter, Lass?”

The depth of his voice soothed over her bruised feelings. His gentle touch as he brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes had her looking forward to discovering if there was indeed a softer side to Captain Broadbank.

“I’m sorry to have called you autocratic,” she apologized.

He snorted in laughter. “But not sorry you called me a blowhard?”

Her heart felt lighter as she laughed with him. “No, indeed.”

He gave her a gentle tug to get her feet moving again. When they were on the steps in front of his home, he bent down and rasped, “Hellion.”

She drew in a breath to retort as the door swung open and a dignified butler greeted them. “Welcome home, my lord.” The servant turned to her and bowed. “My lady, welcome to Templeton House.”

Holding the door for them to enter, he leaned close to the captain, informing him, “An urgent missive just arrived from the earl.”

He nodded. “I shall attend to it shortly. I’d like to introduce my intended, Hanson.”

The butler’s eyes shot back to connect with hers. “Felicitations, my lady.”

“Er…actually, it’s miss,” she informed him. “Miss Atherton.”

The butler smiled as if pleased to make her acquaintance, no matter her station in life. She wondered why he did not seem bothered that she was not of the same social strata as the captain.

The daunting task ahead of her—marriage to the captain… viscount, and learning how to act as a viscountess had worry twisting within her. She felt her airways begin to constrict, but managed to rasp, “Thank you, Mr. Hanson.”

His smile deepened. “Just Hanson, your ladyship.”

Drawing in a few short breaths did not ease the growing tightness in her chest. She needed to correct his assumption. “Oh, but we’re not married yet.”

“As you are to be married to Viscount Moreland, you will have to become accustomed to being addressed as my lady, my lady.”

The captain chuckled. “Or if you prefer, Viscountess Moreland.”

The unexpected turmoil and turn of events only added to the tension building within her. The thought of becoming a viscountess…addressed as your ladyship was her undoing. Black spots formed in front of her eyes as she held her breath.

The last thing she heard before her world went dark was Hanson demanding his lordship catch her.