BRIGHTON BEAUTY by Marilyn Clay Read Free Book Online Page B

to see you, as well, Cousin." He turned to call over his shoulder. "Miss Marchmont is safe. I need a driver here. We are off for Castle Rathbone."
    With that, the powerful man climbed into the coach and settled his large frame on the seat next to Chelsea. She snatched up her bonnet from the floor and hurriedly secured the ribbons beneath her chin. Though she felt vastly indebted to this man for saving her life, discovering that he was the real Lord Rathbone suddenly made the idea of being set upon by highwaymen a less frightening prospect than she'd first thought it would be.

Chapter Four
“A Most Startling Encounter”
    F eeling exhaustion about to overtake him, Rutherford Campbell fell back against the squabs. Three days of chasing Sully's tail had left him bone-weary and irritable. He hadn't wanted to come to England, hadn't even planned to be here for his own wedding, but after learning of his former overseer's plot to steal his inheritance, he'd had no choice but to drop everything and make the arduous journey to England at once.
    The sea voyage from Honduras had been long and treacherous. High winds and stormy conditions had plagued the passengers and crew the entire way. But, at last they reached shore, and once near Bristol, Lord Rathbone came near to overtaking Sully and his men, only to lose them again when another storm blew up and dashed all hopes of capture.
    Feeling certain that Sully was on his way to the castle, Lord Rathbone had sent a message to the authorities in Chester asking that the constable there alert his mother and betrothed to the danger they were in, but either the warning had come too late or word had never reached them.
    Exhaling a weary sigh, Lord Rathbone turned a sidelong gaze on his cousin. Thank God, he had arrived when he did. He had no doubt that before Sully was done, he would have ruined her.
    "Are you certain you are all right, Alayna?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
    By the dim moonlight engulfing the carriage, he watched the young lady at his side lower her golden head, her still-frightened eyes refusing to meet his. An odd tightness caught in Lord Rathbone's chest. Alayna was more delicate and fragile than he remembered. In fact . . . a sweeping gaze took in her flushed cheeks, the small tilted nose and trembling full lips, she was as near to perfection as any woman could be. Suddenly, the memory of her throwing herself into his arms a moment ago beset him. With it came an unwelcome longing that the steel-hearted Rathbone had not been prepared to feel. Not for Alayna. Not for any woman.
    Swallowing tightly, he turned away.
    Theirs was to be a marriage of convenience, a contract between two agreeable parties that would benefit them both. After the ceremony, Alayna would join him in Honduras, of course. She was to be his wife, but even that arrangement was calculated merely to fulfill the second part of the agreement, to beget him an heir. Beyond that, he expected nothing from her, that is, not in the way of sentiment. As a planter's wife, she would have certain duties, but Rathbone was rather looking forward to the fact that neither of them would be bothered with the complication of falling in love with one another.
    Rathbone was perfectly content with the life he had carved out for himself across the sea. Ten years ago, he had left England and, completely on his own, had created a mahogany empire that was second to none. The release of his inheritance now would enable him to increase his already vast holdings, to build better homes for his workers, and schools for their children. Rathbone took pride in what he had accomplished and in the fact that he was a man of vision, whose noble thoughts and honest deeds placed him head and shoulders above many Englishmen of his time. For the most part, he did not miss his homeland. He was a self-sufficient and self-contained man, and beyond the satisfying of his own normal sexual appetites with women who were more than willing to