Reese's Bride. Kat Martin

      Each wooden soldier was intricately carved and beautifully painted, half the army wearing the red-and-white uniforms of the British, Napoleon’s blue-coated soldiers forming the opposing force. They were the sort of thing a little boy would love and Jared’s brown eyes gleamed with appreciation.

      Elizabeth shivered. All she could think of Reese and how the army had torn them apart. A memory arose of him striding unannounced into the entry of Aldridge Park dressed in his scarlet uniform, so handsome her heart hurt just to look at him. He had discovered her betrayal and her hasty marriage to the earl. He had called her a liar and a whore and left her standing there shaking, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

      Elizabeth shook herself, forcing away the image. Her head was beginning to throb and her mouth felt dry. She watched Jared open the second gift, a woolen jacket that Frances had bought him. He thanked her very properly and reached for the last of his gifts.

      He looked up at her and smiled, knowing the gift was from her.

      “I hope you like it,” Elizabeth said. She was feeling terribly weary. She hoped it didn’t show.

      Jared carefully untied the gold ribbon, gently eased off the brown silk wrapping and set it aside, then lifted the lid off the box. Inside on a bed of tissue rested a small silver unicorn. It stood five inches high, its thick neck bowed, its powerful front legs dancing in the air.

      Jared reached into the box, carefully removed the horse and held it up with reverence.

      “A unicorn,” he said, his small fingers skimming over the shining horse that gleamed in the light of the candalabra in the center of the table. “He’s wonderful, Mama.”

      Jared had a collection of four other unicorns. He loved horses of every shape and size and especially the mystical creature with the magic horn in the middle of its forehead. “I’m going to name him Beauty.”

      Mason carefully wiped his mustache with his napkin and shoved back his chair. He had little patience with children and that patience was clearly at an end. “It’s getting late. Now that your birthday is over for another year, it is past time you went to bed.”

      Anger penetrated her lethargy and the pounding that had started in her head.

      Elizabeth came to her feet. “Jared is my son, not yours. I will be the one to tell him when it’s time for bed.” She felt a tug on the skirt of her blue silk dinner gown. Her head was spinning. She hadn’t realized Jared had gotten up from his chair.

      “It’s all right, Mama. Mrs. Garvey will be waiting for me.” Mrs. Garvey was his nanny, a kind, gray-haired woman whose own children were grown.

      Elizabeth knelt and pulled her son into her arms. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I’ll have the footmen bring your gifts up to your room.” She smoothed back an errant lock of his thick dark hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

      Jared looked over at Mason, caught his scowl, and eased out of her embrace. “Good night, Mama.”

      Elizabeth’s heart squeezed. “Good night, sweetheart.”

      Clutching the silver unicorn against his small chest, Jared turned and raced out of the dining room.

      An hour later, Elizabeth sat on the tapestry stool in front of the mirror above her dressing table. It was late. Most of the household was abed. She had napped before supper and yet still felt tired. Lately she couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.

      She yawned behind her hand, wondering if she had the energy to read, when the doorknob turned, the door swung silently open, and Mason Holloway walked into her bedroom.

      Elizabeth shot up from the stool. She was wearing only a white cotton nightgown, hardly proper attire to receive male visitors.

      “What are you doing in here?” She reached for the quilted wrapper lying on the bureau, but Mason picked it up before she could reach it.

      “I saw the light under your door. I thought you might be in the mood for company.”

      “What … what are you talking about? It’s late, Mason. Your wife will be wondering where you are.”

      “My wife has no say in where I spend my evenings.” Instead of leaving, he tossed the robe aside and walked behind her, settled his big hands on her shoulders and began a crude massage.

      Elizabeth’s stomach tightened with revulsion. She knocked his hands away and whirled to face him, the movement making her dizzy, and she swayed a little on her feet.

      Mason caught her arm to steady her. “Still feeling poorly?”

      Elizabeth managed to pull free. “Get out,” she said, but her head was pounding and the words came out with little force.

      Mason leaned toward her, bent his head and pressed his mouth against the side of her neck. His mustache brushed against her skin and her stomach rolled with nausea.

      “You don’t want me to leave,” he said, his voice husky. “You need me, Elizabeth. You need what I can give you.”

      Her stomach churned. “I’ll scream. If you don’t leave this minute, I swear I shall scream the house down.”

      Mason laughed softly. In the light of the lamp on the bedside table, his eyes glinted with sexual heat. “Perhaps the time is not yet right. Soon though. Soon I’ll come and you will welcome me, Elizabeth. You won’t have any other choice.”

      You won’t have any other choice. Dear God, the words rang with a certainty that made the hair rise at the back of her neck. “Get out!”

      Mason just smiled. “Sleep well, my dear. I shall see you in the morning.”

      Elizabeth stood frozen as he left the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Her head throbbed and the dizziness had returned. Sinking back down on the stool, she fought to steady herself and clear her head. She thought of Jared and the danger he was in and her eyes filled with tears.

      She wasn’t safe in the house anymore and neither was her son. The time had come. She had to leave.

      Ignoring the pounding in her skull, summoning her strength, as well as a shot of courage, she rose from the stool and hurried toward the bellpull to ring for Sophie, her ladies’ maid. A search beneath the bed made her nauseous, but yielded a heavy leather satchel she hefted up on the feather mattress.

      A sleepy-eyed Sophie, dark hair sticking out all over her head, walked into the bedroom yawning. “You rang for me, my lady?”

      “I need your help, Sophie. I’m leaving.”

      The girl’s green eyes widened. “Now? It’s the middle of the night, my lady.”

      “I need you to go upstairs and wake Mrs. Garvey. Tell her to get dressed. Tell her we are leaving straightaway and she needs to pack a bag for herself and one for Jared. Tell her to meet me downstairs at the door leading out to the carriage house.”

      Beginning to pick up on Elizabeth’s urgency, Sophie straightened. “As you wish, my lady.”

      “As soon as you’ve finished, go out to the stable and tell Mr. Hobbs to ready my carriage—the small one. Tell him not to come round front. Tell him I’ll come to him where he is.”

      Sophie whirled to leave.

      “And don’t tell anyone else I’m going.”

      The little maid understood. Though she had never said so, she didn’t like Mason Holloway, either. She bobbed a curtsey and rushed out the door.

      Ignoring a wave of dizziness, Elizabeth returned to her packing. By the time Sophie returned, she was dressed in a simple black woolen gown, her hair pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her neck, a crisp black bonnet tied beneath her chin.

      “I need help with the last of the buttons,” she said to her maid, turning her back so that Sophie could do them up. As soon as the task was completed, Elizabeth grabbed her black