‘I have a headache.  I am going to my chamber,’ Fallon darted her accusing eyes at Braeden.  ‘Go ahead with your discussion with papa.  I shall be in agreement with what you decide,’ she murmured indifferently.

‘Indeed?’  Braeden questioned with raised eyebrows. 

He was astounded that she would not want to chip in, in the betrothal discussion.  He would have thought, with her penchant for rebellion, she would harangue his every suggestion on when the wedding should take place, what colour his coat should be and what should be served for dessert.

‘Indeed.’ Fallon threw over her shoulder without looking back at him.  She really did not care about any of the intricacies that would be discussed.  She would marry him in one of the gowns hanging in her drawer if she had to.  Fallon smiled as she entered her chamber.  She threw off her slippers and sat down at the window sill.  She looked down at the beautiful array of multi-coloured blossoms and inhaled their rich floral scent.  It was a lovely day and she was happy because she was looking forward to becoming Braeden’s bride.  She wondered how the dowager would take the news now that she would become the next countess of Hampton.  Would she welcome the new countess or would she resent the substitution?  Fallon liked the dowager.  She cared not for Braeden’s title, but the attraction between her and Braeden certainly thrilled her to no end and he certainly was the most attractive gentleman on the ton … so she thought.

‘A drink Hampton?’  The baron offered.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Braeden nodded, taking a seat and stretching out his long legs.

‘I thought my daughter would demand to be present here,’ the baron smiled, as he handed a glass of scotch to Braeden.

So did I.  Braeden laughed softly before he thanked the baron for his drink.  ‘I suspect the sun’s been too much for Lady Fallon.  She has a headache and cut short our ride.’

‘Has she attempted to halt the wedding?’

Braeden looked up at the baron in confusion.  ‘No my lord, why would she?’

The baron laughed.  He sat down opposite Braeden and emptied his own glass.  ‘You should be worried when my daughter offers acquiescence without staging a battle.’

Braeden thought about the baron’s warning.  Perhaps there may me a measure of truth to his words but he believed that Fallon would become is bride. When they had walked together earlier, Fallon had been happy, content.  He believed she was looking forward to their marriage as much as he was.  She was spirited and fiery but her passion, intelligence and companionship made up for what she lacked… if anything.

‘I am most curious Baron Fulham,’ Braeden paused as he gazed into his yet untouched drink.

‘Yes?’  The baron prompted.

‘Why did you engineer for Lady Fallon to be compromised?’

The baron was reflective for a long moment.  Braeden waited patiently for him to respond.

‘Lady Fallon has a spirit that needs to be nurtured,’ he smiled.  ‘She would be bored and unhappy if she was obliged to marry just any gentleman. 

‘A fair number of suitors could have been a match,’ Braeden offered grudgingly, glad that he had been tasked with the dirty deed.

The baron shook his head.  ‘None that could complement my daughter’s personality, hence her decision not to marry,’ he frowned.  ‘She would do well married to a gentleman like yourself, one that does not find her sometimes rebellious nature a challenge, neither are you intimidated by her wit or frank speaking,’ the baron stated objectively.

Braeden was silent.  He was amazed how astute the baron was about his character and his daughter’s personality.  Clearly the baron’s younger daughter was the apple of his eye.  ‘Lady Fallon’s disposition is certainly one of colourful contradictions,’ Braeden agreed.  ‘She can be stubborn yet also gentle.’  He had seen how caring she was with the horses.   ‘She is remarkably intelligent, forthright and therefore prone to argue her point of view and ___ as you would concur baron, ‘Braeden continued gazing into his glass.  ‘Lady Fallon is quite a beautiful lass,’ he confessed.  Passionate and delectable too but he would not offer those private thoughts to the baron. The baron expected that his younger daughter’s innocence was still intact.

‘That all she is,’ the baron laughed proudly, like only a father could.

‘I do believe being married to Lady Fallon would certainly be most entertaining,’ Braeden laughed.

‘At which point let us proceed to the dowry for Lady Fallon,’ the baron joined Braeden in laughter.

Braeden waved his hand out expressively.  ‘There is no need of a dowry my lord,’ he declined. 

‘But I must insist that my daughter be adequately provided for,’ the baron argued.

Braeden nodded respectfully.  ‘I have more than enough to take care of all of Lady Fallon’s needs and wishes.  I have also made arrangements for Lady Fallon’s complete trousseau.  He mentioned the name of a top modiste in High Street, whose services he had attained.  ‘Lady Fallon shall want for nothing.  I give you my word,’ Braeden vowed. 

The baron was suitably impressed.  He knew his wife and daughter would be enthralled with Braeden’s choice.’ Braeden stood up, extended a hand to the baron. 

Thank you, Hampton.  I am well pleased with ___ my choice of a husband for my daughter.’

Braeden threw his head back and laughed.  ‘Thank you for the trust you have in me,’ he smiled.

‘I wish to state,’ the baron declared, ‘that should my daughter at any future date be in need of her dowry, I reserve the right to provide it for her.’

‘As you wish my lord,’ Braeden allowed, standing up.  ‘If you will convey my greetings to ___ the family, I shall take my leave.’

A week later Fallon was awestruck at the delivery that had arrived for her.  There were ball gowns, day gowns, evening wear, jackets in various fashionable colours.  Muslin shawls, pelisses, some in full length, others knee length.  There was an abundance of stockings, stays and also various pairs of adorable slippers, gloves, spencers, undergarments.  Braeden even ordered reticules in different shapes and colours that matched some of her eveningwear.  Not to mention a plethora of hats and bonnets in various colours and shapes.

‘Look at these,’ Emma held up some petticoats of luxurious white silk.

‘They look risqué,’ Fallon grabbed it out of Emma’s hands and shoved it into a drawer.  ‘I can’t believe he ordered those to be made and still had them sent here.’   

‘No one in the ton doubts, that Hampton is a passionate man and obviously has high standards of the women he courts,’ Emma grinned.

Fallon did not respond.  She could feel her cheeks getting warm.  She knew intimately of Braeden’s passionate nature.  She knew how skilled a lover he was and she knew as well that he demanded as much as he gave in love-making.  A rush of tingling adrenalin surged through her, contemplating her future nights in Braeden’s arms.

‘Everything is just gorgeous,’ Emma sighed.  ‘Fallon I am so happy for you.’

‘I am too,’ Fallon stood in front of the looking glass, holding up a white crape evening dress against her chest.  Peach satin lined the inside of the frock.  She sighed appreciatively.

‘This is so stunning,’ Emma tried on one of the hats, it was a soft pink with trimmed lace falling over the forehead.

‘It looks beautiful on you Emma,’ Fallon complimented.  ‘You may have it.  I am sure Braeden won’t mind.’

‘It suits you better,’ Emma set the hat down gently on the bed.  And how does the earl know the sizes for your dresses, or your feet for that matter?’

Fallon laughed, hiding her eyes.  She was not surprised.   Braeden was very knowledgeable about a lot of things including select information pertaining to women’s underwear.  ‘I don’t know,’ she twirled around, and watched in the looking glass as the seams of the frock flowed about.  ‘I did not tell him,’ she eventually smiled at her sister.

‘I do believe the earl cares a great deal about you Fallon,’ Emma voiced seriously.  ‘He has spent a substantial fortune on your trousseau.’

‘Yes,’ Fallon sat down and took Emma’s hands into hers. ‘I know him to be exceedingly generous with his wealth and I suppose he does care,’ she laughed.

Emma hugged her sister.  ‘You have feelings for the earl as well.  Do you not?’

Fallon inhaled heavily and decided to be sincere.  ‘I do,’ she looked earnestly into Emma’s eyes.  ‘He is intelligent, charming, a delightful companion and he is __ not bad on the eyes,’ she laughed softly.

‘I am delighted Fallon.  I want you to be as happy as I am.  I cannot wait to become Burward’s wife,’ she smiled shyly.

‘Oh Em,’ Fallon laughed, hugging her sister again.  ‘I cannot believe I am marrying before you do.’

‘That is all right,’ Emma smiled.  ‘I do believe the earl is rather impatient for the two of you to wed.’

‘I am sure papa had something to do with that.  Can’t wait to get rid of me, I suspect.’

‘Enough of this nonsense,’ Emma laughed.  ‘Let’s go downstairs and help mama with supper.’

‘I do not know why?’  Fallon grumbled.  ‘Not like we do not have enough servants.’

‘And no doubt you will have dozens more as the Countess of Hampton, to pander to your every whim,’ Emma laughingly dragged her sister downstairs. 

‘I cannot wait,’ Fallon confessed softly.

‘Papa are you sure, today is the day Hampton agreed to have this ball?’  Fallon paced for the umpteenth time from the ballroom to the entrance of their home.

‘Yes Fallon,’ her father answered for the third time, attempting to sit her down on a sofa.

‘Then why is he two hours late?’  Fallon stood up, annoyed at herself for caring at all. 

Braeden had wanted the baron to host a ball at his home to celebrate their forth-coming nuptials.  He was going to host a much larger one at his estate a week later.  There were many more guests he wanted to invite but did not want to burden the Fulham’s, hence this was going to be a smaller private event, with just the closest friends and families.  And now the night had arrived, the function had reluctantly commenced but without the guest of honour, much to Fallon’s increasing infuriation.

Obviously he does not care.  Obviously he has lost interest and is already in the arms of another mistress.  Now that he had taken her innocence and her father had consented to her becoming his countess, he had no further need of her.  “And why should I issue such a promise?”  Was that not the words he had thrown at her, when she had wanted an assurance from him that he would not take a mistress after they wed?  Oh why do I care whether he arrives or not?

Only moments after her vacillating thoughts, the silver knocker on the door was raised.  Fallon felt her heart beat faster.  It has to be him.  She sunk back onto the sofa and kept herself still when every fibre ached to touch him.  She wanted to rush forward and throw her arms around his neck and confess how delighted she was that he had finally arrived but obviously … she could do no such thing in public and certainly not in front of her parents and their guests.

Braeden put down his top hat and gloves.  His black-haired head held arrogantly high as he searched the room until his charcoal eyes trapped Fallon’s in his gaze, looking into the depths of her soul as if they were the only two in the room, he smiled at her… spontaneously she smiled back. A quick thrill shot through her at the sight of him, a thrill she immediately quelled.

Why had she acquiesced so easily?  As if she did not have an ounce of steel in her.  Wasn’t she miffed with him?  He must know she was in the dudgeon.  So then why had she coloured-up at the sight of him?  Oh ___ she was so befogged.  She lowered her head the instant their eyes met ... she could not control her lustful desire and fingered the intricate layers of the pearl grey Castilian gown she was wearing ... releasing Braeden from her gaze. 

Braeden’s eyes took her in breathlessly.  She looked dazzling, her long slender neck, so appealingly graceful.  He admired the shimmering grey frock that was elegantly trimmed with pink satin.  It filled out beautifully around the luscious curves of her body.

 Her beautiful porcelain-like skin radiated brightly.  Her full lips tempted him to taste them.  He could not wait for Fallon to become his wife.   Though right at this moment, he could not say, if she would allow him within one hundred feet of her body.  He had seen the flicker of anger in her eyes.  Yet he knew she felt the same explosive attraction for him as he did for her.    Her gaze was cool and simultaneously hot as she watched him.  The combination of fire and ice was daunting, he laughed inwardly.  Fallon could no more keep her hands of him just as he could not resist touching her body.  He smiled to himself.  Hot blood gushed through him like a torrential river.  It pleased him immeasurably that he would sample and delight in her body every night for the rest of his life.

Braeden took a second to politely greet her father and whisper something in his ear, to which her father nodded agreeably.  Fallon watched mesmerized as Braeden took the baroness’s hands into his and spoke a few words she could not hear.  The baroness seemed pleased by whatever Braeden had spoken for she burst forth with laughter, touching her hand to her hair in a self-satisfied manner.

Fallon’s heart beat quickened.  She held her breath as he purposefully strode towards her, his eyes not leaving hers.  Other guests were forgotten.  The music in the background faded, conversations around the ballroom were muted.  Her brain had frozen, because her wanton body was wholly focused on the towering giant approaching her. 

‘Good evening my lady,’ he smiled, lifting her one gloved hand to his lips. 

Even through the glove she felt his hot breath.  Her nerves tingles, a tremor rushed from her fingers to the rest of her body.  Losing the power of speech was something new to Fallon.  She was always able to confidently engage in a conversation, or if the situation warranted, strike like a cobra without a moment’s hesitation.  At the back of her mind she knew she should respond to his greeting, but she could not give voice to any words to respond to him.

 ‘You look ravishing my lady,’ he whispered in her ear.’

‘You are late,’ she accused.

‘My apologies,’ his eyes locked with hers without taking the trouble to inform his betrothed that he had been delayed helping one of his servants with his sick  infant daughter.  He should offer his lady an explanation but seeing her spitting angry and barely containing her fury just made her look so much more beautiful at that moment.

She lowered her head the instant their eyes met.  She wanted to stay angry at him but if she dared to keep looking into his eyes…she would melt and beg him to steal her to a corner just so she could be carnal with him.

‘Would you like a drink my lady?’  He asked, but did not wait for her to answer, instead, his hand at her elbow urged her towards the drinks station.

So he was not even going to bother to offer her any excuses, even though she had a pretty good idea why he had been late or rather how he had been fashionably entertained, causing him to arrive late.

‘I am not thirsty,’ she refused.  Better she not have a glass in her hand.  She was likely to throw it on his attractive face.

‘Have one anyway,’ he smiled captivatingly, placing a glass of champagne into her gloved hand.

I want the next waltz,’ Braeden demanded, as he handed her a glass of champagne.

‘My card is full,’ she lied.

His eyes washed over her.  He smiled lazily as he sipped his champagne.  Would she really not save even one dance for the guest of honour … her betrothed?

 ‘Give me your card,’ he demanded.

‘No __ ,’ she refused.

Braeden set down his glass.  He very casually took her reticule out of her hand, pulled the strings apart.  He retrieved the dance card and without glancing at it, summarily tore it to shreds.  Fallon gasped with her mouth opened wide.

‘How dare you __ you arrogant __!’

‘I dare,’ he answered unfazed, ‘because you are my betrothed and you shall dance with nobody but me tonight.’  He was smiling, but his eyes trained on hers, were hard and forceful.

‘I hate you.’

‘Yet you are marrying me,’ his arm at her elbow, he led her to dance when the waltz started.

‘It was not my desire to wed with you,’ she hissed.

‘Only to lay with me then?’ He taunted.

‘Don’t talk about that ___ damn you,’ she found her hands settling on his shoulders for the dance.

‘I do think one has to learn to mind one’s language,’ he teased, drawing her closer.

‘Do be quiet,’ she ordered.

‘Do not presume after we are wed that you shall issue me with orders, my lady,’ he cautioned in her ear.  ‘You will do well to remember your place,’ his eyes held hers.

‘I will not be your docile countess who bleets, “Yes master.  Yes master,” she argued.  ‘Tell papa you are withdrawing your offer if ___.’

Fallon had to stop arguing for Braeden was hilariously roaring with laughter.  She gazed unashamedly as his face lit up, his eyes were sparkling.  She longed to trace her fingers over the deep indented lines that formed on his forehead.

Braeden stopped smiling when he found her staring.  Fallon released the breath she was holding.  Their bodies moved mechanically to the music being played. ‘To what should I credit your amusement?’  She questioned in a gruff voice.

Braeden smiled into her eyes.  He wished he could draw her closer and ravish her milky throat with his lips, instead he had to contend with tightening his hand at her waist.   ‘You are many things my lady, but docile is not a quality I can attest to your character and might I add,’ he breathed heavily against her cheek, docile is not what I want you to be.’

Fallon’s eyes were drowning in the depths of the dark pools of his eyes.   How was her brain supposed to function when he spoke to her in that seductive tone of voice?  She ached to kiss him.  Could she steal a quick kiss … in the darkened ballroom? 

‘Fallon,’ he groaned, ‘don’t look at me that way.  Do you know what you are doing to me?’

Off course she knew.  She could feel his throbbing arousal against her stomach.  She hurt as well, deep in the center of her core.  She wanted him so much, she was going to faint from the excruciating pain.  She cut their eye contact and deliberately stepped closer to Braeden, so her head looked over his shoulder. 

‘You smell beautiful,’ he murmured in her ear, rosewater and vanilla,’ he whispered.  ‘I like it,’ his arms tightened even more around her waist.

Fallon tried to step away, create some respectable distance between them, but his grip was too tight.

‘I think it better if we do not dance again,’ Fallon murmured softly.

‘We shall,’ he urged.  ‘It is torture, but sweet torture,’ he laughed softly, ‘besides, I could not very well take another lady into my arms and have myself exposed now can I ?’  He sighed.

Fallon laughed.  She could imagine what a fright any one of the young maidens may get to encounter Braeden’s throbbing arousal.   ‘You could entice the gentlemen in a game of cards,’ she suggested.

‘Not tonight Fallon,’ he disavowed.  ‘Tonight is for you and I,’ he twirled her around.  ‘I suggest after this dance we mingle with our fellow guests.

              -end chapter nineteen-