Lucy gaped at them. Her heart stuttered in her chest, then shuddered into a frantic pounding. There were four of them, and they were…glorious.
Well, notquitethat, perhaps, but they were certainly an impressive-looking quartet. The gentlemen were both exceptionally tall and more than exceptionally handsome. The taller, darker gentleman resembled Ciaran. The two ladies were fair-haired, blue-eyed, and both of them far more beautiful than any one lady had a right to be.
Two exquisite china dolls and their majestic giants.
“It’s nearly midnight!” the first giant spluttered. “Who the dev—”
“Hush, Finn.” The lady at his side quieted him with a hand on his arm, then came down the steps and peered into the carriage. “Ah, I thought so! It’s Ciaran!” Her blue eyes lit up, and her lips curved in a delighted smile, but it faded into a puzzled frown when she noticed Lucy. “Ciaran and a…er, a young lady.”
The other three exchanged baffled looks, then hurried down the steps to crowd around the carriage. “What young lady?” The darker-haired giant demanded, poking his head through the carriage window. His eyes widened when he saw Lucy. “Well, I’ll be damned. It is a young lady.”
“What sort of young lady?” The younger of the two blondes rose to her tiptoes and tried to see over the giant’s shoulder.
“For God’s sake.” Ciaran rolled his eyes, an expression of affection and exasperation on his face. “If you’d give us room we could come out of the carriage and you can all see for yourselves. Get off, Lach,” he added as he swung the carriage door open and leapt down onto the drive.
Lucy peeked out the window at the circle of strange faces and for one shameful, cowardly moment she shrank back against her seat. But then Ciaran’s face appeared at the open door, and he held out his hand to her with a breathtaking smile that made her heart squeeze inside her chest.
She took his hand. His warm fingers wrapped around hers, and Lucy realized, with that peculiar sort of clarity born from anxiety and exhaustion, that whenever Ciaran offered her his hand, there’d only ever be one choice for her. Since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, there’d only ever been one thing she wanted to do.
Take it.
He drew her gently forward until she was out of the carriage and standing on the drive. “This,” he said, his blue eyes soft as they caught hers, “is Lady Lucinda Sutcliffe.”
There was no mistaking the pride and affection in his voice, or the way it dropped to a husky murmur when he said her name. Lucy stared at him in wonder, her heart fluttering madly.
One of the gentlemen cleared his throat, and offered Lucy a polite bow. “Lady Lucinda.”
“My brother Finn, the Marquess of Huntington,” Ciaran said, then introduced the rest of his family one by one.
They welcomed her warmly, but Lucy could see they were all astonished at her sudden appearance among them. Still, she gathered her wits and managed proper curtsies for each of them. “How do you do?”
After the introductions they all stood staring at each other. The silence stretched until they were all fidgeting, then finally the marquess asked, “You and Lady Lucinda are betrothed, Ciaran?”
Lucy froze. She’d expected the question—of course, she had. The marquess was only speaking aloud what they were all thinking.
Beside her, Ciaran stiffened. “No.”
The marquess and Ciaran’s other brother, Lachlan, exchanged glances.
“Married, then?” Lachlan asked in hopeful tones.
“No.” Ciaran growled, but neither of his brothers seemed to notice the warning in his tone.
Both handsome faces grew darker and the marquess flushed, as if he were a moment away from falling into a temper. “You mean to say you’ve traveled all the way from London with Lady Lucinda—that you’ve taken her into your protection—and you’re neither betrothed, nor married?”
“Finn!” Lady Iris, the Marchioness of Huntington, gasped. “For pity’s sake!”
Her exclamation came too late to save Lucy, however. Heat washed over her, so intense she was certain she’d burst into flames in the middle of the Marquess of Huntington’s carriage drive.
Ciaran’s sisters-in-law noticed her embarrassment. They both stepped toward her, but Ciaran was already there, drawing her close, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. He faced his elder brothers, his expression warning them not to say another word. “This isn’t the place to discuss it.”
The marquess’s glance lingered on Ciaran’s face, then dropped to the arm Ciaran had wrapped around Lucy’s waist. He exchanged another glance with Lachlan, this one puzzled, then nodded. “Very well. My study, then. Iris, will you and Hyacinth please take Lady Lucinda upstairs and see her settled?”
“Yes, of course. You must be exhausted, Lady Lucinda.”
Lucy managed one last wide-eyed glance at Ciaran before Lady Iris eased her gently out of his embrace, and she and Lady Hyacinth led her away.
* * * *
