by Platt, Meara
Thad sighed. “So what else is new? Seems I canno’ do anything right around Loopy.”
“Spectacular fail,” Nathaniel agreed.
“Where is Penelope now?” He tried to get up, but his friends held him down. Although they were careful not to touch his injured shoulder, he let out a yelp as a stinging burn ran up his side and burst within his shoulder.
Now his left arm felt numb and his heart was beating so hard, he had to gasp for breath.
“Lie still,” Dr. Carmichael ordered. “I’m going to give you some laudanum to help you sleep through the night.”
“Penelope.”
“You’re not courting her today,” Nathaniel insisted. “You smell like two-day old socks and you can’t string two sentences together. Nor can you stand on your own two feet without heaving up the contents of your stomach.”
“Where is she?”
Nathaniel sighed. “The truth?”
“Always,” Thad said with a nod.
“She’s strolling by the pond with Wycke.”
“Damn it. And ye let her?”
“Of course, I let her. She cast me that look. You know that look. I wasn’t about to make matters worse by trying to stop her.” Nathaniel nudged him back onto his pillows when he attempted to roll to his feet. “Stay put. You need to heal before you do anything else stupid.”
“But Wycke–”
“Still needs my consent to marry Penelope, which I will not give immediately. So use your bed rest productively.” Nathaniel handed Thad the red, leather-bound book his sister had thrown at him earlier. “If you can keep your eyes open, read The Book of Love. I know we’ve told you much about it, but it isn’t the same as reading it for yourself.”
Beast nodded. “Most important, you have to understand exactly what it is you feel for Loopy. Are you sure it’s love? Or were you just grasping for the familiar when your kinsmen and Castlereagh began making marriage plans for you?”
“Be sure, Thad.” Nathaniel frowned at him. “Because I’ll have to kill you if you break my sister’s heart.”
His friends had raised valid points.
He would read the book with an open mind. But he knew his feelings for Loopy were sincere. Was it possible his heart had misled him? He didn’t think so.
But what if Loopy’s heart was misleading her?
He glanced at the book, clutching it tighter in his hand.
If Olivia, Poppy, and Penelope were using it to make a man fall in love with them, then why couldn’t he use it make a woman, namely, hard-headed, sinfully delectable Loopy, fall in love with him? “Aye, I’ll read it.”
It was a simple plan.
What could go wrong?
Chapter Ten
“Is Laird Caithness always so…thick-headed?” Wycke asked Penelope as they strolled down the lane toward the pond on this sunny afternoon.
The weather could not have turned out more beautiful for Olivia’s birthday party. A bright blue sky. A few tufted, white clouds. Even the wind cooperated, carrying a gentle breeze with a hint of autumn to keep them cool under the blaze of the shining sun.
The day would have been perfect if not for Pip breaking his arm during his mishap while riding Monarch, and Thad…just being Thad. Big and wonderful and protective, even though he was the most maddening man ever to exist.
She ignored the question, for speaking of Thad made her heart ache.
Other guests were walking with them, some a little ahead and others behind, so Penelope did not wish to say too much on the chance they’d be overheard.
Thad’s cousin Malcolm strode beside Wycke’s sister, a few steps ahead of them. The pair were engaged in their own apparently fascinating conversation, for their gazes were on each other and not on the path in front of them.
Goose, Poppy, and her sister, Violet, had run ahead and were already seated on the fallen log by the pond. But their gazes kept darting to the manor house, the upper floor, to be precise. Penelope knew they were thinking of poor Pip, who had been left in the capable care of his governess, Addie. His friends had been allowed up to his bedchamber to visit, so she knew Pip was happy, even if he was in a good deal of pain.
Penelope would have liked to remain by Thad’s side, but her brother would not hear of it. Since there had already been enough excitement for one day, she decided not to argue the matter. She’d look in on Thad later.
Wycke repeated his question. “Is he always thick-headed?”
She could have agreed. Was there any doubt Thad was the most irritating, provoking man she’d ever met? Infuriating, too. She wanted to kick him as often as she wanted to kiss him. Although lately, she’d wanted to kiss him an awful lot.
Well, she couldn’t admit that to Wycke. “Laird Caithness? Oh, he’s…”
Ugh! Even when not here, Thad managed to rile her.
But she stopped herself from speaking ill of him. Yes, he’d made a spectacular ass of himself in front of her and her friends, finishing his impassioned bit of theatrics with an ungainly dive to the floor. That dive would have caused him even more damage had she not been there with her arms wrapped around his granite-hard body to cushion his fall. “He’s a decent fellow.”
Wycke shrugged. “I suppose you won’t speak ill of him after he saved your life.”
“It would be very rude and unforgivable.” She began to nibble her lip, hoping she hadn’t been too harsh with Thad. After all, he was hurt and yet, he’d followed her up to her bedchamber to apologize for teasing her. “He’s a mix of exasperating and wonderful. He constantly goads me, and yet he won’t hesitate to risk his life to protect me. I suppose I goad him, too. I hope he knows that I would protect him if ever his life was in danger.”
Wycke clasped his hands behind his back and regarded her thoughtfully. “I’m sure he does know it.”
She nodded. “I hope so. He and I have been friends for a very long time.”
“And now he’s heir to an earldom and chosen you as the girl he wishes to marry.”
Penelope glanced back and frowned at the two Scottish earls, Hume and Caithness, who were following behind them at a languid pace. But they were definitely keeping their hawk eyes on her and Wycke, no doubt irritated that she would deign to stroll with a Sassenach earl instead of remain weeping by Thad’s bedside.
“I’m familiar to him.” She sighed. “I suppose you could say I’m the devil he knows. Thad doesn’t like surprises. He isn’t keen on change, either. If he’s forced to marry, it may as well be to me. At least, to his way of thinking.”
“And what about you? How do you feel about his proposal?”
“I’d rather not speak of it. Shouldn’t we be talking about you? Why do you wish to marry me? You don’t know me at all.”
Nor did she know him. Indeed, he could be a cruel monster, for all she knew. Yet, he struck her as a good man with a deep caring for his mother and sister. In this way, he was much like Nathaniel, keeping his family close even though he could have shipped them off to one of his many holdings and led a comfortable and carefree bachelor life in town.
The Book of Love-which she probably shouldn’t have hurled at Thad-spoke of the importance of connections between two people. She and Wycke had almost no connection, yet that didn’t seem to trouble him or make him cautious in his pursuit of her hand in marriage. He was an Englishman. He was an earl, one of substantial worth financially as well as morally, or else Nathaniel would not have allowed him near her. He had a pleasant mother and very sweet sister…notwithstanding, Anne was casting Thad’s cousin some very steamy looks.
That pair needed watching or there would be a surprise bundle arriving nine months from now.
She understood the hot look Malcolm was casting Anne. Hadn’t Thad looked at her that way a time or two today?
But Wycke hadn’t, at least not that she’d noticed.
She dismissed the thought. Love, not lust, was most important.
She concentrated her attention on Wycke. Had he been a man of poor cha
racter, he would have left Thad writhing on the ground with a dislocated arm hanging off his shoulder bone. But he’d stepped forward at once and been quite careful not to hurt him more than necessary to manipulate the bone back in its proper socket. “Truly, my lord. What is it about me that appeals to you?”
He shrugged. “You are elegant and refined.”
Thad would be snorting ale through his nose at the remark, and laughing so hard, his sides would split. To Thad, she was a Harpy. How many times had he complained that she was the most vexing lass ever to exist?
“You’re a gracious hostess.” He tossed her a slightly wicked grin. “Not to mention, you’re beautiful. I noticed that from the first. Couldn’t stop noticing, truth be told.”
Ah, low brain function hard at work.
“So, you found me healthy.”
He scratched his head and grinned. “Healthy?” She noticed his eyes dart up and down her body. Discretely, of course. But he’d looked at her chest immediately. Goodness, whoever wrote The Book of Love certainly understood the male animal. “I’d say you are appealing. You’re also quite capable of managing a large household. That requires a certain amount of intelligence. You also have a lively wit that I admire.”
“Would you and I share a bedchamber if we were to marry?”
His eyes widened and he began to cough in surprise. “Of course not,” he blurted. “I wouldn’t impose on you…that is… What did you just ask me?”
She shook her head and laughed. “Never mind.” She had her answer. Had he truly loved her, he would have wanted her in his bed, wrapped in his arms as they fell asleep. He would have been aching to claim his husbandly rights.
But he had yet to kiss her.
He hadn’t even made an attempt to kiss her.
Nor did this task appear to be on his mind.
Perhaps it was, but he hadn’t let on. Some men hid their thoughts better than others. Also, his mother and sister were close by. He may not wish to behave like a hound when in their presence.
She understood, but he could have whispered something improper. A request to meet her by the pond at midnight?
Indeed, it seemed Wycke was more in love with the idea of her. Or rather, the idea of having a pretty companion who was raised to be a countess and trained, as he and his sister had been, to make her way comfortably among the elegant ton.
Penelope supposed it was a sort of connection between them, a shared culture. One of privilege and duty.
It was something, but not nearly enough for her.
Wycke would never consider making a fool of himself to win her heart. He wasn’t besotted with her. She changed the subject, and they proceeded to have a lovely conversation about nothing noteworthy or memorable.
Malcolm, she’d noticed, had disappeared into the copse with Anne on the pretext of chasing tadpoles. Ha! Penelope had done that with Thad when she was younger. Innocently, of course. The only chasing Malcolm intended to do was chase Anne’s skirts. No doubt, he intended to crush his lips to Anne’s and stick his hands all over her body where they had no right to be, the moment they were out of sight.
She grinned when they emerged from the grove of trees not thirty seconds later, for Anne had a tell-tale blush on her cheeks and her fichu was now in her hand instead of primly covering her bodice.
Malcolm placed Anne’s arm in his as he approached them. “Lord Wycke, I’d like a word with ye.”
“Oh, Thomas. Please do listen to him,” Anne pleaded when her brother frowned.
Wycke glanced at his sister and then at Malcolm. “Not now.” By his tone, one got the impression he meant ‘not ever’. But Malcolm was having none of it.
“I’ve asked yer sister to marry me. And now I’m here to ask for yer consent.” He stood as tall as an oak tree, his chin tilted upward in pride. “And let me assure ye, I only ask out of politeness because we shall soon be kin. Yer sister loves ye, so I’ll be happy to accept ye as my brother. But make no mistake, I’ll be marrying Anne with or without yer permission.”
“Are all Scots daft?” Wycke turned to glower at the two earls, Caithness and Hume, who were now approaching.
Penelope stood back as the two old men hugged Anne. “Ye’ll make a bonnie Caithness bride,” Malcolm’s granduncle exclaimed, lifting the girl in his arms and twirling her around to mark his consent. He then lifted Lady Wycke and gave her a twirl, although she was no light, little feather.
Hume offered his hearty congratulations.
Penelope did as well, but inside, she was as stunned as Wycke was. Where was the deep and abiding connection? How could the pair know within a matter of hours that they were a perfect match?
Wycke obviously had the same doubts. “MacLauren,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Let’s take this inside. We need to speak privately.”
To say matters remained tense was an understatement.
They all returned to the house. The men gathered in Nathaniel’s study for the discussion—Wycke, Malcolm, Nathaniel, Beast, and the two Scottish earls were present. But the women were left out.
“Isn’t my opinion important?” Anne remarked, her eyes tearing and chin beginning to wobble.
Penelope, Lavinia, Anne, and her mother had gathered in Lavinia’s parlor to await the outcome while Poppy, Olivia, and Violet returned to entertain their guests who were still enjoying the day despite the earlier excitement.
Penelope expected more excitement, for she knew there could only be one possible result of the men’s discussion. Malcolm and Anne would marry, it was only a question of when.
Within the hour, the men strode out of the study.
Malcolm strode straight to Anne. “Yer brother’s given his consent.”
Anne gasped and turned to her brother with the brightest smile. “Thank you, Thomas.”
He nodded, but did not smile back. “However, you will only marry after a six-month courtship. Those are my terms. If you are still determined to go through with this…folly, then you shall have my consent.”
Penelope silently scoffed at the notion. Yes, it made sense to have them get to know each other better before entering a lifetime commitment, but those two were not going to wait to get their hands on each other.
If a six-month courtship was required, their little bundle of joy would arrive three months after their marriage. Would anyone be surprised?
The looks that pair tossed each other could light enough fires to keep a town warm during a blizzard.
She wanted to question Wycke about the men’s discussion, but knew by his furious expression that he was not going to talk about his sister and that Scottish brute, as he obviously considered Malcolm.
Did he think the same of Thad?
She’d poke him in the nose if he dared utter an unkind remark about him. Thad was her Scottish brute and only she could… No, she would never berate Thad again. He was too wonderful. He’d saved her life.
He could call her Loopy all he wished, and it would no longer rile her.
That evening, Wycke sat to her left at supper and the Earl of Hume sat to her right. The Earl of Caithness sat across from her, frowning at her every time she dared converse with Wycke.
Nathaniel was casting her curious glances, no doubt trying to decipher what was on her mind. Goose and Poppy did not look happy. She knew they adored Thad, and wouldn’t it be just perfect if Nathaniel and his friends wound up married to Penelope and her friends?
Perhaps.
She glanced at Malcolm and Anne. Oh, they looked like a couple in love. How could they know? Did love at first sight exist?
Penelope picked at the venison on her plate while trying to imagine what marriage to Wycke would be like. Amiable and convenient, certainly.
Marriage to Thad?
Oh, Thad. He had the power to break her heart.
Was it possible he loved her?
Or was he in love with the convenience of having her by his side? Yet, how could it be convenient when she constantly vexed him?
Before heading down to breakfast the following morning, Penelope paused by the door of her own bedchamber which was presently occupied by Thad since the doctor had insisted it was safest not to move him.
So many feelings flowed through her, she was almost afraid to see him. But as badly as she wished to avoid him, she was even more desperate to be in his company again.
In truth, she craved it.
Had she any sense, she’d agree to marry Wycke and forget all about the big, muscled ox occupying her bed.
To be precise, the big, muscled Scot who’d taken over her bedchamber, which was the reason she’d spent the night in Lavinia’s bedchamber, sharing the right side of her aunt’s large bed with Periwinkle, who was not at all happy to have her occupying his space.
She’d been jolted awake several times in the wee hours by his sniffing her. Yes, it’s still me. Still occupying your side of Lavinia’s bed. Get your wet nose out from under my nightrail.
Were all males this dense?
Thad certainly was.
His idea of courtship was to fall atop her, tell her she smelled like food, and then ungracefully pass out.
She could not possibly find his actions romantic or endearing.
And yet…this was Thad.
The same man who’d pulled her out of harm’s way and taken the full brunt of Monarch’s massive hooves to his shoulder. She shuddered, imagining his entire back was now black and blue from the stomping he’d taken while protecting her.
This was the same man who’d ignored his wounds to make certain she was tended to first, which hadn’t been necessary since she was unharmed because of his quick actions.
And then he’d consoled Pip.
Oh, heavens! If that big oaf and Pip came down to breakfast wearing matching slings, her entire body would melt into a puddle.
She took a deep breath and willed her hands to stop trembling. “Thad,” she said, ridiculously whispering through the door as though her voice would carry through the thick oak. She heard not a sound.
Not a stirring.
As she was debating whether or not to enter, Nathaniel came striding down the hall. He arched an eyebrow and frowned upon noticing her. “What are you doing, Penelope?”