She eyed Bromton with suspicion. He knew very well that she had done something similar. She’d discussed the plans with both Katherine and Bromton—after all, their estate bordered Rayne’s.
“I couldn’t have touched the parkland without Rayne’s consent. And besides, the estate income comes mostly from the mines. However, I did encourage the tenants to sublet fallow fields for laborers to grow potatoes.”
Markham rubbed his chin. “The tenants get enriched land and the laborers have extra food or income.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that changing the parkland was a bad idea.” She found it quite innovative, actually. Thoughtfully so.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Katherine said. “Markham does not take offense so easily.”
Markham tapped the maps. “These sorts of plans are always improved by thoughtful critique.”
His smile tugged at her heart.
Julia finished the piece of music with a flourish. After a moment’s silence, she dropped her fingers onto the keys, creating a clang.
“Enough estate talk!” she exclaimed. “So dull. Let’s play a game! How about hide-and-seek?”
Bromton snorted. “A child’s game.”
“Weren’t you ever a child, Bromton?” Julia asked.
“Of course not. I was born exactly like this. On the other hand, I could be persuaded.” Bromton glanced over to Katherine and slowly smiled. “If Julia were to seek while the rest of us hide in pairs.”
Katherine’s lips twitched.
First the bedchamber, then the Southford allotment plans left out for her to see. Now hide-and-seek…in pairs? Clarissa narrowed her gaze. She’d known Julia and Katherine were conspiring to throw her together with Markham. But Bromton?
“I don’t know the house,” Clarissa protested.
“That’s not a problem.” Julia waved her hand. “Markham can help you. Which is only fair, really. You, Horatia, and I made up a team last time, and Markham was all alone. This time you can be on his team. Parity is important, after all.”
Chapter Fourteen
Markham grabbed a candle in one hand, Clarissa by the other, and led her up the stairs. Julia’s counting rang out through the library into the hall.
He’d pleaded with Katherine to keep Julia from interfering. Instead, she and Bromton had decided to abet Julia’s schemes—and come up with a few of their own.
He wasn’t going to survive a fortnight of this madness.
Couldn’t they see? “Help” was useless.
Every time his connection with Clarissa flared, she shied away. They could meddle all they wished; Clarissa wasn’t about to change her mind.
They reached the top of the stairs.
“Playing games was not my idea,” Markham said. “Julia, Katherine, even Bromton—they believe they are helping, and, this afternoon, I made everything worse.”
“How?”
“By interrupting a tryst between Bromton and Katherine to complain.” He ran his fingers along the paneling. “Now, Bromton is practically goading Julia.” He located the hidden lever, pulled, and then the paneling popped open. “After you, my lady.”
Clarissa cocked a brow.
“What?” he asked.
“My lady?”
“Just an expression, of course.”
Or, not.
Truth was, she’d been giving him that look—that sure, direct gaze, as skeptical as it was devouring. A look that glinted with demand, as if she wished to break him to pieces and then puzzle him back together. He’d unconsciously responded.
When she looked at him that way, all else disappeared.
But a look was just a look—he had nothing he could surrender, not when she refused to explore.
“This is Julia’s favorite hiding spot,” he explained. “And always the first place she checks.”
“Play hide-and-seek often, do you?”
“Not in the last ten years.”
She swished inside, glancing about the hidden cupboard. “What is this place, anyway?”
He closed the panel and then set the candle on a beam. “A priest hole—a hiding space within the walls. Priests used them during Reformation raids.” He paused. “I should say mock priest hole, because the house isn’t old enough to have a real one.”
“Mock or real, something tells me Julia is going to ‘forget’ about her favorite hiding place.”
“Likely—the little fiend.” He placed his ear against the panel. “Footsteps.”
“Guess we were wrong.”
“Open up.” Julia’s voice came through the panel. “I know someone is in there.” She jiggled the panel. “Oh no! It’s stuck!”
“It is not stuck.” Markham yanked the latch. Nothing happened. “It is stuck.” He reached down inside the mechanism within the panel to see if he could remove whatever was blocking the lever, but the lever was missing. “Julia!”
“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I’ll find Bromton and Katherine and then—”
“Get the butler.” He glanced back at Clarissa. “And an ax if you have to.”
“I can’t understand. Your voice is all muffled.” Julia’s voice faded as she moved away. “I’ll be back, though I can’t say how long I’ll be…”
Clarissa leaned against the wall. “Looks like we’re stuck.”
“She’s removed the lever from this side. I told you she is a little fiend.”
“She is a little fiend you adore.”
He flashed a crooked smile. “Guilty. The banshee was born screaming—a primal wail that never stopped. She’s an outspoken, frustrating firebrand, but I’d do just about anything for her.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“That she challenges you at every turn.”
“We fight,” he conceded with a shrug. “Though I don’t understand why I’d be bothered. She behaves as she ought when she must.”
“True.”
He eyed her carefully. She wasn’t just talking about Julia. “In case you haven’t noticed, strong women do not scare me.”
Clarissa laughed reluctantly—an infinitely satisfying sound.
“You’re odd, Percy Stanley.”
“You don’t know the half…”
But she did, didn’t she? She knew more than the half. She knew parts of him he hadn’t given to anyone else; that he would never give to anyone else.
She glanced away.
And she seemed to be able to read his thoughts.
“Outspoken, frustrating firebrands”—she rested her hand on the panel, staring into the flame—“are not usually the kind of women my brother fancies.”
He responded with an inarticulate grunt. “I wondered if you were going to ask about Julia and Rayne. You guessed a long time ago, didn’t you?”
Clarissa nodded. “I’ve suspected something happened between them. Can you tell me more?”
He didn’t have to wonder if he could trust her. He already did.
At least where Julia was concerned.
“All I know is that Katherine and Bromton said they heard them trysting. Julia refused to confirm or deny; Rayne swore they’d only kissed. Whatever happened, she fell hard.”
Clarissa sighed. “I’m sorry my brother hurt her.”
“I’m sorry—for your sake—he left the country. And I thank you for not holding that against Julia.”
She mimicked his shrug. “Only Rayne knows why he left, and as for Julia…I think I understand her better than she understands herself.” She faced him, her gaze unsettlingly speculative. “I know what it is to lose a mother at a young age. Losing both parents young must have been difficult for Julia…difficult for you all.”
Difficult, yes.
Apprehension closed his throat.
Like finding oneself adrift on the ocean without any idea how to sail…and knowing others’ lives depended on how quickly you learned to survive.
Words couldn’t communicate just how terrified he’d been.
/> Just show Clarissa who you are.
Easy for Katherine to say.
It was one level of trust to share a family secret, to discuss his visions and plans, or to allow Clarissa to dominate him in bed.
But to slice open his deepest wounds?
No.
He would, he suspected, bleed for the kind of explosive union he and Clarissa could achieve. But he refused to open his heart if she wouldn’t commit.
“Losing my parents was most difficult for Katherine.” He kept his voice light. “Julia doesn’t remember my mother at all, and, well, my father wasn’t exactly attentive. Not after he lost my mother.”
“And you?”
“The loss was difficult for all of us, of course.”
She waited. “Aren’t you going to tell me how the loss affected you?”
A thousand wants tripped through his mind, each stumbling over the immovable truth—she did not want him. I just don’t want you to think I’m going to change my mind.
“No, I’m not going to tell you.”
“What happened to the devil-may-care Lord Markham?” Her tone soured. “Elegant and controlled…always a step apart, always with an amused eye-sparkle and a mocking half smile.”
Now that hurt.
Actually hurt—as if she’d thrust a long thin pin downward through his chest.
“A great many people depend on you, don’t they, Markham? And you do care.” She laid a hand on his heart. “You care a great deal.”
He studied her eyes.
In Clarissa’s eyes he read her anger, her fear, her lust. He saw that she’d intentionally lashed out—wanted to hurt because she was hurting. Still, he would have held her close and absorbed it all, if only she had the courage to stay.
Of course, he cared.
He gave over his entire being to those in his care—to those he loved. He’d been shouldering responsibility for his family since he was an awkward seventeen-year-old boy—grieving and confounded and utterly unprepared for his duty.
If he hadn’t cared, he and his sisters would have been reduced to poverty.
And if he hadn’t acted as if he didn’t care, he would have broken into useless pieces under the twin loads of debt and expectation.
Just like he was breaking now.
“I was fine with you taking charge, Clarissa.” He lifted her hand from his person. “But I am no one’s plaything.”
…
The edge in Markham’s voice sent shivers down Clarissa’s spine. His eyes sparked like faceted emeralds, and she could not look away. In his hard features, she caught her first glimpse of the real Percival Stanley.
And she was breathless.
She’d known her angry impulse was wrong, but she’d felt him slipping away—stealing the heat between them as he retreated.
She’d struck out in response.
She’d wanted to break him open so she could gather him back together. And she’d wanted to do it without offering any of herself in return.
She may have built a fortress, but sentinels that hadn’t been in his gaze before pointed ready cannons—defensive cannons. Much as she wanted him to, he wasn’t going to advance. This was his power. The power to say no.
He’d allow her to take only if she gave. And she did not wish to give.
But— “I don’t want a plaything.”
“You do.” His words held that same spine-twisting edge. “You want me to satisfy your needs without—” He stopped himself.
“Markham,” she said dismissively, “it’s not as if you committed to every lover.”
“I may know—in the carnal sense—more than you know, but I am as unfamiliar with what happened between us as you are.”
He thought he was new to this?
She’d never kissed any man but him, and suddenly, she was imagining things that would have confounded a courtesan.
Or, perhaps not.
Courtesans were probably very familiar with unusual needs.
She frowned. “Have you ever paid a woman to—?”
“No!” he interrupted, eyes flashing. “Satisfaction is not a commodity.”
Well.
His anger had a particular scent. A heady, dangerous scent. Come back from the ledge, lapin. She gentled her voice. “I cannot read your mind, Markham. How would I know if I didn’t ask?”
Slowly, his breath calmed.
“Can you tell me why this is different?” she asked.
Those guards in his eyes remained. ““I’ve had lovers, not mistresses. Not that I feel I’m morally above someone forced to sell satisfaction. I—I just refuse to participate. And I don’t,” he swallowed, “generally play at domination in bed.”
“Generally?”
His pupils had grown wide again. Fathomless, and yet fully present.
“The times I have, I’ve taken command.”
Now, she was rather fixed on his lips. “Then why did you let me—?”
“Because,” he interrupted, “you asked. Because you asked,” he changed the emphasis. “You with your wide, curious eyes, with the lip you bite to keep from trembling, with the voice you keep low to mask uncertainty and fear.”
He’d seen everything, hadn’t he?
“I was scared.” She was scared now, too. Terrified, actually. Unshed tears knit a dam in her throat. She blinked until she could see again.
“You took a risky chance, Clarissa. You dared. I wasn’t about to shun that offering. And once we started down that path—I don’t know. The noise ceased, I guess. I was more than intrigued. In fact, I’d never been as captivated.”
Why did he have to be so honest? So bravely, boldly honest?
He leaned back, dropping his head back against the brick—the very picture of a spellbound man, struggling against temptation.
She sighed.
“Heavy sound.”
“The weight of a thousand contradictions.” She focused on his loosely tied cravat. “For each contradiction I solve, three more appear.”
“Contradictions…” He paused, considering. “You wish to bind me, but you know if you do so, you will also be bound.”
She did wish to bind him. She wished to claim his masculine force as her own. “Your strength is intoxicating.”
His breath grew short. “Is it growing warm in here?”
Poor man. She opened the top two buttons on his waistcoat. The skin beneath his shirt was like fire. Simply touching his chest left her fingers tingling.
“Better?”
“Quite.”
Marriage would make her disappear. But Markham…
Markham made her come alive.
She placed her hands on the brick, one on either side of his head. “Do you know why I said no kissing?”
He shook his head no.
“Because if I start kissing you, I am scared I won’t be able to stop.”
There. The truth of the matter.
If she kissed him, she’d forget to be prudent. She’d throw away the chance at freedom for the pleasures of his bed.
And she was no longer certain she’d regret the trade.
“Markham.” Her voice had gone deep and throaty. “Tell me what you want.”
He went perfectly still. “The truth?”
“The truth.”
“I want you. In my bed. Every night. For the rest of my life.”
A shadow from the past haunted—I’ve secured a husband for you, daughter. The sentence that had marked the end of her separate existence.
“Not all contradictions can be solved through thinking.” He spoke low and even and breathy. “Some contradictions must be lived.”
Lived. Yes. She wanted to live. She wanted to be fully alive.
“Live the contradiction with me, Clarissa. Bind me and be bound.”
Her whole being became the beam of a scale—on one side, Markham, on the other, all the possibilities she’d been denied. And then, voices sounded in the hall.
Markham clenched his teeth. “Fiend.”
“Would you look at that?” Julia placed her hands on her hips. “The door wasn’t stuck after all.”
Katherine snorted. “Funny how a lever works…when you pull it.”
Markham towered over his youngest sister. “Put the inside lever back, Julia.”
“What lever?” Julia asked.
He pinched the back of Julia’s neck. She squealed and lifted her shoulders.
“Let go!”
“Lever first!”
Julia reached into the folds of her pocket. “This lever?”
Markham grabbed the lever, sent Julia a fierce glance, and then reinserted it into the door.
“Perhaps,” Katherine winced apologetically at Clarissa, “we should all—”
“Play billiards?” Julia interjected.
Katherine rolled her eyes. “I’m going to bed. Besides”—she glanced through her lashes at her husband—“I promised I’d only play billiards with Bromton.”
Bromton groaned and then kissed Katherine soundly, ignoring the fact they were in full view of everyone else.
Clarissa pursed her lips.
She’d been present when Katherine made that promise—as had half the ton, a good number of the demimonde, and Beau Brummell himself.
It had been romantic. Sweepingly so. Almost as breathtaking as being told by a muscled, deep-voiced man you can’t stop touching that he wants you in his bed for the rest of his life.
“I’m going to bed as well,” Markham announced.
Markham had trusted her with his body. Could she trust him with her life?
Panic returned—a cold wet rag. Her heart spasmed. Her throat closed.
Run.
“I’ll play billiards with you, Julia,” she blurted.
“You will?” Markham and Julia answered in unified disbelief.
Clarissa forced a breath. “Well?”
Julia glanced between Markham and Clarissa. “Very well, then.”
With a flat-lipped grunt, Markham turned away.
Gracious. What had she done?
Markham had offered his devotion. Instead, she’d chosen billiards.
She didn’t even know how to play!
Unthinkingly, she followed Julia down the stairs and then waited as Julia lit a lamp and adjusted the wick.
Heart's Desire (Lords of Chance) Page 17