by Jarecki, Amy
As she rode, the connection between horse and rider took over. She focused on leading Allegro through the patterns, on lead changes, on preparing for jumps, taking him through smooth gait changes from walk to trot to canter. Oh yes, a couple of hours in the saddle was exactly what she needed. She didn’t think about marriage, or blackmail, or Highland earls. Audrey became one with her horse, just like she’d been as a young girl.
By the time she rode back into the stable, at least the tension between her shoulder blades had eased. “Jeffrey,” she called, dismounting on her own.
When there was no answer, she began loosening the saddle’s girth strap.
Something moved out of the corner of her eye.
Her heartbeat spiked as she glanced back. “Jeffrey?”
“No,” came a reedy voice from inside the tack room. Wagner Tupps stepped into the light and lowered his hood. “Considering all that has transpired, I thought it best if we talked. Had a secret meeting, if you will.”
Every muscle in Audrey’s body tensed as she retightened the girth and glanced back to the mounting block. The horse skittered sideways.
“Are you thinking of fleeing?” The blackguard dashed toward her.
Audrey started to run. “H—!” Before the word help escaped her lips, he clamped one hand over her mouth and trapped her with his other. “Shut up. Fleeing is no way to greet your intended.”
She gulped against her churning stomach and wrenched her mouth from beneath his vile palm. “You are not my intended,” she seethed.
“I beg to differ. Did you read my letter?”
“Please. This is madness. I can pay you. How much do you need in order to be on your way?”
He threw back his head with a cackling laugh. “So the heiress thinks all that matters to a scoundrel is coin?”
“Is that not what you desire?”
He sniffed. “I will gain far more if I own the entire Kennet estate. With you in my bed, I will be the cock of Coxhoe, and I will crow to my good fortune.”
Audrey struggled to free herself. “You, sir, are mad.”
“Hmm. You could call it that. I’d rather call it angry. You see, I was born to the wrong brother. But I learned to pull myself out of the gutter by taking advantage of the dupes who surround me.” He laughed again, a hideous sneering titter. “After all, isn’t that why God put wealthy fools on this earth?”
“Help!” In a panic, Audrey twisted her shoulders and tried to spin from his grasp, but he was faster, gripping tighter, and again he covered her mouth.
“Shut your gob, wench,” he growled in her ear. “I have a document tucked away. ’Tis written in your father’s hand, and it will bury Seaforth.”
Audrey shook her head and garbled “no” against his dirty palm.
“Oh, yes. This is too good to pass over. Unless you proclaim your undying love for me, I will take this news to Captain Fry, the warden of Durham Gaol, and to every magistrate between here and London. Within a sennight Seaforth will be arrested for treason. He’ll be taken to Whitehall, where they executed King Charles. Indeed, he will meet the headman’s ax.” Wagner sniggered. “I wonder if the blade will be dull or sharp. I wonder if the big, kilt-wearing earl will beg for mercy. Will he wither and weep in front of the crowd?”
Thrashing her body side to side, Audrey screamed into the filthy palm.
Wagner squeezed his hand tighter and jammed her face-first against the wall. “Swear you will marry me.”
Her mind raced. If she refused him, she would be sending a good man to his grave, a man she cared very much about. Frantic to be free, she rapidly nodded.
“Do you promise not to shout again?”
She gave another nod.
Tupps’s hand eased, but he pressed his fingers to one side of her jaw and his thumb to the other. “I will pay a visit to Mr. Watford in three days, and he had best have received the news that you have accepted my proposal of marriage.”
Audrey gulped. Life with this monster would be unbearable. But what other choice did she have?
Chapter Fourteen
Jeffrey entered through the stable’s forward doors, carrying two pails of water. He’d missed it all. “How was your ride, miss?”
Audrey clasped her hands in front of her stomach to quell her jitters. Tupps had exited by the rear, leaving her alone. “Quite invigorating, thank you.” Her voice was emotionless. “Please see to it Allegro receives a double issue of oats this eve.” She patted her gelding on the rump, savoring the touch of something warm and unassuming beneath her fingertips. “He’s earned it.”
After setting the pails down, the stable hand grasped the horse’s bridle. “You spoil him.”
“He spoils me.” She gave Allegro one last pat. “I have a pressing matter to attend. Please excuse me.”
Holding her chin high, she made her way back to her bedchamber, praying that no one could sense the tempest brewing inside her. Only after she closed the door did Audrey allow herself to crumple. She pulled the kerchief from her sleeve and hid her face.
What on earth am I going to do?
Running away would solve nothing. Not only would Mr. Tupps betray the earl, Reid would go after her for certain. If she suddenly disappeared, the earl would see it as his failure to protect her. And if she’d learned anything about the Earl of Seaforth in the past month, it was the man could be fiercely tenacious.
She brushed away her tears and paced. This was no time to melt into a puddle. Pushing the heels of her hands to her temples, Audrey focused.
Two things are for certain. First of all, in no way can I betray the Earl of Seaforth. My father trusted him, supported him, embarked on a perilous undertaking with him.
She shuddered and paced some more.
Secondly, I cannot imagine a life as the wife of someone as vile as Wagner Tupps.
The more she paced, the more she realized that both problems contradicted each other to the point of stalemate. If she relented to Mr. Tupps’s demands, she might gain some time. But how long would she be able to keep him at bay? If she convinced Seaforth of her undying love, he might leave for Scotland, and once he was gone, could she then sail for the Americas or somewhere she would never be found?
If only she could find a way to stall. After all, she’d always wanted a long engagement. Perhaps she could make clear her wishes to Mr. Watford. Once things had been set in motion, the earl could wash his hands of his responsibility for her. His purpose would be fulfilled. And he’d made it clear he did not intend to remain in Coxhoe overlong.
But Audrey must use utmost care when she confessed news of the betrothal. If she so much as hinted at Mr. Tupps’s blackmail, Reid would go after the man and risk the consequences.
Whatever I tell him, I must be believable.
She stood in front of the mirror and cleared her throat. “I had a visit from Mr. Tupps today…” Biting her knuckle, she shook her head. If she mentioned the blackguard had come to Coxhoe, Reid would discover Tupps hadn’t been properly announced.
She again addressed the mirror, shoulders back. “I have received a lovely missive from Mr. Tupps and have decided to accept his suit of marriage.” Everyone knew she’d received a missive, and lo and behold it had been from Tupps. She cleared her throat. “And furthermore—”
Audrey practically jumped out of her skin when Mrs. Hobbs burst through the door with her arms full of linens. “How is your painting going today, miss?”
Audrey glanced to the bureau drawer. “I spent the morning riding Allegro.”
“Ah, yes. ’Tis a splendid day for it.” She set the washing on the foot of the bed. “You look a bit pale. Are you coming down with a fever?”
“Of course not. I’m perfectly fine.” Before the maid could ask another question, Audrey slipped out the door and hastened to the library.
Unfortunately, she found the chamber empty with the scowling painting of Uncle Josiah glaring at her as if all this had come about because of her actions. For pity’s sake, of all th
e times for the earl to step out, it had to be now when her confidence was at its peak. Oh no, she wasn’t about to wait for him to return. If she did, she might lose her nerve.
After pattering down the grand staircase, she found Gerald polishing the china plates in the parlor. He advised her the earl was in the courtyard sparring with his men, and suggested she wait until they finished because she could very well end up injured with all those mammoth Highland swords swinging about.
Audrey dismissed his warning with a roll of her eyes. How on earth was she to wait pacing in her bedchamber while Mrs. Hobbs changed the linens? She straightened her spine and marched out the door.
Her stomach instantly turned into a cloud of flitting butterflies.
Perhaps Gerald’s advice had been wise.
The day was overly warm, and every single kilted Highlander had opted to remove his shirt. Their muscular torsos gleamed with perspiration as they faced off, lunging and swinging their swords.
Clangs rang across the courtyard as, completely mesmerized, Audrey watched the sparring pair in the center. Reid MacKenzie focused on his partner like a man intent on murder. His teeth bared, his gaze unfaltering as he defended strike after strike.
With his every motion, the muscles in his torso rippled. His movement blurred while he wielded his sword with big arcs in a tireless dance. He spun outward, away from a hack. As he came around, he thrust his blade upward, his massive arms straining with sculpted sinew. A booming clang rang to the heavens while Reid’s opponent lost control and his sword sailed through the air, landing five feet in front of Audrey’s toes. She scooted backward with a gasp.
“Miss Kennet?” Using a more formal address in front of his men, Reid strode toward her, his every muscle flexing. “Are you all right, lass?” he asked as if he was completely dressed and not looking like an Adonis from a page in her Greek mythology book.
Her gaze shot to the others, who were all watching, blast them. “I-I am well.”
He bent down for his sparring partner’s sword, then addressed her, his glistening chest heaving while he held an enormous weapon in each hand. “Was there something you needed?”
She licked her lips and dropped her gaze to the muscles rippling in his abdomen.
Just out with it, you ninny.
“I have received a missive…I mean a lovely missive from Mr. Tupps and realize he is quite right. I will accept his proposal of marriage.”
The earl’s jaw dropped. Unmistakable hurt, alarm, and disappointment filled his eyes. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am.” Audrey couldn’t look him in the face. Spinning around, she dashed through the door and made haste for the sanctity of her bedchamber. After a good cry, she’d spend the rest of the day painting. Yes, painting ought to make the stabbing pain in her heart go away.
* * *
Reid stared at the door to Coxhoe House while it closed in his face.
What the devil just happened?
Ply a woman with the most stunning kiss I’ve ever imparted in my life and she turns around and announces she’s decided to marry a backstabbing milksop?
Just like that? No deliberating?
Miss Audrey didn’t seem like the type to make sudden rash decisions. Even if she had received “a lovely missive” from the bastard.
Christ. Reid pushed the hair away from his eyes with his forearm. He’d been a damned fool kissing her. He’d lost his head.
But how could she just cast him aside as though his kiss had meant nothing?
Of course, he hadn’t proposed marriage. Even if he were in a position to make such an offer, such a proposal took time, took a great deal of forethought. One didn’t just dive into wedlock as if it were a business transaction—unless entering a marriage contract between noble families for the prosperity of one’s estate.
Which Reid understood far too well.
But there was no use burdening himself with something he could do nothing about. He could only hope his uncle would see sense and call off the agreement pledged by Reid’s father. If Reid had his way, he’d live the life of a bachelor forever.
“Does that mean we’ll be heading home soon, m’lord?” asked Graham from behind.
Reid handed the guardsman his sword. “Perhaps, though I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted? To marry her off?”
“Aye.” Reid’s stomach clenched with his leer. Indeed, he’d planned to marry her off all along, though to a gentleman or a respected businessman like her father. “But I smell a rat.”
Sheathing his sword, he marched up the portico and pushed inside the house. Miss Audrey couldn’t just blurt out such a declaration and leave him standing there like an ox.
He took long strides and he skipped two stairs at a time until he reached the second landing. Turning west, he hastened down the lavender-scented passageway while rage thrummed through his veins. “Miss Audrey?” He pounded on her door.
“Go away. I have made my decision, and there’s nothing more to say about it.”
“I will not leave until you show me Mr. Tupps’s missive.”
Footsteps pattered until she flung her door open. Then her eyes nearly popped out of her head while she gasped, her gaze shifting to his bare chest.
Reid glanced down. Perhaps it would have been mannerly if he’d donned his shirt, but this couldn’t wait. Without apologizing, he barged inside. “Where is it?”
“I beg your pardon, but such a letter is private. A lady doesn’t just allow gentlemen to read her confidential correspondence.”
“I beg to differ. I am your guardian. That means I need to give my seal of approval to this match, and presently, I think you are acting quite hastily.”
Audrey turned her back and put her hand to her cheek, blocking her eyes from him. “I have no intention of proceeding hastily, except you must notify Mr. Watford straightaway.”
Reid threw out his arms. “Please, just allow yourself a sennight to consider.”
“No. A sennight simply will not do.” She looked at him, then snapped her hands over her eyes. “If you would please don your shirt, we might be able to discuss this civilly.”
“We are having a civil discussion,” he boomed, jamming his fists into his hips and planting his feet. “And I do not agree that you are making a well-informed decision. I insist that you give it some time, find out more about this man’s intentions.”
“I have made my bloody decision!” She shoved him in the shoulders. Good Lord, she’d gone red in the face. “Since you insist on standing there like an overbearing, shirtless oaf, I must inform you that I do intend to sign a contract of betrothal. And because Mr. Tupps’s confidential and private letter contained an overtone of urgency, I believe it pertinent to inform you that I intend for this to be a very long engagement. In no way will I agree to be unduly rushed and paraded to the altar.”
“Unduly?” Reid dropped his hands. She wanted to rush into a betrothal, but then draw out the engagement? She made no sense whatsoever. Did she not realize that she would be signing her writ of misery?
“Exactly.” Spun tighter than a fiddle string, she brushed past him and sat at her painting table. “If there is nothing else, I have an order for ten fans that must be dispatched by the end of the week.”
For a moment, Reid didn’t move. He didn’t like this sudden turn of events one bit. Last eve, she was rifling through her father’s papers looking for something about Wagner Tupps, and now she was ready to declare her undying love?
What changed?
She picked up a paintbrush and swirled it in a glass of water. “Was there anything else you needed, my lord?”
Dear God, she could be maddening. “Not a thing,” he clipped as he turned on his heel, and strode away.
Chapter Fifteen
Reid hoped to God that Dunn had enough wherewithal to bring back a cask of whisky when he returned. He poured another dram of brandy and turned the cup between his fingers. He hated English brandy, but it was
the only thing in Nicholas Kennet’s liquor cabinet strong enough to cool his ire.
Sitting in the library, he reclined in the chair by the hearth and stared at the flickering flames. He hadn’t even bothered to light a candle.
He should meet with Mr. Watford in the morning, sign the goddamned papers, and head for the border. Why should he care if Miss Audrey wanted to throw her life away?
Christ, Wagner Tupps might even be a respectable man.
Reid’s gut churned. He’d never overlooked his gut instincts, and he just couldn’t allow himself to do so now.
He took a long draw on the brandy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d go meet Watford in his rooms on the morrow and do some digging. He owed the lass at least that before he stepped aside and allowed her to ruin her life.
After tossing back the remainder of the brandy, Reid poured another. Dash it, he felt like shite.
Rejected by a timid English rose? And for a bloody bastard?
He slid down in his seat and crossed his ankles, focusing on the hypnotic flames. Bloody hell, he’d had no business kissing the lass anyway. Not with a clan alliance hanging in the balance. He had a duty to Clan MacKenzie first. This had been ingrained in him all his life. Christ, he might never marry. He’d avoided it thus far, and he didn’t intend to be driven to it by his ward. Hell, she was English. And there was no bloody way he would ever live in England. Aside from the importance of uniting the Highland clans to stand behind James Stuart, Reid had his own enterprises to look after—cattle, sheep, wool, and oats. He was a busy man, a wealthy landowner, not to mention an earl and a member of the House of Lords.
So why am I acting like a goddamned fool?
He’d asked himself that question a hundred times and still hadn’t come up with a satisfactory answer.
Had his kiss meant nothing to her? Like it or not, it had meant something to him. He just couldn’t figure out what. True, he’d kissed his share of maids—English and Scots alike. And truth be told, he’d always preferred hearty Highland women over stiff, snobbish English women. Perhaps he just needed to go home.