by Cheryl Holt
He kissed her forever, but that was all he did. He didn’t untie any laces or unbutton any buttons. He simply sampled her delicious mouth and ran his curious hands over her arms and thighs, imprinting her shape and size into his palms.
She jumped in with an incredible amount of vigor, almost as if she was engaged in a scientific experiment to prove whether she could enjoy herself or not. As to himself, he was bewildered over how sweet it was. He was being bombarded with the potent perception that he’d finally arrived precisely where he was supposed to be.
When he caught himself becoming too aroused, when he started to contemplate disrobing her, he halted and drew away. He gazed down at her, and it was the strangest thing, but his heart ached, as if it didn’t fit under his ribs. Apparently, he was smitten as a green boy.
“Are we done?” she said, her exasperation returning with a vengeance. “Have I provided adequate entertainment for one evening?”
“I think I’ve had my fill—for now.”
“Then if I ask you to go, would you? You’re much bigger than I am, so I can’t toss you out bodily.”
He pulled away from her and sat on the edge of the mattress. With him moving away from her, he’d expected her to leap up and put some space between them, but she merely smiled and stretched like a lazy cat.
“When are you leaving for London?” he asked her.
“It should be tomorrow, but I have to have some difficult chats with Winston and Amelia. We have many thorny issues to address, but I hate the conversations, so I avoid them until the last second.”
“What are some of the issues.”
“They are just family complications. They wouldn’t interest you.”
“Would you like me to sit in on your discussions? I could furnish moral support, and if either of them upsets you, I can bully them into silence. And I’m still hoping you’ll permit me to thrash Winston.”
She chuckled. “I’d love to have an ally in the room, but it would be too humiliating for me to have you hear how they talk to me.”
“Promise me that you’ll confer with Attorney Thumberton again. You shouldn’t carry this burden by yourself. You’re too nice to evict them, but Thumberton wouldn’t bat an eye. Why don’t you let him?”
She sighed. “Could we not debate it? I’ve actually wound up being delighted that you snuck in, so don’t ruin the moment by reminding me of how foolish I can be.”
He could have kicked himself when he blurted out, “I could tarry until you’re finished. We could ride to town together. I came on horseback, but I could rent a carriage. Would you like that?”
“If you were trapped with me for an entire day, you’d murder me before we arrived. You don’t seem like the sort of fellow who would enjoy that much feminine company.”
“I’m constantly surrounded by women, and I’m a very likable person. I know how to travel in a carriage with a female.”
“Yes, but I’m sure your doxies are much more frivolous than me. I’d spend the hours trying to mold you into a better man, and I’m positive you wouldn’t like it.”
He snorted with amusement. He liked everything about her, and those odd fetters were tightening around his ankles again.
“I want to ask you a question,” he said before he could stop himself. “I insist that you seriously reflect on your answer. Don’t automatically refuse.”
“I won’t, so what is your question?”
He clasped her hand and linked their fingers, feeling absurdly perplexed over what he was about to do, but he would do it anyway. He was a spontaneous rogue who’d landed himself in all kinds of trouble by being reckless and impulsive. Evidently, his conduct with Hannah Graves would be no different.
The bottle of wine he’d drunk by himself wasn’t helping either.
“I’m here because I thought you had been engaged to me,” he said. “We both shrugged it off as a mistake, but maybe we shouldn’t view it that way.”
She frowned. “Meaning what?”
“My father picked Sir Edmund’s daughter to be my bride. I didn’t like the one who was offered, but what would you think of marrying me?” She nearly piped up with a rebuttal, and he hurried to add, “We’re very compatible; you can’t deny it. Why shouldn’t we forge ahead? Imagine how much easier your life would be if I was your husband.”
She scowled ferociously. “Why would you suggest it? I recognize it would be for the money and property in my dowry, but you already have plenty of that. I would be included in the deal, and I can’t fathom why you’d consider it.”
“We like each other.”
“We do?”
“Yes. Don’t pretend we don’t.”
“All right, I won’t pretend.”
“Friendship is a good basis for a marriage. We’d manage just fine, and I wouldn’t have to search for someone else who—I’m convinced—would be much worse than you.”
She laughed merrily. “If that was a genuine proposal, it has to be the most pathetic one ever voiced. You’re eager to wed me because the next candidate might be worse? That’s such a low bar that I don’t even have to jump to climb over it.”
He reddened with chagrin. “I guess I didn’t explain myself very well.”
She sat up too and thrilled him by resting a palm on his cheek. “I understood what you were telling me, but I can’t wed you. It’s nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal! You just rejected my proposal!”
“Don’t get all huffy on me,” she said. “You are nicer and more charming than I realized, but I am absolutely certain you don’t really want me. By your own admission, you like women who are biddable and obedient, and I could never carry on as you were expecting. I’d drive you mad before the first month was out.”
“Would you like to ponder your reply for awhile?”
“I don’t have to.”
He stared at her, then he smirked. “It was worth a shot. If you’d agreed, you would have saved me an enormous amount of time and aggravation.”
“I suppose it would have saved you time, but the aggravation would never have ended.”
He’d made a complete fool of himself in front of her again. Why did he act like such an idiot around her? He’d proposed, but he probably hadn’t been sincere. He was lucky she’d refused, and he’d dodged a bullet. Hadn’t he?
He figured he had, but strangely, it seemed as if he’d lost out on a vital prize, and he was extremely morose. He had to depart or he’d grow even more ridiculous.
He leaned in and stole a quick kiss. “I don’t know if I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I hope you will.”
“Take care of yourself, and if you ever need anything, would you contact me? I’d be happy to stand your friend.”
“Here at our parting, don’t you dare be wonderful. It’s annoying.”
“And if you ever decide you’d like me to pound Winston Webster into the ground, send a fast messenger. I’ll come racing to your side.”
She smiled. “I will keep that in mind.”
He slid away and walked out without glancing back, for he couldn’t bear to have a final glimpse of her pretty green eyes. He’d behaved stupidly with her, but then, that was typical conduct for him. She had better sense than he did, and she’d prevented him from falling off the cliff where he’d been perched.
After he returned to town, perhaps he’d buy her a thank you gift—for saving him from himself.
He bristled with disgust, unlocked her door, and tiptoed out without checking if the hall was clear. If he was discovered sneaking out, he wasn’t concerned one way or the other.
CHAPTER TEN
“I mainly have one comment.”
“I hope you’ll be brief. I’m very busy today.”
Winston smiled an ingratiating smile at Hannah, praying he looked interested, but it was difficult to feign enthusiasm or cordiality.
They were in his library, and she’d summoned him down as if he were a common servant. She’d entered the room b
efore he had, so she was sitting behind the massive oak desk, and he’d been forced onto a chair across from her.
Their positions were completely reversed, providing stark evidence of who owned Parkhurst. The reminder was galling, and he could have demanded they switch seats, but she’d have refused, and they’d have quarreled. Because his life revolved around her letting him remain at Parkhurst, he wouldn’t initiate a spat he couldn’t win.
He had to pick his battles with her. She was about to head back to London on the mail coach, and he wanted her gone. He wouldn’t do anything to delay her.
While growing up, he’d had no money or prospects. He’d obtained a university education through scholarship and hard work. From the moment he’d met Amelia, he’d viewed her as his route to the grander status he’d deserved. She’d succumbed to his determined seduction, and by the time she’d left to marry Sir Edmund, she’d been totally ensnared and had sworn she’d wait for him forever.
It had been a long decade of twiddling his thumbs until Sir Edmund died. His demise had cleared the road for Winston, but during that period, he’d tried to glom onto some other wealthy ninny, but he hadn’t had any luck, so he’d had to settle for Amelia.
The instant she’d been widowed, he’d swooped in and attached himself. He’d assumed he would be the owner of Parkhurst through his marriage to her, but instead of being a landed, prosperous gentleman, he was husband to a poverty-stricken harpy whom no one liked or respected.
By wedding him so quickly, she was deemed to be a devious adulterous with corrupt morals.
Parkhurst had been his sole opportunity to raise himself up, but her late husband hadn’t bequeathed it to her, so Winston was simply a tenant who was subject to the whims of his fickle landlords, that being Rebecca and Hannah.
He didn’t worry about Rebecca. She was too submissive to ever stir any trouble, but Hannah was a different story entirely. She felt Winston was an interloper who should never have been allowed to reside at Parkhurst.
Well, he’d deal with her eventually. She believed she was powerful and more important than he was, but she had no idea of how driven Winston was to attain what he craved. In the end, Parkhurst would be his, and Hannah wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening.
“Aren’t you leaving for town?” he asked. “If you dawdle, you’ll miss your coach.”
“I’m tracking the time. I won’t miss it.”
“Please tell me you’re taking the bastard boy with you.”
“His name is Jackson. Jackson Graves.”
Winston ignored the taunt. “I realize you’re not fond of Amelia, but it was incredibly rude of you to throw him in her face.”
“Your opinion is noted.”
Winston was incensed by her flippant nonchalance. “I’m serious, Hannah. Sir Edmund was your father, so it’s fitting that you harbor affectionate memories of him, but it’s outrageous of you to permit the boy to visit.”
“When did you move to Parkhurst, Winston?” was her snotty reply. “And when did you wed Amelia? Should we debate whether Amelia or Father was the most unfaithful in their marriage?”
She never ceased her castigation for his swift actions after Sir Edmund’s death, and if he hadn’t been so dependent on her for his lodging, he’d have retaliated. As it was, he could only fume and silently vow to get even.
He had to recollect that she rarely came to Parkhurst. She’d put him in charge, but she’d supplied very scant guidance or restrictions as to how he should exercise his role. The result was that he’d found many methods for enriching himself at her expense, but then, it wasn’t fair that she’d been placed above him in the family hierarchy.
After Winston had shackled himself to Amelia, he should have become the patriarch, but no. He was beholden to Hannah for every tiny thing, and he’d never forgive her for being elevated above him.
He widened his smile. “What is it you need from me, and we should probably hurry. We love to have you stay with us, but I recognize how much you detest Parkhurst. I’d hate to have you compelled to tarry for an extra day.”
“Yes, and you’re always so glad to see me.” Her tone was extremely sarcastic.
He sighed, as if she was a great trial. “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, why must you engage in these petty attempts to antagonize me?”
“It’s so enjoyable. I can’t resist.”
“You’re twenty-five this year. It’s a mystery to me why you still act like a child.”
“If you don’t like my attitude or my conduct, you don’t have to remain at Parkhurst. You’re free to slither away whenever you wish.”
It was the cudgel she held over his head, and she relished pounding him with it.
“Amelia and Rebecca would be crushed if you kicked us out,” he said, “so I guess you and I simply have to tolerate one another. For their sakes.”
She snorted at that. “I’ll come right to the point. Rebecca informs me that you are nagging at her to sign over her share of Parkhurst.”
When his mischief was exposed, his impulse was to deny any transgression. “I can’t fathom why she would spread such a horrendous falsehood, and you’re aware of how scatterbrained she can be. I’ve never mentioned the topic to her.”
“You’re the worst liar, Winston, so hear me and hear me well: Rebecca will not ever give you her share of Parkhurst. Our lawyer, Mr. Thumberton, would have to agree, and he never will. Especially now, when she’s so young. She’s not competent to relinquish it, so stop your badgering. It won’t work.”
“Her mother is convinced that Rebecca can marry very high, and she’s determined to include Parkhurst in the dowry. Would you rather have it go to Rebecca’s husband? It would mean you’d wind up owning it with a stranger. Is that a better arrangement?”
“Rebecca isn’t anxious to be a bride. Not for many years yet.”
“Amelia may have something to say about that.”
“I’m sure she will, but I will have something to say too, so the ownership of Parkhurst is none of your business. Rebecca and I will deal with any issues, and I’m sorry to report that you will not be consulted.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. Hannah was so smug, so confident. She assumed it was perfectly acceptable to lord herself over Winston. How much longer would he blithely bow down?
He wondered if it had ever occurred to her that he might have other, more cunning plans to obtain Parkhurst. First and foremost, Amelia could pass away. If she did, Winston would latch onto Rebecca and wed her immediately.
In the interim, he needed money. A huge pot of money, and—to satisfy his creditors—he needed it in the next thirty days. He had several schemes brewing that would deliver what he sought, and Hannah could never prevent him from amassing what he required. She was mad if she thought she could.
“That’s all I had to tell you,” she said, “so this meeting is concluded.”
She stood, so he had to stand too. His temper was raging, and she was lucky he didn’t stomp around the desk, grab her, and shake her until her teeth rattled. Her insolence was unbearable, and as she flitted by him, he clasped her arm and yanked her to a halt. It was a stupid move, but he couldn’t calm down.
“You seem to presume you have some authority over me and the women in my family,” he told her. “You don’t, and I will not have you bossing me with regard to them.”
“Amelia is your wife, so I concur that she is your responsibility, but unless you’d like to admit that the rumors about Rebecca’s parentage are true, she is Sir Edmund’s daughter and my sister. You have no authority over her, and if you continue to harass her, I shall begin legal proceedings to become her guardian. I suggest you tread cautiously.”
He realized he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn’t keep himself from saying, “You think you’re so smart.”
“Yes, actually, I think I’m very, very smart, and you’re hurting my arm. Let go of it.”
He simply tightened his grip. He was so furious that little red dots had formed
on the edge of his vision, and he worried he was about to suffer an apoplexy. For once, he wasn’t certain how the encounter would end.
But rash conduct was forestalled by the door swinging open behind them. He peered over his shoulder to see who had arrived, and it provided Hannah with the opportunity to jerk away.
“There you are, Miss Graves,” Viscount Marston said. “I’m about to ride out, and I’ve been looking for you so I could tell you goodbye.”
The atmosphere in the room was filled with loathing and spite, and Marston was no fool. He studied Hannah, then Winston, then he sauntered over to her. He was a big man, and he towered over Winston in a manner that was annoying and intimidating.
“You two seem to be having quite a heated discussion,” he said to Hannah. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she claimed, but she was rubbing her arm.
“You don’t appear to be fine, Miss Graves. In my opinion, you are a tad distressed. Why is that?”
Hannah glared at Winston, and it took an eternity for her to answer. “We were just arguing. Don’t concern yourself.”
“When I walked in, I could swear Mr. Webster was manhandling you. Was he?”
Hannah didn’t reply, didn’t rush to insist that she and Winston were merely talking animatedly, and Marston viewed her silence as an affirmation. He stepped to Winston and seized his shirt, lifting him slightly so the tips of his shoes brushed the rug.
“I’m known as a lazy scapegrace,” Marston said, “so people aren’t aware that I have a very bad temper.”
“Put me down, sir!” Winston demanded.
“I will in a minute,” Marston said, “but first, I must explain this to you: I don’t like to see a lady abused. I’m funny that way.”
“I didn’t…didn’t abuse Hannah,” Winston blustered. “We were debating some contentious estate matters.”
“No, you weren’t. You were browbeating and threatening her, to which I take great offense.”
“My relationship with Hannah is none of your affair.”
“I’m making it my affair,” Marston said. “Don’t ever touch her again. Not ever. In the future, if I ever learn that you’ve laid a finger on her, I will return to Parkhurst and kill you.”