by Sharon Green
"If you think what she did made me want to refuse your offer, you're wrong," Bryan interrupted harshly, seeing the other man flinch back from his anger. "What I want is to conclude our agreement as quickly as possible, get it signed and sealed and completed. After that I can forget all about what she said."
"Of course, my dear fellow, of course," Harding fluttered, so relieved he looked close to passing out. "Let's go to my study immediately, and I'll tell you all about the arrangements I've made. If I'm not mistaken, you'll be absolutely delighted…"
He chattered on about unimportant things as he led the way toward another part of the house, and Bryan didn't bother to listen. What a damned fool he'd been, to get so involved that he forgot why he was there. The girl must have been playing with him, waiting for his guard to go down before she attacked in earnest. Rather than refusing to talk to him she'd encouraged his interest, and then had jumped at the chance to show off for her toadies. That he hadn't expected to be treated like that after the first part of their conversation somehow made it worse, as though she'd in some way betrayed the special qualities he'd imagined her to have.
Special qualities - what a joke! Bryan tugged at the lace at his left wrist, struggling to get his temper back under control. The only thing special about that girl was her malicious sense of humor, which had made him believe she was enjoying herself before abruptly dismissing him like a beggar. Redheads were supposed to be notorious for their tempers and mood changes, but she wasn't really a redhead. Golden-red her hair was, a rather unusual shade -
Bryan nearly stopped short, but caught himself just in time. It was a ridiculous thought that had come to him, one that couldn't possibly be true - but what if it was? Those three on the road that afternoon, and the skinny one he'd disarmed … that one had had the same golden-red hair, a shade you didn't see every day. Had the eyes looking through the mask been green? The boy hadn't said anything, not a word even when he was bested, and that in itself was strange. Could it really have been her…?
"Come right in and take a seat, Machlin," Harding said as he opened the door to his large, tastefully decorated study. "I'll get the papers out of my strongbox and be with you in a moment. "
Bryan nodded and went to sit in one of the deep, leather-upholstered chairs in front of the wide desk, but his thoughts were still running riot. It was outrageous to think the girl was one of those three on the road, but if she were, there was suddenly an explanation for her behavior beyond malicious rudeness. The skinny one had come at him in attack while he was pretending to threaten the life of the wounded boy. If that had been her, she hadn't known he was only pretending; in her mind he was someone who would kill a wounded boy in cold blood, so why bother being in the least courteous? And hadn't she started out cool and regal, before the conversation turned silly? If she actually had been enjoying herself, it was the arrival of the gaggle that must have reminded her he was the terrible monster from the road this afternoon.
That interpretation bothered him quite a lot, since that wasn't the picture he would have wanted her to have of him. And the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed it had been her on the road, and that part he really didn't understand. Was Harding so tight with money that she had to supplement her income as a highwayman? Just how much more was there to Miss Rianne Lockwood, beyond all the obvious points she allowed the world to see?
"And here we are," Harding said with thick heartiness as he took his place behind the desk. "Our - private agreement first, and then the marriage contracts."
He handed across the first of the papers, and Bryan read it carefully before he leaned forward and accepted the quill to sign it with. He sanded the ink before handing it back, and Harding beamed as he inspected it.
"Bryan Machlin," he read aloud with a chuckle. "I never realized how fine a name that really is. And now the marriage contracts."
Bryan took them and read them even more carefully than he had the first, then leaned forward and signed them. His sprawling "B. G. Machlin" was boldly clear, but Harding didn't even glance at it.
"And now for the good news I've been waiting to tell you," Harding all but sang. "I've arranged things so that you and Rianne can be married tomorrow. How does that sound?"
"That's not possible," Bryan answered with an incredulous laugh. "I wouldn't mind if it were, but it simply isn't. And what about the girl's consent? How do you plan on getting it?"
"Getting an agreement will simply be a matter of explaining things clearly to her," Harding said in a lecturing tone as he sat back with his fingertips together in front of him. "Until now she has simply refused to take vows, and her stubbornness would have permitted her to make a fool of anyone who doubted the stance. Recently, however, it came to me that she reveres her parents' memory, and she would not find it possible to shame and tarnish that memory. I tested the theory this evening, when she attempted to beg off from the ball as well as from dinner."
"And it worked?" Bryan asked with surprise. "Without any trouble at all?"
"My dear fellow, you saw her in the ballroom yourself," Harding pointed out smugly. "She had no true wish to attend, and yet she did so. I'll explain that if she refuses to go through with the marriage, everyone attending will be certain to spread word of her shocking behavior far and wide. There won't be anyone who won't know how she brought shame to the Lockwood name, and her parents will turn over in their graves from the disgrace of it. The girl will never cause a public scandal of that sort, and so she will bow her head and obey me."
Bryan studied the other man's satisfied smirk, and decided that Harding really was a fool. That girl would never bow her head and obey anybody, least of all a man like Harding. She might be fond enough of her parents' memory to let herself be swayed on unimportant matters, but marriage would hardly be considered unimportant. No, if Bryan wanted to force this girl to marry him, he'd have to test a theory of his own - and he was quite sure he had guessed correctly about her "secret identity."
"And as far as marrying her tomorrow is concerned, it's not only possible, it's already arranged," Harding went on. "When we first came to agreement on the private part of the matter, I took the liberty of speaking to the vicar of a nearby village parish. I knew you would find Rianne acceptably attractive, you see, and therefore had the good sir make all the arrangements. He knows me well and appreciates the donations I've given his little church, and so will be here tomorrow afternoon to perform the marriage in our chapel. If the arrangements suit you, there's nothing left but to tell the bride."
"Tomorrow will suit me admirably," Bryan agreed, his smile enough to take the smirk from Harding. The smaller man must have thought Bryan was considering what he would do to his new wife, but in fact it was Harding himself who was foremost in his thoughts. That agreement Bryan had signed stipulated immediate payment of a very large amount of money to Harding, due the day after the marriage took place. Harding lived like a man with limitless wealth, but his rush to get everything settled quickly really showed that desperation Bryan had noticed previously. And Bryan would use the desperation to buy the name of the man he was after, and then it would only be a matter of reaching the treacherous scum…
"I'll put these papers away, and then we'll find your bride-to-be," Harding said, folding the agreement separately before taking everything to his strongbox. "She really should be told tonight, I think, so that tomorrow she'll be in the proper frame of mind."
"While you're telling her, I'll be taking a stroll in the gardens," Bryan said, not missing the vindictive satisfaction Harding doubtless thought he was hiding so well. "I really dislike the sight of a woman crying and begging - begging someone else, that is."
Harding laughed with true enjoyment at the remark, which had been calculated to make him believe Bryan was just as low as he himself. The words had left a bad taste in Bryan's mouth, but he made sure not to show it as the two of them left together. Rianne's stepfather was eager to get on to the next part of the plan, but so was Bryan. Not the sam
e next part, of course, but definitely related.
Rianne closed the door to her bedchamber with a sigh, surprised that Jean and the others hadn't decided to camp in her sitting room. She'd had unbelievable difficulty getting away from them in the ballroom, and had half- expected to be followed upstairs.
"They're probably saving the camping idea for tomorrow, " she muttered, glad she'd thought to dismiss her maid earlier. If she hadn't, she'd still be lacking the solitude she needed so badly. "Most of them will be leaving soon, so it's bound to be considered their last chance."
She shook her head as she began to cross the room, admitting she had no one but herself to blame that her final escape had had to be put off. If she hadn't insisted on stopping one more coach, Angus wouldn't have gotten -
A polite knock cut short the self-chastisement, and she turned to look at the door, wondering if the camping idea had occurred to someone.
"Who is it?" she called, making the words sound extremely annoyed. There was no sense in having a reputation like hers if she never used it to her advantage.
"It's your father, child," Robert Harding's voice came, surprising her. "I need a moment to speak with you."
"Whatever it is will have to wait until tomorrow," she answered, certain he would try to talk her into going back downstairs. "I have a beastly headache, so I'm going straight to bed."
"No, dear, it must be tonight," he returned, and immediately opened the door and walked in. Rianne was shocked that he would do that, and further shocked at the hint of a smile in her stepfather's voice. That was very unlike him. He was in fact smiling very broadly, and Rianne wondered what on earth could bring him to her bedchamber at this hour and in such a cheerful mood.
"All right then, it has to be tonight," she conceded, finding it was unnecessary to deliberately replace polite interest with impatience. She had no interest at all in what he had to say, and was burning to get back to Angus and Cam. "Just say it as quickly as you can, please, and then leave."
"Please," he echoed, that smile still firmly in place. "How polite a child you are, when no one is about to hear you but me. In the presence of others I receive nothing but haughty ridicule, as though I were too far beneath you to really notice. A pity you'll no longer be able to treat me so."
"Are you going away?" she asked, finding the idea pleased her. "If so, do have a wonderful journey and be sure to stay away as long as you like."
"I'm not the one who's leaving," he answered with a wide grin, obviously enjoying himself immensely. "You are, along with your new husband, after the ceremony tomorrow. It's all arranged, so don't bother your head over any of the details. I've taken care of them all."
"Except for the most important one," she pointed out, not terribly surprised that he was actually trying to do as he'd threatened. "I refuse to take wedding vows, so you and Jean will find nothing but disappointment tomorrow. Or was it Jonathan Coleridge you talked into making a fool of himself?"
"Neither," he responded happily. "Your husband will be Bryan Machlin, that very large man you were so sweet to earlier this evening. He's decided he wants you very badly as his wife, so that he might spend his time teaching you good manners with a free hand. A rather heavy free hand, I would venture to guess."
"A prospect that obviously delights you," Rianne told him, suddenly fighting to hide painful shock. "The disappointment will surely be crushing for the two of you, but my stance hasn't changed. I won't be married off at your whim no matter who the groom is."
"Ah, but you will, child," he disagreed, his continuing amusement setting Rianne's teeth on edge. "All of our guests tonight are at this moment being invited to the ceremony tomorrow, and any refusal you make will be in front of them. Think how notorious you will become, once they spread the word. There won't be a soul in the entire country who isn't aware of how thoroughly you besmirched the Lockwood family name. Even in their graves your mother and father will blush with the shame of it, the humiliation of - "
"How dare you bring my parents into this!" Rianne shouted, suddenly so furious that she took a step toward him with fists clenched tight. "You're not fit to have licked my father's boots, and my mother would never have looked at you twice if others hadn't insisted. Get out of here this minute, or by God I'll do to you what I should have done long ago! Get out!"
"Oh, how sad that I've made you so upset," Harding said in mournful pretense. "Your happiness and well-being are, of course, always my primary concern. I'll leave at once, and let you get your rest. Tomorrow will certainly be a big day for you."
His bow was on the hasty side, due to the second step she took toward him, and then he was gone after having pulled the door closed behind him. Rianne was so furiously angry that she had to stalk back and forth across the room an uncounted number of times before her hands stopped shaking. The filthy, slimy pig! That he would dare speak to her like that!
"And he's stupid, as well as slimy," she muttered savagely to herself as she tore open the doors of her wardrobe. "He was so eager to crow over his plans, it never occurred to him that he was also giving me warning. We'll see whose name becomes notorious when they find tomorrow that I've gone."
Well-hidden behind the clothing of a lady was a pair of supple leather breeches, a long-sleeved, white linen shirt, and a pair of calf-high brown boots. Rianne had always worn the outfit for special occasions like fencing lessons and practice, climbing trees, and learning to ride really well astride. Now she would wear it for running away, even though she would not be running very far. She would stay in the cave until the excitement over her disappearance died down, and by then Angus would be thoroughly healed and they could leave together.
It took something of an effort to get herself out of the green gown without help from her maid, but once it was lying in a heap on the floor she was able to get rid of the rest and climb into more practical clothes. With a party going on, the back stairs would be empty of servants. She would have no trouble sneaking down them for the last time, and then she would finally be free.
When the time came to marry it would be to a man of her choice, the sort of man she'd always pictured in her dreams. She'd somehow thought the man Machlin could be someone like that, but it was clear now how wrong she'd been. Anyone who associated with her stepfather had to be cut from the exact same cloth… She pulled the pins out of her hair and quickly brushed it down, then headed with a firm stride to the bedchamber door.
Rianne had to tug at the handle four or five times before she realized the door was locked. Fury came rushing back as she used the sort of language she'd heard in the stables to describe the man who had locked her in, but she wasn't even remotely beaten. She still had a balcony outside her bedroom windows, one she'd climbed down from a few times. Usually it was too much of a risk to leave that way, when one of the gardeners might come by at any time and see her. Right then it was no risk at all, but Rianne would have used it even if it were.
Again she strode across the room, the need to be out of there mounting ever higher, and this time she reached for the handle of a curtained door that couldn't be locked. She yanked it open - then took one step back with a gasp.
"Isn't it too late for little girls to be going out?" that giant brute Machlin asked very mildly. His body filled the single doorway, blocking it completely as he lounged with one arm leaning high on the door frame. "You should be in bed by now, getting your rest for tomorrow. It would be embarrassing if you fell asleep during the festivities."
"Embarrassing for whom?" Rianne retorted, fighting to keep her voice steady and hard. "I've already said there won't be any festivities, which you may have heard if you've been sneaking around out there for any length of time. Go away, Mr. Machlin, and take up any complaints you may have with my stepfather."
"That would be a waste of time," he answered with a shrug, apparently ignoring her comment about sneaking but hardly unaware of it. "I say there will be festivities, and I'm here to list the reasons why. Just to see if you agree, you understand."
He flashed her a brief, unamused smile, then stepped into the room and closed the balcony door behind him. Rianne found herself backing away from that advance, and forced herself to stop. She would not show this brute fear, not even if her heart pounded straight out of her chest.
"I have no interest in hearing anything you have to say," she stated, looking up into those cold gray eyes. "And I'm not the sort of tart you're obviously used to. Get out of my bedroom, and get out now."
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that too much courage becomes foolishness?" he asked, for some reason suddenly and truly amused. "There isn't a man within fifty miles who would speak to me the way you've been doing, and it's not even because you're so good with a blade. You already know you can't best me, but you're not letting having lost to me stop you."
"What - what are you talking about?" Rianne asked, feeling a surge of fear and hearing it thin her voice. It sounded just as though he knew -
"What I'm talking about is this afternoon, and how I got the head wound you and your friends were so concerned about," he drawled, folding his arms where he stood. "Three highwaymen stopped my coach, and I got out to face them. I wounded the first, disarmed the second, and would have had the third put up his bow if I hadn't been knocked unconscious by a thrown rock. The one I disarmed did the throwing."
"Why are you telling me rather than the authorities?" Rianne said, having fought her voice almost back to normal. "If you were robbed they should know about it, so they can-"
"Do the same sort of nothing they've been doing?" he finished for her. "Once I got here I heard all about those highwaymen, but I don't have a legitimate complaint. I wasn't robbed, and you know it."
"Mr. Machlin, you're beginning to annoy me," Rianne said, folding her arms in the same way he had. "I don't know what you're talking about, and don't want to know. If that's what you came here to say, you can leave now."
"Little one, it's no secret to me that you're the highwayman I disarmed, the one who threw the rock," the brute said bluntly, no longer playing the roundabout game. "You and your friends have made quite a reputation for yourselves, and I can understand why the authorities haven't been able to find you. Who would think to look here."