But right now she felt exhausted after so many restless nights. The strain of trying to ignore him was beginning to show. She didn’t know how she could possibly go on with the charade. Her earlier positive frame of mind had eroded. The constraints of the journey, the uncertainty of what was to come, and his cold unfeeling treatment had worn her low.
At the click of the door, she stopped, turned, and before he could say a word blurted, “I need to speak with you.”
“There isn’t time,” he said curtly, “The carriage is waiting.”
Kay bristled at the arrogance in his tone. “That’s what I’d like to speak to you about.”
He lifted one brow, apparently waiting for her to continue.
She brushed an escaped curl from her cheek, then clasped her hands in front of her. “I wondered if you might reconsider?” She chanced an upward glance.
His amber gaze held no warmth. He appeared quite the lord again in his black coat and silver waistcoat. Hopefully his return to civilized attire had altered his character and reasoning as well.
His features remained cold and impassive. “It’s a little too late for that.”
“Yes, but why can’t it end now? You’ve accomplished what you set out to do. Charlie can’t marry me now.” Her tone turned beseeching despite all efforts toward restraint. “Please…I just want to go home.”
For a moment, she thought she saw a spark of compassion in his eyes. But his voice remained devoid of warmth. “Our arrangement isn’t over. When it is, I’ll gladly deliver you there myself.”
“But, I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve married you. We’ve sealed the vows. Why must we live under the same roof?”
A little muscle worked in his jaw. His voice, though quiet, sliced as frigid as a north wind. “Because that is our arrangement, and that, is what I want.”
His arrogant manner and callous disregard for her feelings set her temper boiling. Everything that he’d done to her came flooding to the surface, destroying her self-control. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve ruined my life and every chance of happiness I might have had? And yet you continue to torment me when there is no need! Have you no compassion or conscience?”
He smiled grimly. “I might ask the same of you. You brought this situation on yourself, remember. I’m only seeking justice for the crimes against me.”
“Ohhhh!” She threw her hands in the air in utter frustration. “How many times must I tell you? I am innocent of any conspiracy against you.”
“You can tell me as many times as you like, but the evidence speaks for itself.” She opened her mouth to reply but he held up his hand. “Enough! I’m not prepared to debate the issue further. The carriage is waiting.”
Kay clamped her mouth shut, then stormed past him. There was no reasoning with the man. He was a heartless despicable cad! An unconscionable rogue of the worst kind!
She jerked opened the door, then stalked through the companionway without a backward glance. By the time she reached the deck, she was so angry at any moment she expected steam might blast from her ears.
He caught up with her just as she was about to descend the gang plank to the wharf. With a swift solid movement he captured her arm in his, forcing his assistance on her. With her arm firmly anchored in his, he ground out tightly against her ear, “Behave yourself and remember who you are.”
She flashed him a scalding glance, gritting under her breath, “I hate you.”
He chuckled, then told her in a low soft voice, “Hate me all you like but do not disobey me, Madam, or I will be forced to take firmer steps to exert my authority.”
Kay didn’t give him the satisfaction of answering his threat. Instead she stared straight ahead in mute rebellion as he led her to the carriage. Once inside, she planted herself close to the window.
As the ducal carriage rolled away, the sights and the sounds of the busy harbor passed before her in a blur. She hardly noticed when the snap of sails and the smell of salt were replaced by the thrill of song birds and the sweet smell of meadow grass. The dread of her forced incarceration in the months to come crept over her like a smothering blanket of fog, making her oblivious to all else.
She sat as still as a statue, though painfully aware of her husband the entire journey.
He sat with his head leaned back on the seat, arms folded across his wide chest, long legs stretched out before him.
She could smell the leather of his Hessian boots, the sea in his hair, but she declined to acknowledge him on anything other than a purely visceral level. Her senses might not be able to ignore him, but she was determined that her mind should.
When they passed Butterfield Hall, a wave of homesickness forced her to swallow down a painful lump in her throat. She had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. With great will, she forced her sadness down and put all of her energy into her anger for the man sitting across from her.
As the carriage rattled down the long tree-lined lane toward Wallshire Manor, her back stiffened for the battle to come.
Facing the sea, the manor looked like a small ancient castle with two turrets rising up on either end, but as they drove up the lane it appeared more like a very large grand house. The massive stone awning at the main entrance, supported by six trunk-sized marble pillars added to the majesty of the grey stone building.
Men could be seen laboring, to construct the new wing on the east side of the house. Wooden scaffolds clung to the nearly completed exterior, which she noticed her husband studying intently—no doubt calculating the cost in his head.
Servants lined up to greet them when they alighted.
Kay sent the Duke a sidelong accusing glance as he led her forward. It miffed her that he hadn’t warned her of this formal introduction to the staff so soon upon their arrival. Morning would have been soon enough to drag her past the eyes of every man, woman, and child in his employ as far as she was concerned.
Despite her annoyance, she did her best to appear gracious and regal as each one was introduced. As they went down the long line of apron shrouded maids and red liveried footmen, she counted twice as many servants as at Butterfield Hall, two upstairs maids, two downstairs maids, two scullery maids—two of every capacity. She wished them all a pleasant good morn, expressing her pleasure at meeting them.
When they reached the butler, Mr. Thornhill, a tall, pinched-faced gentleman with blue gray hair, he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “We shall all do our best to devote ourselves to your comfort and happiness, Your Grace.”
Two footmen opened the twin oak doors.
The Duke and Duchess followed, stepping into a large foyer, strewn with more marble columns. The black and white checked marble floor reminded Kay of a chessboard. She traversed it feeling very much the pawn.
But that was about to change. She’d gained strength in the past few weeks, thanks to Hunter’s plans for revenge—strengths she did not know she possessed. He would soon find she was not so easily bullied.
“Have Mrs. Baghurst show my wife to her chambers, Thornhill. I wish to view the disasters that befell the workmen in my absence.” With that, Hunter strode off, abandoning her to the care of the servants.
Kay attempted to rein in her hostile thoughts as she followed the sturdy housekeeper up the marble staircase, while taking in the grandeur of her surroundings.
Butterfield Hall was lovely, but it paled in comparison to opulence of Wallshire Manor. The manor was much larger, more heavily gilded, and richer in every way. Everything seemed big and imposing—like the man she’d married. She didn’t know if she could ever get used to living in such obscene luxury. But, she was willing to try.
When they reached the landing, the housekeeper veered to the right, leading her to a lavish bedchamber decorated in white and gold. Glorious light bounced off the pale lemon walls and honey-toned furnishings. Thick Turkish carpets adorned the polished wood floor, their scrolled pattern matching the pale gold drapes billowing from the tall windows. She couldn’t have asked for any
thing better if she’d decorated it herself.
“I wonder how he knew I’d need a sunshine room,” she murmured as she gazed down at the surf rolling onto the white sandy beach below. Gazing down at familiar surroundings and knowing she was so close to home made her spirits rise. She began to rally.
“Beg pardon, Your Grace,” Mrs. Baghurst said.
“Oh, nothing.” Kay smiled faintly, giving her attention to the older white haired woman who seemed pleasant enough, despite the firm set to her lips, and sharp slant of her blue eyes. “Only that the room pleases me very much. Please inform my husband I won’t be joining him for dinner this evening. I’m afraid the long journey has worn me out. I shall require a bath and my dinner brought up to my chamber.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Oh, and I shall require a ladies’ maid as well. Have you anyone in mind?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ve spent many an hour training young Cora in preparation for this day. Her father be the game-keeper here and has been for many a year. I think you’ll find her to your liking. She’s quick to task and mild of manner.”
“Splendid. Send her to me at once. I should like to meet her.” While Mrs. Baghurst hustled off to attend to her wishes, Kay wandered about acquainting herself with the room. It wasn’t home but she’d manage. The nights would be long of course, but her days should pass quickly enough. Since she was only required to sleep at the manor, she planned to spend every waking moment at Butterfield Hall. She could hardly wait for morning to come to be reunited with her horses.
With that pleasant prospect in mind, she hummed her way through her bath while her new maid Cora, a trim young girl with glossy black curls tucked under her cap and mossy green eyes, unpacked her trunks. Kay wasn’t spiteful by nature, but the mischievous streak she’d possessed as a child had never really left her. She’d had plenty of practice hoodwinking her uncles while she and Charlie ran wild in the woods and on the beach.
She looked forward to using her position as mistress of the household to her advantage. Lady would never be Lord, but what virtues and wisdom she had, she’d employ to the fullest.
With a soft chuckle, she squeezed the swollen sponge, letting the warm water trickle down one raised silken knee. Her long freshly washed hair streamed down her back to float around her in a cloud.
“That will be all, Cora.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
At the sound of her husband’s voice, Kay gave a startled yelp, sinking low in the tub.
Cora scurried out the door.
“Get out!” Kay huffed, not bothering to disguise her annoyance.
Instead of leaving, Hunter planted himself casually on the edge of the tub. His slow scalding gaze trailed over her like a lingering touch. And then, he smiled, making her heart thud in her breast.
She tried to ignore how devilishly handsome he looked with his glossy black hair grown long enough to curl on the collar of his shirt, as she sank deeper in the tub. “What do you want?”
He lifted one brow, giving her a slow sensual smile. “Now is that any way to treat your husband?”
“Am I to have no privacy during my forced occupation here? You can’t just plow your way into my bedchamber whenever you wish. It isn’t proper… it isn’t right,” she blustered, hardly knowing what she was babbling on about. “In future, I will thank you not to use such loose familiarity.”
Her haughty reproof did little to erase his smile, or to stop him from continuing to take in every inch of her beneath the water. “Since we’ve already been more than familiar with each other, your modesty is rather misplaced, don’t you think.”
The laughter beneath his words, and something else she could not name, made her wary. “Very well,” she said with a lofty air to cover her disquiet. “What is it?”
“Mrs. Baghurst informs me you weren’t feeling well, so, like a concerned husband, I came to see how you fared.”
Kay edged lower in the water, crossing her arms tighter around her breasts. “I’m very tired,” she lied, thrusting out her chin. “Now, if you would be so kind as to vacate the room, I wish to retire.”
“Very well.” He rose from his perch on the edge of the tub. “If you need me, I’m right through there.”
Kay craned her neck to follow his pointing finger. Her mouth dropped open. He wasn’t pointing at the main door of her chamber, but another door which she’d assumed up until now to be a closet.
Her heart pounded hard in her breast.
It made perfect sense that as husband and wife they should share adjoining rooms, still, knowing he’d be sleeping so near set her heart aflutter.
Her cheeks grew hot.
She looked away, saying very primly, “I won’t be needing you.”
“Don’t be too sure, Gorgeous.” He chuckled as he strode for the door. “We all get lonely sooner or later.”
When the adjoining door closed, she scrambled from the tub, muttering curses under her breath. If that thick-pated, spawn of Satan thought she’d ever need him, he was much deranged! The house could be falling into the sea and she wouldn’t call for that rutting knave’s help! She snatched a fluffy white towel from the chair by the tub, then began rubbing herself dry with furious strokes.
But before she could finish drying off completely, she heard the door of her bedchamber open again. She spun on her heel, clutching the towel in front of her, just in time to discover Hunter poking his head round the door.
“Oh, one more thing.” His tone turned serious. “I’ll be traveling up to London for a few days.”
His sudden reappearance had her looking around for something to throw, then, his words sunk in. The joyous news of his leave-taking made her stop and smile. “Have a safe journey then.”
He sent her a long speculative look, then with a stiff nod, disappeared.
Kay was still smiling when the door closed behind him. Her task would be so much easier with him in London. Perhaps she’d have the bills for her expenditures forwarded to him in London.
No, it would be better to wait.
By the time he returned, the damage would already be done.
***
Hunter leaned against the adjoining door, grinding his teeth in vexation. But he had to stay away from her—whatever the cost. It would have been a damn sight easier and his plan gone much smoother, if she wasn’t so damn beautiful. Of course, if she wasn’t, he’d never have bedded her in the first place, or been constantly wavering between guilt and lust ever since.
He strode to the table by the fire to pour two fingers of brandy, then downed it in one gulp. It was just as well he was going up to London. He didn’t trust himself to be in the same house with her, let alone in the next room. He’d done his best to avoid her during their voyage home, only venturing below to the cabin when absolutely necessary, but he could never completely vanquish her from his consciousness. Even when he’d stood at the wheel, his thoughts were on her instead of navigating the ship.
She’d become an obsession—an irresistible lure. He’d never touched skin so soft or seen a body so perfectly formed—hips so trim, breasts so round and firm, filling his hands. His loins ached at the very sight of her.
That night as he lay in bed, knowing she slept within reach, he had to remind himself of his goal. He had to remind himself of whom she was and what she’d done—that her loyalties lay with the Galloways, not him.
But as he lay there consumed with lust and the memory of her exquisite body and full, pouting lips fresh in his mind, it was all he could do not to go to her. Instead he punched his pillow with one fist, gritting his teeth.
Sweet mother of God!
He was bewitched.
The sooner he left for London the better off he’d be.
Of course, even there, he’d never be free.
The whole time would be spent wondering what the little minx was up to while he was gone.
What mischief she had wrought.
Chapter Thirteen
The wind ru
shed against Kay’s ears as Storm’s powerful body plunged beneath her. She felt happy and alive again. The roar of the surf muffled the screech of sea birds as they ate up the sand. Her hat came loose to sail behind her by its ribbons, but she didn’t care. Everything was going as planned. And today, if all went well, she would up the stakes.
Spending the Duke’s money was a good start, since by all indications he was as cheap as a Scottish tinker.
It was a glorious day and would have been absolutely perfect, if not for the knowledge that she must return to the manor.
Kay had spent the entire week exercising and pampering her horses. In the evenings she wrote letters to family members, assuring them of her good health, excepting Charlie, not because the Duke forbid her to have any contact, but because she didn’t know what to say. It wouldn’t do to incite Charlie’s anger when there was nothing he could do. She needed to explain to him the circumstances of her marriage in person, after which she’d demand to know what he’d been looking for in Hunter’s study that got her into this mess.
After a good run on the beach, she rode Storm back to the Hall to collect the borrowed steed from the manor. She usually didn’t return to the manor so early, but a special guest was arriving today. The architect, John Nash, who’d been commissioned to design the construction of the new wing, was coming to inspect the workers’ progress. How Hunter had managed to procure the services of the renowned designer who was patronized by the Prince Regent, she did not know. It was said his work at Carlton house was nothing short of spectacular. She could hardly wait to meet the man.
When Kay arrived at the manor, she bid Thornhill extend an invitation to Mr. Nash to take tea with her in the drawing room. He humbly accepted, and they spent a good hour discussing his intentions for the new ballroom, which was to be a major part of the renovations.
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