The woman looked up and smiled faintly, her eyes vibrantly blue and filled with trepidation. “Hello,” she said softly, hesitantly. “We’re here to see Lord Weymerth.”
She shifted her attention to the fireplace. Caroline followed her gaze, and that’s when she noticed her companion, a man, huge of stature, dark and exceptionally handsome with thick, jet-black hair, and eyes as blue as the woman’s. He stared at her hard, his expression unreadable but not at all pleasant. He had also dressed impeccably for the occasion, and suddenly Caroline felt embarrassed and out of place.
“I beg your pardon,” she replied as evenly as she could, “but your business with Lord Weymerth is?”
The woman glanced once again to the man, then quickly back to Caroline, her body shifting uncomfortably on the soft cushion.
“I’m Mrs. Charlotte Becker, and this is my husband, Carl. I apologize for calling without notice, but we only arrived yesterday.” She fidgeted slightly. “Are you a servant perchance?”
Caroline was taken aback by the impertinent question, but she quickly recovered her composure, standing erect and walking as gracefully as any queen into the room to sit casually on the sofa next to the woman.
“I am the Countess of Weymerth,” she informed rather coolly. “May I ask how you are acquainted with my husband?”
The woman paled and gawked at her, then looked again to her husband who was now rudely facing the fireplace with his back to both of them. “I—I didn’t know,” she mumbled.
After an awkward pause, Caroline had had enough. “I’m terribly sorry, but you’ve missed Lord Weymerth.” She stood abruptly. “Perhaps if you would like to call another—”
The woman grabbed her arm. “No, please. I’m sorry.”
She looked so forlorn. Caroline watched her for a second or two, then slowly sat again, deciding she should at least allow the woman to explain her position.
“This is just such a…shock,” Mrs. Becker finally admitted diffidently, releasing her arm and looking once again to her lap. “I would have liked to think Brent would have told you about me.” She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “And I can’t believe he didn’t let me know he’d married.”
Caroline’s puzzlement suddenly gave way to such an incredible rush of jealousy that she felt less angry at the woman and Brent for their romantic affair than she did at herself for reacting so. No wonder this woman’s husband appeared annoyed, acted so discourteously. He was undoubtedly enraged and had forced his wife to confront the earl in his presence, not knowing at all that the earl had a wife of his own. Brent obviously felt he needed to keep such a trivial matter a secret as well when he took a mistress, which was now proving to be an embarrassment for all of them. All the more reason to clear the air without delay.
“Are you pregnant with my husband’s child?” she calmly asked, desperate to keep her poise intact.
Mr. Becker flipped around to stare at her so quickly that she thought his head might fly off his neck. Charlotte, poor thing, had at least the dignity to become ghastly white and look so incredibly appalled that Caroline feared she might actually faint.
For a moment nobody said anything, then Carl Becker addressed her directly. “I believe, madam, that my wife has given you the wrong impression.”
Caroline, heart pounding, shifted her gaze to his face, her expression as slack as she could keep it. The man was American, judging by his accent.
He cleared his throat and lowered his deep, baritone voice. “This is Charlotte Ravenscroft Becker. Lord Weymerth is her brother.”
Caroline did nothing, said nothing, just stared blankly at the man for several moments. Then slowly she forced herself to look once again at the woman sitting next to her.
The resemblance was there, in the square jaw, the full mouth, even in coloring, although her complexion was slightly fairer. But the eyes were exactly the same, save for the fact that hers were blue, so brilliant, so expressive, and Caroline couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the similarities at once.
He had a sister. The damned, insufferable man had a sister about whom he’d told her nothing, and what infuriated her was that she had embarrassed herself to such an extent in front of this woman and her husband, she truly wondered if she would recover or be able to rectify the situation.
Slowly she stood, cheeks flaming, chin high. “I would be deeply grateful, Mrs. Becker, if you would forgive my atrocious behavior. I had no idea my husband had any close relations.”
The woman smiled. “The misunderstanding was partly mine. You needn’t apologize.”
“Please, call me Caroline, both of you.” She swallowed to repress a scream. “I’d like you to remain here and I’ll have Nedda bring refreshments. In the meantime, I think I’ll personally announce your arrival to your brother.”
Chapter 14
Caroline fairly ran to the stables, intensely angered, stopping for breath only when she reached the front gate. She paused, listening and seeing nobody, then heard pounding from the other side of the building.
With a grim set to her jaw, back ramrod-straight, she smoothed her hair, collected herself, and marched around the structure to the north end.
He was leaning over a post, nailing something to a fence, and she stopped short when she saw him, gaping, for the man was half-naked, wearing nothing but tight black breeches and work boots.
Dark golden hair flew wildly in the breeze, falling loosely over his forehead and face, now strained with effort. Light-brown curls softly matted against sun-bronzed skin, and the muscles on his chest and arms gleamed with sweat created by pure, hard labor as he pounded large nails into the wood.
The man had an absolutely beautiful physique, firm and strong and taut. His hips were lean and narrow, and his breeches had scooted so low she couldn’t stop her imagination from blooming brightly with ideas, or keep her eyes from following the trail of light-brown hair as it gradually grew thicker and wider from his navel down to his—
“Well, if it isn’t my sweet, dirty wife, back from her walk in the woods.”
Quickly she covered her hot, flushed cheeks with her palms. Her heart sped up from nervousness, and she hoped to heaven he hadn’t noticed on which part of his rather impressive anatomy she’d fixed her line of sight.
“Have you nothing decent to wear?” she blurted. Then, because she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea about where her thoughts were leading, she quickly added, “You’ll catch your death dressed like that.”
He chuckled softly, climbed over the fence, and started to move toward her. Without thinking, she took two steps back and crossed her arms over her chest.
The smile died on his lips. “Are you afraid I’ll ravish you right here, Caroline, or do you just find sweaty men repulsive?”
His tone didn’t imply anger, just…indifference, as if he weren’t certain if he’d offended her. That bothered her.
“Nothing about you repulses me, Brent, I’ve just never seen a man look so”—she nervously flicked her wrist—“like that…before.”
Eyeing her suspiciously, he reached for a towel and wiped his face. “Like what?”
She sighed and attempted to change the subject. “I’m here to discuss something else—”
“Answer me, Caroline.” He glanced up suggestively, the side of his mouth turning up slightly. “Did you mean…strong?”
She fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Of course.”
“I see…” He threw the towel on the post to his left and slowly walked toward her. “Maybe you were thinking about my masculinity as well, hmm? I am a man, after all—”
“Of course you’re a man,” she said, exasperated.
“Or maybe you find me…sexy?”
She blinked, blushing furiously, and sternly stated once more, “I’m here to discuss something else.”
“I think,” he countered softly, “I’d rather discuss the two of us while we’re all alone, while you’re standing here staring at me like a woman in need of a man, while
your face is flushed from desires you don’t even fully recognize.”
He towered over her now, powerfully arrogant, eyes mesmerizing and boldly locked with hers.
“Do you find me sexy, little one?” he whispered.
“No,” she replied firmly, suddenly hot, breathless, and completely unable to move.
“Liar,” he returned thickly, positively, lifting his fingers to stroke her collarbone lightly through her blouse. “You are so sexy to me, Caroline, so bewitching. Your eyes are like dark, rich chocolate, your hair like priceless Japanese silk, and your body…” He smiled softly. “Your body is something most men can only dream of possessing. Every day I find you lovelier than the one before, and you can’t imagine how crazy that makes me.”
She couldn’t breathe, and within seconds she was trembling. “You humiliate me.”
His eyes narrowed, his body stilled. “I would never humiliate you, Caroline.”
The tenderness in his voice warmed her heart, and every part of her wanted to surrender to the moment. In seconds he’d be kissing her mouth, she knew it, and from that point on there would be no escape.
He leaned over and brushed his lips to her cheek, and gathering strength, she boldly moved to the moment of truth. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a sister?”
It took time for the words to sink in. Lots of time, really, as he stood motionless, his cheek to hers. Then, slowly, he pulled his head back and stared down at her, his jaw like granite, eyes blank and unreadable.
“I had a sister, Caroline. She’s dead now.”
She stood unruffled. “Well, then, she must have risen from the grave, because right this very minute, sipping tea in our drawing room, is a lovely woman who claims to be the former Lady Charlotte.”
The blood drained from his face.
That reaction satisfied her immensely. “And she evidently has exceptional taste in men. Her husband, Carl, is with her as well, and had I realized such dark, robust, exotically attractive men existed in America, I surely would have gone there years ago to find a husband of my own.”
His expression suddenly contorted in rage, his eyes becoming tiny slits of dark fury, his color now returning in full form except for his lips, which were bloodless and thinned. She had never seen him like this, and for a moment she wasn’t certain whether it was because his sister had returned or because she had spoken so presumptuously about the lady’s husband. In either case, she didn’t care, remembering how she’d managed to disgrace herself completely in front of members of his family because he’d never bothered to mention he had any.
Calmly she continued. “I’m sure you’ll find this rather amusing, Brent, but because we didn’t know about each other, Charlotte thought I was a servant, and I thought she was your mistress.”
“Oh, Jesus…” He faltered, his gaze shifting quickly to the house.
Caroline laughed derisively. “I actually asked her if she carried your child, can you believe that?”
He looked at her sharply again. “You asked her what!”
She took a defensive step away from him. “I thought as beautiful and nervous as she was, she had to be your mistress. Here with her husband, I assumed she was pregnant with your child.” She sighed loudly and stated matter-of-factly, “She’s also blond.”
“Goddamn it, Caroline!” He raked the fingers of both hands through his hair in complete irritation. “Let’s get something straight before we deal with that woman and her husband.”
“That woman? That’s what you call your sister? And lower your voice,” she demanded, now fully angry as well. “Davis and the grooms will hear you shouting.”
“I don’t give a damn who hears me!” He glared into her eyes, face hard as steel. “I don’t have a mistress—I don’t want one. You’re too much trouble for that kind of complication.”
She bit her lip and glared in return.
“And furthermore, not every man desires blondes. Some of us actually prefer women who look like you. Why have you never considered that with that calculating little mind of yours?”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. “You don’t have to take your anger out on me.”
He snickered. “Why not? You’re the one who makes me angry!”
Her mouth dropped open, and at that point she truly lost every ounce of control she possessed.
“I make you angry? You’re the one who’s made a habit of chasing blond, beautiful women. What was I supposed to think when I walked into the drawing room looking like the plain, dirt-covered spinster you married, to find a lovely blond woman, wearing pink chiffon—which is, naturally, the color you prefer your blondes to wear while they’re clothed—nervously rubbing her hands together and telling me she wished we all knew about each other?”
Her voice grew in strength, and her eyes blazed wildly, but she no longer cared.
“Do you know what I thought when I first saw her, Brent? I thought she was the beautiful Pauline Sinclair here to discuss the child you and she had bestowed upon the world together.” She raised her palms and looked at him in feigned wonder. “How grateful I was that I hadn’t embarrassed myself to such an extreme in front of one of your lovers, but in front of your sister. A sister I didn’t even know existed!”
She’d been so engrossed in her tirade, she hadn’t noticed the change on his face. Suddenly she blinked hard and took a step or two away from him, unsure, and knowing she’d said too much, for the man practically gaped at her now with an expression she could only term as wide-eyed amazement.
Then his mouth broke out in a smile until he grinned vibrantly, the pleasure he conveyed reaching even his eyes.
“I never bedded Pauline, Caroline,” he said easily, arrogantly.
She didn’t expect that. She wanted to discuss his sister, not some flirtatious little wench he’d almost married. Gritting her teeth, she fairly seethed, “That is not the issue. I don’t give a damn who you’ve bedded—”
“Yes, you do.”
She stared at him hard, shaking her head in awe of his stupidity. “That’s the most ludicrous statement you’ve ever made.”
He laughed at that. “Do you know what I think, little one?”
“I’m tired of hearing what you think, you pompous, good-for-nothing little toad—”
He cut her off by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her hard against him. Instinctively she placed her palms on his chest to push herself away, but within seconds she knew that was a mistake. Just the feel of his bare skin and tight muscles beneath her fingers made her tingle, and the pure, musky scent of him clouded her mind so suddenly that she forgot what she’d intended to say anyway. The only thing she could bring herself to do was hold completely still and try to ignore him until he saw fit to release her.
Then he nuzzled her neck. “I adore the fact that you aren’t afraid to say anything.”
“Go to hell.”
He laughed again and lifted his head, peering into her eyes with smug enjoyment.
“I think, Caroline, that not only are you lovelier with each passing day, you are positively stunning to behold in a fit of jealousy.”
Her eyes opened wide with horror. “I’ve never been jealous of anyone in my life.”
He raised a brow cynically. “Really? Then I’m glad to know I’m the first for something.”
She pushed against him with every bit of strength she possessed. “Let me go, you asinine, arrogant—”
“Toad?”
She stopped the struggle, scowling at him, nostrils flaring.
He smiled wryly and whispered, “You’re so delightfully unconventional, I’ll bet you adore little creatures, don’t you, Caroline? Spiders, snakes, even little toads like me.”
What on earth did he expect her to say to that? He was an idiot if he thought she would simply give way to his male prowess, his enormous ego.
She closed her eyes and quietly muttered, “I don’t love you, Brent, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She expected him to laugh
sarcastically, outrageously, or even release her without incident, but nothing happened. After several agonizing seconds, she opened her eyes to his once more, and the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. He grasped her chin, lifting it to take in every feature, every soft contour of her face, and she couldn’t for the life of her pull herself away. Then, without a sound in response, he lowered his lips, gently brushing them back and forth against hers.
Caroline knew she needed to temper the magic immediately, before it consumed her. If he kissed her fully, embraced by his strength, she would crumble and he would win.
“I don’t love you,” she insisted urgently, turning purposely from the touch of his mouth.
He paused, released her chin, and slowly raised his head.
She dropped hers, unable to look him in the eye, and hoped he would take her withdrawal from his kiss as an affirmation of her words instead of cowardice and confusion, which, she had to admit, was really what it was.
For a moment or two he said nothing, then he sliced the tension in the air with a voice both pensive and reserved.
“I wasn’t suggesting you do, Caroline, but I think you want to believe it so badly you’re trying to convince yourself.”
She gave an acrid laugh. “Don’t worry, Brent. I’m not the kind of brainless female who would ever present you with the awkward moment of confessing my love and expecting you to respond in kind. I’m not romantic by nature, and you’ve made your position perfectly clear.”
She felt his body become tense, then rigid, and slowly he released her. She backed away, and when she finally drew the courage to look at him again, she found him watching her with a face completely void of expression.
Coldly he said, “As far as the guests are concerned, you may treat them as you like. I have no intention of acknowledging them, but I will permit them to stay at Miramont for the time they need to find lodging elsewhere.”
My Darling Caroline Page 14