He tapped the ledger with his forefinger. Aldora would never have touched his papers. She left all matters concerning finances in his hands. Nicola Gordon, he thought. His betrothed had that kind of effrontery. Mr. Grey had boasted about the chit's accomplishments in managing her father's affairs.
He stared at the ledgers. Had she taken it upon herself to make changes in the way he ran the estates? No matter that months had passed without him listing expenses and income, the estate books were his business. Once the marriage vows were said, he would hire a manager, one who wouldn't cheat him the way the previous one had. His wife couldn't assume that office. Her duty lay in learning behavior suitable to the wife of an Earl. He pushed the books aside. When she woke, he would demand an audience.
He crossed the room and opened the draperies. Dawn stained the sky pink. He stared into the rear courtyard and marveled at the changes. The shrubbery had been trimmed and the grass clipped. Then he saw her. A low growl escaped his lips.
His hands pressed against the sill. Nicola Gordon, his betrothed, dressed in clothes that exposed her lower legs, stood with her hands in prayer position. Slowly, she moved, stretching back until he could see her breasts pressed against the fabric of her shirt. He couldn't force his gaze from her. His body hummed with tension. He grew hard and imagined her moving against him in this fashion.
"No!" He couldn't let lust rule him. He turned from the window and marched back into the great parlor. Anger at himself for allowing her to enflame him slammed like cannon balls against a wall. He couldn't feel this way about the woman he planned to make his wife.
Marriage had no room for lust. Marriage was no place for love. The only reasons for marriage were money, an heir and position. He had to keep this foremost in his thoughts. The desire to bed his wife had no place in his plans.
He opened the French doors into the courtyard and paused on the threshold. Anger at himself ebbed; anger toward her grew. How could he not feel lust when she danced in such a way? He was trapped by honor into making this match.
He had promised Aldora he would wed her granddaughter. Money from the dowry had been spent. The news had been published; the banns read. For these reasons, he must marry her. Not because he wanted her.
He strode into the courtyard. "Miss Gordon." She didn't respond. He called her name again."
She turned. "What are you doing here, my lord?"
"I should be the one to ask that question. Go to your room before the servants see you. Have you no shame?"
She frowned. "The servants are still abed or have not arrived from their homes. Why should I be ashamed? I am greeting the sun."
"A lewd dance. Is this how you intend to entertain our guests?"
"I don't understand why you are upset. The Surya Namaskar is a preparation for the day. I'm not dancing but working to gain calmness and control."
He strode across the grass. "Perhaps you can control most men with such displays of your body, but I'm not one of them."
Her hands moved to her hips. "Why would I want to control you? Each must take charge of his own karma. A man's destiny is of his own choosing. Yoga is my way of learning to live in harmony with myself and this alien land. 'Tis but one of the paths to liberation."
He couldn't comprehend her answer. Her soft, calm voice annoyed him. Why did she speak to him as though he were a child of a simpleton?
"I suggest you return to the house and dress in a manner suited to your station. A countess doesn't parade about in a state of semi-dress. My friends and neighbors know of your foreign birth. I won't have them look on you as a temple dancer who entices men with her body."
She stepped toward him. "If you would but listen to me, you would not think so poorly of me."
He stared at her legs and imagined his hands moving from her ankles to her thighs and beyond to touch her secret places. As she walked past him, he caught her arm and pulled her close. As his mouth closed over hers, he knew he'd made a mistake. His hands moved down her back and he held her against his aching groin. His tongue slid across her lips seeking admission. Her mouth opened. His tongue touched hers, twined and thrust.
Her arms circled his neck and she moved against him. He felt the bands of his control stretch. The urge to push her to the ground and cover her with his body grew almost too strong to resist.
"No." He pushed her away. She fell backwards onto the grass. "You will not control me."
"I don't want to control you or anyone. I don't want to marry you and I know you don't want this marriage. I will gladly release you."
His breathing slowed. A feeling of self-loathing arose. He didn't want the marriage but he wanted her. "Go to your room and dress like a lady. When my friends arrive, I expect you to behave in a proper manner. I forbid you to dress like this again or to practice your lewd dance."
She scrambled to her feet and ran to the house. He watched her. How could he marry her, yet, how could he let her go?
* * * *
Nicola hurried down the narrow hall and up the east wing stairs. Her thoughts churned with confusion. The Earl had made her feel ashamed of something that had brought her comfort after her father's death. Papa had never chided her for wearing a dhoti and practicing Yoga. Why had the Earl accused her of improper behavior when he'd been the one to act improperly?
Once again, she and the Earl had engaged in mouth congress. Her body had taken fire and she'd yearned for -- for --. She shook her head. She didn't know what she wanted other than his kisses and his touch. He'd pushed her away. Why, when only moments before he had pressed her so close she'd felt the contours of his body? She did not understand him, but when his mouth and his hands touched her, she felt like Parvati yearning for Siva.
In her bedroom, she took her copy of the Kama Sutra from the table beside the bed. She sank to the carpet and assumed the Lotus position. Then after opening the book, she began to read.
The Earl's kiss had not been one of affection. Had it been throbbing or touching? These were the only forms of mouth congress suitable for a maiden, and until she married, she would remain so. She read on. A gasp escaped. He had gone beyond what was proper and had engaged in "Fighting with the tongue."
Should she tell him he had erred? He seemed to have no knowledge of the rituals of love. Like a practitioner of Yoga, one who sought enlightenment through kama should begin with simple steps along the path. She feared he wouldn't take her teachings kindly. He hadn't understood or even listened when she had explained the purpose of the sun salutation.
She put the book on the carpet. After selecting a mantra, she closed her eyes and meditated on a breath. Instead of serenity, she found chaos. Instead of peace, she found madness. The Earl's handsome face and his cold turquoise eyes remained present in her thoughts. She surrendered to the need to understand the man she would wed.
Physically, he was pleasing. He had a love for the land and the laborers in his fields. He honored and respected the Dowager and believed promises were to be kept. In many ways, he approached her idealistic picture of a husband.
Yet, he was different. His heart was adamantine; his mind a block of jade and his soul a flawed emerald. Could his nature have been formed by this cold and bleak land of his birth?
As her thoughts wrestled with the dichotomy of the Earl's nature, a different view of Siva arose. In another guise, Siva became the destroyer. She sighed. Was the Earl the destroyer or the destroyed?
Demon possessed. Knowledge filled her thoughts. If she couldn't help him face his demons, they would destroy each other. She had to try.
A hand grasped her shoulders and roughly shook her. "Miss Gordon, whatever are you doing?"
The nasal whine of Agnes Smythe's voice jerked Nicola from the near-trance state. For a moment, she felt disoriented. She stared at her attacker.
The woman's mouth pursed in disapproval. "A lady never sits on the floor. You are a disgrace to your station. My sister had the right of matters when she said we have come to a house of heathens. The Earl has ar
rived and is presently in the breakfast room."
In a fluid movement, Nicola rose. "I've already spoken to the Earl."
"Indeed." The sharp-faced woman walked to the wardrobe. She took a pale green round dress out. "Your sense of impropriety will turn him against you. Good heavens, what is the disgusting costume you are wearing?"
"A dhoti and shirt," Nicola said. "'Tis common garb in Calcutta." For men, she silently added.
"Heathen things. A lady never bares her legs. Even a flash of ankle is thought to be fast. I fear turning you into a proper lady is beyond my reach. Wash your face and hands while I ready your clothes."
Nicola bit back angry words. Agnes Smythe had ideas set in mortar like that used to build stone walls. Nicola reached for a cloth. Once she'd spoken to Mrs. Bowen about the means and the projects for the day, Nicola intended to corner the earl and tell him the Smythe sisters had to go.
After donning her chemise, she stood patiently while the abigail lifted the dress over her head and fastened the stomacher. Nicola would have preferred to wear one of her old dresses. The green sarcenet was perfect for receiving callers but she had no time to spend in idle chatter. She couldn't give her assistance to the servants while wearing such a fine dress.
From the other bedroom, she heard laughter and excited chatter. How nice life had been before the Earl had sent the opinionated Smythe sisters to Denmere. Nicola and the girls had helped each other dress. Merriment had been the rule. She sighed as Agnes pulled her hair into a tight and unflattering bun.
"You'll do. I hope you remember your manners today."
"If a maharajah complimented me on my manners, I'm sure I can deal with an Earl."
"A maharajah?"
"An Indian prince who lived in a gold and marble palace with two hundred servants and twenty wives all dressed in glittering jewels and silk fine enough to be near invisible." The woman's shocked stare made Nicola smile. She heard her sisters giggle.
Nicola left the abigail standing with her mouth agape. She called to her sisters. "Come to breakfast or you'll be late to the schoolroom."
When the door closed behind them, Margaret made a rude noise. "I wish we had a dungeon for both Miss Smythes."
"I wish we could hire a snake charmer to pipe and keep Miss Agatha swaying like a cobra in a basket," Elizabeth said.
"And a bed of nails for Miss Agnes," Nicola added. "I'll find a way to rid us of these women. Maybe Grandmother will speak to the Earl."
She studied her sisters and saw a glint of mischief in Margaret's eyes. Elizabeth looked determined. The pair had something planned and she hoped whatever they were up to would not cause more trouble. She stirred honey into her tea. Once her sisters had made a decision, turning them around was all but impossible.
When the girls rushed from the breakfast room, Nicola sought Mrs. Bowen. "The Earl's friends will arrive today."
Mrs. Bowen nodded. "Greene informed me that his lordship had come. I've set the maids to checking the rooms."
"Thank you."
"Though the restoring of the house will take months, I've ordered the ballroom to be next. Your grandmother wishes to hold the wedding party there. Oh Miss, we've discovered a trove of old armor and weapons left in the attic to rust."
Nicola smiled. "Margaret will adore them. I often think she should have been born a boy. Later we'll clean these things and install them in one of the rooms." She walked to the door. "I must speak to Cook about changing the menu for tonight since there will be four more to feed."
"Very good, Miss."
Once the menu had been planned, Nicola hurried to consult her grandmother about how to best approach the Earl about ridding the house of the Smythe sisters. She'd seen the Dowager use subtle meant to cajole him. Nicola's way had always been direct, but with her husband-to-be, these tactics would not work.
A piercing scream sounded from the immense room across from the Dowager's suite. Once used as the state dining room, Nicola had turned the area into a schoolroom. She opened the door and barely held in a laugh.
Miss Agatha Smythe stood on one of the chairs. Between cries, she sneezed. Two cats and a dog raced from one side of the room to the other. Another dog had positioned itself before the chair where the governess cowered. Frogs hopped on the table used as the schoolroom desk. As Nicola watched, the rampaging animals knocked over the globe stand and the world rolled across the floor.
Margaret and Elizabeth sat on a window seat with their arms around each other. Each shriek, sneeze, yowl or yelp brought a fresh burst of laughter from the pair.
"What have you done?" She shouted to make herself heard over the din.
"My sister is right," Agatha Smythe said. "We have fallen into the midst of heathens. I was brought into this house to teach these hellions manners and proper behavior. The task is utterly impossible."
"Your methods have upset my sisters." Nicola turned away. "Margaret, collect this menagerie and remove them from the house."
"Nica, look out."
Nicola turned but not soon enough. Miss Smythe yanked Nicola's bun.
"I wasn't finished speaking. My methods have never been questioned before I came here. Girls, line up and present your hands. Ten strokes is your punishment."
"You won't hit me again," Margaret screamed.
Elizabeth put her arm around her sister. "I won't let you touch me."
The dogs barked. The cats yowled. Nicola pulled free from her captor. "I won't allow you to strike them."
"She'll have to catch us first," Margaret said.
"The Earl gave me charge of them. He's their guardian."
"Did he give you leave to beat them? I don't believe that."
"Spare the rod and spoil the child. That's what the Good Book says." A series of sneezes punctuated her speech.
"You are dismissed." Nicola's hands became fists and she strode toward the woman.
"You do not have that right. The Earl hired me and he is the only one who can dismiss me."
"Enough!" The Earl's deep voice set the dogs barking. "Is this the way lessons are held?"
Nicola whirled. Her hair uncoiled. The Earl stood in the middle of the doorway with his hands on his hips. She felt the heat of his glare.
"I wish to speak to you about this woman's methods of instruction."
"She hits my hands with her pointer and pulls my braids." Margaret dropped the cat she held. It landed on the back of one of the dogs. The animal barked and raced across the room.
"She pulled Nica's hair and struck my face," Elizabeth said. "Nica never raised a hand to us when she gave us our lessons."
"Your wards are hellions and your betrothed a disrespectful chit," Miss Agatha shouted. The battling animals crashed against her, knocking her to the floor. Her black bombazine skirts flew high. She pulled them down.
Margaret laughed and Elizabeth giggled. Nicola had trouble keeping her amusement contained. A frog jumped from the table. One of the cats leaped to catch the creature.
"I will have silence," the Earl shouted.
Nicola heard deep masculine laughter. Her eyes widened when she saw the trio standing at the door. Three tall, handsome men slapped each others' backs. Their hoots of laughter grew louder.
"I haven't seen such a sight since Eton when we drove the pigs into the chapel." The speaker had pale blond hair and the face of an angel.
"Dressed in wigs and gowns." A man with fiery hair moved into the room.
"Drew, did you plan this melee for our entertainment?" The brown haired man's eyes sparkled with laughter. "How good of you to think to pull me from the doldrums."
The Earl threw his hands in the air. "I didn't expect the three of you to recover so quickly from last night's debauchery."
"You can thank my military training for that." The redhead bowed. "Captain Ramsey, ladies."
The next arrival pushed past the men. Miss Agnes Smythe walked to her sister and helped her up. She grabbed the pointer from the table and turned to face Nicola. "You are unworthy
to wed an earl."
When the abigail waved the pointer, Nicola jumped back and stumbled over one of the dogs. The angelic looking man steadied her. "Atwell, Duke of Cairnton at your service."
Drew grabbed the pointer. "Margaret, Elizabeth, remove this menagerie from the house and await me in your room." He gulped a breath. Order must be made from this chaos before he went mad. "Cairnton, Ramsey, Fenwick, since you think this is so amusing, you may assist my wards."
His orders changed the chaos into madness. His friends joined the chase. Drew saw a glint in Margaret's eyes as she chased one of the dogs. Elizabeth grabbed a frog and immediately shrieked and dropped the animal.
Nicola moved toward her sisters. Drew grabbed her hand. "Stay right here and explain the meaning of this farce."
"I've been trying to discover why this happened. I heard the noise and came immediately. Miss Agatha Smythe pulled my hair. She hit my sisters. I have dismissed her."
"You have no right."
"Then I'll take my sisters and leave. We haven't said our vows. Papa would never allow my sisters to be beaten and I can't marry a man who would give his permission for such brutality."
"I did not give permission." Drew shouted. "I will question Miss Smythe and discover the truth of the matter."
"Truth? How so? She will only tell you what you wish to hear."
The flash of anger in her Denmere blue eyes had an odd effect on him. He wished to kiss and make her passion his. He looked away in time to see Michael holding one of the dogs while a cat cried to climb his black trousers. Michael dropped the dog and grabbed the cat. He headed to the door. Niall grasped a brace of frogs.
"Oh la," the Dowager cried. "My boy, what is going on?"
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