Thornbrook Park (A Thornbrook Park Romance)

by Sherri Browning

  “Class distinction is starting to relax in most social circles, but perhaps Gabriel isn’t quite ready for it at Thornbrook Park.”

  He watched her roll her eyes as if in bliss as she took a dainty nibble of the salmon and wished he could effect the same response in her. She looked up to see him watching her and he took a bite of his own fish, lest she accuse him of staring.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a soft voice while leaning closer to her, “for taking liberties earlier. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “You kissed me,” she answered, equally quietly, then laughed out loud. “I was a little shocked at first, perhaps, but I’m over it.”

  “Over it?” His heart sank. Not the reaction he’d hoped. Perhaps he was out of practice.

  “I rather enjoyed it, if you must know. It has been a long time since I’ve had such a kiss. Nothing like a bold and lingering kiss. How I’ve missed it. Ah, now you look shocked. Good. I’ve had my revenge.” She continued eating as if she had just told him that she loved a good book or a musicale.

  “Could I have some more of that fish?” Brandon asked Mr. Sutton suddenly, reminding Marcus of the boy’s presence. “It’s bloody fizzing.”

  “Watch your language, Brandon. We’ve a lady present.” Marcus’s voice deepened to a threatening low, reminding him suddenly of his own father’s voice. “And where did you pick up such slang?”

  Brandon shrugged. They both knew he’d heard it on the streets. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kendal. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  Eve smiled and shook her head. Marcus nodded, satisfied.

  “You ran away so fast.” He lowered his voice again. Relieved that his technique was not in question, he leaned closer to her. “I thought I’d scared you off.”

  “I thought so, too, at first. I sat in my room and I wondered how I could possibly come down to dinner with you. But I knew Brandon would be joining us and Mr. Sutton would be nearby, if not listening to our every word, and I felt much better.”

  “I’m glad.” He leaned in and placed his hand over hers.

  Her bright eyes met his, but she didn’t pull her hand away until Mr. Sutton reappeared with the footman bearing yet another tray. That’s when he realized that perhaps their time away from Thornbrook Park had emboldened them both.

  “Lamb with mint sauce,” Sutton announced loudly. “Chateau potatoes, creamed carrots, and green peas.”

  “Oh my, Mr. Sutton. Delightful. Traveling has left me famished. You must have known.”

  Famished? Marcus had expected her to pick at her food, as he was accustomed to seeing women do. But she jumped right in with aplomb, taking healthy mouthfuls of sliced lamb and vegetables. His attention had been diverted, but he realized he was rather hungry himself.

  “It’s almost as good as Mum’s,” Brandon declared.

  “Your mother must be a very good cook,” Eve said.

  Except for the occasional outburst of delight from Brandon, they ate in silence, devouring the meal.

  After the plates were cleared, Sutton gave them time to linger over claret.

  “Tomorrow then,” Marcus said, turning his attention from how much he wanted to taste her for the next course, “you have your meeting with the solicitor. What have you found out?”

  “My husband sunk our fortune into a diamond mine, it seems.”

  “A diamond mine? Did Mr. Strump seem to think it a wise course?”

  She shrugged. “He said that he introduced Ben to the mine owner. I remember Ben visiting Golkonda, the location of the mine in India. I’m certain he wouldn’t have invested our entire savings lightly. Mr. Strump seemed to think it might take some time to research the investment and retrieve the funds, but that it was entirely possible. I hope so. I hate to remain a charity case at Thornbrook Park for too much longer. Sophia has made sure that I feel welcome, of course, but one longs for a place of one’s own.”

  “Good news, then? Dare to hope. To your security.” He raised his glass.

  “To our success.” She raised hers. They drank. “You must have something you want at Thornbrook Park, Marcus, else I can’t imagine you would return. It had to be more than a few words on a page to bring you back.”

  “You’re right,” he acknowledged. And she listened with rapt attention as he, with occasional help from Brandon, told her all about the Coopers and his hope to bring them to the farm.

  ***

  Eve thought they’d only been at the table for a short while when Sutton came in to replace the candles that had burned down to nubs.

  “Have we been here that long talking?” she asked Marcus. “It hardly seems more than an hour.”

  Though Brandon had excused himself and gone off to explore the house some time ago, Eve realized.

  Marcus flashed the wolfish smile, the one that warmed her down to her toes as if she’d taken a sip of brandy. “You’re being kind. I’ve been boring you for hours now. It’s time that I make sure young Brandon has made it to bed, I suppose. Sutton, old man, do you know what has become of the boy?”

  “He went to his room finally, after making a thorough study of your father’s sword collection in the gallery. I sent the footman to see that the young man had everything he needed before bed.”

  “Thank you. I suppose he’s in capable hands.” The crease in Marcus’s brow belied his words. Clearly, his feelings of responsibility for Brandon went deep. “We’ve run you ragged, Sutton. I couldn’t live with myself if I caused you to lose more sleep. As it is, you’ll be up before dawn seeing to our breakfast. Please, to bed with you. We can manage capably on our own from here.” Marcus issued the order gently, but Eve could tell it was more than a simple request. His tone held some urgency for them to be left alone.

  “Dinner was lovely, Mr. Sutton. Thank you. An elegant affair. But now perhaps it’s time we all went to bed.” Eve felt the enchantment fading, like reaching the last few pages of a favorite book.

  “Perhaps just one more glass of wine?” Marcus asked. “Then we’ll make our own way up for the night, Mr. Sutton. I promise.”

  “If you’re sure you won’t be needing anything?” With no further requests from Marcus, Sutton excused himself.

  “One more glass.” She eased her chair closer to Marcus. “I hate for such a wonderful evening to end.”

  He moved closer, too, leaning over to pour the wine. “Sutton outdid himself.”

  “We have to give some credit to your cook. She’s better than I’d realized, considering my previous meal here was a mediocre stew.”

  “Is that what they’d fed you? I had no idea. I assumed they’d treated you better than that, an esteemed guest of Lady Averford.”

  She giggled. “I’m not so certain about ‘esteemed.’ But it was my fault, really. I’d requested a tray to be sent up to my room, but I stayed too long in the bath.”

  “I love to hear you laugh.” He eased his chair closer to hers. She found herself leaning more toward him as well. “It has been too long since these old walls have echoed sounds of joy.”

  “Instead of anger or sorrow?” She reached for his hand. “Life is too short for unrelenting gloom, Marcus. I think your coming to Thornbrook Park was a good idea, whatever happens with the farm. It’s not healthy for you to be left here alone with dark thoughts.”

  “I don’t believe I ever confessed to having dark thoughts.” He arched a golden brow.

  She caressed the rough calluses over his knuckles. “My apologies. I just assumed, with the prizefighting? A good prizefighter must have a fair amount of built-up tension to unleash in the ring. Ah, but you never said you were good.” She smiled, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “From the way you looked on the first night I saw you…”

  He threw back his head and howled laughter. “I’m good, Mrs. Kendal. I’m very good.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”


  “Instincts make a good fighter, the ability to read one’s opponent.” He eased his chair as close to hers as space would allow.

  “What do you read in me?” she dared ask, her voice a sultry whisper.

  “I would hope that you’re not my opponent.” He brushed a hand along the nape of her neck and trailed it around to cup her cheek. “But I do believe you’re issuing a challenge.”

  “A challenge?” Her stomach tightened as his hand dropped lower to toy with the crystal beads along her décolletage. “What an idea. Show me.”

  “Show you?” His mouth dropped open.

  She laughed, jumped to her feet, and took his hand. “How to read an opponent in the ring. Let’s spar. Isn’t that what you call it?”

  He remained seated.

  She stripped off her gloves, balled her hands into fists, and hopped from foot to foot. “Afraid? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  He laughed, a low chortle, and got to his feet. “Not with your hands curled like that you won’t. Hit someone like that and you’re more likely to break your thumbs.”

  Taking her fist, he urged her fingers open and tucked her thumb over them. “There, thumb outside the fingers, not curled into the palm.”

  “Oh.” She studied her fist and swung it in the air. “Yes. Much better. I see.”

  He shook his head. “You would be hopeless in the ring.”

  “Ha! Come now, Marcus.” She brushed him gently on the arm. “Let’s go a round.”

  He sighed resignedly. “All right. If you’re serious, let me go check on Brandon and I’ll meet you in the library, where there’s more open space.”

  ***

  Eve took the opportunity of Marcus’s brief absence to change out of her gown and into a simple blouse and her new skirt, the one with the shorter hemline, the better for bouncing around.

  “That’s better,” she said to herself, taking a quick glance in the looking glass. She rolled up her sleeves and practiced a quick jab at her reflection. Satisfied with her effort, she went off in search of the library.

  She found him waiting for her, in the act of sliding a sofa back against the wall, out of the way. He had removed his coat, tie, and waistcoat, and draped them over the back of a chair.

  “Now then.” He turned to greet her. “I see you’ve come prepared.”

  Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes lit with a smile of approval. “I mean business, Captain Thorne. I’m eager to learn.”

  “First, let’s work on your stance,” he said, studying her.

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “What’s wrong with my stance?”

  “Absolutely nothing, if your intention is to ornament the room. I daresay it looks a damn bit brighter with you in it.” He closed the distance between them and flashed the wolfish grin again.

  “Men.” She rolled her eyes and placed a finger under his chin, directing his gaze from her décolletage back to her face. “Impossibly easy to distract. Perhaps this is how you ended up with a bloody lip this afternoon.”

  “My opponent did not offer the slightest distraction. I simply looked away at the wrong time. Had you been my sparring partner, looking away would not have been an option.”

  “Then I have my work cut out for me.” She jabbed him in the arm. “Or maybe not, if you’re just going to stand there and be a target.”

  “We’re working on your stance.” He took her by the waist. “You need to bend a bit here. And your knees. Bend your knees. That’s it. Now bob a little back and forth.”

  She held her breath, trying not to be the one distracted by the motion of their bodies swaying together, back, forth. “I think I’m catching on.”

  He shook his head. “No, still too stiff. A fighter needs to be flexible. Try shaking your arms out and finding your stance again.”

  “Like this?” She dropped her arms to her sides and waved them around a bit, then bounced from foot to foot and put her fists up again.

  “Better. Much better. Now square your shoulders. You want to be flexible, but with a core of steel.” He ran his hands along her collarbone and in a line straight down the center of her body, flattening his palm against her abdomen. “That’s it, tighten up.”

  “Tighten up? I’m coiled like a spring.” How could he be so serious when his slightest touch had sent her mind reeling?

  “Indeed. You’re in fine form now.” He took a step back and mirrored her posture. Then he began to bounce from foot to foot in front of her, jabbing the air in her direction. “Ready?”

  Without his coat and tie, he looked so much more imposing, as if to remind her that the bulk was all him, solid muscle, not the bunches of fabric that had covered him. Underneath the finery, he was a hulking specimen. As if she needed reminding. A lump rose in her throat. “I suppose.”

  She forgot to move. She forgot to breathe. He landed a light jab to her bare upper arm.

  “Try to hit me,” he urged.

  She shook her head to clear it and bounced lightly on her toes. She swung a fist, aiming for his square jaw, and missed. He dodged it in time.

  “You see? Instinct. Try again.” He spun a circle around her, bouncing from foot to foot all the while.

  She swung again. And missed. “Oh, for goodness sake.”

  He circled her again. And again. She kept up but began to feel a little dizzy. “You jab like a girl.”

  “I am a girl,” she said, gritting her teeth. She began to sense a pattern in his movement. Left foot, sideways movement, left, right, back, left, moving a circle around her all the while.

  “A fragile little—”

  “Fragile?” That did it. She swung and knocked him right on the chin. “Ha!”

  “Ow.” He staggered back.

  “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got carried away.” She reached for him, eager to assess the damage.

  He laughed, slipping an arm around her waist. “I’m well, thank you. Good left hook. You got me.”

  “I did.” She smiled. “Taunt me, will you?”

  “Never again,” he promised, still holding her in his arms. “Any blood? I think you might have reopened my wound.”

  She studied his full lips, her breath slowing. “No blood.”

  “Are you sure?” She felt his heart hammering right up against her. “Look closely.”

  She ran a fingertip along the edge of his lips, her knees weakening. “Not a trace.”

  His gaze met hers, gold glistening in the amber depths. “Perhaps I’m not as good as I’d thought. I barely offered you a challenge.”

  “I nearly gave up when you started going in circles.”

  “Did I make you dizzy?” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “You are good.” She remained against him, fighting the urge to kiss the lips only inches from her own. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

  His eyes widened, studying her. “I warned you.”

  “My downfall. I’ve never been much good at heeding warnings.” They stayed there, each of them daring the other to make the move that neither would make, the need bubbling up in her until it nearly burst out, becoming impossible to contain. But contain it she would. She took a sudden step back. “We should go up to bed.”

  “We should.” He shook his head as if to clear it, breaking the spell that had held them transfixed.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said, restoring formality.

  “Good night, Eve. Unlike your last stay at Averford House, I won’t be disturbing you in the dead of night.” He smiled.

  She laughed to hide her disappointment and drifted away to the stairs.

  Eleven

  He hadn’t slept. Not a wink. He’d paced his room. He’d tried to read a book. He’d even gone down the hall to stare at the portraits of his father’s dearly departed hunting dogs
, hoping to restore his mind and body to peace. No use. His mind remained all too aware of her, of how she smelled like oranges and felt a perfect fit in his arms. And his body? His body remained at rigid attention.

  He’d stood outside her door for God only knew how many minutes at a time hoping that she would sense him, take pity, and open the door. He hadn’t dared to try the knob in case she had locked it against him. In the end, he’d resorted to the use of his own hand to try and ease the tension brewing inside him. But even that had brought him little satisfaction.

  He wanted her. No one and nothing else would do. How long would he suffer in such a predicament? He hoped only as long as they were together at Averford House. He prayed that being back at Thornbrook Park would break the spell, this enchantment that had suddenly taken hold of them.

  Eventually, he gave up on waiting for sleep to take him, got up again, washed, dressed, and made his way to the breakfast table. He hadn’t even seen Paulson, the footman who acted as his valet at Averford House, until Paulson came to the breakfast room to greet him.

  “You didn’t need my services this morning, sir?”

  “My traveling clothes were still decent and I managed on my own. But you can see to my evening clothes. I’m afraid I left them in sorry shape right where I removed them, in a pile on the floor by the bed.”

  Paulson nodded, as if unsurprised by this bit of news. “Good, sir. Ring if you need me.”

  Sutton appeared on cue as Paulson left him. “Cook is seeing to your eggs. The boy is still in bed. Shall I have Danvers wake him?”

  “Let him sleep. We won’t be setting off for London until this afternoon. And the lady? Any sign of her yet?”

  “She rang for Lettie some time ago.”

  “Not all that long ago, Mr. Sutton.” The sound of her voice preceded her entrance to the room and Marcus felt his pulse quicken. “I don’t need more than an hour to pull myself together in the morning.”

  If the sound of her voice had sent his pulse racing, the sight of her made his heart beat time out of mind. Her cheeks had a vibrant glow. Her eyes, riveting blue, pierced his from across the room.