To Bed or to Wed

by Sandra Sookoo

  “That is none of your concern.” He glared. Did she have no clue how intrusive she was? The words sat on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was five and thirty, and that if he wanted to produce heirs or not was none of her business, but he refused to give her the satisfaction.

  Lady Charlotte shrugged. “I’m sure you have your reasons, but it seems silly to me to throw your life and your future away before you’ve given yourself a chance.” She shivered again. Her breath puffed on the chilly air. “Will you accompany me back to the house? If we tarry too long, they’ll send out a search party.”

  “I’m not leaving this maze without my nephew.” The sooner she realized he wasn’t of a mind for conversation, the better she’d be. Still, the part of him that remembered manners and niceties—the gentleman he used to be—surged to the forefront. He grabbed her hood and gently drew it over her hair, settling it in place. “I told you before, it’s too cold for you to be out here.” The black fur framing her pale face made her seem vulnerable. He wished it wasn’t so dark. In the gloom, he couldn’t properly discern the shade of her hair or the color of her eyes. When a noise escaped her that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, he pulled away as if he’d been burned. It was entirely possible she was nothing but a fortune hunter, intent to trap him or Jamie.

  “I refuse to return if you stay here, Lord Ravenhurst.” Her voice was low and steady—and laced with iron. “Jamie deserves a chance at happiness. Don’t crush his dreams simply because you’re too afraid to chase yours.”

  Pain skittered through his heart. How could she divine something he so closely guarded? “You know nothing about why I am like I am.” I don’t need her to tell me how to live my life. Nathan stormed down the path toward the next turn, but a tug at the back of his greatcoat halted him. He whirled around only to find Lady Charlotte nearly in his embrace—again. He gripped her upper arms, resisting the urge to shake her as he had near the heart of the maze. Did she have no common sense? “Do you have some sort of manic need to throw yourself at me?”

  The giggle that escaped her sounded out of place in the silent night. “I have no need throw myself at any man, least of all you.”

  That gave him pause. “Ah, you have given up the fight to find marriage material. Very astute of you to realize the futility of making a match at this late date before being made a fool in Society.” Perhaps she had some common sense after all.

  Her outraged gasp proclaimed otherwise. “How dare you! I cannot believe you so vile as to insult both my age and my ability to attract a man.” She squirmed, but he didn’t release her.

  “I meant no offense.” His brain reeled. How to extricate himself from this farce? “Not knowing how old you are—”

  “Thirty-three. Yes, in today’s Society, I’m firmly on the shelf, but that doesn’t mean I’m dead.” Her eyes narrowed. “It certainly doesn’t mean I’m not desirable. It simply means I choose not to tie myself to a boring man for the remainder of my life.”

  Boring man? To whom had she already been exposed to? As to her desirability, once again he cursed the darkness. At least if they were inside the house, he could look her over and decide for himself. Nathan shook his head, with a firm reminder he didn’t wish to concern himself with her life. “Right.” He cleared his throat, but his thoughts wouldn’t be dislodged so easily. For such an advanced age, she was still quite vital and full of energy. “Then why the unaccountable attachment to me?” He needed to keep the conversation on topics where his temper could flare and not on subjects where his libido might.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. You are not the sort of man I’d ever choose.” She managed to make him feel even colder with her glare. “I simply am trying to—”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, not wishing to have a reason to bond with her. “If scheming to make me come up to scratch is your game, I must say it won’t work. It is not my intention to ever marry.” He’d known for at least five years he couldn’t inflict his darker moods on a wife or family. He’d known for much longer than that he’d do whatever he could not to be like his father. Yet, at times his temper escaped and he became like a snarling beast until he found his control again. A man couldn’t outrun his roots or experiences; he could only survive them. It would be unfair to ask others to do the same simply to tolerate him.

  “My lord, you’re hurting me.” A soft sound of pain infiltrated his consciousness. “Please release my arms.”

  Nathan let her go. His gut roiled. Appalled, he cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Lady Charlotte. I had no idea I’d lost control.” He forced a swallow into his tight throat. Never had he accosted a woman or even hurt a female. Why had he gone woolgathering now? “Perhaps it would be best if you returned to the house.”

  She peered into his face with narrowed eyes while rubbing one of her arms with a mittened hand. “Not unless you accompany me.”

  “What difference does it make to you?” How obnoxious to stand in a darkened evergreen maze with snow and cold all around arguing with the most stubborn female he’d ever come across. “This is my property. I’m the marquess. If it’s my prerogative, I shall stand on my head in a snow bank.”

  “Then by all means, proceed to invite frostbite on the tip of your rarified nose. Perhaps it will give you a sense of humor. Impossible man.” She huffed in displeasure. Exasperation rang in her voice. “I used to think my brother was difficult. Now that I’ve met you, I have revised my opinion. Felix is a saint among men.” Another shiver accosted her. “It would seem the rumors about you are true, and for that, I’m disappointed. Good evening, Lord Ravenhurst.” Without another word, she spun then marched off firmly in the opposite direction from where Jamie was.

  Disappointed? Why the devil would she say something like that?

  “Damnation.” Nathan set off after her. He caught her at the next turn and waylaid her with a hand on her arm. “My curiosity has been piqued. Why are you disappointed?”

  Slowly, Lady Charlotte pivoted to face him. “Oh, now you lower yourself to take an interest in what I have to say? From all accounts it seems you don’t care about anyone except yourself.”

  Devil take it. He didn’t care for her waspish tongue either, but there was something about her that refused to dislodge his curiosity. In ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t give the gossipmongers a thought, but with Charlotte Darrington, it was different. He knew a desperate urge to see what impression he’d made on her and to find out why he needed to. “I’ll admit, I have done a very good job of keeping people at arm’s length, but there is a reason for that.”

  “Such as?”

  He heaved a sigh. “The need to ensure their safety.” Beneath his gloved fingers, she shuddered, but whether from cold or fear, he couldn’t say. “I have a temper.”

  “That is no excuse for poor manners, Lord Ravenhurst.” She yanked out of his grasp. “Many men are possessed of a temper. Many men have also conquered it and do quite well in Society. It isn’t something you should use to hide behind.”

  The back of his neck warmed from her dressing down. “Perhaps, but you have not answered my question.” Damn his rampant curiosity.

  “It disappoints me to know the rumors and on-dits regarding you are true. In your case; however, the snippets and your behavior align.” She retreated down the path. Soon she’d gain yet another twist of the maze.

  He crunched over the snow after her. “I still plan on retrieving my nephew.”

  A shrug lifted her shoulders. “I’m not surprised. You are quite the selfish person. Other people exist around you, yet this is the first time I’ve seen you while at this estate. Why, I wonder?”

  “As I told you before, I’d rather not have Jamie destroy my property. Besides, the set he runs with is loud and frivolous. Not at all to my liking. If I stay buried in my study, I won’t feel the need to ring lectures over his head or lose my temper altogether.” He continued to follow her though his mind screamed a warning. “You don’t know me enough to make a deduc
tion at any rate.”

  “I know enough. I wish you well, my lord, but know this: even the monster you think you are deserves kindness once in a while, and perhaps understanding. It would behoove you to recognize this and stop running people off. A close friend every now and again would do you good.”

  “I had a close friend. He betrayed me. That was enough.” That friend had given his position away to the French, which ultimately landed him into the depths of hell. Nathan narrowed his eyes. Who did she think she was? She knew nothing about his life, nothing about what had made him who he was now or why he chose not to invite people into his life. “Lady Charlotte?”

  She slowed. “Yes?”

  “Do have a care through the remainder of the maze. I’d hate for you to catch the sniffles from your extended sojourn out here with the horrible person I’ve become.” Yes, he was a bastard for treating her to such unkindness and he really should escort her back to the house, but she had annoyed him as if she’d poked him with a stick on fire. If she were so independent, she could handle whatever happened to befall her.

  “And you, my lord, can go hang for all I care.” Her hips swished as she vanished around the next turn.

  Nathan stared into the empty space she left. Never had he been treated to such a lack of respect from a member of his social circle before. The fact that it had come from a woman didn’t make any difference. He should have been enraged, and he probably would have been had he not heard a very distinct “bollocks” beyond that turn in the maze.

  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed the sound. Serves her right if she’s in trouble. Midway down the path, Lady Charlotte tugged at the hem of her skirt.

  “Do you require assistance, Lady Charlotte?”

  “From you? Absolutely not.” She wrenched off her mittens, dropping them to the ground in order to manipulate the fabric snagged in the evergreen bramble.

  “I beg your pardon, but as I am the only gentleman in the immediate area at the moment, manners compel me to come to your aid.” Nathan joined her and immediately saw her issue. “Not only is your skirt caught in the branches, but your petticoat is too.” He knelt by her feet. “How is that possible since your cloak should have protected you?”

  “The wind blew it. When I attempted to keep it closed, another gust caught my dress.” The words were clipped, as if she forced them through a tight throat.

  “Ah.” He removed his gloves. After hastily stuffing them into a coat pocket, he ran his fingers along the hem of the petticoat as he checked for the snag. It took all of three seconds to free the lace-edged garment from the bramble. The heat from her body seeped into his fingers. He lingered longer that common courtesy allowed, but the faint scent of roses wafted from her and he couldn’t help himself. He brushed his fingers along her ankle. When the lady didn’t protest or smack him, he eased a hand up the side of her calf. A tremble moved through her body, whether from his touch or the cold, he couldn’t say. A gasp followed the liberty, which caused another grin from him. “I beg your pardon,” he murmured then set his attention to freeing the snag on her skirt.

  “Think nothing of it, my lord.” This time, her voice had lost its haughty edge. Breathlessness had replaced her earlier animosity.

  The crunch of snow alerted him to the approach of another person. Barely had he scrambled to his feet and put a decent amount of space between him and Lady Charlotte before the intruder came around the turn.

  “There you are, Nathan! We were beginning to wonder what became of you. Lord Smallford and Lord Kirkland are debating whether to put together a search party.”

  He bit back a groan at his sister’s interruption, though what would have occurred had she not arrived, he couldn’t say. “There is no need for you’ve already found me.”

  “And a friend, apparently.”

  “I was merely helping her with her gown. She’d gotten it snagged on the evergreen boughs.” He looked between the women. Unlike Lady Charlotte, his sister wore a fur-trimmed coat that flattered her slender frame. She seemed much suited to the terrain and weather. “Lady Charlotte Darrington, this is my older sister, Lady Alexandra, Earl Grantley’s widow. She’s Jamie’s mother.”

  Both nodded to each other and social pleasantries were exchanged.

  Alexandra pulled at his arm. “We should head back. You have a duty to your guests.”

  “Not my guests. Jamie invited them. I am merely keeping an eye out that he and his friends do not destroy the contents of my home.”

  “Cold as always.” She gazed at Lady Charlotte before darting a glance around the area. “I shall retrieve my son. He knows better than to ignore his guests.” She settled her attention on Lady Charlotte. “If I were you, I’d hurry back to your room and change. A ripped gown is quite a misstep in Society. I’d hate for you to fall victim of gossip.”

  “Thank you for the reminder, my lady,” Lady Charlotte murmured. She bolted down the path in the direction of the house. Seconds later, she whisked around the final turn of the maze and was out of sight.

  Nathan uttered a small sigh, quiet so his sister wouldn’t hear it. Well, that’s the last I’ll see of her, and good riddance. She was too much of a temptation. Soon, she and Jamie’s friends would leave his estate and he could return to his solitary life. As he strode alongside Alexandra, he buried his hands deep in his coat pockets. Just as it should be.

  Chapter Three

  Of all the men I could have run into in that rotten maze, it had to be the bloody Marquess of Ravenhurst.

  The name sent a jolt of excitement zipping down her spine even as using vulgarity while in thought made her want to giggle. Charlotte ignored both. The man had been wretchedly rude. She tiptoed down the hallway and paused outside the breakfast room of Ravenhurst Manor. Still rather early, she sent up a quick prayer he wouldn’t be in attendance. After the incident with the man last night, she didn’t want to tempt fate with another meeting. After a peek in determined Jamie and a young woman were the only diners, she uttered a sigh of relief and fully entered the brightly lit room.

  “Good morning, Jamie,” she greeted, infusing as much gaiety as she could into her voice. She met his gaze, thankful she didn’t immediately look away. If at all possible she wouldn’t let on what she’d seen last night. It wasn’t her business. She wouldn’t have been there at all if it hadn’t been for his aggravating uncle.

  “You seem well rested, Charlotte,” he rejoined, standing, then resumed his seat when she sat. “Did you have pleasant dreams?” He grinned as a petite maid refilled his tea cup.

  “None that I can remember.” Charlotte busied herself with accepting tea then directing the maid into filling a plate from the sideboard. Normally, she’d do it herself, but the staff at the Manor was so efficient at their job, she had no time to protest.

  “Ah, too bad. I, for one, had very pleasant dreams and remember them vividly.”

  Across the table, the other woman present uttered a most unladylike snort. “I’m sure you do. Plus, you’re altogether too vulgar for breakfast conversation, Jamie.”

  Charlotte slid a glance to her and offered a smile. “Hello. I suppose since Jamie won’t introduce us, I shall. I’m Lady Charlotte Darrington. Please call me Charlotte.”

  She nodded. “I like that you extended that invitation when you don’t even know me.” A tendril of blonde hair fell loose from its bun and lent an air of soft elegance to her long face. “I’m Bethany Starkton.”

  “Well, how awkward would it be if Jamie calls me by my given name while you couldn’t as we dine this intimately?” Charlotte waved a hand. “I’d rather have contemporaries than acquaintances.” Why does that name sound familiar? She searched the depths of her mind then sucked in a small breath when she found the answer. “Starkton. You must be related to Jamie’s baronet friend.” Her cheeks heated as she realized she’d broken her promise not to refer to Jamie’s transgression.

  “Yes, exactly.” Her grin revealed slightly crooked front teeth, but
they didn’t detract from her twinkling eyes or rosy cheeks. “I’m his sister. He asked me to accompany him to the party as he thought Jamie and I might suit.”

  Charlotte stifled a groan. Poor girl. She has no idea how the wind blows. “Oh. Where is your brother this morning?” To stave off an inappropriate comment, she shoved a bit of ham steak into her mouth and chewed.

  “Peter is either still abed or out riding. He enjoys taking in the early morning air.” Beneath the table, Jamie kicked her shin. When Charlotte glanced up, he sent her a roiling glance. “She’s two years older than me, but that’s all to the good, and she’s intelligent besides. From good family.” The young man sent Bethany a grin that had the girl tittering. “Her brother was smart to bring her. Quite a fitting woman for a future marquess, eh?”

  “Sounds like it.” Charlotte gulped down a mouthful of tea then winced at the slight sting of the hot liquid. The games those two men were playing with Bethany as collateral. Annoyance warmed her chest at their treating the girl like property. “So, is an announcement in the offing then?”

  Bethany blushed. She glanced at her plate. “We’ve talked about it, but nothing is definite yet. Peter—my brother—says he’ll make the arrangements.”

  Of course he will and no doubt move himself right in with an excuse of easing the transition or helping her with her new responsibilities while all along, he and Jamie would be indulging in passion’s embrace behind closed doors. Bethany would be none the wiser, especially if she became pregnant shortly after the ceremony.

  Charlotte’s respect for Jamie faltered even as her mind was gripped with thoughts of just how Jamie would accomplish that feat. She’d thought he had a good head on his shoulders, thought he’d be at least honest about his affairs. Unbidden, the words from Ravenhurst sprang to mind. What matters is seeing him properly trained to inherit the title and all of its demands. Would the marquess expect Jamie to conduct himself in this very manner? Of course he would.