by Heather Boyd
The door creaked open and Falstaff, the Newberry House butler, slid through the gap. “My apologies for the intrusion. Mr. Cushing has arrived earlier than his appointment. What should I do?”
“Send him in,” Quinn told the butler.
Quinn stood, smoothing his waistcoat as Mr. Cushing strode into the room a moment later. The man was of middle years, ruddy complexion, but not smiling. He steered his daughter Genevieve into the room on his arm, a girl Quinn had found quite timid and, well…dull.
William gave him a warning glance, and he restrained his smile of welcome a bit more.
Quinn shook hands with Cushing and nodded politely to the daughter. “Sir. Welcome.”
“Thank you for seeing us, Lord Templeton. And Captain Ford, I did not expect to see you today.”
“So I see,” William stated coldly.
Cushing swallowed. “Yes, well. May I present my daughter, Genevieve, to you, Captain?”
William nodded politely to the young woman, even as Quinn noted her hands were shaking. She clutched them to her stomach rather than offer them. Was she ill or terrified of William’s looks? The wound William had barely survived in battle made many ladies of their acquaintance decidedly uncomfortable.
“Please do sit down,” he said, speaking to Genevieve. He was not prepared to have the young woman faint today. “Would you care for tea?”
The young woman shook her head quickly and glanced toward the door as it closed. Quinn was rather glad she did not want to be there. It meant he had a chance to turn the matter to his benefit without hurting her feelings.
Rather than draw out the tension, Quinn got straight to the point and addressed her father. “You said the matter was urgent. How may I be of assistance?”
“I won’t pay,” Cushing blurted. “Not unless you marry her first.”
It was almost comical that he had expected such a scene that morning, but he found nothing to smile about. William seemed to agree, as he chimed in with a bored-sounding, “Marry whom?”
“My daughter, of course,” Cushing ground out as he gestured to the girl on the verge of fainting.
Quinn ignored the mention of marriage to Genevieve and worried about the bill instead. He kept his attention on Mr. Cushing. “You mentioned a debt. Forgive me for my ignorance. I am still unaware of many of my father’s financial entanglements.”
The fellow dug into his pocket and procured a well-folded scrap of paper. When he passed it over, Quinn smoothed it out and read very quickly. Five thousand pounds lost at Faro and owed to the Templeton estate. The repayment of such a large amount was no small matter. It was enough to bankrupt a business and ruin a family. Damn his father for this!
That Cushing attempted to delay the repayment by offering up his daughter suggested the amount could very well be more than could be repaid at all.
Acid burned in his stomach at the inexcusable situation he’d been placed in. It was not Quinn’s way to gamble with the livelihood of others, and he would never take advantage of desperation over money. “This debt is forgiven.”
He stood, moved to a desk, and scrawled his signature across the promissory note, marking it as paid in full. He could bear the loss of that money better than he would tolerate a marriage begun under these circumstances.
When he passed over the paper, Mr. Cushing stared at him in shock. “That was five thousand pounds,” the man whispered.
“I am not my father. I will not be bribed to take a wife.” He turned to Genevieve and inclined his head. “No slight intended, my lady. I am sure you would make someone else a perfectly suitable spouse. But not me. I wish you all the best for an enjoyable season.”
“None taken, my lord. Thank you.” Her eyes glowed with sudden happiness, and she cast a quick glance at her father as she smothered a laugh of relief. She met Quinn’s gaze again, and beamed, no longer the timid mouse he’d first met. “Thank you so very much indeed,” she gushed, her relief obvious that he would not fall in with her father’s suggestion that he marry her. They were both spared a bad decision by him forgiving that debt.
Cushing was pale, but at his daughter’s urging, eventually spoke. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I do hope you can enjoy the coming season far better now without that nonsense over your head.”
“We most assuredly will, my lord. Father will never gamble so recklessly again,” Genevieve promised, still beaming with happiness. She was quite transformed.
He escorted them as far as the drawing room doors and then closed them firmly.
No sooner were they gone than William barked out a short laugh.
Quinn scowled at him. “Shut up.”
“Oh my! You should have seen Cushing’s face fall when you turned away. He wanted that marriage very badly, even if his daughter did not.”
“He’d probably been planning for it, expecting I’d agree just to get the money back. Thank heavens for the war. If not for my own income, I might have had to consider it,” he admitted.
“Cushing probably thought you’d be heartsick over the loss of the mad bastard.” William frowned and dug into the seat behind him, only to drag out a riding crop—one of the many that had belonged to his father. William flexed it between his hands, testing the strength of the wood. “Now this is a fine thing to discover today.”
Quinn went cold at the sight of the object of his most recent punishment.
He snatched it from William’s hands despite his protest and snapped it in half over his knee. “Mad bastard. That is too kind a term for him.” He tossed the broken pieces into the fire and watched them blacken and burn. “Good riddance.”
William, who knew the manner of his father’s previous punishments, moved beside him and squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, good riddance indeed.”
Quinn smiled tightly. “That’s most probably only the first caller with such news I can expect to receive in the next few weeks.”
“Oh yes, there are plenty more schemes being plotted to see you cornered into a marriage,” William warned. “Miss Cushing seemed pretty enough, but didn’t tempt you to instantly fall to your knees and declare your undying love?”
William’s ridiculous question made him laugh, and the tightness of his chest eased. “Not in the slightest.”
“Cousin Rothwell’s wife is rumored to have a good eye for matches, and can be counted on to send the girl in the right direction instead of in yours, if you want her help.” His expression changed, growing puzzled. “Speaking of direction, did you have someone in mind for yourself to marry? I’m sure Aunt Pen would be only too happy to help foster a connection that led to marriage, if that’s what you do want.”
Quinn’s thoughts turned to Theodora Dalton so fast, he was surprised at himself. What he had with her was good, but he’d not wish to alter their current arrangement. A wife was a complication he didn’t want to deal with yet. “No, there is no one.”
“Well, whoever you choose eventually, I do hope she possesses a backbone. She’ll be the next Duchess of Rutherford. Your mama and Aunt Pen will eat her for lunch if she’s not up to snuff for the challenge.”
“I’m sure whoever I choose will more than meet their high standards.” Actually, he couldn’t wait for Aunt Pen and Theodora Dalton to meet. Quinn held back a laugh, imagining Theodora and his aunt battling over which of his social engagements were more important for him to attend. He’d always valued his aunt’s advice, knowing she wanted nothing from him in return but his respect, however, Theodora had quite a number of opinions of her own, too, that she was sure to voice. The two could likely clash quite often.
Oh, those meetings would indeed be fun to watch. He’d sit on the sidelines trying to determine which woman loved him more. Except…love had no part in his arrangement with Theodora. If he were to get married, the woman would have to love him without question.
He shook his head before he began to speculate the depth of Theodora’s emotions where he was concerned. His own were clear right now. He was not in
love, and lived from day to day. “She’ll have a backbone, shin bones and—”
“A very tidy pair of breasts?” William suggested as he made his hands form the shape of groping a pair.
His thoughts returned to Theodora’s eager little body, and how well they came together in his bed.
Yet he could not easily forget her remarks on that first day in his home. She’d boldly tried to seduce him as a means to gaining employment. She was not sweet, possibly quite devious in her methods of obtaining what she wanted in life. He couldn’t say what her ambitions were now, but she claimed marriage to him wasn’t one of her goals.
Quinn threw a pillow at his cousin. “Stop that. Are you not supposed to be a dull and sensible married man by now?”
His cousin set his hands behind his head and leaned back, smiling. “Married, but not without the imagination of what’s important to all gentlemen of sense.”
Quinn studied William closely. Crusty William had seemed to settle into marriage well, even forsaking his club and friends for the quiet of home life with Matilda, a former maid. Father had been livid about William’s marriage. “Are you suggesting you’ve thought about bedding other women?”
William’s smile dropped in an instant as the pillow sailed across the room and hit Quinn in the head. “Of course not! A man can never keep a wife and mistress happy at the same time and remain happy himself. Better to love your mistress enough to make an honest woman of her than juggle two without caring for either,” he growled.
“I say,” Quinn said, surprised by William’s vehemence. “Steady on.”
“I nearly made that mistake,” William admitted in a quieter voice. He smiled then. “But I am happier now than I ever hoped to be.”
“Please, you are sickening.” He threw the pillow back at his cousin. “Whoever thought you would be happily landlocked and spouting nonsense about matrimonial bliss?”
“No one, I expect. That is why I enjoy claiming to be pleased with my situation so often. It unsettles everyone when I smile.” William threw the pillow back at his head. “Do you feel better now or shall we break out the swords next?”
Quinn sat the pretty silk pillow on his knee, contemplating the question. “No need for further violence. I will survive.”
“You’re not alone,” William promised. “You’ll never be alone. Our family, all of the branches, only want the best for you and the estate.”
Quinn grinned at his cousin. “So does that mean the family can expect to have the pleasure of your company more often? My sisters wrote to say they were quite taken with your wife when you visited Newberry Park at Christmas.”
“Perhaps,” William said, straightening his spine. “Matilda is still quite shy of everyone.”
“She has no reason to be concerned. Eventually, given enough time and my sisters’ unfortunate influence, she’ll be just like the rest of them. Opinionated. Unruly.”
William rubbed a hand over his scar. “I like Matilda just the way she is, so perhaps we will not visit often.”
“People will change. A timid mouse might one day become a lioness.”
William frowned. “That would not suit my temperament.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you will adjust.” Quinn smirked. “I am positive Matilda will come into her own in due time. Heaven help you then.”
“I think we should talk about a marriage for you again,” William teased, making an obvious attempt to change the subject.
“Nothing can be done in pursuit of a lady while the family grieves, even if I had someone in mind.”
“I doubt mourning would stop you if you set your heart on someone,” William mused, then helped himself to another cup of coffee. “How long will you mourn?”
“Three months.” He sighed. “There is Louisa to consider.”
“Yes, Louisa and her third season,” William said, with his own heavy sigh. “I’m beginning to wonder if she’ll ever tie the knot.”
“She’ll marry eventually, or she won’t.” Quinn tapped his fingers on the pillow. “I’m not truly concerned by my sister’s lack of interest in finding a husband that suits her. Unlike father, I will support any decision she makes. I will not control her friendships at the expense of her dreams. I will give her the chance to make the most important decision of her life in her own time.”
And if deciding on as short a period of family mourning as possible helped, it was all for the better.
“You’re wiser than your father already,” William promised. “As for you, you’ll find someone to love soon enough with that attitude. Women will come running to stake a claim on your tender heart.”
Quinn felt no rush to gain a wife, but planning how to continue his affair with Theodora in this house, without being noticed, required delicacy and perfect timing on his part. He threw the pillow at his cousin one last time. “Put a cork in it, William. You really are becoming unbearable.”
Chapter 19
A scratch at the door alerted Theodora to her lover’s arrival. It was late, and the house had been quiet for some time. She was just giving up hope of seeing Quinn tonight when she heard him outside her door. The move from Maitland House to Newberry House had exhausted her; her last glimpse of the ruins of her former home had brought her grief closer to the surface than she cared to admit.
Catching sight of Quinn in a dark silk banyan and bare feet banished the tension she’d been fighting since coming up to her new bedchamber. She held out her arms, beckoning him closer. Excitement rippled up her spine as he locked the door behind him and hurried to join her.
His lips were hungry as they settled over hers and soothed her as nothing else could.
They did not speak. There was no need. They both were well aware of why he’d come and what Theodora wanted from Quinn tonight.
Quinn’s kiss was exactly as she remembered, but fiercer somehow. Hungrier. As if he was filled with the same desperation she felt after one night of abstinence. Twisting away, Theodora ripped the tie to her robe undone, and he did the same. Given they were both naked beneath, Theodora did not wait to push her body against his, gasping a little at the contact of his hot skin against hers.
He slid his hands down her back, beneath the robe, then lifted her up. “Mine,” he taunted.
Theodora curled her legs about Quinn’s waist and tightened her grip on him. “All mine, too.”
The smile on his face at her claim took her breath away, but she had no time to respond. He backed her against the bedpost, and her lust increased another notch as he kissed her quite desperately.
Quinn’s passion was what she desired in a man. A little rough, but only in a good way. She curled her arms around his head as they kissed, finding new ways to inflame him with her tongue and lips. She gripped his hair and tugged his head to the side to expose his neck.
Theodora settled her lips to his throat and kissed him there until he gasped. She nipped the firm column of his throat, not enough to bruise, lavished kisses on his jaw, and flicked his earlobe with the tip of her tongue until he was moaning. She finished with a firmer bite to the tip of his chin and met his wild gaze.
“Vixen,” he whispered. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Promises, promises,” she teased.
He moved around the bed and dumped her onto the sheets. She gazed up at him as he stripped off his robe completely and reached forward to grasp her hips. He flipped her over onto her stomach before she could protest she wasn’t done admiring him. He dragged her to the edge of the bed until her feet touched the floor. “There’s but one thing to do with a woman like you.”
She lifted her chest and twisted to look over her shoulder, trying to see his face. “And that is?”
“Have you, until you beg me to stop,” he whispered roughly against the back of her neck.
She caught his eye. “That could take all night,” she mused.
“I have a plan,” he countered, skimming his hands down her sides until he reached her hips. He slid one hand ben
eath her and covered her sex. “I intend to spend a great deal of effort tonight, filling you, bringing us pleasure to make up for what we were denied last night.”
“Good.” He parted her folds as he explained his wicked plan in great detail. When he slid his fingers over her clit, she shuddered and squirmed against him. “Please, Quinn.”
He slid his fingers from her clitoris and thrust into her, again and again.
She groaned loudly. “I need you.”
Quinn widened her legs, and soon he was sliding in and out of her eager body. She gasped each time he reached his limit and whimpered when he withdrew. His fingers covered her clitoris again, and he made love to her until Theodora couldn’t hold back. She came too quickly, jerking on his cock and against his fingers.
He slipped away, turned her over, and surged back inside her before she could catch her breath.
She opened her eyes as Quinn started to move above her again. “My apologies for my unseemly haste,” she whispered.
“Don’t be.” He cupped her cheek briefly, and his expression became serious. “You can never wait to have me, and I’d never deny you. Yours is the most honest passion I’ve ever experienced.”
Theodora shivered. What they shared was so much more than she’d expected. Her experiences in Quinn’s arms far outweighed the desire she’d experienced with her former betrothed, Daniel. It felt briefly disloyal to admit it, but she was having trouble remembering what had made her betrothed special enough to have almost married him. She seemed to have more in common with Quinn, both in and out of bed.
“I’m always honest when it comes to my appreciation of your technique,” she said.
Theodora closed her eyes to savor the moment. She was well and truly over the first love of her life. She had grown beyond that infatuation and moved on to a love affair that gave her everything she’d ever wanted—passion and respect and unending challenges.
Quinn ran his hands along her thighs, and then pushed them high into the air. Theodora opened her eyes again as he curled his fingers around her ankles to thrust slowly in and out of her body.