Too Wicked to Love

by Debra Mullins

  Sister? Not Miss Bailey?

  “What . . . wait! I am to leave with the Baileys for Nevarton Chase right after the wedding.”

  “Yes, I know.” She flashed him an impossibly happy smile. “Genny is going, too. They are having a house party.” She gave him a little wave as the servant hustled her back into the ballroom, leaving him alone in the hallway.

  “Ah, hell.”

  Miles away, in the small village of Elford-by-the-Sea, the Reverend Father Cornelius Holm crossed off the next item on his list. That was the last of the locations in London. Now he would begin searching the places outside the city. But not this week. No, his tiny parish needed him. There had been three deaths and one birth. Funerals and christenings. His task would have to wait until next week, when he had more time.

  It had been years already. What was a few more days?

  Chapter 2

  Nevarton Chase

  Three days later

  Genny marched through the woods, shoving aside the branches blocking her way. She followed a path so faint that had she not known better, she would have thought no one had come this way in years. But she did know better. She had seen Annabelle and John Ready disappear this way only minutes ago from the window of her bedchamber at Nevarton Chase.

  Naturally, when she had discovered that the former coachman had joined their house party as Annabelle’s bodyguard, her first reaction had been annoyance. She had expected to be rid of the man once her sister had spoken the vows, yet now she was trapped with him for the next fortnight out in the middle of the country, where it was harder to avoid him. But she reminded herself (again) that she was strong. If he proved irksome, she could just ignore him.

  But she could not ignore what he was doing now.

  She noticed that Annabelle tended to disappear during the same occasions when John was also missing. Observation over the last day or so had led her to believe they were going off together. She had never been able to catch them in one of their secret meetings . . . until today, when she had spotted them vanishing into the trees from her bedroom window.

  What respectable reason could John have for whisking Annabelle off to the middle of the woods?

  She tried to be fair. Yes, the man had basically accused her of conducting an affair at her sister’s wedding and made it clear he thought very little of her, which pinched at her ego. But that was hardly reason to think him dishonorable.

  Yet she could not overlook that he was a good-looking man of the working class who had somehow managed to ingratiate himself with the upper echelon of society—specifically a certain American coal heiress. A man might be tempted to use his position as bodyguard to get close to a lady like Annabelle, perhaps court her in hopes of bettering his own social status.

  She scowled, unhappy with the direction her thoughts were taking. Was this Bradley’s legacy, to leave her distrustful of all men? She did not want to turn into a bitter spinster based on the dishonorable actions of one man. But also, she could not pretend to be ignorant of the male capacity for deception. She could not think of a single, acceptable reason why John should be leading Annabelle into the woods alone, and that itself led her to more unsavory possibilities.

  Whatever his scheme, poor Annabelle would surely fall quite readily for it. She was entirely too trusting, especially considering that John was the good friend of a man Annabelle’s parents thought of as a son. The young American heiress had become wealthy practically overnight only a couple of years ago when her father had discovered coal beneath their farm. She was a bit naïve and fairly unaware of the dangers of fortune hunters.

  Just as Genny had been, only a year ago. Which was why she could not stand idly by and let Annabelle get caught in the same trap.

  Catching the echo of a female laugh up ahead, Genny increased her pace. The laughter led her to a sunny clearing. She stopped and stayed hidden behind some bushes to assess the situation. John crouched on the ground with his back to her, a sack open at his feet. Annabelle strolled over to examine a cluster of wildflowers, blond hair gleaming in the sunlight. John rose, a blanket in his hands. Genny expected him to spread the coverlet on the ground in preparation for some romantic interlude. Instead he came up behind Annabelle, threw the blanket over her head and grabbed her around the middle with both arms.

  Annabelle cried out and began to thrash as John hauled her struggling form across the grassy glade.

  She stared in shock. Dear God, this was worse than she had imagined. The bounder intended to abduct her!

  Fear and anger twisted in her belly, then settled into a hard core of determination. She looked around, grabbed a stout branch from the ground, then charged into the clearing, brandishing it like a club. “Leave her alone, you brute!”

  John’s head whipped around, shock flickering across his face. Annabelle’s body suddenly sagged, jerking him off balance. Genny swung her stick, connecting with his shoulder blade. Annabelle fell. He stumbled, tripped over Annabelle’s squirming form, and crashed facedown on the ground.

  Genny stepped over to him and raised her weapon again. “If you even think of getting up, you will regret it.”

  “What the devil are you doing?” John rolled onto his back and sat up, his dark gaze promising retribution. Genny swung the branch again, but he caught it one-handed, then jerked it from her grasp with an easy strength that surprised her.

  She backed out of his reach. “What the devil were you doing? Kidnapping an heiress perhaps?”

  “Fine language for a lady.” He hurled the makeshift club into the woods.

  “What’s happening?” Annabelle had managed to free herself from the blanket and sat up as well, looking from Genny to John.

  “This miscreant,” Genny said with a wave of her hand toward John, “was trying to abduct you. Or something worse.”

  John rose, making Genny realize at close range just how much bigger he was. There was nothing of the lower classes about him, just several feet of irritated, powerful male. Something about that potent masculinity made her breath catch in her throat, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated through her as he spoke. “Miss Wallington-Willis, I believe you are suffering from a misconception.”

  “Oh, am I?” She did not want to meet those hot, dark eyes, but she made herself do it—and only because she did not want him to think her afraid, not because her insides fluttered when he looked at her. “What other explanation could there be for a man throwing a blanket over a woman’s head?”

  “What explanation is there for you to come charging at me with a stick?”

  “You were carrying her off against her will.” Genny went over and helped Annabelle to her feet. This had the happy coincidence of putting more distance between herself and the unsettling man. “I think Annabelle and I should return to the house, and you, Mr. Ready, should prepare yourself to be ejected from Nevarton Chase.”

  “Miss Wallington-Willis, if I were the type of man to abuse a woman, you yourself would be in danger right now. It was foolish to charge in like that, especially when you do not comprehend the circumstances.”

  Genny raised her chin, linking her arm with Annabelle’s. “I comprehend well enough, thank you. If you think to kidnap Annabelle, you will have to contend with both of us.”

  “Genny, what are you talking about?” Annabelle unhooked their arms. “John meant me no harm.”

  “Annabelle, surely you cannot misinterpret what he did.” Genny sent a hard look at John that was intended to cow him, but he only glared right back.

  “No, I didn’t misinterpret, but perhaps you did.” Annabelle beamed at John. “How did I do?”

  To Genny’s surprise, he gave Annabelle a wide smile. “Perfectly. You notice how when you became dead weight in my arms, it was much more difficult to drag you off.”

  “You even fell over!” Annabelle giggled.

  “As much as I would like to give you credit for that, it was Miss Wallington-Willis and her bludgeon that felled me. But you did make abducting you more di
fficult, so points to you, Miss Bailey.”

  Miss Bailey? Confused, Genny looked from one to the other. Would a lover refer to his sweetheart by so formal a title? Or was this an act for her benefit? “Annabelle, are you trying to tell me that you knew he intended to try and carry you off?”

  “Of course I did. John would never do anything so terrible for real. He’s teaching me to protect myself. If Richard comes back to England and tries something, I want to be ready.” She scowled. “Not like last time.”

  “I see.” The pieces began to fall together in her mind, and she looked at John. “I take it you did not want anyone to know that Annabelle can defend herself? That is why you are meeting secretly in the woods?”

  “That’s right.” His tone offered no apology.

  “Don’t scold him; he didn’t do anything wrong. Having John guard me was Samuel’s idea.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes at Genny. “Maybe if you talked to your sister more, you would have known that.”

  The mild rebuke hit home. Annabelle was right; she had deliberately avoided her prodigal sister despite having no contact with her for the past four years. She had done her duty and stood up as a bride’s maid at the wedding, but she considered her strained relationship with Cilla to be a private matter. The fact that people had noticed it, that Annabelle had commented on it, brought hot embarrassment flooding to her face.

  “Well, what was I supposed to think when I saw him throw a blanket over your head?” Genny demanded, hiding her chagrin in anger. “I knew you had sneaked off with him several times over the past couple of days. I had no idea what the two of you were about.”

  “Sneaked off? You think that we . . .” Annabelle glanced at John, then burst out laughing. “Land sakes, no! John is way too bossy for me to think of him that way!”

  John frowned at Genny. “You have a poor opinion of Miss Bailey, Miss Wallington-Willis, if you think she would dally so indiscriminately.”

  “You would not be the first man who tried to better his life by taking up with a woman above his station,” Genny snapped. “Annabelle is a wealthy heiress. What else was I to think?”

  “Why didn’t you just ask me?” Annabelle said.

  “I did not have time to ask. I thought he was abducting you! Besides, it is quite easy for a young lady to fall prey to a handsome man who says the right things and does the right things. You might not have listened.” She stopped herself and sucked in a breath. Was she talking about Annabelle, or herself?

  Annabelle propped her hands on her hips. “You don’t give me much credit, do you? Do you really think that after what Richard did to me I would fall so easy for a charming smile and a way with words? What sort of ninny do you take me for?”

  Genny stiffened. “I apologize if I was mistaken. I feared for your safety.”

  “I’m perfectly safe with John.”

  “Nonetheless, perhaps I should stay and observe the rest of the lessons.” She slid a meaningful look at John. “To chaperone.”

  She had thought her suggestion would anger him, but he just nodded and addressed Annabelle. “Not a bad idea. Your reputation is already suffering, Miss Bailey. I do not want to add to any unfavorable speculation, however unwittingly.”

  “That’s fine with me.” Clearly still displeased with Genny, Annabelle gave a jerk of her head. “You can sit on that fallen tree over there.”

  Genny nodded and made her way to the makeshift bench. Clearly, she had been wrong about their relationship. He really was just trying to help Annabelle stay safe until her family returned to America in a few weeks. Once again her misinterpretation of a man’s motives left her cheeks burning.

  Fuming, she sat down on the bench, determined to keep silent. She refused to give him further opportunity to rattle her. She had sworn once that no man would ever make her feel like a fool again.

  But this one just had.

  John watched Genny take her seat on the tree trunk, her spine stiffer than a ship’s mast, then returned his attention to Annabelle’s instruction. Though he tried to ignore their audience, his back itched with the weight of their chaperone’s stare. He managed to cast a glance or two her way to gauge her mood during the lesson in fighting off an opponent. He could tell she was angry, but at him or herself?

  A knot clenched in his gut. Her accusations had stung, and it had been all he could do to remember his current social class and not challenge her further. Knowing Genny was forbidden fruit only added fuel to the fire. Given the situation, he could not fault her for thinking the worst, but he’d been misjudged before, and it had ruined his life.

  Maybe it was being back in England that had shaken his normal calm. It had been nearly seven years now, and the simple things, like the sound of crisp English pronunciations instead of the nasal American twang to which he had become accustomed, brought a pang of bitterness for what he could not have.

  He had been banished from his homeland against his will, forced to flee or else suffer punishment for a crime he had not committed. To be home again now, so close to his old haunts and his old acquaintances, made him realize how dearly he had missed his native land, even though no one who had known him before would recognize him now.

  He would be leaving again in a few weeks, this time never to return.

  He glanced over at Genny again. She threatened his ability to stay away from anything connected to his old life. In his current circumstances he could never approach her, yet he was strongly tempted to pursue her anyway, consequences be damned.

  If this were seven years ago, he could have had her, no questions asked.

  He tormented himself by allowing his gaze to linger a bit longer this time, his churning emotions simmering in a dangerous broth of frustration and sexual attraction. Despite her lack of height, she had a voluptuous figure that exceeded anything in his most heated fantasies. He itched to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. To feel those lush dark curls sweeping against his flesh. To look into those cat green eyes as he kissed that pouting mouth and buried himself inside that sweet, inviting body.

  With other men she flirted, but around him she walked as if her spine were an iron poker and spoke as if words were arrows. If he had been free to be himself, he could have helped her channel all that unreleased passion into something more satisfying for both of them.

  The hard bone of Annabelle’s elbow slammed into his solar plexus, knocking the breath from him. He staggered back a step, fighting for air, jerked from his distraction.

  “Oh, John, I’m so sorry!” Annabelle came over to him, hovering like a young girl over a broken doll. “Are you all right? You usually catch my arm.”

  “You slipped one past me.” He inhaled deeply, then glanced at Genny, who looked entirely too amused. “Pleased to see me bested, Miss Wallington-Willis?”

  “Pleased to see that Annabelle is such an adept student,” she replied. “If she can take you, John Ready, then a true assailant will have little chance against her.”

  “Do you think so?” Annabelle clapped her hands. “Am I ready, John?”

  “Not yet.” He glanced at Genny. That superior smile of hers grated against his wounded male pride. “You will need several more lessons before I will feel completely confident that you can defend yourself unaided, so we must continue our meetings.”

  “John . . .” Annabelle whined.

  “For now, we had best return to the house. Your mother has given strict instructions that you are not to be late to dinner again.”

  Annabelle scowled. “Can’t we stay a little longer? This is more fun.”

  “I am afraid we must get back. We cannot have anyone gossiping about you.”

  “Fine.” Annabelle spun on her heel and flounced into the woods.

  “Annabelle!” He took up his sack, grabbed the blanket from the ground, and stuffed it inside. “Blast that chit!”

  Genny rose from her perch. “A word, Mr. Ready.”

  “Another one, Miss Wallington-Willis?”

  As ex
pected, she stiffened. “I simply wanted to apologize for my assumptions earlier.”

  He searched her face. She looked like she wanted to chew nails, but he could tell at least part of her was sincere. “Apology accepted.”

  “I also want you to know I will be watching you, John Ready. And I will not hesitate to speak my mind at any questionable word or deed.”

  Impatience flared. “You extend one hand in apology only to strike with the other?”

  “I am simply saying—”

  “I know what you are saying. You doubt my character, even though your own brother-in-law requested my services.” He closed up the sack with swift efficiency.

  “Not every man can be taken at his word, as you witnessed at the wedding.” Her green eyes hardened like shards of glass. “I will be monitoring these lessons of yours to assure no impropriety occurs. It is best for Annabelle.”

  “What makes you qualified to make such a decision? You are neither her mother nor her guardian.”

  “I am a concerned friend.”

  “A friend who takes it upon herself to make decisions for a woman two years her senior.”

  “A person’s age makes no difference in the face of experience.”

  “Experience? Whose?” He guessed her meaning by the look on her face. “Yours?” He chuckled. “You have some arrogance, Miss Wallington-Willis, to think that Annabelle cannot make up her own mind.”

  “Me? Arrogant?” If she were a cat, she would have been spitting. “I cannot help but notice that you, my good man, have become very defensive at my very reasonable proposition. And as for Annabelle’s making up her own mind . . . well, the girl could not decide which fiancé she wanted to marry only three weeks ago!”

  “Are you so much more qualified than she is to make decisions about her own life? Tell me, what great life experiences have made you qualified for such a post? Have you been married? No. Are you a world traveler? No. Have you been in battle, survived a great illness, studied under the great minds of Europe? No. What you are, Miss Wallington-Willis, is jealous.”