Mad About You

by Dayna Quince

  “And you would be correct! But, alas, I must submit to my father’s control daily.” She cringed. She could feel his regard, but he was not chuckling anymore. He remained silent—the kind of silent where you know a person is mentally breaking down each of your words to decipher what exactly wasn’t said.

  “I think I understand,” he finally said.

  “I thought you might.” She met his gaze again. “Your sister and I have much in common, and I thought out of all the gentlemen in the ton, you would be most likely to understand and not be cowardly about it.”

  He raised a brow.

  “And there is that whole business with Miss Manton and her breaking your heart.” She looked down at his arm as it turned to stone beneath her hand but continued on, “After all that’s been said about your activities abroad, I just knew that you would be perfect for the job.”

  “Job?” he said tensely.

  “Position?”

  “Punishment, more like it,” he grumbled.

  “Nonsense. We will both be as free as birds in spring.”

  They were just out of sight of the house now when he stopped and turned to face her. “If your father has already chosen your spouse, why the deadline?”

  “Honestly, I don't know. I think he only did it because he knew I couldn’t bring a gentleman up to scratch.”

  Not in the traditional way, anyhow. Does he underestimate you often?”

  “Always.” She cocked her head to the side and looked at him curiously. “You are much more perceptive than I thought you to be.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stared back at her. “But…why me, Maddie.”

  “I told you.”

  “You’ve told me very little and almost nothing to convince me to agree to this horrendous plan. If you are indeed like my sister, then I can surmise that you’ve not thought this through thoroughly, and I’d be as equally mad as you are reported to be to agree.”

  “I am perfectly sane. It is society that is mad.”

  “Maddie?” He cocked his head to match hers.

  Maddie rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’ve forgotten I was speaking to a man. I must speak plainly and in the simplest of terms. I. Need. Husband. You. Need. Wife.”

  He stepped back and stroked his jaw agitatedly.

  “That is where you are wrong. I don’t need to marry.”

  “Your mother—”

  “She can wish on every star, but I don’t need nor do I have to marry.”

  Maddie looked down at her folded hands nervously. She was sure she looked demure, but it was what she did when she needed to gather her thoughts. They seemed to fly away like startled birds when she spoke with him. She looked up and took a deep breath.

  “You’ve changed.”

  He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Since before…” She waved her hand around vaguely. “You are noticeably different.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to say that,” he said harshly.

  She examined his face as she’d done so many times over the years. The creases at the corners of his eyes were now permanent and had nothing to do with smiles. His gaze was often hard and cynical when he thought no one was paying attention, but even when he was pretending to be affable, there was a hardness to him. His lips used to be so soft and mobile, always waiting impatiently to smile, but now, though sinfully full for a man, they held a flatness as if he’d spent his life grimacing at the world. He was still handsome—dangerously so, but the joy had left him. He could deny it, and truly, Maddie had no first-hand knowledge of what happened between him and Miss Manton, but she knew him. She knew his face, she knew the energy he radiated when he entered a room, and yes…he was different. He was sad, angry, and broken by his experience over the past year.

  Maddie knew Miss Manton to be a shy, quiet, and a kind woman. Her injury to Lord Rigsby was not done deliberately.

  She put her hands on his face, shocking herself and him. “I’m very good at watching people. I see what they try to hide. I see who they are when they think others are not looking. I see their true selves, so yes, I do know people more than they think I do. Especially you.”

  “You’ve been watching me? Tell me again how you are not crazy?”

  She let go of him. “Fine. I am mad. Mad Maddie just as they say. And what will your nickname be when everyone else moves on with their lives, and you’re still trawling the continents for easy conquests, growing older and more bitter with every year that passes?”

  “You think marriage to you would change that? How? As you said, I would drop you off at my estate and continue on with my life, trawling for women, as you say. How would marriage alter any of that?”

  “I… I don’t know.” Maddie looked away. She hadn’t thought out all the particulars. She’d simply known that out of all the gentlemen, Lord Rigsby could be the one to save her. Perhaps she was mad.

  “How selfish of you.” He sneered at her. “You didn’t think about my needs, only yours. You thought I wouldn’t care enough about my name to consider who I gave it to. Yes, I will admit that after my heart was trampled, I spent time burying my… pain in other women, but you are the last person to decipher my happiness. It doesn’t matter how much you watch someone. You won’t know them. I cannot believe I went along with this farce for even a moment. I came out here concerned for you over what Lady Worthington may have said to you.”

  Maddie hid her surprise at his outburst. “Lady Worthington?”

  “I saw you mangle that figurine and, bold as you please, seek out Lady Worthington to tell her. Most would not have done that.”

  “I’m not most people. I’m Mad Maddie.”

  A strange gust of air and noise escaped him, and then he burst out laughing. Maddie looked around nervously. She didn’t understand this sudden change in him.

  She waited silently, wondering if she ought to just walk away as he held his middle and laughed with abandon.

  She pivoted to leave, but suddenly, he was right next to her, grasping her arm.

  “Wait.” He wheezed. His eyes glittered with tears of mirth.

  Maddie stepped away from him, trying to tug her arm from his hold. “I’m not the only one who’s mad, apparently.”

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to call yourself Mad Maddie. And with such conviction!”

  Maddie glowered at him. She stopped struggling in his hold. Her arm felt hot where he held it. This reaction to him was so odd to her.

  “Are you quite finished?”

  “I haven't laughed like that in ages.” He was grinning like a fool.

  Her stomach did an uncomfortable tumble inside her. He almost looked happy just now.

  “I’m glad I could be of service. Now, if you could release me, I will be on my way to finding a new fiancé.”

  He didn’t let go. He tugged her closer to him. “Why me?” he asked again.

  Maddie sighed heavily. She had already thoroughly embarrassed herself, so why stop now? “The truth is I can’t just marry anyone. If I want my father to accept my chosen groom, he must be more than just willing. You are titled and well known. A match with you would further my families standing in society.” As she spoke, she could feel his anger growing. “How could he refuse a match to the future Earl of Heath? But that isn’t all, Lord Rigsby. I chose you because I meant what I said about wanting to experience the act of lovemaking with a young man, but the only man I could envision giving myself to is you.” Her heart beat wildly as she said it.

  He looked down sternly. He let go of her arm and stepped back. Maddie struggled to breathe as her insides twisted with fear and doubt. She’d boldly shown her hand in true Maddie form, and now he would run from her.

  She was so startled by the splatter of moisture on her cheek that she jerked. She looked up in annoyance at the sky. Heavy grey clouds had rolled over the sky. She looked one last time at him. He stared back at her rigidly. She turned and ran deeper into the garden.

  Ch
apter 3

  Jonathan stood as the rain quickly soaked his shoulders. He blinked as a drop pelted his eye. Wiping it, he hesitated. His head told him to turn tail and run, but his body urged him forward. Why? Why would he follow her? He still couldn’t rationalize what she’d said. The words floated around his mind like mist. He couldn’t grasp them. He couldn’t understand why…

  He took off at a run, his strides eating the distance between them. He skidded to a halt as the gravel path split. One led towards the east side of the house, and the other further away toward a summerhouse. The rain fell harder. The large heads of the roses bobbed and swayed. Absurdly, it looked like they were nodding in encouragement.

  He veered down the path toward the summerhouse. It was only a guess, but he hoped she resisted returning to the house for the solitude of the summerhouse. As he approached, he saw her silhouette in the shadows. He slowed, stepping lightly inside. She was sitting on the bench, her head bowed. Beads of water clung to her hair like diamonds, blinking weakly in the light. She didn’t move, but he knew she was aware of him. He came around in front of her and waited.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Was I supposed to not follow you after what you said?”

  “No gentleman would.”

  “That is incorrect. A man would be hard pressed to resist the lure of a young woman, who admits to…fantasies as you did. It begs further discussion.”

  “I am not up to the challenge of further discussion at present.”

  He sat beside her and took her hand in his. He examined her pale fingers, surprised by how delicate they seemed when she exuded such a strong presence in person. He would never mistake her as weak. He turned her hand over and brushed his thumb over her palm in a circle.

  “Are you going to read my fortune?”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I see a tall, dark stranger.”

  She raised a brow. “A stranger?”

  “Perhaps he is an acquaintance, but really, he may as well be a stranger.”

  “Will this stranger hurt me?”

  He watched her throat move as she swallowed. Her skin was so pale and smooth. Most Englishwomen were pale, but Maddie was so pale, she was almost luminescent. Light golden freckles covered the bridge of her nose, cheeks, temples, and forehead, encircling her eyes like a mask from her temples. They continued down the sides of her face, down her neck, to scatter over collarbone and slopes of her breasts.

  His eyes chased them hungrily until he had to look away and refocus. He met her eyes again. A wrinkle between her brows gave away her uncertainty. The placid grey blue of her eyes gave away nothing. She had a steely gaze.

  “I still need more time to consider your proposal. This decision can’t be made lightly.”

  “When—”

  “I will give you an answer when I am sure of it. Before the week is out, I promise.”

  “Before the end of the party?”

  “Yes. In the meantime, I’m going to court you.”

  “What?”

  “If you want to convince both your family and mine that a match between us is legitimate, I must court you. Only we will know the truth, but to others, this must appear to be a whirlwind romance.”

  “But what if you don’t agree at the end of the week?”

  “Then my interest in you will have garnered the attention of other gentlemen, and perhaps, they will be happy to take my place.”

  “That’s a lot of risk for me.”

  “I promise I won’t leave you bereft of a fiancé. If not me, then I will find you someone suitable.”

  She looked away and took a deep breath. Jonathan watched the swell and retreat of her bosom with relish.

  “Very well,” she said. “How do we begin?”

  “Why don’t we seal this new bargain with a kiss?” He took hold of her jaw lightly as she turned to face him again. He waited for her assent. That small pinch was there between her brows again, but she nodded in agreement. Jonathan didn’t waste another second. His lips descended to hers swiftly, as if he’d been waiting for this kiss eagerly since their last. He was careful this time, angling his head, gently probing with his lips and tongue until she gave him entry. She was timid and shy, but she didn’t pull away. He leaned into the kiss, using his free arm to bring her closer, locking her to his side.

  He breathed in the scent of her. Her clothes were damp and fragrant with a perfume he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t flowery like most women wore. It was sultry and warm. It curled inside his head like licks of fire, heating his blood, forging his hungry desire. How long had it been since he just kissed a woman, really kissed a woman? He luxuriated in it now, touching off on all his senses. The warmth of her body through her clothes seeped into his hand. His nose was filled with her elusive scent. His eyes, though closed, he pictured in his mind her soft tempting skin, those teasing freckles. She tasted like summer. Her mouth was warm and sweet. The rush of her breath through her nostrils gave away how affected she was by the kiss. Quick inhales and slow, choked exhales. He broke the kiss, burying his face against her neck and breathing deeply. She was gulping down breaths. Her pulse raced against his lips. He licked it, tasting the salty smoothness of her skin. He felt and heard her soft intake of breath. He smiled against her skin.

  Miss Prescott was an innocent through and through. Everything he did was the first experience for her. Jonathan relished the thought of that. If he agreed to wed her, all her firsts would belong to him. Every gasp, every soft moan. Something inside him growled with possessiveness. He and he alone would be her usher into the sensual world.

  He pulled back slowly, taking in the sight of her and committing it to memory. She was flushed, her breathing quick and shallow. Her eyes glazed with desire.

  “How lovely you are.” He spoke softly.

  She blinked as if coming back to her senses. “What?”

  “I said you look lovely.”

  She shook her head gently as if she still couldn’t understand him. “What do we do now?”

  More kissing, he thought, and definitely, more touching. His eyes scanned her body. She was a pocket Venus—fleshy in all the right places, but not petite. Her height was just a shade taller than desirable for a standard English beauty. Being slightly taller than average himself, he liked that. He wanted to fill his hands with her, feel her skin under his palms, and see how far her blush could spread.

  “We should return to the house.” He cleared his throat. He couldn’t stand just yet, not when he was so painfully aroused by her. He’d frighten her.

  “Separately?”

  “Of course. You return first, and I will see you before dinner.”

  She nodded absently and stood. Her damp dress clung to her breasts and thighs. Jonathan wanted to groan. She looked back at him from the entry of the summerhouse nervously.

  He nodded in encouragement. “Go on. I’ll follow shortly.”

  She darted into the rain without another glance.

  Jonathan waited a minute more before leaving the summerhouse. He walked slowly so the cool rain would cool his ardor. By the time he reached the house, he was thoroughly under control again and soaked through. He shivered as he entered, determined to find his room and a hot bath.

  * * *

  When he presented himself in the drawing room before dinner, he was refreshed and surprisingly eager to begin his courtship of Miss Prescott. After his bath, he’d relaxed and thought of ideas about courting. He could imagine the shock and dismay from some of the guests when they realized whom he was paying court to. His mother would not be pleased. He was astonished to realize he didn’t care. No, Maddie wasn’t his usual brand of companionship, but so far, she’d turned his view of this party from never ending nightmare to mischievous delight. He was going to enjoy shocking everyone, but especially, he was going to enjoy his moments with Miss Prescott. He wasn’t certain he could marry the chit, but he was damned certain he wanted to kiss her again. She was a fresh new challenge in a world that had gone
stale and airless. The rest of the women here paled in comparison to her vibrancy.

  He carefully appraised the room, taking note of Miss Prescott's position by her father near the windows. She looked docile as she stood next to him, head bent demurely, back and shoulders straight as a poker, hands clasped in front of her. She presented a picture of obedience.

  But as he looked more carefully, he saw her eyes darting around the room. They caught his eyes, and her cheeks bloomed with fervent pink. He couldn’t stop the triumphant smile that erupted. He looked away. He didn’t want too much attention paid to them yet. His mind wondered at the cause of that blush. Had she been thinking of him as much as he had her? He could feel his blood warming again, the tightness that filled his abdomen whenever he was on the hunt for a new conquest. He shouldn’t be this affected by her, not after the lecherous year he had spent abroad. He had to admit there was something beguiling about Madeline Prescott. Pursuing her was like traversing an entirely new and unexplored land. He didn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed her before—well, he had. Maddie was impossible not to notice. She stood out in a crowd like a rose among daisies. But he’d never seen her like this. He was looking at her now with new eyes.

  “Dear?” His mother sidled up beside him. “You’re looking less than refreshed.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned his face and clothing. She was impeccable in a burgundy taffeta gown with diamond drops in her ears.

  Jonathan smiled crookedly and stroked the stubble on his jaw. “I find I like it.”

  “You look like a heathen,” she scolded. “What respectable young lady wouldn’t be put off by that unnecessary scruff?”

  “Perhaps I’m not looking for an entirely respectable bride.”

  Her eyes widened. “But you are looking for a bride?”

  “Alas, mother, your pestering has wrought victory. I am considering marriage after all. What else is there to do in England than to marry and beget children? One of those events ought to be a little entertaining.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she pressed her lips together, a sign of her annoyance with him. “And just which woman do you imagine will fall madly for that lackluster sentiment.”