Lady Chastity’s eyes narrowed. “Sailor. You don’t mean navy, or you would have said so.” She drew a sharp breath. “Good God, Father, Sir Stirling expects to marry Olivia to a bloody pirate.”
“Watch your tongue, Chastity,” their father snapped.
Frasier laughed—hard. “Forgive me,” he said when they looked at him as if he’d sprouted horns.
“He’s not a pirate,” Stirling said. “He’s a privateer.”
Lady Chastity rolled her eyes. “We are not numskulls, sir. We know that a privateer is a pirate who steals for Great Britain.”
“There is a distinct difference, my lady,” Frasier said with difficulty. Laughter pulled so hard at his mouth he feared he would embarrass himself a second time. “Pirates steal for themselves. I don’t steal a single gold piece.”
She snorted. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true,” Stirling said. He looked at Frasier and Frasier knew what was coming. “He’s called The Saint.”
Frasier groaned inwardly. He prided himself on being honest, but a man did have an image to maintain.
“I think pirates are immensely interesting,” Jessica said.
Her elder sister cast her a recriminating glance, then said to him, “You are insane if you think we’ll believe any of this.”
“Chastity, enough,” the duke growled. “Mr. Gordon has a stellar reputation. You will not impugn his honor just to get your way.”
“I would never do such a thing,” she retorted, but Frasier suspected she would. “A pirate is a pirate, no matter who they are stealing from—or for.”
Frasier held her gaze. “Pardon me, my lady, but privateers help keep Bonaparte out of England. I assume you would rather he didn’t conquer us.”
“Pirates thrive on danger. I shudder to think of the peril Olivia would endure if married to a man who liked living dangerously.”
“In fact, I am a landowner,” he said, and suddenly realized he was pleading his case.
Olivia was a beautiful woman and she would, no doubt, make a good wife. Better than good. A man could label himself fortunate to have such a woman of determination and intellect. But he’d come here to prove himself an unworthy husband. Lady Chastity had given him the perfect opportunity to do just that, but he’d defended himself, instead. He was the numskull.
Lady Chastity looked at Olivia. “Don’t you agree, Liv, his vocation makes him an unsuitable husband?”
“For heaven’s sake, Chastity, he isn’t a murderer.” Olivia’s head snapped in his direction. “You aren’t a murderer, are you?”
“Thus far, I haven’t sunk any ships, my lady,” he said before catching himself. Damn it, he cared what she thought of him. But that didn’t mean he wanted to marry her. “You must understand, though, we are at war with France.”
She nodded. “You have killed in the service of your country—to protect people like my sisters and I.”
His heart softened. “Aye, my lady. I have.”
“I cannot fault you for that.”
The way she emphasized ‘that’ told him she did fault him for keeping his identity a secret when they met. His chest tightened. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Nae, this was better. He had no intention of marrying her. All he had to do was make her dislike him.
So, how was he going to make himself dislike her?
Chapter Four
O livia slowed her walk along the path to the stables. She was in no mood for an afternoon ride—but she was in less of a mood to marry Frasier Gordon. Yesterday afternoon, after Sir Stirling and Mr. Gordon left, her father had given her a choice: spend the afternoon with Frasier Gordon today or marry him posthaste. She wasn’t quite certain Mr. Gordon had agreed to marry her, but she wasn’t willing to gamble that he had.
She glanced at the late morning sky. Today would have to be a perfect day for riding. She’d prayed for rain, but no such luck. The thought of spending more time with Mr. Gordon made her stomach somersault. She’d thought of nothing but him all day yesterday—especially after he arrived at Gledstone house with Sir Stirling. He was so handsome, and he seemed genuine about a woman’s right to pursue the sciences. At the construction site, she’d spoken with him freely, had allowed her excitement to show. How he must have laughed at her. Why do that, then come to her house as nonchalant as you please?
Was he one of those men who liked to lord his mastery of the universe over the female sex? She recognized that many men acted out of fear. Some, however, seemed to revel in making certain a woman understood her place was in the home—most specifically, the bed. Was Frasier Gordon one of those men? She’d detected no condescension in him, but some men were skilled at hiding their true thoughts.
The stable came into view up ahead. Two geldings and two mares were saddled and tied to a hitching post. Long-time family friend Lady Brighton had agreed to chaperone Olivia and Mr. Gordon. Who was the fourth horse for? Lady Brighton stood talking with Frasier. By the way she laughed, it was clear he was charming her—just as he had Olivia yesterday. Her heart constricted. It was stupid, but she’d actually felt an attraction for him. Why was he here? Why was he pretending he wanted to marry her? He wasn’t pretending, she suddenly realized. Marriage to the daughter of a duke—even a second daughter—was a step up the social ladder. And if Chastity somehow managed to escape marriage, there was always the chance the title would fall to Olivia or their son, if she bore one.
Chastity was right, the man was a pirate.
Olivia neared them and his gaze shifted past Lady Brighton to her.
Lady Brighton twisted and looked at her. “Good morning, my dear,” she said.
“Good morning, Lady Brighton.” She stopped beside Lady Brighton and nodded at him. “Mr. Gordon.”
Before she could evade him, he grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. His warm mouth brushed her fingers. A shiver raced up her arms. His gaze sharpened and she feared he’d noticed her reaction. She was acting like a green girl. He wasn’t the first man to kiss her hand, and she knew enough not to get carried away by a handsome face. Though those dark eyes had moved her yesterday more than she cared to admit.
“Are you ladies ready?” He smiled.
“Indeed,” Lady Brighton said. “Joshua,” she called, and a tall, young man of about Olivia’s age emerged from the stables. He wore the rough wool jacket of a stable groom and his mussed hair told Olivia he had probably taken a short nap in the stables. How long had Lady Brighton been visiting with Mr. Gordon? “Come along, Joshua,” Lady Brighton said. “We are ready to go.”
He hurried after her as she strolled toward the mares. Olivia followed with Mr. Gordon close behind. Joshua helped Lady Brighton onto her horse, and Olivia hurried to mount the other mare before Frasier could attempt to help her, then halted when she saw the side-saddle.
He reached her side. “Can I help you up, Lady Olivia?”
“I must change the saddle,” she said.
He looked at it. “Why, what’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t ride sidesaddle.”
His brow rose and she read amusement in his eyes.
“Laugh, if you will,” she said. “They are a death trap.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Brighton said. “I have ridden sidesaddle my entire life and feel in full control.”
Olivia didn’t answer, but grasped the horse’s reins and brushed past Mr. Frasier toward the stables.
He hurried forward and fell in alongside her. “Why don’t you let me saddle the horse for you?”
“I am quite capable of saddling a horse.”
They entered the stables and he grasped her arm and brought her to a stop. “Enough, Olivia, you’re right. I knew who you were yesterday and I said nothing.”
“Your honesty is refreshing, particularly considering it comes so long after you’ve been found out.” Her heart pounded. Goodness, she was being rude. What had gotten into her?
He released her and she approached the man’s saddle that
rested atop a large log.
Mr. Gordon followed and stood aside as she lifted the mare’s stirrup and laid it on the saddle, then began unbuckling the cinch.
“Do you blame me for wanting to learn a little bit about you?” he asked.
She kept her attention on loosening the cinch. “You mean ‘wanting to get a good look at me.’”
“Are you pleased I am pleasant to look upon?” he asked.
“You think well of yourself.” She pulled the saddle from the mare’s back and set it on the log beside the other saddle, then picked up the second saddle and hoisted it onto the horse’s back.
Frasier stepped up beside her and laid a hand on hers where it gripped the pommel. “Tell me true,” he said, “if the situation had been reversed, are you saying you wouldn’t have taken advantage of an opportunity to observe me unguarded?”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” she said.
He waited, his hand still on hers.
“For a moment, perhaps.” Olivia shifted her gaze to him. “But I wouldn’t have carried out an extended conversation, then left you to be shocked when I arrived at your home later that same day.”
“You didn’t have to tell anyone that we’d met,” he said gently. “They need not have known that I was the gentlemen you’d spoken to them about.”
Warmth flushed through her at the memory of the conversation with Chastity and Jessica about the very handsome man who had spoken to her freely of engineering and science. Chastity had told her that the chance encounter was a perfect example of how marrying for the sake of marrying could be a fatal mistake. Olivia had agreed.
“I am truly sorry.” He removed his hand from hers. “I meant no disrespect—and I did mean every word I spoke.”
Olivia looked at him. “You believe women have the right to pursue any interest they choose?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Women are as intelligent as men. Sometimes, more so.”
“Indeed,” she said before catching herself.
He regarded her as she tightened the cinch. “Stirling portrayed you as a shy girl.”
Olivia grimaced. She’d heard that all her life. Even her sisters persisted in calling her shy. Reserved, was the word she preferred.
“Sir Stirling doesn’t know me.”
He laughed. “Indeed, he doesn’t. I beg you, Lady Olivia, forgive my deception. I truly meant no harm.” Before she could reply, he added, “Let me ask you this, if the meeting in Gledstone Hall had been our first meeting, would it have been as honest?”
She snapped her head up and met his gaze. “You think our first meeting was good?”
He smiled. “Don’t you?”
She did, but she said cautiously, “I enjoyed our meeting.”
“It was more honest than it would have been otherwise, don’t you agree?”
In truth, she thought so, too. “It was unkind of you not to tell me before I left,” she said.
“It was. For that, I am sorry.”
He stared, eyes open and honest.
Olivia sighed. “Pay it no heed.”
He flashed a brilliant smile and her breath caught. The man wasn’t just handsome, he was breathtaking.
She broke from her stare and said, “I am ready.” She put her foot into the stirrup.
Before she realized his intent, he grasped her waist and lifted her. She started at the firm strength of his fingers on her waist in the instant before she swung her leg over the horse’s rump and settled into the saddle. She grasped the reins and followed him out the stables’ door.
Lady Brighton and Joshua were mounted. Mr. Gordon hurried to his horse and leapt into the saddle with an ease that told her he’d spent many an hour on a horse. They started forward, Lady Brighton and Joshua in the lead.
“Now you two behave,” Lady Brighton called in teasing tones. “I have eyes in the back of my head.”
They rode in silence while Lady Brighton prattled on to Joshua—who remained silent. They rode away from the loch toward the open hills that stretched before them. The sun shone bright, birds sang, and the rhythmic clop of the horses’ hooves should have soothed Olivia. Instead, she was struck with a bona fide case of shyness. She was shy, sometimes. But, mostly, she simply felt like a fish out of water. Of course, she was a fish out of water. Now, however, she was simply embarrassed, for she spent little time in the company of handsome men.
Oh, and he was handsome. But he was so much more. Bright, educated, charming. They were always charming. Still, there was something about him. What, she couldn't say, but there was something. Maybe it was nothing more than the fact that he hadn't dismissed her. She cast a covert sidelong glance at him. He rode tall and straight in the saddle, as she'd known he would.
He hadn’t looked at her as an oddity. Maybe that was enough to make him different. Or maybe it was nothing more than the fact she knew he was considering marrying her. Was he truly considering marrying her? Of course he was; otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. Still, could she ask him...should she ask him? Nae. That was too forward. What if he had decided for sure to marry her? How did the woman ask a gentleman if he intendedto marry her? Oh, it was simply too unfair. She should be able to question him outright.
"You are awfully quiet, Lady Olivia."
Olivia jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Did I frighten you?"
She looked at him. He’d spoken politely, but amusement glinted in his eyes.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked.
She suspected he knew her thoughts, and was laughing at her. The man was a troublemaker. Lady Brighton and Joshua guided their horses around a large rock. Frasier swung wide and kept abreast with Olivia as she rounded the boulder.
Olivia kepther gaze straight ahead. "I was thinking about that bridge. I predict the left wall will crumble inside of five years."
He nodded. "That is a serious prediction."
Lord, he was right. Olivia looked at Lady Brighton to see if she’d been paying attention to their conversation. Thankfully, the older woman still chatted happily with Joshua, something about a carriage she hoped to purchase.
"I could be wrong, of course,” Olivia lowered her voice. “Mr. Powell must be a competent engineer. Otherwise, the authorities would never have put him in charge of the project."
"The blind leading the blind." He chuckled.
She gasped. "Mr. Gordon, that…"
"Is the truth?" he finished.
“I pray not," she murmured.
He regarded her for a long moment and she flushed under his scrutiny. No, it was the sun. The day was warm. How could a look from him make her warm all over?
"Is that really what you were thinking?" he asked.
Heaven help her if he discerned her thoughts. For years, she had pined for an intelligent man. Now that she’d encountered one, she wondered at the wisdom in wanting such a difficult creature.
I was thinking how bothersome men are, she wanted to say, but had enough sense to realize that he would take evil delight in learning that she considered him bothersome.
Olivia breathed deep of the fresh air. "I was thinking what a beautiful day it is."
"Where did you learn about engineering?" he asked.
He was determined to bait her. She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. What luxurious warmth. "I read books."
"Someone must've helped you learn the math."
"My father has a good friend who believes that women should enjoy the same education men enjoy. He tutored me."
"I'm surprised your father allowed that," Frasier said.
"He wasn't happy when he learned the truth."
"So, he decided to marry you off before you learned too much.”
She snapped open her eyes and looked at him. Hurt stabbed. “That is correct, sir."
"There is no need to be upset, Lady Olivia. I didn't say I agree with him."
Olivia remembered the day she asked her sisters if they thought her husband would mind if she taught her childr
en mathematics and science, and Chastity said it should be a prerequisite. In truth, Olivia had agreed. Her husband, like her father, might not permit it, but she would never be able to refrain from teaching her children—her daughters—anything they wanted to learn.
"I will never be the typical wife, sir."
He laughed. "No, I don't suppose you will. But then, I doubt I'll be the typical husband."
Olivia leaned toward him slightly, and said in a low voice, "Is that because you are a privateer?"
"I will not always be a privateer."
"What else do you want to do?"
"I hope to get into shipping. I own land above Loch Ness. I'm thinking of growing oats.”
She thought a moment. "Very wise move, sir. Napoleon is sure to halt trade with Great Britain, which will greatly impact our economy. You will be assured of a good income." She laughed. "Perhaps you should consider becoming a smuggler. Napoleon may outlaw our imports, but the French aren’t likely to forego British luxuries. If old Boney forbids Britain’s West Indies sugar, his citizens may revolt.”
To her shock, he threw back his head and laughed.
Lady Brighton looked over her shoulder and frowned. Olivia met her questioning gaze and shrugged. Lady Brighton flicked a glance at him, then turned and resumed her one-sided conversation with Joshua.
Frasier’s horse nickered and he patted the animal’s neck. "You're a true delight, Lady Olivia. Not at all what I expected."
Her heart fell. "I am never what any man expects, sir."
"You misunderstand." His gaze locked onto her face. "What would you do if your husband became a smuggler?"
Her heart pounded. Goodness, was he actually saying he was considering marriage? Wait, what had he said? Smuggler…her husband?
"What would I think if my husband became a smuggler?” she repeated.
He still stared.
“I suppose that would depend," she said.
His brows lifted. "Depend upon what?"
"On how much I liked him."
His mouth twitched with laughter. "My lady, I feel certain you are teasing me.”
She was, and it felt strangely exhilarating.
The Marriage Wager (The Marraige Maker Book 2) Page 3