Man of My Dreams

by Johanna Lindsey

  “The man thinks he’s my father.”

  “Oh, come now,” Tiffany scoffed. “His interest in you can’t be paternal.”

  “In this one instance it most definitely is,” Megan insisted. “He claims I need a keeper, and he’s backed up that contention by assuming the role, complete with disciplinary measures. He—he—”

  “He what?” Tiffany prompted impatiently.

  Megan looked down at her plate, her cheeks starting to scald. “He spanked me.”

  “He did what?!”

  “He put me over his knees and—”

  “I know how it’s done! But he’s a—he’s only a—how could he dare?”

  “Easily. Devlin doesn’t behave like he ought to, nor has he ever done so. The fact is, there’s not a subservient or deferential bone in his body. I suppose that’s one reason he’s so fascinating. He just doesn’t fit into the standard order of things. He’s a servant, but a servant who won’t take orders, who can’t be dismissed, who’s got more arrogance than ten pompous lords.”

  “You’re making excuses for him?”

  Megan glanced up to see that Tiffany’s shock was mounting. “Absolutely not,” she assured her friend, then shrugged. “But you asked how he could dare. That’s how.”

  “Then he must have been surprised when he got dismissed despite that ridiculous stipulation in the stallion’s sales contract,” Tiffany said, drawing the wrong conclusion. “Is that why he’s trying to see you? To beg your forgiveness so he can get his job back?”

  The thought of it was so preposterous, Megan couldn’t help laughing. “Devlin beg? He wouldn’t know how.”

  “He doesn’t think he can force you to reinstate him, does he?”

  Megan squirmed now, seeing no way to avoid admitting, “He wasn’t—”

  She was saved for the moment when the Robertses’ butler knocked and opened the double doors to announce in an aggrieved tone, “He’s back, Miss Megan. He says he won’t leave this time until you see him.”

  Tiffany shot immediately to her feet. “Of all the—I’ll see to this.”

  Megan rose, too. “Tiff, no—”

  But Tiffany was already out the door, and Megan could hear her accosting Devlin in the hall. “Your gall is astounding, Mr. Jefferys. How you can dare come here after what you did is beyond comprehension. And even if Megan would agree to see you, I wouldn’t permit it, so leave this house and don’t come—now just a—you can’t—”

  Megan braced herself, expecting to see Devlin marching into the dining room, and he did, not stopping until he towered over her. Even though this was a situation she had tried to avoid, her senses still ate up the sight of him.

  “You told her?”

  She knew what he thought. “Not about that,” she replied in a furious whisper. “About the other.”

  “What other?”

  “That you abused my—my posterior.”

  “Oh,” he said, the heat going out of his expression, to be replaced, incredibly, with genuine concern. “Are you all right, Megan?”

  “Certainly,” she said uncomfortably.

  “We have to talk.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t avoid me forever.”

  He said that with such confidence that Megan’s stubbornness reared its ornery head. “Actually, I can—at least until I’m safely married—to someone else.”

  That answer wasn’t to his liking; it made him so furious, in fact, that Megan cringed to see his reaction. But he made no reply to her. He stalked out instead, though not before he growled at Tiffany’s stiff figure in the doorway, “She deserved it.”

  “Well, I never!” Tiffany said huffily and slammed the door shut behind him. “Is that the kind of behavior you had to put up with?”

  “Constantly.”

  “He should have been dismissed sooner, regardless of any stipulations.”

  Megan sat down, a strange kind of dejection coming over her that made her feel like bursting into tears. Dispassionately, she said, “He wasn’t dismissed.”

  “You can’t be serious! What is your father thinking of?”

  “My father doesn’t know anything about it. I never told him.”

  “Megan! What can you be thinking of? If that wasn’t grounds for dismissal and worse—”

  “Even if I did deserve it?”

  “Yes, even so. It wasn’t his place to correct you—Did you?”

  “Sort of—yes. But I told you that he gets overly concerned about me, and he was furious that I’d put myself in danger that night.”

  “That night? This wasn’t the night you followed him, was it?”

  “The same.”

  “And you kept that to yourself when you told me about it?” Tiffany said reproachfully.

  Megan was feeling worse and worse and finally gave in to the urge to cry. “I didn’t want to mention it now, either,” she said miserably. “I’m not exactly proud of the fact that I was treated like a child.”

  “Oh, Meg, don’t,” Tiffany said contritely. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Megan retorted. “What are friends for if not to pry?”

  It took a few seconds before they were both grinning at that bit of nonsense. Megan wiped at her tears before adding, “Devlin was just trying to open my eyes to the fact that the most horrible things can happen when you recklessly ignore good common sense.”

  So why didn’t I pay closer attention? she asked herself bitterly. But her inner voice was conspicuously silent on that one, and a week later Megan couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. The fates had been cruel after all.

  Chapter 26

  Devlin dove under the water, swimming the length of the pond twice before he surfaced for air. He had taken to coming here each morning for a swim because he couldn’t stomach the stable at this time of day, since Megan had stopped showing up for her morning rides. He didn’t like it that he’d driven her away from not only the stable but also her home. He didn’t like the guilt she was making him feel, when he didn’t have all that much to feel guilty about. And he certainly didn’t like it that he could barely remember what had caused it all. If she hadn’t clarified the matter that one time he was able to see her at her friend’s house, he still might be convinced that he’d dreamed the whole thing.

  But he hadn’t dreamed it. He’d made love to Megan Penworthy. And it had been unbelievably nice—up to the time of penetration when he’d realized what he was doing, and so had she. The shock of it had ruined it for them both. Even his climax, uncontrolled and unwanted at that point, had been the worst he’d ever experienced. Yet he knew instinctively that it could have been the best.

  But it shouldn’t have happened at all. He’d been fighting his emotions since he met her, and succeeding admirably, or so he thought. And if he hadn’t put so much brandy into his system that day, he would bloody well have insisted she leave the stable, rather than just suggesting it. Of course, he wouldn’t have tried to drown himself in drink if she hadn’t driven him crazy with lust the night before.

  And now she wouldn’t even let him do the honorable thing. Not that he wanted to marry a temperamental, spoiled redhead. He certainly didn’t. So why did it infuriate him that she’d refused him? Simple wounded pride that she’d prefer anyone but him? Probably.

  He dove under again, pressing it for three lengths this time, but didn’t quite make it, surfacing with burning lungs in the center of the pond. A toss of his head got the hair and most of the water out of his eyes, but the sight that greeted him left him doubting his vision. Megan, dismounting from Sir Ambrose and walking up to the edge of the pond—and right into it, clothes and all. Nor did she stop until she reached him, and the second she reached him, she cracked her palm against his cheek, then slammed both fists against his bare chest.

  Devlin let her beat at him for a moment before he asked, quite reasonably under the circumstances, “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

  She shouted her
answer. “You bloody rotten bastard, if you weren’t so tall, I’d drown you!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to murder you!” She hit him once more to stress her point, then said, “Why couldn’t you just kiss me like I asked you to?”

  “When?”

  “You know when! Why did you have to ruin it by making love to me?”

  He almost laughed at the absurdity of that question. Any other woman he had been kissing like he had been kissing Megan would have been furious if he hadn’t finished by making love to her. Of course, none of those other women would have been virgins.

  “The kind of kissing we were doing that night generally does lead to lovemaking, brat,” he explained. “And why the sudden fireworks over it? You weren’t this mad when it happened.”

  “I was, too,” she insisted. “But I was still in shock then.”

  His brow rose at that sulky reply. “It’s taken you three weeks to come out of shock?”

  She hit him again. “It’s taken this long to find out that you’ve ruined me! I’m going to be disgraced!” she wailed. “I’m going to be a scandal!”

  The dramatics suddenly made sense to him. He’d been expecting it; she obviously hadn’t. “Is this your pleasant way of informing me that you’re enceinte?”

  “Yes, you stupid—”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asked reasonably.

  She stared at him incredulously for a moment before she turned and walked away in disgust. But she couldn’t do so very quickly in the water, and he had only to reach out an arm to grab her back, which he did.

  “I’m sorry, Megan, but there have been other females who’ve made the claim that I’d fathered their babes, and I bloody well hadn’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to say it’s not possible that I could be carrying your child?”

  “Not at all. If you are carrying a child, it most certainly is mine, and I’ll take full responsibility for it. Only, are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure!” she shouted up at him. “How can I be sure this soon? But I’m a week late for my—I’m late, and I’m never late!”

  “There’s no need to get hysterical. I offered to marry you whether there was a babe or not, if you’ll recall.” Then he frowned. “Didn’t I?”

  Megan started at the question, her eyes rounding. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Until I saw you at the Robertses’ house, I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. Apparently not, but I’m still not crystal clear on everything that happened.”

  “Well, don’t expect me to remind you. I’m trying to forget it myself.”

  His other hand joined the one holding her to give her a little shake. “One thing I am certain of is that you refused to leave when I advised you to, because you were enjoying yourself too bloody much. The only thing you’d like to forget is the end, and frankly, so would I. But as that’s not possible any longer, there’s no point in bemoaning it further.”

  “I’ll bemoan it if I—”

  He shook her again. “Megan, don’t provoke me. D’you think I want to marry a spoiled brat who doesn’t care a damn about me? But I’ve got no choice and neither do you.”

  “But it’s not fair!” she cried. “You can’t give me the big house I wanted so I could impress Lady O. All you can offer me is my own stable. And you don’t love me either. You probably just want to marry me because you think it will bring you a step up in the world. But it won’t, you know. It’s not going to make you a gentleman. That takes—”

  “That’s quite enough, brat,” he interrupted coldly. “All that self-pity is turning my stomach. Did it occur to you even once that I might have had other plans for my life that didn’t include you? Do you ever think of anyone but yourself and what you want?”

  That was unfair and he knew it. What Tyler had told him about her proved she did occasionally consider other people’s feelings. But her near hysteria over the possibility of marrying him was shredding his pride to bits. Of course, from her point of view, he had no prospects, was below even untitled gentry, and was therefore utterly unsuitable as husband material. And if he was who she thought he was, that would be perfectly true.

  He knew he ought to tell her the truth, which would turn her distress into a cause for rejoicing—at least for her. Damned if he would. It was the horse breeder she’d come to to satisfy her sexual curiosity. It was the horse breeder she could bloody well marry.

  She’d been glaring at him after his question and turning quite red in the face because he’d dared to criticize her. “Who says I’m going to marry you, anyway?” she demanded now. “Do you know how many gentlemen of this parish have asked me to marry them?”

  “And you burned your bridges, turning down every one of them.”

  “Which doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind, does it? So you can get on with the great plans you have for your life. I have no intention of complicating them.”

  She looked like she just might mean it, which made Devlin angry enough to shake her again. “Self-sacrifice doesn’t suit you one little bit, brat. And you aren’t marrying anyone else while you’re carrying my child. We’re going to elope to Gretna Green.”

  “What?!”

  “Your father will give his approval after I speak with him.”

  “No, he won’t. You’re mad!”

  “It will give the marriage a romantic aspect. Otherwise the gossips will tear you apart, counting the days until you give birth.”

  “They’re going to tear me apart, anyway, for marrying a horse breeder.”

  “Then you agree?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she grumbled. “I won’t live in a stable.”

  “You’ll live where I live.”

  “I suppose we could share my room.”

  “I’m not moving into your father’s house!” he said with clear finality.

  She went on as if she hadn’t heard a single word. “And it will be costly, but we can improve your wardrobe. And—oh, what’s the point? No one is ever going to mistake you for a gentleman. For one thing, you’re a damned bully. Have you been listening to yourself?”

  “I was beginning to think I was the only one who was,” he replied dryly.

  “I’m trying to find a compromise here, but you’re not letting me.”

  “No, what you’re doing is what you have a bad habit of doing, thinking you can have everything your own way. I hate to be the one to break this to you, Megan.” He didn’t sound the least bit distressed. “But the wife does what the husband tells her, not the other way around.”

  “Which is a good reason why I can’t marry you. If you loved me, you’d try to please me, but you don’t love me, so you’re going to make me miserable.”

  “I’m not going to make you miserable,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “I’m going to make you my wife. The two are not synonymous!”

  “In your case they will be,” she maintained with infuriating stubbornness.

  Devlin took his hands off her before he really shook her. “Go home, Megan. Pack a bag. We will leave directly after I speak to your father.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” she said with some surprise. “You really think you can get my father’s permission to marry me? You’re dreaming, Devlin. The only way he’d agree is if I tell him it’s what I want. And the baby won’t make a difference, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’ll find me another husband.”

  “Then shall we leave the decision to him? If he agrees, you’ll go along with it?”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You aren’t planning to bully him like you do me, are you?”

  “I don’t bully you, damn it!” She snorted, as if his response merely proved her point, so he continued with a little less volume. “I have no intention of bullying your father. Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes,” she snapped with ill grace, only to add loftily, “But there’s no point in my packing. You won’t get his permiss
ion without my help, and I still don’t think I want to marry you.”

  “But you will if he says so?” he demanded, wanting it clarified.

  “I’ve already answered that.”

  “Good. Then consider yourself engaged.” He picked her up and gave her a short, hard kiss before setting her back in the water, turning her, and giving her a little push toward the bank.

  She went, but she was only halfway out of the water when she turned back to say something else, only to finally notice his condition. “Good God, Devlin, you’re naked!”

  Her surprised expression was priceless. To have been so angry with him that she hadn’t noticed a body she’d previously been fascinated with—he started laughing and couldn’t stop, not even to tell her, “And you’re wading in a pond with your clothes on.”

  Just as well. She wouldn’t have appreciated having that pointed out any more than she did his humor.

  Chapter 27

  It wasn’t possible that she was on her way to Scotland to be married. Only how many times did Megan have to repeat that to herself before it became true? The countryside they passed through continued to change. The miles continued to fall behind them. They were traveling steadily north—to Scotland—to be married.

  They’d brought a footman along to take the carriage back, because Devlin planned to rent a coach as soon as a decent one could be found. In Somerset he’d found better than decent; he’d left her at an inn and come back with the Earl of Sedgemeer’s sumptuous private coach, complete with a coat of arms emblazoned on the doors, and the earl’s own driver.

  Megan had looked the vehicle over dubiously, prompting Devlin to explain, “I told the earl we’d been set upon by robbers, had all our money and clothes stolen, as well as our carriage.”

  “And out of the goodness of his heart, he hands over his own coach to you?” she scoffed.

  “I also told him I was the Duke of Wrothston. The man couldn’t do enough for me after that. Even threw in the driver. I do look like St. James, you know.”