A Dangerous Love (11 page)

By God, these sisters were particular about their husbands. He began to understand how they’d achieved their spinsterhood. “I take it she shares your aversion to free traders.”

“No. To tell the truth, I don’t think she cares about that. It’s simply that…well…Mr. Knighton seems to frighten her.”

“Frighten her? Why, Da—…Knighton would never hurt a woman.”

“I’m afraid logic doesn’t enter into it with Juliet. She’s only seventeen, you know.”

He mused a moment. “She does seem timid.”

“Exactly! She’s very shy and petite, and I think his size alarms her.”

That he could certainly believe. Daniel’s size alarmed half the women Griff knew—though they generally lost their alarm when Daniel turned his Irish charm on them. “What of Lady Helena? Wouldn’t she marry my employer to ensure you could all continue at Swan Park in perpetuity?”

She shook her head sadly. “Helena’s experiences with suitors have been unhappy, I’m afraid. One man in particular—a Lord Farnsworth—thought to marry her for her money despite her lameness. They were engaged, but he jilted her when he discovered Papa was telling the truth about her pitiful dowry.”

“That’s detestable!”

She favored him with an approving look. “It is, isn’t it? I’ve tried to tell her that he was merely one scoundrel, but she remains unconvinced. Especially since a number of men have disdained her for her lameness. She’s too disillusioned with men to consider marriage to Mr. Knighton. Though she may wish to live here, I don’t think she’d marry to ensure it.”

“And we’ve already established why you wouldn’t marry to save the estate. Besides, you want to be an actress, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do.” She tossed her head back proudly.

“You’d throw all this away to go on the stage.” He could still hardly believe it.

“Why not, if it’s what I want?”

“Because you don’t know the true nature of what you want,” he snapped. “It’s a degrading profession. Actresses work long into the night for little pay and less respect. They’re regularly accosted by men who consider them barely better than whores, and they don’t even have the luxury of a secure living, for they might be booed off the stage after their first performance, never to be allowed to return.”

“So you’ve been an actress?” she said sarcastically. “You speak so familiarly about that life I can only assume you’ve lived it.”

Saucy witch. “I don’t have to live it to know what it’s like. I go to the theater.”

“As do I. Yet my impression of an actress’s life differs markedly from yours. Fancy that.”

“You go to the theater in a provincial town; it’s not the same in London. I assume that you mean to go on the stage in London.”

“Of course.” She tipped her nose up. “As my mother did.”

He’d forgotten that the late countess had been an actress. That explained where Lady Rosalind had gotten the fool notion to be one.

“By the way,” she went on, “Mama never spoke of it as a degrading profession. I believe she regarded it rather fondly.”

“It’s easy to regard something fondly when you’re well out of it,” he growled.

“Oh? Do you regard your childhood in the workhouse fondly?” She shot him a cat-in-the-cream smile.

He met it with a cold glance. “It’s exactly because I’ve been treated like a pariah for my background and profession that I know you wouldn’t like the theater. You were raised for something better, whether you accept it or not.”

If anyone knew what it was like to be raised for something better and denied it, he did. Knighton Trading had come hard-won, and he’d cut his ties to the tricky world of smugglers as soon as he’d gained enough success to manage it.

“So you think I’d be better off marrying your employer?” she asked archly.

“Of course! An innocent like you throwing away Swan Park for the bawdy house of the theater? It’s absurd, especially when you can continue in your pleasant situation merely by marrying—”

He broke off with a groan. The damnable vixen had his head so twisted around, he didn’t know what he was saying. For the love of God, why was he trying to convince her? He didn’t
want
her to marry him!

“You’re entitled to your opinion,” she bit out, “but it doesn’t change how my sisters and I feel. None of us want to marry your employer. It was most generous of Mr. Knighton to consider Papa’s
proposal, but we shan’t change our minds. Nor will we fault him if he decides to look for a wife where his attentions are better appreciated.”

He gaped at her. The woman was actually refusing a marriage offer he hadn’t even made! Of course, technically Lady Rosalind hadn’t refused
him
—she’d refused Daniel. That fact only slightly assuaged his trampled pride, however.

They emerged suddenly from the woods onto a hillside that sloped down toward the fruit orchards below. The sun had broken through a phalanx of creamy clouds to make the air once more sticky, warm, and tangy with the scent of crushed grass.

They paused at the top of the hill to survey Swan Park, but he felt as if the ground fell away from him in every respect. All his expectations about his visit had proven wrong. The spinsters wished to remain spinsters. They weren’t shrews, but amiable and attractive. And they were all too eager to hand his inheritance over to him unencumbered.

Yet one thing hadn’t changed—he still didn’t have his parents’ marriage certificate. So although he’d happily oblige the ladies by leaving, he couldn’t.

He considered striking a bargain with Lady Rosalind: She could wheedle the certificate out of her father, and he would leave as she wanted. But he feared she was too intelligent to accept a simple bargain. She’d ask why he wanted it, how her father had come by it, what the history of it was. And once she learned all his plans…

No, that wasn’t a chance he could take. So until he found what he wanted, he—or rather, Daniel—must continue to pretend an interest in an alliance, despite what Rosalind thought and Griff himself desired.

“I perfectly understand what you’re saying.”
Griff stood viewing the land—
his
land—with his hands gripped together behind his back. “But I fear you won’t convince my employer. He seems amenable to your father’s plan.” He slanted a look at her. “I doubt he’ll refuse it merely because of your assertions.”

“What!” she cried, rounding on him. “You mean he truly
wants
to marry one of us? But why? He’ll inherit Swan Park one way or the other, so what possible advantage could marriage to one of us give him?”

He shrugged. “Prestige. He has money—now he wants something more. Possibly a better position in society. Or perhaps he’s simply enamored of you all. In any case, he can hardly make a decision about your father’s proposal on only one day’s acquaintance. He’ll probably want to remain here at least a week or so.”

With a snort of disgust, she started off down the hill. “Well, that’s just wonderful. Your blasted employer is looking for a wife, and my foolish father sanctions the entire idea, so what my sisters and I want doesn’t even signify.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said as he followed her down the hill, unable to take his eyes off her fetching derriere.

“Men!” she grumbled. “They never learn! ‘What is wedlock forced but a hell?’ Shakespeare wrote that while locked in his own unhappy marriage, yet his words go unheeded.”

Did the woman quote nobody but Shakespeare? He was fond of the bard himself, but he didn’t consider every pronouncement the greatest wisdom. Not to mention that her sweeping interpretation of an obscure passage to suit her needs irritated him. “No one knows if Shakespeare’s marriage was unhappy or not.”

“For pity’s sake, he left his wife here in Stratford-upon-Avon for nearly thirty years while he pursued his own interests in London. I don’t know about you, but I don’t call that marital bliss.” She faced him, her eyes shadowed with anger beneath the brim of her bonnet. “And what kind of man seeks to marry a woman against her will, anyway?”

“I take it we’re no longer speaking of Shakespeare,” he observed dryly.

With a sniff, she set off down the hill again. “Why the bloody hell does my cousin want
us
? Doesn’t he know we’re the Swanlea Spinsters? We don’t marry for money or station—so why doesn’t he seek elsewhere for a wife? He’s rich enough and heir to an earldom beside.”

“He is indeed.” He couldn’t suppress his grin, for she did make Knighton—him—seem like an idiot. And she clearly didn’t know of his supposed bastardy.

She misunderstood the source of his humor and glowered at him. “If Mr. Knighton thinks that forcing one of us into marriage—”

“For the love of God, woman, calm down. I didn’t say he’d force anyone to marry. I only said he wouldn’t leave merely on the strength of your dislike of him.”

A bare patch on the hillside impeded her progress, her bootheels sinking into the soft earth with every step, and that seemed to further infuriate her. “So we’re stuck with you and my cousin for weeks, while he decides if he wants to marry one of us.”

“If you keep showering us with this effusive hospitality, I doubt it’ll be weeks. For my own part, I hope it’s less.”

“Now see here, Mr. Brennan, I didn’t ask you to come here and complicate my life with your snooping about and your—”

“Snooping about?” His gut tightened. So she still suspected what he was up to. He couldn’t have that, or she’d dog his every step. He said derisively, “What on earth do you mean? Why would I be snooping? What would I be looking for?”

She stiffened. “I-I have no idea. But you’re clearly intent upon ridding yourself of me for
some
reason.”

He thought quickly. “Mere expedience, I assure you. My employer pays me to determine what improvements the estate will require once he inherits. I can accomplish that aim quicker without a woman underfoot telling me where to go and what to see.”

As he’d hoped, she took offense. “You men are always so blasted pompous.” She glared at him. “I don’t see why having me about wouldn’t be a help.”

She was so caught up in reprimanding him, she missed seeing the stone jutting from the hillside until her bootheel caught on it and she pitched forward. Instinctively, Griff grabbed her elbow, swinging her around into his arms to prevent her from tumbling down the hill. She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself.

Then they froze, locked in an embrace on the hillside. Her eyes lifted to him, the pupils narrowing to pinpoints to take him in so close. Too close. Although he’d stood easily this near her last night, she hadn’t been facing him. He hadn’t been gifted with an intimate view of her sun-dappled cheeks nor her feathery brown lashes nor the finely wrought lips that parted on a breath exactly as they’d part beneath his kiss.

Damnation, he mustn’t think of kissing her. Because if he kissed her, he’d surely do something more stupid.

He wouldn’t stop with kissing.

He ordered himself to release her, but his hands paid him no mind. His thumbs already stroked her ribs, moving higher, itching to be bolder, to touch the untouchable. And now his lips considered rebellion as well. They wanted to press against her fragile eyelids, her impudent chin, and certainly her lush mouth.

It was her fault, the way she looked at him now as if she desired him, too. And those parted lips. Damn them for daring him to kiss them. He’d never been a man to refuse a dare.

He started to lower his head, but the brim of his hat collided with the brim of her bonnet, and that brought her to her senses. With a little “Oh” of alarm, she released her death grip on his shoulders, then wriggled free of his embrace.

“Are you all right?” he heard himself say as she retreated. Was
he
all right? Would he ever be all right again? His stiffening cock said he wouldn’t.

Half-stumbling, she turned away from him, then hastened down the hill, moving markedly faster than before.

“Slow down,” he cautioned as he strode after her. “If you don’t, you’re liable to twist your ankle on this slope.”

“That would certainly be convenient for you, wouldn’t it?”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“Then you’d be rid of my company for good.”

She increased her mad pace in long, rushing strides. Though he grew increasingly alarmed, she obviously had no concern, for she flung words over her shoulder at him like a whist player dealing cards. “I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Brennan, but I’m giving you no excuse to be rid of me. You might as well face it—I shan’t leave your side no matter what you do.”

“You’re leaving my side now,” he growled, and grabbed her arm to slow her down, but she snatched it from his grip immediately. Catching her skirts up to an indecent height, she raced down the hill. It was a miracle she didn’t tumble to the bottom.

What had come over her? Why was she running from him like a woman possessed?

Then it dawned on him. She was running from the same thing that had consumed him seconds ago when he’d stared down into that intriguing face. Passion. There was no mistaking it. The blatant attraction between them was driving her away.

That was it! He’d been wrong about last night—it wasn’t the blade at her throat that unnerved her, but his hands on her, his body against hers. She might pretend immunity to such things, but he’d recognized the flare of need in her gaze moments ago. She wasn’t immune, and that damn well frightened her.

He smiled broadly as he slowed to a stroll. At last he’d figured out his Amazon’s most secret fear. So she feared passion, did she, especially from a man whose character she held in contempt? Very well, then passion he’d give her. He’d send her fleeing for good.

An obnoxious voice in his head mocked his aims, saying they had nothing to do with driving her off and everything to do with his itch to get his hands on her. He ignored it. Besides, he deserved some enjoyment out of the woman after she’d tormented him all morning.

The thought of what he intended to do made him quicken his steps as he neared the bottom of the hill and the avenue of short trees. He entered it to find her waiting for him, a gleaming beacon of color against the line of dark trunks. Here her striped gown wasn’t garish, but a silvered ray of sunlight
amidst the brilliant green leaves and rich purple globes hanging over her head. Here she radiated an earthy allure that took his breath away and made his loins tighten painfully.