After The Storm (23 page)

Hugh allowed her to untangle herself from him. Then he stretched out on the lumpy greatcoat. “Disgraced? I find it quite humorous that a lady is disgraced five minutes prior to the wedding, and not thirty seconds after.” He rose up on one elbow. “But then, you didn’t do this alone.”

“As if that matters. You are free to do as you wish behind closed doors. No one expects a man to be a virgin on his wedding night.”

“No. They don’t.”

She glared at him as she retrieved her breeches to tug them on. “But it might not even matter. It’s very possible that I will never marry now.” She frowned. The breeches were still a bit damp, and not at all cooperative, requiring her complete attention as she struggled to pull them over her knees.

“Lay them by the fire and they’ll dry by sunrise.”

She scowled at him. “No. No, that is not a wise idea by half. It is better I put them on and risk freezing.”

The smile in his voice was visible as he replied, “I’d not let you freeze.”

Ignoring the shiver racing up her spine, the one having little to do with the cold, she replied, “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Why? I speak true.”

She yanked and the breeches reluctantly crept up above her knees. “I will
not
make the same mistake again.” She grunted and struggled to her feet to continue her battle.

Hugh watched with amused eyes, a half-smile playing at his lips. Her arms ached and her headache was coming back, and she gave one last, fierce jerk. The breeches slid on the rest of the way, but were still icy cold, and she bit back a wince as she knelt before the fire again.

“A mistake. I find that an amusing choice of words, Randi.”

“Do you? Nonetheless, it was a mistake and will continue to be a mistake. It is not
my
rule, but one by which I must abide.”

“Surely no man wishes a woman who knows what she is doing in his bed,” he drawled dryly. “Why, that would be silly. All men are to be the teachers and all women virginal misses who know nothing about their own pleasure or the man trying to offer such pleasure.”

Her cheeks burned as she held her hands to the dancing flames. “Men may
want
whores, but they
marry
virgins.”

“Ah…but there you are wrong, my stubborn little Scot. I want no well-used woman in my bed, and a world of difference exists between well-used and well-versed. A well-versed woman knows what she wants and does not hesitate to ask. She need only ask, and she will find her wishes granted in a most pleasurable way.”

“Really? I’ve experience now. Do you plan to marry
me
?” The words were out before she could halt them, and she clamped her lips together to keep from saying anything else on impulse.

His stare unnerved her, and his voice was low. “Randi—”

Her heart splashed into her belly and her throat squeezed shut. “You don’t have to say it, Hugh. I
know
the answer already.”

He didn’t reply, but moved closer to the fire, closer to her, and despite her jumbled up mix of feelings, her heart picked up its pace yet again.

The fire cracked and popped, but she remained silent. Her thoughts twisted her insides into tight knots, and she stiffened when he bent toward her. When his lips swept along her nape, she fought to ignore the desire pricking at her insides. No. She’d
not
give in again. No matter how wonderful it would be.

“Hugh…” she choked, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please stop.”

He did as she asked, his breath steady and warm on her neck. She held her own breath, exhaling only when he pulled back. She heard a sigh mingled with a groan as he rose to his feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he dressed. A momentary panic struck. Was he going to leave her to find her way back on her own? Would she be able to find her way back to Thorpeton Hall in the dark? Was she—?

His smile was serene as he drew his shirt on. “Worry not, my lady. I am merely thirsty. The fire is drying my throat out terribly. I am just going to scoop up a handful of snow.”

“Oh.” Feeling quite foolish, she tugged her greatcoat, now dry, over her shoulders. With Hugh’s departure, the cottage seemed even more frigid than before. “Do hurry back.”

“I will be back before you even know I’ve left.”

The door banged behind him and she turned to stare into the fire, shoving up one sleeve to add a few more sticks to the blaze. Despair enveloped her, sunk into her skin, into her heart. In but a few short hours, the sun would rise and Hugh would bring her back to Thorpeton Hall. She’d be forced to face the consequences of her latest escapade. For once her rationalizing skills failed her. It was impossible to make their actions innocent.

An icy dread filled her. Would everyone know, just by looking, that she and Hugh made love? Could she hide it? Should she even try?

Would Sally know?

Her belly turned over with a painful crash. She didn’t want to think about Aunt Arabella’s reaction when they returned. Perhaps she’d understand, but more likely, she’d be destroyed by her niece’s ruination.

“I’ll not think about it.” The brilliant yellow and orange flames danced merrily, crackled and popped with each stick she placed down. The fire’s warmth soothed her, and she felt spent, as if she’d run from Thorpeton Hall to London and back.

She inched far enough from the fire to keep from being set aflame, and stretched out, resting her head on her hands. Her eyes were so heavy, she needed to close them, but for only a moment. Only until Hugh returned.

Chapter Eighteen

Miranda opened her eyes and blinked at the pale lemony light of morning slicing through the greasy windowpanes. Flurries floated, here and there, just beyond the rippled glass, but that was all that remained of the storm. She shivered despite being beneath both Hugh’s greatcoat and her own. The fire had died sometime during the night, leaving her muscles and joints frozen with cold.

With a sigh and a stretch she rolled over. Next to her, Hugh lay on his side, snoring softly, one arm drawn up beneath his head, the other one resting on her hips. Asleep, the years fell away from his face, smoothed away lines caused by tragedy and loss. His was a fascinating face, not only because of his handsomeness, but because of those lines and shadows.

But now was not the time to lose herself. It was dawn and she had no doubt people at Thorpeton Hall were most likely frantic with worry over the disappearance of the duke. A sense of urgency spurred her on and she dug her way out from beneath his arm, from beneath the coats, and knelt at his side. She hated to rouse him from so peaceful a slumber, but had no choice, so she poked him hard in the belly. “Hugh.”

He snorted, muttered something unintelligible, and flopped onto his back. Frowning, she poked him again, harder this time. “Hugh!”

“Wha—?” Hugh mumbled thickly, his eyes now mere slits. He stretched and then groaned. “Bloody hell…”

With that, he glanced up and a slow smile crept over his face. “Randi…”

She scooted back as he reached for her, anxious to put as much space as possible between them. “No. We must go.
Now.
I’ll wager we have a gaggle of terribly worried people awaiting us back at Thorpeton Hall. Or, at the very least, awaiting
you
.”

He sat up with great reluctance, and stretched his arms over his head before he rose. “And wait they shall. As for angry? They’ll be too overjoyed we both returned safely to feel much anger.”

“I wish I felt as certain as you.” She tugged on both boots and got to her feet. No doubt Hugh’s return would be cause for celebration. As for her returning
with
him… “I should think Lady Sally will be less than thrilled you passed the night in
my
company.”

In the midst of drawing on his coat, he shot her a level look. “If you think I’ll be offering up details, you’ve gone mad.”

“Don’t be silly,” she snapped as she dug her leather gloves from her coat pocket. Drawing on her left glove, she added, “I think it best if we pretend nothing at all happened.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that, Randi,” he replied, his voice silky and playful as he shrugged all the way into his discarded greatcoat. “How could I, when I still feel the aftershocks of a truly memorable cl—”

She lunged and clapped her gloved hand over his mouth. “Hush,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes as he chuckled. “Oh, think it funny, do you?”

He peeled her hand from his mouth with one hand and caught her easily about the waist with the other to pull her close. “Absolutely not, my lady. It is just that you worked a special magic on my body and I’ve yet to recover. However, everyone is quite accustomed to seeing me limp, I daresay no one else will even notice.”

She gritted her teeth at his teasing. How could he be so…so blasé about what had happened between them? For her, it seemed as though the entire world shifted from its normal path, and then slammed back into place, only with everything slightly askew.

He leaned in and brushed her lips with a feathery kiss. “Worry not, sweetheart, your secret is safe with me. I will not spread word of our scandalous tryst, but will carry the treasured memory to my grave.”

If his intentions were to ease her troubled thoughts, he failed with his reminder he was not entirely hers. He’d never be hers. Rather, yesterday’s heavy darkness returned, even as she stepped out into the brilliant sunshine to find a world blanketed in pure white. The snow was almost knee deep, soft, and powdery and shifted beneath her with each step. Dazzling sunlight bounced off the snow-covered trees and shrubbery, blinding her as it danced along its path. Snow soaked into her boots, seeped into her breeches and stockings, and her feet stung as the cold set upon her with freshly sharpened teeth. She stumbled as the powder shifted beneath her.

Hugh caught her by the elbow, and gestured toward the narrow path between two acacia trees. “This way.”

She shrugged him off. “I need no assistance, thank you kindly.”

It emerged sharper than she’d intended, and Hugh’s brows rose. But he remained silent. Instead, he shrugged and stepped ahead.

Resisting the urge to slap herself in the forehead, Miranda hurried to catch up with him. He remained silent, even as she fell into step alongside him. Well, if he wouldn’t speak, neither would she.

The wind picked up, gusting through the woods. She shivered, wrapped her arms even tighter about herself, and trudged onward alongside him. Right or wrong, their one night was over, and he once again belonged to Sally. A sidelong glance up at him brought a dull, throbbing ache to her heart. She knew so much about him, but there was still so much more to learn. Did Sally share any of her curiosity about him? Was she even the slightest bit interested in anything about Hugh aside from his dukedom?

She shattered the silence as she blurted, “When do you plan to ask Sally to marry you?”

Her question must have surprised him, for he stumbled over a fallen limb. Regaining his balance, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “What did you ask me?”

“When do you plan to ask Sally to marry you?”

“An impertinent question, that.”

“It is no such thing. Answer me.”

“I won’t.”

She stopped, forcing him to halt as well. “You
will
, or I’ll sit down right here and refuse to move until you do.”

“Miranda.”

“Watch me.”

She plunked down, not caring as the icy cold seeped into her breeches, not even shivering as she glared up at him. Childish, perhaps, but she didn’t care. She had to know how he felt. Had to know if he even knew himself. A scowl darkened his face as he folded his arms over his chest and returned the hard look. “I will leave you right here if you do not get up now.”

It might not have been an empty threat, but that didn’t keep her from asking, “Why do you refuse to answer?”

“
Now
, Miranda.”

“No.”

“Very well.” He shrugged, his arms relaxing as he turned heel and began moving once more.

“It’s the very least you could do, you know,” she called after him, trying to ignore the flutter in her belly at the thought of finding her way back to Thorpeton Hall on her own.

He stopped then, and muttered an oath. It was difficult, but she managed to curtail her smile as he turned to face her. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Because it is.” She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to ask her next question, but had to hear his answer for herself. “Do you love her?”

She’d expected anger or at least irritation, but Hugh showed no inkling of either. Instead she saw a definite weariness creep into his eyes, and his shoulders, before tense and stiff, relaxed into a slump.

He leaned up against a thick, snow-covered acacia tree. “She is the one everyone wishes to see me wed. She is a logical choice and it matters not if I love her.”

This
was a surprise. She got to her feet to sweep snow from her legs and backside. “Your father wished you to marry for convenience? Not love? I didn’t think it was done that way any longer?”

He didn’t answer immediately but instead, braced the sole of his boot against the gnarled, grayish tree trunk and reached up to pull down a bare branch. “Her father was a dear friend of my father’s. From boyhood. Both had schemed for years as to how either I or Gerard might ask for her. And considering Gerry is a younger son, I was naturally everyone’s first choice.”

He worked the branch through his fingers with methodical slowness. She stared, mesmerized by the motion. “And is she for you?”

Why did she press? If Hugh told her he loved Sally, it would slice like a blade. It was far more comforting to keep pretending he loved
her
instead. That for him making love hadn’t been merely a way to pass the long, cold night.

However, it
was
only pretend, and when Hugh’s serious gaze met hers, her heart sank like a weight as he replied, “She is. It
is
my choice who I ask. I am certain my family would have accepted another. Been disappointed, perhaps, but eventually, they’d welcome her. Unfortunately, I think it’s a bit too late for that now. I’ve given my word and cannot go back on it.”

“I see.” It hurt to breathe, hurt to look at him now, after what they’d shared. But then, maybe it hadn’t meant as much to him. After all, he was a man, and everyone knew men viewed things differently.

Her throat closed and she swallowed hard to force down the annoying lump. She wanted to cry, to scream about the injustice of it all, but she stuffed it down. Calm acceptance took root, and she kept her voice even as she nodded. “Very well. You answered my question and I thank you. Now…” She gestured down the path. “Shall we?”

The stick toppled from his fingers to disappear into the white powder at their feet. “Miranda…”

“You owe me nothing, Hugh. I knew you were to be betrothed and I chose to overlook it, but I can no longer do so.” She marched past him without looking at him, for doing so was sure to bring on tears she had no desire to shed.

He caught her by the arm before she passed by him. “Randi, I am sorry—”

She allowed him to halt her, and forced herself to meet his gaze. The jolt shooting through her was an equal mix of desire and pain, also well hidden as she said, “Don’t.
I
chose to let you continue last eve. I never said halt.”

His expression was pained as he reached up to rake his fingers through his hair. “Perhaps I should have.”

“So why didn’t you?” She faced him squarely and braced herself for his answer, whatever it might be.

The only sound was the whistling rustle of the wind as it blew through the naked branches overhead. It dropped to a mournful sigh before dying out to thick silence. Hugh cleared his throat, his expression bordering on disgust. “Because I am a selfish man. I wanted you more than I have ever wanted any woman, as I’ve wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you. And if you want to know the truth, I want you still. Now that I’ve had the first taste, I want more.”

Her belly curdled. It certainly didn’t help matters to know he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. If anything, his confession made her ache even more, and she wanted only to hurt him as much as
she
hurt.

“You know, Gerard has asked to court me.” She shook her head at him and laughed mirthlessly. “How would that play out? Do you think he’d be happy to know I bedded his brother? Perhaps I ought to compare you to one another and see who fares better?”

He flinched. “I think it wise if you kept it to yourself, if you accept his offer. I assure you I’d not say anything. I wouldn’t do that to either of you. I only hope you’d spare him as well.”

Smothered anger broke free like a demon escaping from Hell, and she snapped, “Quite sporting of you, Hugh. Quite sporting, indeed. Why, you are quite the
gentleman
, aren’t you? In fact, you are very near a bloody noble prince, aren’t you?”

“What else is it you wish to hear?” He threw his hands into the air as he shoved away from the tree. “It matters not what I want. Don’t you see? It matters not. I cannot break the promise I’ve made, cannot abandon my responsibilities, simply because of a dalliance.”