Karen Harbaugh (24 page)

A wry grin crossed his lips, and he put his hand carefully to his cheek. “I dared because I was under the impression you needed some solace.”

“Solace! I needed no solace! And I surely did not imply by either word or looks that I needed any from you—or anyone else, for that matter!” Her hand had curled into a fist, and Sir James grasped it quickly. “Let me go!”

“No. Not when you seem to be about to strike me again.”

Linnea looked into his eyes and saw rueful and apologetic amusement there, instead of any rakish intent. She relaxed, Sir James released her, and she stepped back from him.

“So you love him, then,” he said.

She blushed and said stiffly, “That is not your business!”

“I see you do. I was informed differently, you understand.”

Slanting a suspicious glance at him, she said, “By whom, pray?”

“Oh, I will not tell you that. It is quite confidential.”

“And far and above more important than my reputation, I daresay!”

He laughed. “No, it is not. But it would do me little good to reveal that information, and I am afraid I have besmirched my honor as a gentleman quite a bit in your eyes already in these past minutes.”

“Pardon me if I did not think such a thing mattered to you.” The angry sarcasm in Linnea’s voice would have scorched him if it had been tangible.

Sir James grinned widely and put up a hand. “Touché! Believe me, I was grievously misinformed. I was told yours was a marriage of convenience, and a disaffected one, at that.”

“It is not.” Linnea bit her lower lip. Ever truthful, she said: “Well, it was, but it is not—not now. Not for me.” She blushed. “Heavens, I have no cause to tell you this. Pray forget I have said it.”

“Since I have not heard you say anything these past few minutes, I have nothing to forget.”

Linnea could not help smiling a little. “I thank you, sir.” She cast a glance at the house, but the windows were empty. She sighed in relief. He moved toward her again to walk beside her, but she moved quickly away.

“Ah. You are justifiably wary. I promise you, my lady, I will importune you no longer.”

“I do not see why I should believe you.”

He gave an impatient sigh. “I assure you, ma’am, I truly do not have an interest in assaulting you. Not now. Not in the future. I do not care to kiss unwilling women—nor can I particularly cozen to the idea of having my foot mauled by the heel of your shoe.”

She gazed at him steadily but saw nothing except an amused impatience. “Very well, then, sir. You are forgiven.”

“Thank you.” He glanced at the sun overhead. “I will leave you, ma’am. I am sorry for any inconvenience I have caused. Will you excuse me if I pay my respects to Miss Amberley?”

“Of course.”

Sir James bowed and left.

Linnea gave another look at the house. Was there a slight movement at one of the windows? Surely not. She shook her head. At any event, if anyone had looked just now, they would have had nothing to comment upon.

* * * *

But she was quite wrong. Two figures had stood riveted at the sight of Linnea and Sir James walking under the apple trees.

Lord Rothwick stood at the window of the library, his hands clenched, feeling as if his breath had been struck from him. Then anger flared within him and burned its way to his brain. The library ceased to exist for him, the walls, the window: it was as if his whole mind were focused on the scene before him. The tree branches had obscured the upper half of the pair, but there was no doubt what was happening. No man or woman could come that close to each other and not be doing what he was sure they
were
doing—damned near consummating what should have been his marriage! He moved decisively from the window and flung open the library door, almost upsetting Potter.

“Damn you, man! Get out of my way!”

The valet stared at him, mouth agape, hands clutching some newly laundered neckcloths to his chest. “I, I am sorry, your lordship, I, I—”

“Shut up!”

Rothwick stormed past the man, oblivious of the servant’s bewildered gaze. God, but he’d been a fool! Granted, his and Linnea’s was a marriage of convenience, but it damned well didn’t give her special license to do as she pleased. Their bloody marriage hadn’t even been consummated yet, and by God he wasn’t going to let anyone do it for him!

Rothwick thought over his reasons for leaving his wife and his guest to walk the gardens and realized what an idiot he had been. Granted, he hadn’t heard anything disreputable about the man, but Linnea was a lovely woman, and who could resist that? He knew he could not. And she! Perhaps she was not completely up to snuff on the ways of the world, but certainly she knew what the bounds of propriety were!

Throwing open the door leading to the gardens, he glared about him, his muscles clenched in anticipation of giving Sir James a flush hit. But it was not Sir James who waited under the apple trees, stared at him guiltily, and blushed.

“Oh!” Linnea exclaimed.

“ ‘Oh!’ indeed!” snarled Rothwick. “And where is Sir James?”

“He... he has taken his leave—”

“After demonstrating the pleasures of London to you, I suppose!”

Linnea’s cheeks burned brighter than before, and her eyes snapped with matching anger. “If you
must
know, he mistook me for a loose woman—
not
unlike
someone
with whom we are both acquainted!”

“And what, madam, did you do to provoke that mistake?” Rothwick asked, ignoring the second half of her sentence.

“I!
I
provoked! Why, my
dear
husband, I suppose he must have been inspired by your example!”

“My
example! I saved your reputation!”

“Oh, is
that
the way of it? I thought you had ruined it, frankly.”

“Oh, then our marriage is
my
fault, is it?”

Linnea’s voice shook with anger. “Yes! Yes, it is your fault.
You
were the one who wanted a marriage of convenience, not I! I was against marrying you from the start! I had hoped we could come to lo—to like each other enough to be friends, but I see you had no intention of doing so, not with your stupid accusations! All you have done is lecture and tease me and—and kiss me to get
kippers
for breakfast!”

“Kippers? I do not recall wanting kippers. You are growing hysterical.”

“I am
not
hysterical. You did so want kippers!... Ohh! This is a
stupid
argument! I hate kippers!”

“You may hate them all you like, but I want to know what you were doing with Sir James!”

Linnea glared at him and clenched her fists. She lifted her chin defiantly. “What do you think? You are so good at jumping to conclusions, after all!”

She looked at his angry and baffled face, and despondency seeped into her heart. Why was he so angry at her? If he saw Sir James kissing her, surely he must have seen her slap the man as well. But regardless, it must be
her
fault!

“The way you were pressed together, it looked as if you were well on your way to betraying our marriage!” Rothwick sneered.

“Ohhh! You vulgar,
stupid
man! I see I cannot talk to you!” Linnea barely restrained herself from slapping him also. She turned away and marched toward the house.

A hand grasped her forearm so tightly, she gasped. “You will stay right here, madam!” He pulled her to him, and she gazed up at his furious and suddenly confused eyes. “If you mean to betray our marriage, then you’ll betray it with
me!”

“What nonsense
are
you talking about—” But she was cut short by his kiss.

She could say nothing. His lips were fierce, possessive against hers. She could not move, for one of his hands cupped the back of her neck, and an arm crushed her to him. Her knees grew weak, and when he moved his mouth down her neck, she gasped and closed her eyes. Slowly, slowly, he pulled her down to the grass, and his hand slipped inside the bodice of her dress.

“Ah, God, Linnea, what you do to me... ,” murmured Rothwick, his lips following the course of his hand.

Her eyes flew open again. What she did to him. What
she
did to him. Why was it that
she
did something to
him?
No, it was quite the other way around, and here he was again blaming it on
her.
No. Not this time. Not
this
time.

Linnea pushed against his chest and struggled out from under him. “No, my lord. Not again. You will not seduce me to get your way.” She sat up, tugging the skirt of her dress from under his legs, and then stood.

Rothwick rose slowly to his feet. “Get my way?” he said, gazing at her with an odd expression in his eyes.

“Oh, yes. That is how you get what you desire, is it not? Teasing or kissing me until finally I agree to whatever you wish, however ill considered it is.” She clenched her teeth against her rising tears. “But there is nothing behind those kisses, is there?”

She sighed. “You have made it abundantly clear that I am useless here. That I have little function in your life other than that of a figurehead of a wife. Something to display at court and in society when the time comes.” Not even to breed children, she thought, but did not say it. The thought depressed her even further. She put her hands to her eyes, pressed them wearily, and then gazed steadfastly at him again. “I find I cannot live with that, my lord. I do not think I could live with you if that were all I am to do.” He put up his hand and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Linnea forestalled him. “No, my lord. I do not wish to speak with you at this moment. I wish to go to my chambers and rest for a while. I am quite weary of—Thai: is, I am quite weary.” Linnea turned and walked swiftly to the house.

Rothwick stared after her, his body frozen in anger, frustration, confusion, and a curious sensation that curled around his heart at the sight of her back so proudly straight. He did not know why he had kissed her, for he had been enraged at her apparent defiance. He had wanted to possess her, to make her his at that moment, so that no one could truly claim her afterward. No one, not even Sir James.

Sir James. Ah yes. He would have to find that gentleman. He went to the stables, in case the man should still be there.

* * * *

But he was not, for Sir James was taking leave of Sophia. She was the other figure who stood riveted—well hidden behind a rhododendron bush—at the sight of Sir James kissing Lady Rothwick. Of course he must have, for though she could not see all of them, she could see enough to know that there was no other reason for them to be so close together than kissing.

“I am glad,” Sophia said fiercely to herself, despite a tearing in her heart that made her want to cry. “He is doing just as I instructed him.” She turned away, telling herself that it was not really necessary to see her instructions carried out to the finish.

She walked slowly back to the house, intending to go back to the parlour to play some more darkly elegiac music on the pianoforte. Suddenly she felt—more than heard—a presence behind her and whirled around.

“Miss Amberley.”

It was Sir James. His color seemed heightened—it was hard to tell because of his darkened skin—and his expression was grave.

“Sir James.” Sophia inclined her head in a dignified manner. She glanced at him and, seeing his intent, almost stern look, averted her eyes.

“I have come to take my leave of you.” He came up and put her hand on his arm, escorting her away from the house. “I shall be going to London shortly after I return to my hunting box today. Perhaps I shall see you there someday.”

Someday! Sophia’s gaze flew to his face and saw a coolness there she hadn’t seen before. What had gone wrong? Surely Lady Rothwick had not refused his advances—impossible! Why, if
I
were Lady Rothwick, she thought, I would have fallen into his arms and vowed my heart to him!

At once her heart soared—then sank to the bottom of her delicate little shoes. No. Oh, no. She was
not
in love with him. Not with Sir James. Why... why, didn’t she urge him on to seduce Lady Rothwick? And, well, there was her revenge on Lord Rothwick still to be done! No, no. She could not afford to be in love with anyone now. Sophia looked away, swallowed the lump in her throat, and gathered her thoughts together.

“Oh... oh, I daresay I shall meet you there at some time. I am forever seeing everyone in London.” She paused, then pushed on. “I see you have persuaded Lady Rothwick that you would be good company for her.” She noticed that they had returned to her spot behind the rhododendron bushes, and she felt the surge of an unfamiliar emotion—guilt? But no. There was nothing to feel guilty about at all.

There was a slight pause, then Sir James said: “I fear you flatter my arts of persuasion. However, I suppose I could say I would not be an unamusing companion.”

Sophia felt near to tears. “No... no, of course not. I... I have found you most amiable.” A caressing finger lifted her chin, and she gazed into Sir James’s eyes. His stern look was gone, and there was an expression of warm amusement instead.

“My sweet one, you should not worry yourself.” He drew closer to her. “You will get your revenge, I assure you.”

“I... you, you should not address me in that manner.”

“I know.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

She did not struggle. She did not want to. This will be the last time I see Sir James—at least for a while, she thought. Surely it cannot be so terrible to kiss him just a little. Just a little.... Sophia put her hand to his cheek, and her other hand went up, too, around to the back of his neck. He drew her closer to him, and his hand left her back to flow down to her waist, caressing gently. His lips feathered across her cheek and behind her ear, and she sighed and sighed again. When he proceeded to kiss her neck, her legs trembled, and to steady herself she took half a step back—

Right into something sharp. She gasped with the pain and then realized where she was. The rhododendron bush! Why, she was sis private with Sir James as if they were in a closed room! She pushed him away, breathing hard.

He gazed at her, a wry smile on his lips. “A little gesture of friendship, my dear, which I hope you do not mind. A farewell of a sorts, you see.”