Married by Morning (9 page)

A self-deprecating smile touched his lips. “No, I haven’t yet descended to voyeurism.” He paused. “Did I get it right? It’s not easy, guessing what you look like beneath all those layers.”

A nervous giggle struggled through her mortification. “If you did, I certainly wouldn’t admit it.” She put the sketch onto the pile, facedown. Her hand was shaking. “Do you draw other women this way?” she asked timidly.

Leo shook his head. “I started with you, and so far I haven’t moved on.”

Her flush deepened. “You’ve done other sketches like this? Of me unclothed?”

“One or two.” He tried to look repentant.

“Oh, please,
please
destroy them.”

“Certainly. But honesty compels me to tell you that I’ll probably only do more. It’s my favorite hobby, drawing you naked.”

Catherine moaned and buried her face in her hands. Her voice slipped out between the tense filter of her fingers. “I wish you would take up collecting something instead.”

She heard his husky laugh. “Cat. Darling. Can you bring yourself to look at me? No?” She stiffened but didn’t move as she felt his arms draw around her. “I was only teasing. I won’t sketch you like that again.” Leo continued to hold her, carefully guiding her face to his good shoulder. “Are you angry?”

She shook her head.

“Afraid?”

“No.” She drew a trembling breath. “Only surprised that you would see me that way.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not like me.”

He understood what she meant. “No one ever sees himself—or herself—with perfect accuracy.”

“I’m certain that I never lounge about completely naked!”

“That,” he said, “is a terrible shame.” He took a ragged breath. “You should know that I’ve always wanted you, Cat. I’ve had fantasies so wicked, it would send us both straight to hell if I told them to you. And the way I want you has nothing to do with the color of your hair, or the appalling fashions you wear.” His hand passed gently over her head. “Catherine Marks, or whoever you are … I have the most profane desire to be in bed with you for … oh, weeks, at least … committing every mortal sin known to man. I’d like to do more than sketch you naked. I want to draw directly on you with feather and ink … flowers around your breasts, trails of stars down your thighs.” He let his warm lips brush the edge of her ear. “I want to map your body, chart the north, south, east, and west of you. I would—”

“Don’t,” she said, scarcely able to breathe.

A rueful laugh escaped him. “I told you. Straight to hell.”

“This is my fault.” She pressed her hot face against his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have gone to you last night. I don’t know why I did it.”

“I think you do.” His mouth grazed the top of her head. “Don’t come back to my room at night, Marks. Because if it happens again, I won’t be able to stop.”

His arms loosened, and he released her to stand up from the floor. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her up with him. The sheaf of fallen papers was retrieved, and Leo took up the sketch of her. The parchment was neatly ripped, the pieces folded together, and ripped again. He gave her the shreds of paper and molded her fingers around them. “I’ll destroy the others as well.”

Catherine stood without moving as he left the room. And her fingers tightened over the strips of parchment, crushing them into a damp knot.

Shirtless and sweating under the soft blaze of the Hampshire sun, Leo and the tenants dug ditches and drainage canals, moved rock, and hauled soil. At the end of the day Leo ached in every muscle, nearly too tired to stay awake during dinner. His body toughened and became so lean that he was obliged to borrow trousers from Cam while the village tailor altered his clothes.

“At least work keeps you from your vices,” Win quipped one evening before supper, rubbing his hair affectionately as she joined him in the parlor.

“I happen to like my vices,” Leo told her. “That’s why I went to the trouble of acquiring them.”

“What you need to acquire,” Win said gently, “is a wife. And I’m not saying that out of self-interest, Leo.”

He smiled at her, this gentlest of sisters, who had fought so many personal battles for the sake of love. “You don’t possess a molecule of self-interest, Win. But as sound as your advice usually is, I’m not going to take it.”

“You should. You need a family of your own.”

“I have more than enough family to contend with. And there are things I would much rather do than marry.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, cut out my tongue and join the Trappist Monks … roll naked in treacle and nap on an anthill … Shall I go on?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Win said, smiling. “However, you
will
marry someday, Leo. Both Cam and Merripen have said that you have a very distinct marriage line on your hand.”

Bemused, Leo looked down at his palm. “That’s a crease from the way I hold my pen.”

“It’s a marriage line. And it’s so long, it practically wraps around both sides of your hand. Which means you will someday marry a fated love.” Win raised her fair brows significantly, as if to say,
What do you think of that?

“Romas don’t really believe in palm reading,” Leo informed her. “It’s nonsense. They only do it to extract money from fools and drunkards.”

Before Win could reply, Merripen entered the parlor. “
Gadjos
certainly know how to complicate matters,” he said, handing a letter to Leo and lowering to the settee.

“What is this?” Leo asked, glancing at the signature at the bottom. “Another letter from the solicitor? I thought he was trying to
un
complicate matters for us.”

“The more he explains,” Merripen said, “the more confusing it is. As a Rom, I still have trouble understanding the concept of land ownership. But the Ramsay estate…” He shook his head in disgust. “It’s a Gordian knot of agreements, grants, customs, exceptions, additions, and leases.”

“That’s because the estate is so old,” Win said wisely. “The more ancient the manor, the more complications it’s had time to acquire.” She glanced at Leo. “By the way, I’ve just learned that Countess Ramsay and her daughter Miss Darvin wish to come for a visit. We received a letter from them earlier today.”

“The devil you say!” Leo was outraged. “For what purpose? To gloat? Take inventory? I’ve still got a year left before they can lay claim to the place.”

“Perhaps they wish to make peace and find an acceptable solution for all of us,” Win suggested.

Win was always inclined to think the best of people and believe in the essential goodness of human nature.

Leo didn’t have that problem.

“Make peace, my arse,” he muttered. “By God, I’m tempted to get married just to spite that pair of witches.”

“Do you have any candidates in mind?” Win asked.

“Not one. But if I ever did marry, it would be to a woman I was certain never to love.”

A movement at the doorway caught his attention, and Leo watched covertly as Catherine entered the room. She gave the group a neutral smile, carefully avoiding Leo’s gaze, and went to a chair near the corner. With annoyance, Leo noticed that she had lost weight. Her breasts were smaller, and her waist was reed slender, and her complexion was wan. Was she deliberately avoiding proper nourishment? What had caused her lack of appetite? She was going to make herself ill.

“For God’s sake, Marks,” he said irritably, “you’re getting as scrawny as a birch branch.”

“Leo,” Win protested.

Catherine shot him a look of outrage. “
I’m
not the one whose trousers are being taken in.”

“You look half dead from malnourishment,” Leo went on with a scowl. “What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you eating?”

“Ramsay,” Merripen murmured, evidently deciding a boundary had been crossed.

Catherine shot up from her chair and glared at Leo. “You’re a bully, and a hypocrite, and you have no right to criticize my appearance, so … so…” She cast about wildly for the right phrase.
“Bugger you!”
And she stormed from the parlor, her skirts rustling angrily.

Merripen and Win watched with open mouths.

“Where did you learn that word?” Leo demanded, hard on her heels.

“From you,” she said vehemently over her shoulder.

“Do you even know what it means?”

“No, and I don’t care. Stay away from me!”

As Catherine stormed through the house, and Leo went after her, it occurred to him that he had been craving an argument with her, any kind of interaction.

She went outside and partway around the house, and soon they found themselves in the kitchen garden. The air was pungent with the smell of sun-warmed herbs.

“Marks,” he said in exasperation. “I’ll chase you through the parsley if you insist, but we may as well stop and have it out right here.”

She whirled to face him, bright flags of color high on her cheeks. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’ve hardly said a word to me in
days
, and then you make offensive personal remarks—”

“I didn’t mean to be offensive. I merely said—”

“I am not scrawny, you despicable oaf! Am I less than a person to you, that you dare to treat me with such contempt? You are the most—”

“I’m sorry.”

Catherine fell silent, her breath coming hard.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way,” Leo said gruffly. “And you are not less than a person to me, you’re a person whose well-being I care about. I would be angry with anyone who didn’t treat you well—which in this case happens to be you. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

“Neither are you.”

Leo parted his lips to reply, but he couldn’t think of an effective rebuttal. He opened and closed his mouth again.

“Every day you work yourself into exhaustion,” Catherine said. “You’ve dropped half a stone, at least.”

“The new farms need irrigation systems. I’m the one best suited to design and implement them.”

“You don’t have to dig trenches and move rocks.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Leo stared at her, considering whether or not to tell her the truth. He decided to be blunt. “Because working to the point of exhaustion is the only way I can keep from coming to you at night and seducing you.”

Catherine gave him a round-eyed glance. Her mouth opened and closed in the same way his had just a moment earlier.

Leo stared back at her with a mixture of wary amusement and growing heat. He could no longer deny that he found nothing in the world more entertaining than talking to her. Or just being near her. Cantankerous, stubborn, fascinating creature … completely unlike his past lovers. And at times like this, she had all the cuddlesome appeal of a feral hedgehog.

But she challenged him, met him as an equal, in a way that no other woman ever had. He wanted her beyond reason.

“You couldn’t seduce me,” Catherine said testily.

They were both motionless, their gazes locked.

“You deny the attraction between us?” Leo’s voice was pitched deeper than usual. He saw a shiver run through her before she set her jaw in determination.

“I deny that one’s rational will can be undermined by physical sensation,” she said. “One’s brain is always in charge.”

Leo couldn’t prevent the mocking smile that rose to his lips. “Good God, Marks. Obviously you’ve never participated in the act, or you would know that the major organ in charge is
not
the brain. In fact, the brain ceases working altogether.”

“I find it easy to believe that a man’s would.”

“A woman’s brain is no less primitive than a man’s, especially when it comes to physical distraction.”

“I’m sure you’d like to think so.”

“Shall I prove it to you?”

Catherine’s delicate mouth twisted skeptically. But then, as if she couldn’t resist, she asked, “How?”

Taking her arm, Leo drew her to a more secluded area of the kitchen garden, behind a pair of pergolas covered with scarlet runner beans. They stood next to a glass forcing house, which was used to compel plants into flower before they might have otherwise. A forcing house allowed a gardener to grow plants and flowers irrespective of the prevailing weather.

Leo glanced at their surroundings to make certain they were not being observed. “Here’s a challenge for your higher brain function. First, I’ll kiss you. Directly afterward, I’ll ask you a simple question. If you answer correctly, I’ll concede the argument.”

Catherine frowned and looked away from him. “This is ridiculous,” she said to no one in particular.

“You certainly have the right to refuse,” Leo told her. “Of course, I’ll take that as a forfeiture.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Catherine gazed at him with narrowed eyes. “One kiss?”

Leo spread his hands palm up, as if to demonstrate that he had nothing to hide. His gaze never left her. “One kiss, one question.”

Slowly her arms loosened and lowered. She stood before him uncertainly.

Leo hadn’t actually expected her to agree to the challenge. He felt his heart begin to beat in concentrated thumps. As he stepped closer to her, anticipation tightened his insides into knots.

“May I?” he asked, reaching for her spectacles, easing them from her face.

She blinked but didn’t resist.

Leo folded the spectacles and tucked them in his coat pocket. Very gently he tilted her face upward with both hands. He had made her nervous.
Good
, he thought darkly.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded within the careful bracket of his palms, her lips trembling.

Leo brought his mouth lightly to hers, kissing her with careful, undemanding pressure. Her lips were cool and sweet. Teasing them apart, he deepened the kiss. His arms slid around her, bringing her fully against him. She was slender but compact, her body as supple as a cat’s. He felt her begin to mold against him, a slow and helpless relaxing. Concentrating on her mouth, he explored her with tender fire, searching with his tongue until he felt the vibration of her soft moan between their lips.

Lifting his head, Leo looked into her flushed face. He was so mesmerized by the drowsy green-gray of her eyes that it was a struggle to remember what he’d meant to ask her.

“The question,” he reminded himself aloud, and shook his head to clear it. “Here it is. A farmer has twelve sheep. All but seven die. How many are left?”

“Five,” she said promptly.

“Seven.” A grin spread across his face as he watched her puzzle it out.

Catherine scowled. “That was a trick. Ask me another one.”

“That wasn’t the bargain,” he said.

“Another one,” she insisted.

A husky laugh escaped him. “God, you’re stubborn. All right.” He reached for her and lowered his head, and she stiffened.

“What are you doing?”

“One kiss, one question,” he reminded her.

Catherine looked martyred. But she yielded to him, her head tilting back as he pulled her against him once more. This time he was not so tentative. His kiss was firm and urgent, his tongue sinking into the sweet, warm interior of her mouth. Her arms lifted around his neck, her fingers groping delicately in his hair.

Leo went dizzy with desire and pleasure. He couldn’t pull her body close enough, he needed parts of her he couldn’t reach. His hands shook with the need to find the sweet pale skin beneath the heavy fabric of her bodice. He kept trying to feel more of her, kiss her more deeply, and instinctively she tried to help him, sucking on his tongue with a little sound of pleasure. The hair on the back of his neck lifted as a chill of delight climbed up his spine to the base of his skull.

He broke the kiss, gasping.

“Ask me a question,” she reminded him thickly.

Leo could barely remember his own name. All he wanted to concentrate on was the way she fit against him. But somehow he obliged her. “Some months have thirty-one days, some have thirty. How many months have twenty-eight days?”