Myriah Fire (22 page)

“If you had not gamed what you had left to you, sir, you would not be here now begging for my hand,” Myriah shot back.

“Listen to me, Myriah. I have been doing this civilly. I am done with that. I am telling you that you will marry me. You do not have a choice,” he said complacently.

“Roland, Papa did
not
make the announcement.
There
fore, I cannot be held to it.”

“N
o,
he did not …
nor
did he give you permission to remain under the same roof with
two bachelors
.”

“That is none of your affair!”

“I am afraid it is. The Wimbornes are not only bachelors—they are also in the business of smuggling. That, my dear, is another matter. After all, I cannot have my future bride involved with such riff-raff!”

“Smuggling?” Myriah exclaimed, admirably feigning surprise. “Roland, if you brandish such statements about, you will lay yourself open for a slander suit you can ill afford. The Wimborne house is an old and respected name.”

“A
h, Myriah, you are not thinking. I am no fool. When I give you warning, take it. Don’t attempt to frighten me off the path, for it won’t fadge. I am no schoolboy, and I am
not
playing a game. I am in earnest. Now let us understand something. If you persist in your decision to remain in the Wimborne household, I will have no alternative but to report your whereabouts to your father.”

“Do what you like, Roland. I shall leave when, and if,
my father
insists on it—not at
your
command!”

“Do you know? You have put a notion into my head,” Roland said, smiling without warmth. “Yes, indeed, Myriah … you are hot to protect these smugglers of yours … aren’t you?”

A chill shot through her. She put out her gloved hand and held his arm. “There is nothing to protect.”

His arm went around her immediately, encircling her small waist and drawing her to him. This time, because she had to know, she waited to hear what was on his mind.

“Sweet Myriah, wild love of mine, what a pleasure ’twill be to tame you. We understand one another. Don’t fight me, and no one shall get hurt.”

She looked up into his hazel eyes, and they were bright with his meaning. “Pray, Roland, who could be hurt by—by my opposing a marriage with you?”

“You know very well what I mean, darling—your friends the Wimbornes, who are already suspected of being moonshiners. I shall give evidence against them.”

“You have no such evidence,” she snapped and pulled out of his hold.

“Leave with me tomorrow for your father’s, and I shall forget their existence.”

Roland frightened her. He was too confident of himself … and he was well able to carry out his threat. How did he know this much? She herself had been unsure just what the Wimbornes were up to … unsure until … oh, faith! How did
he know?
She looked up at his face. “I … I will think about it, Roland.”

“Tomorrow afternoon, Myriah. I want you ready to leave tomorrow afternoon, and then we shall discuss our marriage plans.”

“I will give you my answer regarding my departure from Wimborne Towers tomorrow when we meet … but I will never discuss marriage with you, Roland! Understand that.” She withdrew from his hold and turned to Silkie, who was being held by her groom. She mounted quickly and motioned to Tabby, who was eying Sir Roland with an expression of severe loathing. They hurriedly departed.

Sir Roland threw Myriah a kiss, for she made the mistake of turning to look at him. She snapped her head back to watch the road, put out with herself and him.

* * *

Lord Wimborne watched them and felt a sharp stab of discomfort. He had come around High Street just moments ago and stood dumbfounded at its peak, watching Myriah converse with Sir Roland.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from them, and his jaw clenched as he watched Roland take her into his arms. What stopped him from going forward and ripping the man apart was the fact that at that moment she did
not demur.

He was quick to recognize Sir Roland Keyes, the man who had been sharing a table and conversation with Corporal Stone, the same one who had been asking questions about him. And now Roland was the man whose charms had brought Myriah away from Wimborne and into his arms.

Kit had seen her expression, and it was one of deep intensity as she faced Roland. Bubbles seemed to form in Kit’s veins as he watched her, and they popped, leaving him agitated and confused and bleeding … He felt as though blood was oozing out of his pores.

He watched her pull away roughly and ride off … and he stared at Roland, once again feeling the need to tear him to pieces as he blew a kiss to Myriah’s retreating form.

Every fiber in his body ached. He saw Roland turn his horse about, and Kit urged his own roan into an alley, where he sat upon his steed’s back waiting for Sir Roland Keyes to pass. As he did, Kit noted with a stab of green jealousy that the man was not unattractive. He knew an urge to fly home and confront Myriah—he wanted to face her, to demand her explanation. He wanted to know why she had been in that man’s arms.

What he did was go to the Mermaid Inn and order up a pint of ale and stare into its suds as he told the man at his side, “Women can be treacherous creatures.”

His companion was already in his cups but found this to be a very accurate statement and concurred by clinking glasses.

“The devil is in it … but I think I will go ask her what in blazes she was doing.”

“Wouldn’t do that …” his companion slurred.

“Why not?”

“She might tell ye … and it might not be what ye want to hear …”

However, he put his coin on the table and stomped out of the tavern. He was going home to have a talk with her and confront her!

Her wild, wondrous magic had enchanted his soul and held
his
heart captive, but he would not be played for a fool. He rode his horse hard and arrived at his stables only a few minutes later, with his temper in full bloom.

Without bothering to call Fletcher to attend his horse, he slid off the saddle and put him in his stall, already stocked with his evening’s hay.

When he walked towards his house, it was with intense purpose.

His front door flew open and away from his hands. The stairs were taken two at a time, and the door to Myriah’s room received no questioning knock but was sent inwards with a masterful show of force.

Her room however, was empty. This in no way assuaged his lordship’s strange fever, and he stormed across the hall, exploding like an erupting volcano into his brother’s room. His gray eyes were mirrors of intent.

Young Wimborne scanned his brother’s face with a deepening frown. “Eh, what’s amiss, Kit—what has happened?’”

“Myriah—where is she?” Kit demanded, his tone a roar that displayed his uncompromising mood.

“Myriah? Why, she said something about taking a walk. Said she had to think. She does that best outdoors.” Billy shrugged. “I rather like to …
Kit … Kit
 …?” However, his brother had already stomped out of the room, leaving him wondering.

* * *

Myriah leaned against the tall white elm and gazed down at the dark seawater below. Whatever was she to do?

All at once she was looking into the stormy gray eyes of Christopher Wimborne, and her heart began beating against her chest, demanding—demanding …

His hands were burning through her sleeves as he gripped her arms, and the
fury
of his expression shook her with new wonder. Whatever was wrong?

“I want the truth, Myriah! The time for coyness is past. What is Sir Roland Keyes to you, and why, my dear, did you meet him in secret today at Land Gate?”

“Secret?” Myriah said, and her voice was pitched an octave too high. Her lips trembled as she responded, “My lord, I made
no secret
of it! Why, one could hardly call the Land Gate entrance to
Rye
a
secluded spot!”

“Damnation, woman, don’t play games with me! I want to know why you met with him, and why you chose to do it away from Wimborne Towers.”

She bit her lower lip, and her lashes veiled the expression in her eyes. “Why—why must you know?”

“Lord … but you try
a
man’s patience,” he spluttered, shaking her. “I will know, and I will know
now,
my girl!”

She yanked herself out of his grip. “Do you mean to shake it out of me?”

He took one of her arms and brought her up against him. Her face was beneath his own, and a chance observer might have deemed the sight a glorious and arduous one. However, each of the antagonists was beyond such thoughts. “By God, Myriah—do not tempt me! Your
friend
Sir Roland only last night sat chatting amiably with
our
friend Corporal Stone, and
I will
know
what
your
connection with him is!”
Kit
seethed
.

“Oh—is that …” Myriah began as understanding flashed through her mind. So he felt betrayed. She’d thought—she’d hoped—he was jealous. However, she knew there was serious trouble ahead. She was going to have to leave, and her heart was already breaking. She looked into his eyes, and her voice was low as she said,
“Well, my lord, I have no notion what all your heat is about.”

“Damnation, woman! You have the audacity—did you not hear me before?
I saw you
…
fiend seize the day and the first moment ever I clapped eyes on your face, but now I will have an answer. I saw you by God
in another man’s arms!
”

She slapped him across the face, stinging her hand as well as his cheek.
“
How dare you.
”

“You witch!” breathed Lord Wimborne, taking her into his arms ferociously. His kiss was like a sudden, merciless wind, and it left her breathless and hungry for more. His hand went to her hair, taking hold of her long red curls and pulling her head back, enabling him to discover what he felt—what he needed. His kisses were wild, unrestrained, and infinitely deft in their enticing skill.

She was exalted and hurt all at once. He wasn’t making love to her, but laying claim.

This was all so new, and she was going to have to run away from him to save him and Billy from Roland. Now she knew that Roland had met with Stone …

She didn’t have a choice any longer … but now, in his arms, her body trembled beneath his touch, and as he pulled her with him to the soft turf, she knew she would never love any other.

She pushed half-heartedly at his broad chest, attempting to fight the needs of her heart, but his voice came like a slow hiss and jolted her into anger.

“She-devil, my brother calls you, but he doesn’t know the half of it …”

His lips were on hers again, demanding with the force of his desire and the skill of his experience, but Myriah was tense with anger and unwilling to yield. He had never given her the benefit of the doubt. If he cared for her, would he not try and do that first? “Stop it, Kit!” She shouted at him.

He laughed and mounted her,
negating her effort at rising. “Oh, no, sweetings—
’tis
a devil driving me, ’tis you, love, and there is nothing that could stop me now, Myriah.”

That, of course, was all that was needed to unclothe the passion he had aroused in her. With a strength born of fury, her hand once again left its mark across his cheek, and Kit Wimborne found himself off the lady and stretched solidly on the grass.

Myriah was up and running off in one movement, and her legs carried her faster than they had ever done before. Her palm, red and burning, served to remind her that she had enjoyed at least some satisfaction before she discarded the odious brute she’d had the stupidity to fall in love with! A sob tore through her body and stuck deep her throat.