Seductive Wager (5 page)

Edward broke off, certain he heard a sob from Kate, but when he turned around, she was sitting ramrod-straight in her chair, head held proudly erect, her face an impassive mask. What a magnificent creature, he thought. How
could
she be related to Martin?

Kate raised blank eyes to Brett’s face. Her voice was tight and a trifle unsteady, but she resolutely forced the words from between her lips. “Thank you for your kind and thoughtful gesture. I had hoped I might somehow have enough money to live modestly, but if this can not be, I’ll waste no time repining. I only want to know what you plan to do with me.”

In that moment Brett would have gladly strangled Martin with his bare hands. He had planned it so either way the cards fell Kate would be free, but instead she had ended up on his hands. He might want her in his bed, but he didn’t want to be responsible for her, and he certainly didn’t know what to do with her. He had thrown his aunt Lindsay’s name out as a gambit, but he wasn’t at all sure she would take a debutante under her wing, no matter how rich, beautiful, and well-connected. He was damned sure she would slam the door in his face if he showed up with a penniless girl whose brother was a double-dealing skirter. God, what a tangle.

Brett’s gaze encountered Kate’s brilliant blue eyes so hopefully turned in his direction, and he cast all thoughts of Lady Lindsay from his mind. By God, she was a beauty, one to make a man’s blood churn just to think about her. She was still wrapped in Edward’s cloak, but it was impossible to look at her without imagining her lying naked in his arms. Desire instantly inflamed his senses, yet there was something more that compelled his interest. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but maybe that was why he had agreed to Martin’s preposterous wager.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” he demanded, throwing caution to the winds.

“Two hours.” Brett pulled out his watch. “It ought to be light enough to travel by then. Make sure you’re ready.”

Kate started to leave, but turned back to Edward. “Thank you for your kindness,” she said shyly, her unexpected gratitude causing Edward to shift his weight self-consciously. “I hope I may see you again under more pleasant circumstances, but if not, please know I’ll never forget you.” She hurried from the room leaving an awkward silence behind her.

Edward raised his eyes to Brett’s face; neither man said a word, but their glances remained locked for some time before Edward spoke with jarring fierceness.

“You’re a blind fool. She’ll never have you on those terms.”

Brett cursed.

Chapter 3

Brett pulled on his gloves with unnecessary violence as the first streaks of dawn showed through the trees; only Kate’s absence prevented his departure. Edward and Peter waited with him, but Martin had closed himself up in the library with another bottle of brandy, and Brett hoped he would stay there. As Feathers had so succinctly put it, “You shouldn’t have to speak to a cheater, but you can’t ignore the damned fellow when you’re his guest.”

“I can and most certainly shall,” Edward had declared quite positively, but Brett was inclined to agree with Feathers, and he began to tap his foot impatiently, wanting to be gone.

“Could you still your foot?” Edward complained with more than usual sharpness. “My much-abused head transforms each dulcet tone into a clap of thunder which threatens to deprive me of sight.”

Brett complied with ill grace. His own head throbbed painfully, and his determination to leave at first light meant he would spend the greater part of the day in a swaying coach rather than a comfortable bed. He found himself trying not to blame Kate for his discomfort, not his usual response to a beautiful girl, but the contemplation of the pleasure her body could afford caused the blood to pound in his achingly sensitive temples and increase his agony twofold.

He couldn’t see his way out of this tangle. Why hadn’t he refused the bet, or given the money back to Martin? He might not care what people said about him, but Kate couldn’t afford to ignore society’s sanctions. He had always avoided marriage in favor of arrangements he could slip out of when he became bored, yet he had allowed himself to be bullied into taking charge of an unmarried female without so much as a maid to give her countenance. He was not sure of the rules governing the maintenance of a young lady, but he did know that turning her over to his lawyers while he was in Algeria would only postpone the difficulties and possibly make them even worse. Yet, every time he made up his mind to refuse to take her with him, the memory of Kate’s body outlined under the nearly transparent gown would send a shiver of anticipation along his nerve endings. She was a worthy trophy and he could not let her slip through his fingers.

Kate’s arrival interrupted Brett’s fruitless daydreams. She wore a bonnet which was more useful than fashionable, a heavy blue wool cloak over a navy pelisse, a gray wool dress, gray kid boots buttoned high above the ankles, and mittens rather than a muff. Whether by necessity or design, her clothes appeared to be chosen for the express purpose of making her look like a dowd, yet she was the most beautiful creature Brett had ever set eyes on, and she drew his eyes like a magnet.

“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,” she apologized, “but I couldn’t find anyone to help with my valises. I had to leave one of them on the upper landing as it was.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Feathers offered, his youthful gallantry filling the awkward pause.

“I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble,” Kate told him thankfully, “but I couldn’t carry both of them.”

“No trouble at all,” he smiled. “A lady should never be obliged to carry her own luggage.”

“At least I’m not late,” she said, turning to Brett, “even if my valise is.”

“Don’t give it another thought.”

“You
certainly haven’t,” she said with pointed emphasis. Then as Brett’s eyes narrowed in anger, she smiled sweetly. “If
gentlemen
can’t carry luggage, how are we to get it to the coach? You can’t mean to ask Mr. Feathers.”

Edward’s eyebrows rose questioningly, but Brett was thoroughly angry. “There’s no need for either of us to carry luggage. My valet will see to it.” Almost as if he had been waiting for a signal, Charles appeared at Brett’s side.

“This valise and the one Mr. Feathers has gone to fetch are to be loaded with Miss Vareyan’s trunk. We will leave as soon as they are secured.”

Kate looked on enviously as Charles picked up the valise at her feet, relieved the just-reappearing Feathers of his burden, and quietly eased himself out the door without assistance or mishap. “It must be nice to have a well-trained servant to manage for you,” she sighed.

“It ain’t nice,” Feathers stated in some surprise. “It’s essential. My mother won’t stir without at least six within the sound of her voice.”

“We can’t keep the horses standing,” Brett said, anxious to be off; his proffered arm forced Kate to cut short her leavetakings.

Kate felt her own temper begin to rise, but she thanked both Edward and Peter and then surprised everyone by standing on her tiptoes and kissing each of them on the cheek. Feathers blushed from head to foot and began to stammer; Edward accepted his salute with his usual calm, but he startled Brett by bending over to plant a kiss on Kate’s forehead.

“God be with you, my dear,” he whispered softly.

Good Lord,
Brett thought,
even Edward is acting like Sir Galahad. I’d better get her out of here before he demands to know my intentions.

Unnoticed by anyone, Martin had watched the quartet from the library doorway, but when Kate turned to go, he stormed into the hall, a strange light in his eyes. “Are you so lost to all decency you would leave the house with that man?” he shouted in a menacing voice.

His words fanned the flame of Kate’s already rising anger, and she hurled her reply in his face. “This show of outraged virtue suits you ill, dear brother. You lose me in a card game, yet you have the effrontery to ask if I’m going to leave with
that man!”
Kate paused for breath and then continued with increased vigor. “Yes, I’m leaving with
that man,
or any other man who offers. It’s not proper and it’s not the way I’d hoped it would be, but I’d crawl on my hands and knees rather than stay in this accursed place another day.” She spun on her heel and strode through the open door.

Martin pushed past Brett, his face nearly purple with rage.

“Go with your whoreson and be branded a jade,” he bellowed from the steps. “But understand me well. If you leave this house now, you’ll never return.”

Kate was in the act of climbing into the coach, but she paused and turned back to face her brother. “Nothing will ever induce me to return to this house while you live.” She climbed into the coach and slammed the door behind her. Martin stormed back through the hall and closed the library door so hard the stag’s horns mounted above it crashed to the floor.

“My, my, such a violent family,” Edward purred.

“Quiet, you old fox,” Brett admonished, a reluctant smile banishing his frown. “Try not to get yourself murdered while I’m gone. I don’t know where I should turn for amusement.. Do what you can to keep this business quiet,” he said to Feathers. “I don’t think Martin will talk, but he’s too great a fool to know where his own best interests lie.” He shook hands with both men and went quickly from the house.

Memories jostled each other in Kate’s head as the coach sped down the lane, and a sense of loss settled over her. Ryehill was the home of her birth; she had grown to womanhood there and it represented a sense of belonging, a feeling of permanence. The world she was about to enter offered no such haven.

But Ryehill also held bitter memories, and more recently the twin specters of pain and fear. She was taking a desperate gamble, but it was with a sense of relief that she saw the castle towers disappear behind the trees. Now she could start anew. She didn’t know what the next days would hold, but if this strange man were to be a part of them, she was sure they would hold adventure and excitement. After years of virtual imprisonment, she eagerly looked forward to both.

“I’ve been up all night and I’m extremely tired,” Brett announced without preamble. “My coachman has instructions to change horses as often as needed and to provide you with food and refreshment. Is there anything you want before I go to sleep?” He stared wearily at Kate, his expression not encouraging.

“Not at the moment,” she replied, pinpoints of anger showing in her eyes. Really, this man was abominably rude. “I promise not to wake you until the footpads are at the door.”

“Not even then. There’s a loaded pistol on the wall behind you.”

“But I’ve hardly ever used firearms before,” she said, startled.

“It’s quite easy. You just point it and squeeze the trigger.” Without another word, he drew the sheepskin rug over him and leaned back against the thick upholstering of the seats. Within seconds Kate could hear the soft sounds of his even breathing.

Conceited, thoughtless, and rude though he was, Kate couldn’t stay angry with Brett. Handsome and virile when he was awake, his face assumed an almost cherubic beauty in slumber, an appearance she found incongruous with his brusque, unemotional character. His black hair rose in thick waves from a high, broad forehead, his thick brows and long black lashes giving his eyes an unusual prominence in his face. His nose was finely chiseled, and his lips full and firm. His skin was dark and closely shaved without the mask so common to men with heavy dark hair.

He had rescued her from Martin, and she would have felt drawn to him had he looked like a troll, but in her eyes he was Prince Charming, and he was even more handsome than in her dreams. She felt like a damsel in distress who had been rescued at the last minute by her knight in shining armor, but it would have been so much nicer if her knight errant had not fallen asleep the minute the rescue was over.

With a barely perceptible sigh, she shifted her gaze to the desolate and uninviting landscape. The sky was nearly clear of clouds, but a white haze hung in the air and the wind was sharp and bitter, sweeping up hills and down valleys with the swiftness of a diving hawk; it tore its way into the coach and forced Kate to burrow more deeply under her rug. There were no animals or birds to be seen and only an occasional sign of a cottage or a more substantial dwelling. The leafless trees, their naked silhouettes spread against the hostile sky, gave no promise of the spring to come, and the threat of a blizzard hung in the air.

Let it storm,
she thought, trying to drive away the fear that threatened to weigh down her spirits.
Maybe we’ll even get snowbound.
At least that would give her more time to figure out what to do with herself. She had no idea how to go about seeking a position. She didn’t even know what kind of work she might do. Her mother had never taken the time to teach her how to manage a household, and her father thought it a waste of time to educate a girl. She would be lucky to be offered a position in a poor household, but even that would be preferable to becoming a ladies’ maid.

The notion made her laugh. She had no idea what a ladies’ maid did, at least not much of one. Her mother had spent her time in London, and Kate had never had a maid. She would probably be reduced to being a companion to some horrible old woman or scrubbing pots and pans in the kitchen.

Kate had some idea of what happened to unprotected girls, especially the pretty ones, and for a moment she wished herself safely back at Ryehill, but Martin’s features swam before her eyes and any regrets over her hasty departure died. Becoming some man’s mistress would be truly horrible, but if she were lucky she might be able to lay something aside for her future.