A Most Inconvenient Wish (5 page)

“I will not stay behind you. How dare you speak to me that way?”

Ian had no choice; the ram was coming for them both. He shoved Sophia hard. His heart pounded in his chest as the ram moved forward, his head down. He'd only seen this maneuver performed by others. He'd never had to be the one to do it. God give him the strength.

Sophia's complaining faded into the background as he put all his focus on the animal. If he failed, they would both be at risk of injury. His heart bounded in his chest and his body tensed, ready for action.

“Mr. McDonald . . .”

“Quiet!” Amazingly, Sophia shut up.

As the ram approached, Ian bent down and grabbed his horns and twisted to send him in a different direction. Confused, the ram ran past, then turned and lowered his head again in a defensive stance.

“Did you just grab that sheep by its horns?” There was awe in her voice. “I have never seen anyone do that.”

“Get out of the pasture.” He couldn't spare her a glance, but he also didn't hear her moving toward the fence. “Now!”

The ram turned, even angrier than before. Ian could hear Sophia struggling behind him. “Sometime today, Miss Townsend.”

“How dare you bark orders at me as if I were—were one of those stupid sheep!”

“Sophia, get the hell out of here!” He bent to meet the ram once more.

As the ram charged, his hands went for the horns. The rough texture chafed, keeping him from getting a good grip. The sheep was large, heavy, and moving at charging speed. Ian dug his heels deeper into the soft ground for purchase as he pushed the ram away once more.

“Matthews! Get her the hell out of here.” Ian dare not look away from the ram watching him just feet away. He could hear Tony's feet pound against the ground as he ran toward them.

“I will not allow you to treat me thus,” Sophia said from behind him. Her voice trembled despite her bravado.

The ram snorted and pawed at the ground, eying the weaker target, Sophia. She gasped behind him.

“Come, Sophia,” Tony said. “Now.”

He could hear the rustling of her gown as she stood. “I'm covered in mud!”

Better mud than gored. His mind could picture what those sharp horns could do to her tender flesh. The urge to glance behind him and verify that Sophia was safe pulled at him, but the angry ram and its posturing kept his focus.

“But what about you?” Sophia asked in a worried tone.

Now was a fine time to show concern for him, he thought. Still, he clung to those four small words, letting them feed the kernel of hope he'd felt when she'd returned his kiss. The ram snorted again, pulling his focus back. “Let me know when you're safely through the gate, Matthews.”

Ian stood perfectly still, holding eye contact with the beast. He dare not blink. The ram glanced at the ewe nearby.

“She's safe!” Tony yelled from the fence.

Ian took several steps backward, watching every move the beast made, ready to move in case of another charge. The ram lowered his head, his eyes back on Ian.

Ian moved deliberately backward toward the gate, not relaxing his stance until he saw the sheep lose interest in him and go back to the ewe. Finally, Ian stood upright, the muscles in his back protesting from being held so tensely for so long.

With the danger past, anger coursed through him like lava from a volcano. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. He sprinted the rest of the way to the gate, closing it behind him with more force than necessary.

Sophia jumped at the loud clang. Her face was pale and there was a smudge of mud on her cheek. She clenched her hands in her skirts.

“What in the bloody hell were you thinking?”

Sophia's eyes widened at his roar and she took a step back. “You have no right to be angry with me, sir. How was I supposed to know that the stupid sheep would charge after me? Usually they just stand there and eat grass.”

Ian stepped closer to her, crowding her, trying to intimidate some sense into her. “Never cross a pasture like that, especially during mating season. You could have been seriously hurt.”

Her lips parted with a gasp as the gravity of the situation finally settled in. He waited for an apology, but she said nothing, just stared up at him and trembled.

It was the trembling that got him. Ian fought the uncontrollable urge to take her into his arms and hold her. His hands tightened into fists.

“You didn't have to push me into the mud,” she grumbled. “I'm a filthy mess.”

Tony sniffed. “I don't think that was mud.”

Sophia looked at her hands and twisted to look at the back of her dress, her nose wrinkling at the smell.

Ian couldn't help it; his lips twitched with humor at the disgust on her face.

“Do not laugh at me, Mr. McDonald. This is all your fault. I wouldn't be in this condition had you not shoved me to the ground.”

“No, you'd be bleeding all over the blasted pasture,” Ian barked.

Tony stepped between them. “Sophia, go up to the house. Juliet will see that you have something to change into.”

“We are not done with this conversation, Mr. McDonald.” She practically growled the words before turning and marching up the hill to the house.

The back of her dress was covered in grass and muck. He really had shoved her into a dung pile. He unclenched his fist and winced. He looked at his hands, scratched and bloody from the horns of the ram.

“I'd never seen anyone do that with a charging ram, McDonald.”

“One of the workers had to stop a ram from charging him once. It looks easier than it is.”

“You need a brandy and someone to look after those hands.”

“Brandy sounds good.” Now that his anger had faded, he felt as weak as a baby.

“Thank you for saving her. I couldn't have gotten to her fast enough. Come up to the house. We'll see to your hands.”

Ian followed Tony into the house, hiding his still trembling hands in his pockets.

* * *

Sophia walked awkwardly toward the house, the muck on her skirts causing them to stick together. The smell was even worse. She couldn't decide if she was going to gag or cry or both. Never had she been so humiliated. She pulled at the back of her dress, trying to move it away from her body.

Juliet and a maid were waiting in the doorway, watching her approach.

“You are covered in mud. What happened?” asked Juliet.

“It's not mud and don't ask.” She wasn't in the mood to talk about it yet. Her emotions bounced between fear and admiration for Mr. McDonald, something she didn't want to feel. She wanted to hold on to her anger. It was the only thing keeping her from throwing herself at the man.

He'd rescued her. He had put himself between that stupid sheep and her. He'd taken that creature by the horns and kept her safe. No one had ever done anything so heroic for her. She'd had no idea he was so strong.

Men had fawned over her. Sophia knew it, and had manipulated those men over the years. She liked being the center of their attentions. She liked their flattery. It fed her vanity. Vanity was a sin, she knew that, but still it felt good to be admired. But not one man had ever done something heroic for her. Now she was forced to look at Mr. McDonald in an entirely new light and she didn't like it one bit.

“You smell awful.”

Sophia groaned. Ian had seen her covered in sheep dung. “Ian shoved me behind him and I slipped.”

“What were you doing in the pasture?” Juliet asked. “You knew Ian was here for mating season.”

“Why would I know about the mating patterns of sheep? I was in a hurry, so I cut across the pasture. I've done it before.” Sophia slipped off her shoes and handed them to the maid. “These are ruined.”

“I'm sure we can get them cleaned up. Why weren't you wearing your half boots?” Juliet took a rag from the maid and wiped at Sophia's cheek.

“I had to escape the house, Juliet. It was awful.” Sophia took the rag from her sister and wiped her hands. “I didn't stop to think. Our guests arrived and Lord Bateman brought a lady with him. He's going to marry her. This is all my fault.”

“I doubt that. Come upstairs. I'll have a bath prepared and find a change of clothes,”

Sophia followed Juliet to one of the spare rooms where soon a hip bath was set up. Water steamed from the bath. Sophia almost groaned. She couldn't wait to get the muck off her.

“Now tell me all. Who is this mysterious lady? And why this is your fault,” Juliet said once they were alone.

“Miss Hamilton is her name. I met her in London.” Sophia turned her back to allow Juliet to unbutton her gown. She peeled it off, leaving it in a heap on the floor. “Lady Catherine couldn't wait to get in a taunt about Lord Bateman's intentions.”

Juliet loosened the laces of Sophia's stays. “Miss Hamilton? I don't remember her when we were last in Town.”

“She is the daughter of a wealthy merchant. The rumor is that her father has settled twenty thousand pounds on her.”

“Goodness! That is a powerful inducement, but how did you cause this?”

Sophia pressed her lips together and struggled to put the words together. Anyone else would think she was mad, but Juliet would understand. “I climbed the Fairy Steps yesterday.”

Juliet laughed. “I thought you didn't believe in that nonsense.”

“As you well know, there is evidence to the contrary. I thought if I made a wish it would make Lord Bateman's engagement a sure thing.”

“Evidently not.”

“It gets much worse. I was climbing the steps when Mr. McDonald appeared, demanding that I stop. We were both angry and I'm afraid I might have wished that he be stuck with me forever.”

Juliet laughed.

“It's not funny.” Sophia's shoulders sagged. “Lord Bateman was supposed to propose to me.”

“He's an earl. Why would he propose to you?”

This was the outside of enough. Was she not worthy of an earl? She was the daughter of a baronet. Her dowry might not be large, but it was respectable. “Why does everyone think he will not propose?”

“Several reasons. You don't have a large enough dowry, for one. You don't have the appropriate connections, nor are you titled.”

“We are daughters of a baronet.”

“You always aimed too high. How many proposals have you turned down, Sophia?”

“None of that matters now. Lord Bateman singled me out in Town this Season. He made his intentions very well known. Why would he do that if he wasn't going to propose?” Lord Bateman had treated her carefully. He'd had feelings for her; Sophia could tell.

“Do you love him, then?”

Love did not enter into the equation for her future. “He's an earl. He has a town house in London and several estates. He comes from a very prestigious family.”

“Sophia, all those things mean nothing. You should marry someone you love.”

“I can spend more than ten minutes in his company without wanting to escape.” She liked him well enough, she supposed. He was handsome. Not with the same rugged good looks as Mr. McDonald, but in a more refined way. She removed the rest of her clothes and dumped them into a pile. “You're going to need to burn these.”

Juliet wrinkled her nose. “I think so. I'll have someone dispose of them.”

Sophia stepped into the bath and sank into the heated water. She removed the pins from her hair and set them carefully aside so she could use them again. She reached for the soap.

“You were saying that you liked Lord Bateman enough. Marriage is forever, Sophia. You really should more than just ‘like' him.”

Sophia lathered her skin. “I'm not the same as you, Juliet. You and Anne have a capacity to love that I don't have.”

“That's not true.”

“Yes, it is. I'm too much like Father. I'm selfish and vain.”

“Sophia—”

“It's fine. I know what my weaknesses are. I've accepted them. I know that if I marry for love, I'll end up hurting him as Father hurt our mother. I can't do it.” Sophia blinked away the sting of tears and pulled in a controlling breath.

Juliet said nothing for a long moment. Sophia couldn't look at her sister and see the pity in her eyes. She was better off knowing her own weaknesses. She could plan her future without worrying about hurting the man she would marry. Many couples started with less.

“I'll leave you to finish your bath, Sophia. Ring for a maid when you are ready.”

Sophia nodded.

Juliet moved to open the door, then paused. “I think you're wrong, you know. I think you have a great capacity to love.”

Sophia stared at the door as it closed behind her sister, pondering Juliet's words. Juliet always thought the best of people, of her. In this case, Juliet was being overly generous. Sophia ducked her head under the water. She was too much like their father, like her brother.

Selfishness and cruelty ran in the family. Her father had treated her mother with coldness and disdain. Her brother had abandoned her and her sisters, leaving them to fend for themselves with no money or connections. Thank goodness for Nathaniel honoring his promise of a dowry. Sophia was terrified she was her father's daughter. It was better to control her own destiny than to leave it to the chance of falling in love. She was taking the practical approach to life. She would marry for material things and find her happiness in the delights of Society. It would be enough. She would make sure it was enough.

I
an waited in Matthews's library, nursing the rest of his brandy. The hour was growing late and if they didn't leave soon, they'd be late for dinner.

He was not looking forward to the brief ride back to the Lodge, knowing he should come up with some sort of apology for shoving Sophia into the sheep dung. She'd been foolish to stomp into the pasture without looking to see if there were animals about. Ian was reminded again that she was no country miss. He hadn't thought much about her lack of knowledge when formulating his plan. He'd only cared that he wanted her.

“Has the cart been brought around?” Sophia asked, coming into the parlor.

Ian gulped. She wore one of Juliet's dresses. The sisters might resemble each other in beauty, but Mrs. Juliet Matthews was slight. Sophia was not. Her breasts jiggled like custard over the tight bodice of the dress. The dark color enhanced the pale cream of her skin. He looked down. Her toes peeked out from the shorter hem of the gown. “Where are your shoes?”

“Ruined. Juliet's feet are much smaller than mine. Nothing would fit.” Sophia tugged at the skirt of the gown, not realizing that she was threatening to pop out of the bodice. “She is checking among the maids for a pair of shoes I can borrow.”

Her hair was down and pulled back from her face. It hung in a dark, shining fall around her shoulders. He cleared his throat. It made her look younger, more innocent. “How long do you think she'll be?” He winced at the gruffness in his tone. “If we leave now, we just might make it in time to change for dinner.”

Juliet came in behind them. “None of the maids had shoes your size. Your feet are a good deal bigger than everyone else's.”

Sophia glared at her sister as her cheeks colored.

“You'll have to go home barefoot, Sophia. There is nothing the maid can do about your slippers. They'll have to be replaced. I'm not sure about the dress.”

“You may burn that dress. It's an old one.”

Ian cleared his throat. “Shall we go?”

Sophia hugged her sister and thanked her. She then followed him out to the park of Horneswood. He mounted the horse and reached a hand down to pull her in front of him.

“You cannot be serious. I cannot ride with you like that. It's improper.”

He had no patience for this. “If you wish to get home quickly, it's the only way.”

She crossed her arms, forcing her breasts to plump up over the edge of the gown. Lord forgive him but he couldn't look away.

“Surely Tony has some sort of conveyance we can use to get home.”

“It will take too much time to have them bring the cart around. As it stands now, we shall have just enough time to change for dinner.”

“Fine.” She grabbed his hand.

He tugged on her arm, but she didn't budge. “You are supposed to help me. Put your foot in the stirrup.”

“I've never done this before.”

Ian hid his grin at her exasperated tone. Miss Sophia Townsend, who never had a hair out of place, was completely out of her element. He was enjoying this too much. “Move back so I can dismount.”

Sophia stepped back on the stones, stumbling as they shifted beneath her. “This is ridiculous.”

Tony came down the steps. “Stay there, McDonald. I'll lift her up.”

“You'll do no such thing, Tony Matthews!”

Sophia shrieked as Tony lifted her up onto the horse. Ian grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close.

“Put your one leg over the pommel so you won't fall,” he instructed gruffly. She smelled wonderful, like flowers and warm skin. She settled stiffly against him, wriggling a bit to get comfortable. Thank God it was a short trip to the Lodge.

Ian urged the horse forward, his arms on either side of Sophia. He forced his eyes forward and away from the view of her perfect breasts in front of him. He should receive a medal for his fortitude.

“Thank you, Mr. McDonald.”

“For what?”

“For saving me from the sheep”

“How do those words taste on your tongue, Miss Townsend?”

“Sour.”

He chuckled. “You shouldn't have been in the pasture in the first place.” He still wanted to shake her for that one stupid act.

“Why can't you just accept my gratitude and leave it at that?”

He ignored the irritation in her voice. “Why did you come that way?”

“I didn't think. I've come that way before. It's the shortcut I always use.”

Ian closed his eyes for a moment to avoid temptation. “Have your guests arrived?” he asked.

“They have.”

“I'm surprised you left them unattended.”

“Did you know that Lord Bateman is anxious to make your acquaintance, Mr. McDonald? I find myself wondering why.”

“Many people want to meet me, Miss Townsend.”

“That's an arrogant statement.”

He whispered into her ear, “It's the truth.”

Sophia pulled away from him, but not before he could feel the shiver that went through her. “Did you come here to meet Lord Bateman?”

“The reason for my visit is business. I came to mate my ram to one of Tony's ewes. Anything else is purely coincidence.” She did not need to know that he was here to get Bateman to sell him land that abutted his property. He needed more land for his sheep, and it would also allow him to cut a road to shorten the trip to Dumfries. Bateman owned the land and did nothing with it. Rumor had it that Bateman was in dun territory. If so, he'd be more open to selling the property. This could work out to Ian's advantage. “Has his lordship proposed yet?”

She twisted around to glare at him for his tone. All he saw were her breasts.

“No, he has not.”

“But you are expecting him to.”

“I suppose.”

There was a note of uncertainty in her voice that pulled at him. Ian couldn't stop his hand from brushing her hair back. The desire to touch her was overwhelming.

Sophia had little money and Bateman needed to marry a fortune to rescue the estate. Ian had seen them in London together. They made a beautiful couple.

Ian had noticed the marked attention Bateman had paid to Sophia. He'd welcomed her into the pack of friends he had in Town. Ian had called on Sophia several times to find Bateman already there, leaving flowers and gifts. Even he was inclined to think Bateman felt more than a passing attraction to Sophia. However, the rumors were flying about the lack of a proposal. If Bateman chose another woman to marry, Sophia would suffer the shame of being ruined because of his marked attentions.

They rounded the corner to the park of the Lodge and he guided the horse to the stable. “Take the entry at the back of the house, Sophia. You'll avoid your guests that way.”

“I'll see you at dinner.” She slid from the horse with the help of one of Matthews's grooms, then ran off for the kitchen entrance.

Ian dismounted and handed the reins to the same grooms. He went through the front entrance, removing his gloves and hat and handing them to the waiting footman. His hands still stung from wrestling the ram, but he'd survive.

Lord Bateman stood in the library doorway waiting for him. “I expected you to be here when I arrived.”

Ian let the slight go by. Bateman might be used to preferential treatment from others, but he'd not get it from him. “I had business to attend to at the neighboring estate.”

“I doubt your business was that important.”

Ian moved into the library, ignoring the comment. The man never allowed him to forget who his father was. He poured himself a healthy splash of Nathaniel Matthews's fine brandy and sat down in one of the large leather chairs in the room. Bateman did the same, taking the seat across from him.

“How was your journey?” Ian asked.

“Long, but we are nearly there, perhaps three, maybe four days more.” Bateman tossed his drink back and rose to set the glass down by the brandy decanter.

“Have you considered my offer?”

“So, we are to dispense with the niceties, McDonald? Your father would not have approved.”

“I am not my father, nor do I work for you.”

“The offer was too low.”

Ian swirled the brandy in his glass, taking his time to mull over Bateman's comment. If Bateman thought he was like his father, he was in for a rude awakening. He hadn't gotten where he was by serving others. “The offer is fair.”

“You know the difficulties we are facing with the estate.”

“I'm aware of your financial difficulties, yes. It's rather common knowledge that the family lived beyond its means.”

Bateman picked a piece of lint from his coat and returned to the leather chair. He said nothing for a long time. “The earldom has a history of living beyond its means. Unfortunately, it cannot continue.”

“Then accept my offer for the land. It lies fallow. You aren't using it.”

“I'm not going to give it away.”

“Then I look forward to your counteroffer.”

“Marry my sister and the land is yours.”

Ian choked on his brandy. “Excuse me?”

“Catherine hasn't had any luck finding a husband, not to mention the fact that she doesn't have much of a dowry any longer.”

Ian tossed down the rest of the alcohol. He walked over to the decanter. “And you'd marry her to me? The son of a steward? I would not have thought you would allow your sister to marry so far beneath her.” He was tempted to refill his glass but resisted. He'd need his wits about him for the rest of this conversation. And there was more to Bateman's tale; he was sure of it.

“You're wealthy and probably the only one who can deal with her,” Bateman said carefully. “You were her choice.”

What a horrifying thought. “And if I don't marry your sister?”

“I'll sell the land to someone else, probably for a better price.”

The glasses rattled on the table as Ian leaned against it, reflecting his nerves. While he needed that land to expand his operations in Scotland, marrying Lady Catherine Grayson did not figure into his plans. She brought the connections Sophia had, but she lacked one thing: He didn't desire her, not like he did Sophia Townsend. “Will it be enough to salvage the earldom?”

Bateman shook his head. “Miss Hamilton is worth twenty thousand pounds. I intend to make her my wife. This trip is to help her decide.”

Ian fought to hide his shock. Bateman had certainly found a solution to his problem. “What about Miss Townsend? I noticed your attentions to her in Town recently. It was common knowledge that a proposal was expected.”

“She is lovely, but far beneath me socially and not nearly wealthy enough.” Bateman stood and tugged down on his waistcoat. “Then there is her age to consider. She is quite on the shelf.”

“She's not decrepit. You're here enjoying her hospitality. She's expecting a proposal.”

“It isn't as if I had a choice in the matter.”

“Then why did you single her out? You know what the gossips will do to her.”

“At the time, I had no idea how bad things were. She'll recover.”

Ian suspected the more persistent creditors must have caught his attention. “You've pretty much doomed Miss Townsend to spinsterhood.”

Bateman glared at him. “It couldn't be helped.”

“Sell me the land. You'll instantly have money in your pocket.”

“Take Catherine off my hands and you have a deal.” Bateman left the room abruptly. Probably just as well; his last comment had Ian's fists curling. The man was damned rude. He tossed people aside as if they were rubbish.

Ian stared at the closed door for a long time. There was no way in hell he'd marry Bateman's sister. She was a shrew. There was no way he would endure that kind of torture for the rest of his life. He'd wait. Bateman would weaken, especially if he needed money that badly. Patience had worked for Ian in the past. Patience would work this time as well.

* * *

Sophia sat by the fire, away from the rest of the group. Lady Catherine, Lord Bateman, Captain Smith-Williams, and Miss Hamilton were playing cards. Anne was quietly talking to Nathaniel. Probably about the disaster dinner had been.

It was beyond a disaster; it had been a nightmare. Lady Catherine was either complaining about the food, her room, or the heat. Miss Hamilton, Lord bless her, had tried to smooth things over, but to no avail. Mr. McDonald had sat between Lady Catherine and herself but said little, keeping his own council, ignoring all attempts to draw him out. It was actually quite comical to see the tables turned on him.

Sophia had no intention of drawing him into conversation despite the fact that he stood nearby. He had unfinished business with her and she was in no hurry to continue it. She longed to talk with Lord Bateman, but he had patently discouraged all attempts at conversation. This was a very different man from the one she'd known in London. He was being downright rude to her.

It was fast becoming clear that Bateman was not renewing his attentions to her, but if he wasn't going to propose, why come to Beetham? It was clearly out of the way of his final destination. She glanced at Ian McDonald, standing like a stone nearby. He'd had a permanent frown on this face since dinner. Something was going on between the two men. How did they know each other?

“Miss Townsend, will you not play cards? I would gladly relinquish my seat,” Captain Smith-Williams said.

“You're very kind, sir, but no, thank you.”

“Do you have something against card games, Miss Townsend?” Lady Catherine pounced. “I don't believe I've ever seen you play.”