A Most Inconvenient Wish (7 page)

“Stay. Please.”

There was a tone in his voice that gave her pause. She sat back on the sofa and waited. She'd never revealed so much to another human being and now she felt as if she had walked into the room in her chemise. “Then at least can we change the subject.”

“I am going to need your help.” The words were low, spat out almost beneath his breath. “With Lady Catherine.”

“Am I hearing correctly? You need my help?”

“I deserve that.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “You do. I'm going to enjoy this moment.” She could practically hear him growling under his breath. There was something quite uncivilized about Ian McDonald. “I have an idea,” she said. “I'll protect you from Catherine's aggressive advances, but I want something in return.”

“What do you want?” His tone was cautious.

“A boon. Don't worry; I'll let you know what I want when it's time.”

“That's not quite fair, now is it?”

She met his gaze. “Do you want help fending off Lady Catherine or not? Because I can tell you right now, you have no chance of avoiding being trapped into wedded bliss without my help.”

Ian stared at Lady Catherine for a long moment. “She would put her reputation at risk like that?”

“It depends on how much you're worth.”

“That's rather mercenary, isn't it?”

“As women our only way to improve our lives is through marriage to the right gentlemen.”

“Fine. I accept.

She studied Ian carefully. There was something else going on here. “You are up to something, sir. What?”

Ian grinned.

What more could he want? “Well, out with it.”

“You could always marry me, Sophia. Not because you have to but because you want to.”

Sophia fought to keep her countenance. “Marry you? A sheep farmer? A man who lives somewhere in the wilds of Scotland? I think not.” She'd shrivel up inside living without Society. She'd rather be poor in London than wealthy in the back country of Scotland.

“I'd make sure you didn't care where we lived or how much money we had.” There was that voice again. How did Ian manage to change his voice so that it played along her nerves as fingers on a harp?

“Impossible. You hate Town and you know how much I thrive in London. It would never work. We'd drive each other mad before the banns were read.” She forced her voice to be practical.

He took her wrist in his hand, his thumb on her pulse. “While your mind may object, your body tells a different story. Even now your pulse is racing by my just being close.”

“You go too far.”

“Prove to me that you can resist this passion between us. Prove to me that you can marry someone whose touch you can barely tolerate.”

Sophia stood. “I've had enough of this conversation. Good night, sir.”

She had moved across the room to say her good nights to her sister when Lord Bateman stepped into her path. There was no way to avoid him, though she desperately wanted to.

“Miss Townsend, allow me to apologize for my marked attention to you in London. I had no idea you thought we had an understanding.”

Sophia stiffened her spine as her heart sank. Having Ian tell her the truth was one thing; hearing it from Lord Bateman was another. “I, uh, had not thought—”

“Come on, old girl; we did have some fun.”

Old girl? Did he seriously think of her as old? The next thing he'd probably do was slap her on the back like one of the men in his club. She struggled for the right words. What was wrong with her? She was always quick with a witty remark. “We did, indeed, sir. In fact, I cannot imagine how I might have misconstrued your attentions. The gifts, the flowers, the dances at every event; I was quite taken aback by the fun, as you called it.”

“Miss Townsend—”

“Take care, sir, that you do not lead another young lady to misconstrue your attentions in such a manner. She might not be as understanding as I. If you will excuse me . . .”

Sophia brushed past him while making her way out of the room. She could feel the eyes of everyone on her back as she stepped into the hall.
I wish they'd never come.

S
ophia could not sleep. The room was warm despite her leaving the window open to catch the breeze. Her mind wouldn't settle. Her brain played Ian McDonald's words from just a few hours earlier over and over again. He spoke of passion, something she avoided whenever possible. Passion only got a woman ruined, especially when it ruled both head and heart. The problem was this insane attraction to him. He represented everything she didn't want—an endless country lifestyle—yet she was drawn to him.

Sophia rose from her bed and pulled on a robe. She stepped into her slippers. She needed a really boring book to lull her to sleep. She stepped out of her room and into the hallway.

It must be past midnight. The house was finally quiet. Sophia tiptoed down the stairs without a candle, feeling her way in the dark. She stepped into the library and found a candle. She lit it and made her way to the shelves. Tonight called for something seriously boring, perhaps something on agriculture. She pulled out a book, thumbed through it, and put it back. She'd spend most of her time trying to understand the Latin words for plants. Definitely not for her. She moved down the stack and pulled out another dusty volume. The maids really needed to clean in here.

Sophia set the candle on the ledge of the shelf and opened a book. She glanced at the title page and giggled.
Travels of Scotland
: a suitably boring topic. She snapped the book shut and clutched it to her chest. She lifted the candle and made her way to the door just as Ian McDonald stepped inside.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sssh, she might hear you.” He looked terrified.

“Who might hear me?”

“Catherine.”

“She's long since sought her bed, Mr. McDonald. There is no reason to fear.”

He shook his head. “I caught her going into my bedroom as I went to my room.”

Sophia frowned. She didn't recall seeing anyone in the hallway, but then, the men were on the other side of the house. “Why were you up so very late?”

“Nathaniel and I were discussing our breeding experiment.” Ian moved into the room. “Why are you in here?”

“I couldn't sleep and thought I'd read.”

He moved closer to her, taking the candle from her hand and setting it on a nearby table. “What are you reading?”

Sophia clutched the book closer to her. “Nothing really. Just one of Nathaniel's books.”

Ian chuckled. “Give me the book, Sophia. Please.”

She clutched the book closer. If he saw the title, he might get the wrong idea. “It's just something really boring. I fully expect to be asleep before I get through page ten.”

“Then you won't mind if I take a look?” He pulled the book from her hands. “
Travels of Scotland by a Unique Route
. I didn't realize you were interested in Scotland.”

Sophia smiled. “I'm not. I imagined that a book about Scotland would be as dull as the countryside itself.”

Ian flipped through the pages and moved farther into the library. “There's a wildness to Scotland you might find you like.”

Sophia followed him. “May I have my book back, please?”

“I think you should stay here with me in case she comes looking for a book to read.” Ian settled into a nearby chair. He flipped the book back open and began to read.

“It would not be good for anyone to find us alone here this late at night, Mr. McDonald.”

“That would keep Catherine from her pursuit of me. Isn't that what we agreed to?”

“Not if it means risking my own reputation.” She was not going to stay here and keep him company. It was late. It wasn't proper. She would just make do without a book. “Good night, Mr. McDonald.”

Ian moved quickly to stop her. “Don't leave. Not yet.” He stepped between her and the closed door.

There was a tone in his voice that tugged at her. Her emotions warred. She was really starting to like Ian McDonald. “I really must. It's late.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. Sophia shivered and stepped back from him. She needed distance. His scent, his presence were filling her senses with mad ideas like kissing him again. She couldn't allow it to happen, yet she craved it. This had never happened to her before. “Don't.”

He stepped closer. “You're trembling.”

“I'm cold.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mr. McDonald—”

“Ian. My name is Ian. Say it, Sophia.”

“Ian.”

He brushed her lips with his thumb. She couldn't control her response to his touch, but instead of crowing his success, he moved closer.

Sophia should have stepped back away from him, especially after the lecture she'd given herself just a few minutes before. Ian didn't hold her; he'd let her go if she really wanted him to. The closer he got to her, the more his scent made her senses swim. He radiated heat.

His nearness had never lured her like a moth to a flame before now, and she was tempting fate enough to be singed, but she didn't have the strength to walk away from him.

The buttons of his waistcoat brushed against her breasts, reminding her of how little she wore—just a robe over a thin nightgown. He lifted her chin and brushed his mouth against hers, so very softly that she couldn't stop the sigh that slipped from her. Never had a kiss stirred such feelings within her.

His lips were soft, warm, and oh so very tempting. Sophia had been kissed before. Frankly, she'd been kissed a great deal more than her older sister Anne realized. She'd become a rather good judge of men's kisses. Ian McDonald put the others to shame. His was neither too wet nor rough. His mouth was mobile but not too soft. This kiss was a pure temptation to sin.

Ian lifted his mouth from hers. Sophia slowly raised her eyes to his, her thoughts dazed, her mouth parted. His eyes were heated. His hands circled her waist and pulled her into his firm body.

Warmth surrounded her and seeped through the thin layers of her gown and robe. Her breasts tightened as they brushed against his waistcoat.

Her hips cradled his hardness through the thin layers. Her pulse raced; her breathing grew shallow. He had to kiss her again. She craved his mouth on hers, craved more of his taste, this passion bubbling through her like champagne, sweet and intoxicating.

Ian's mouth met hers in teasing little nibbles. Her hands found their way to his jacket and gripped the lapels. He wouldn't take the kiss deeper. She groaned against his mouth, all but begging him to take it deeper, take her deeper. She touched her tongue to his bottom lip.

That touch urged him into action. His mouth crushed hers, his tongue tasting, teasing, torturing her mouth. Sophia melted against him, like warm chocolate as his warmth embraced her.

Nothing had ever felt this good, this mesmerizing, this addictive. She didn't want him to stop. He could keep kissing her until she was a puddle at his feet. Who knew sheep farmers possessed such an incredible talent?

His hands moved over her body, leaving feverish trails as he learned her curves. His fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts, teasingly before smoothing the silky fabric over her hips.

Sophia wrapped her arms around Ian's neck. Her hands found the softness of the curls at the base of his neck, the crisp fabric of his cravat. She pushed her body up and into his, seeking more of his warm, hard body. She instinctively moved her hips back and forth against him.

Ian's hands grabbed her hips to still her. Slowly, he eased her down, his mouth gentling hers.

She eased down from her tiptoes and raised heavy-lidded eyes to his. She felt as if she'd run a great distance, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Still lost in the fog of desire, she said nothing, just stared up at this very surprising man.

He brushed a thumb tenderly across her cheek. “Sophia, sweetheart, you need to go upstairs before this goes much farther.”

His words of warning were like ice water, waking her from this dream state in which she'd been. Sophia stepped back and glared at him. She didn't know if she was angry because he'd stopped or because she hadn't wanted him to stop.

“Don't be angry with me. You were an active participant.” His voice was low, gravelly, as if he needed to clear his throat. He ran his hands through his hair, then picked up the book and handed it to her. He turned her toward the door and pushed her. “Good night.”

Sophia took the book and clutched it against her as if it were a shield. She couldn't find her voice, her thoughts still tangled in the passion they'd shared.

She stepped out into the dark hallway, her brain still wrapped in the fog of passion. Heavens.

“I see we have the same idea, Miss Townsend.”

Catherine Grayson came down the stairs in a diaphanous robe and gown that floated around her. Her golden hair was brushed and fell over her shoulders.

Sophia could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and was thankful it was dark. The last thing she needed was for Catherine to know what Ian and she had been doing in the library. “Yes. Are you having trouble sleeping as well?

“I always do in a new place. What are you reading?”

Sophia had to look down at the title. She'd completely forgotten about the book. “A book on travel. It's quite dull, actually. Would you like it?”

Sophia hoped she would take the book and leave Ian alone for the night. She must have supposed if he weren't in his room, he'd be reading in the library.

“Thank you, no. I think I'd prefer a novel tonight.”

Sophia stepped out of the way to allow Catherine to open the library door. There was no way to warn Ian. Perhaps it was a fitting revenge for the way he'd stirred her emotions.

“Sophia?” His tone was full of questioning hope.

Sophia couldn't see his face, but Catherine could. The woman narrowed her eyes as she looked between Ian and Sophia.

“My, so many of us are having trouble sleeping. Perhaps you should mention to the cook that the food is keeping us all awake.” Catherine's voice was pure ice.

Sophia said nothing as she watched the door close, leaving Ian alone with Lady Catherine. A sharp pain twisted in her chest. She didn't like this feeling. She hurried back to her room. Once she was inside, she turned the lock. She didn't want to tempt fate any more tonight.

* * *

Ian turned as Catherine Grayson closed the library door and clicked the lock. He'd never seen a woman stalk a man like this, and he'd seen some very unusual things in London. “Is it necessary to lock the door, Catherine?”

“I think so.” She moved toward him into the room. “With so many others having trouble sleeping, I wouldn't want us to be interrupted.”

Ian said nothing, just watched her, waiting for her to make her move. She made him uncomfortable in a way he'd never been before. Usually he wasn't the target of women of the Ton. While he was wealthy enough, he had his hands in too much trade to be husband material on the marriage mart. That position had offered him some protection.

He longed to tug at his cravat, edge around the settee to avoid her, and make his way out. He was fairly sure he could beat Catherine to the door, but it would only delay the inevitable conversation. He might as well get it over with now, then focus on what he'd come here to do.

“What were you and Miss Townsend doing in here alone at this hour?” Her movements were catlike as she traced her finger on the stitching of one of the leather chairs.

“I came down for a brandy and a book for the night. Miss Townsend was also seeking a book.”

“You two were very chummy tonight in the parlor, but then she left early. Did you argue?”

“We always argue. I don't think she likes me very much.”

“Good.” Catherine smiled sweetly.

She really was a beautiful woman, he thought dispassionately, just not his type.

“I think you're mistaken, Catherine.”

“Ian, what can you mean? I just want us to become reacquainted.”

He looked down at her robe. “Do you always dress like that to become reacquainted with men?”

She at least blushed at that. “Fine. I'll be blunt.”

“That would be preferable.”

“I think we should marry,” Catherine said, crossing her arms in front of her. “You are wealthy; we are not. An influx of funds would save the earldom and help us bring the estates up to par.”

“Surely you could marry someone more suitable for that purpose. You are popular, pretty, and well connected.”

“Rumors of the estate being in dun territory have flooded Town. My dowry is gone and the debts are so large that no man would take them on.”

There was a note of defeat that pulled at his sympathy. She had not asked for this mess, yet she'd been tasked with repairing it. “So that leaves me, the son of your former steward. I'm flattered.” He almost felt sorry for her. “Catherine, you don't have to do this. Marry who you want and let Bateman deal with the debts.”

“I'll not abandon the family. My brother will marry Miss Hamilton, but while she is wealthy, it isn't enough. I have to do this.”

Ian couldn't argue with her. She'd been spoon-fed the vitriol of their positions since she was a baby. “I'll not marry you, Catherine. Now, if you will excuse me, I will retire to my room.”

“I could come with you.”

“You don't want to do that.”

“I do.” She moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. “I really do.”

“I don't.” He pulled her arms from around his neck and gently set her away from him. “Go to bed, Catherine, and we'll forget this ever happened. Find someone to marry who cares about you. Let your brother solve his own problems.”