A Most Inconvenient Wish (8 page)

Her eyes welled with tears. “I can't. His problems are my problems. We can no longer afford the town house in London. I won't be going back for another Season. I'll be stuck in the backwoods forever.”

He'd never realized how dramatic Catherine could be. He didn't like it, which was surprising, given how dramatic Sophia was. It was different somehow.

Yet it was late and he'd had enough of female theatrics. “Good night, ma'am.” He bowed and moved to the door. He unlocked it, the click of the lock sounding loud in the room.

“I'm not giving up on this, Ian McDonald,” she said in a confident voice. “We will marry.”

He turned back to her. “Not without my consent.”

She smiled coldly. “There are ways.”

The comment gave Ian pause. She was a great deal smarter than her brother. Could she really manipulate a wedding between the two of them? He hoped not. It would ruin his own plans.

He stepped out of the library. “Don't forget to put out the candle before you leave.”

“You just wait, Ian McDonald. You just wait.”

Her words haunted him as he made his way to his room. He locked the door behind him, resisting the urge to put a chair under the knob. He almost laughed at himself. Catherine Grayson was a tiny thing, and here he was terrified that she was going to do something that would force a marriage between them.

He'd have to resolve this with Bateman in the morning. The man was going to have to control his sister before she did something really foolish.

S
ophia reluctantly opened her eyes the next morning. She glanced at the mantel clock and groaned. It was only seven o'clock. She plopped back into the bed. She'd barely been asleep for three hours. Her eyes felt gritty. Oh, how she wanted to just roll over and sleep a bit longer, but no, she was wide awake now.

Damn Ian McDonald! His kisses had haunted her all night. That and the thought of him doing the same with Catherine Grayson. Lady Catherine definitely had plans for Ian, and Sophia could not understand why she cared so much.

The man irritated her to no end. He'd taken great pleasure in the past in tormenting her either with his inane comments about her behavior or his constant flirting. In fact, nothing had changed until the other day.

The day she'd made that stupid wish on the Fairy Steps.

Why did she have to let Ian McDonald get the best of her? That stupid taunt was going to ruin her life if she let it.

She knew Ian did not believe, but she wasn't so sure. The evidence was pretty convincing. First there was this uncontrollable attraction to him. If he was in the room, she was drawn to him. Then Lord Bateman arrived with an almost fiancée. He was supposed to marry her. Even the episode in the pasture seemed to give Ian the upper hand. Who knew he was hero material?

Sophia sat straight up in bed. “Oh dear God.” She threw the covers off and began pacing. “No, oh, please, no.” It was all adding up.

Stopping in the middle of the room, she covered her face with her hands. The attraction, the kissing, all of it was the result of the wish. She'd not just ruined her chances but Ian's as well. They were doomed to be together forever.

Sophia resumed her manic pacing. There had to be a way to undo this. Surely Anne, her sister, would know. She'd have to confess and ask her. Sophia couldn't be stuck in the countryside of Scotland forever. She didn't care how well Ian McDonald curled her toes in passion. It was not going to happen.

If she couldn't resist Ian's advances, wish or no wish, she'd end up his wife. The man was too honorable. She couldn't allow herself to give in to the temptation that was Ian McDonald.

But were the backwoods of the Lake District any worse than the backwoods of Scotland? She would still be stuck with the same problem: a spinster in the middle of the damn country and bored to tears.

Sophia stood and rang for her maid. There was no sleeping now. If she were lucky, she'd have a few moments with Anne to discuss the wish situation. Her father had always wanted them to work problems from both ends to arrive at a resolution.

The maid arrived quickly. “You're up early, miss.”

“Is my sister awake?”

“Not yet, ma'am. The only other person up and about is Mr. McDonald.”

Of course he'd be an early riser; he was a blasted farmer. “Is he in the breakfast room?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Help me dress. I'll have the light green day dress with the ivory fichu.” She'd rather start with Anne, but things weren't working out that way, so she'd improvise. It was time to put Mr. McDonald in his place.

Her maid dressed her hair simply and within fifteen minutes, a record for her, she was making her way downstairs to the breakfast room. There he sat, alone, with his breakfast and his newspaper. Sophia sighed. He was fiercely handsome with his wild, dark hair and blue eyes. Just looking at him made her heart thump in ways neither Lord Bateman nor any other man had ever stirred. Her reaction to his touch put impossible thoughts in her head. She stiffened her spine. She would be strong. She was a Townsend. She could do this.

* * *

Ian sipped his coffee and read through the latest copy of
The Scotsman
he'd brought with him. The house was quiet and with any luck it would remain that way. He'd like to be out and about before Lady Catherine and Sophia were up. He didn't need a repeat of last night. He had trouble dealing with one woman, Sophia. He didn't need another to add to his misery.

Not that he wouldn't enjoy spending more time with Sophia. Her passionate response had fueled his dreams. He wanted more of her. Needed more of her.

Catherine, on the other hand, scared the hell out of him. What possessed the woman to be so straightforward? He'd definitely have to talk to Bateman about her behavior. She was also wily enough to trick him into a compromising position. He was going to have to convince Sophia to keep him from being alone with Catherine. The woman was positively ruthless.

Not that he could blame her or any other woman for feeling desperate. Women didn't have the flexibility men did when it came to earning a living. They either became governesses, companions, or married their future. It was the way of the world, though completely unfair.

He didn't want to be a part of Catherine's plans. He wanted Sophia.

“Good morning, Mr. McDonald,” Sophia said.

Ian got to his feet as the object of his thoughts breezed into the room. “Good morning to you as well.” The green dress made her skin glow. Her dark brown hair was simply dressed. She'd been in a hurry this morning.

“I was hoping to catch you before you went out and did something farm-related.” She took the seat to his right.

“Would you like tea or coffee?” he asked.

“Tea, please.”

Ian eyed her smile with apprehension. She was definitely up to mischief. He motioned the footman to fetch a fresh pot of tea for Sophia. She looked tired, as if she'd not slept well, and he was pleased inwardly. He wasn't the only one who'd lost sleep last night. “You are up early. Don't tell me the book on Scotland kept you awake.”

“It was fascinating reading.”

She eyed his toast and he pushed his plate toward her. He wasn't much for breakfast anyway. He waited until she'd bitten into the toast before saying, “I take that to mean you spent a good deal of the night considering our conversation.”

She nodded, chewing quickly, then swallowing. She had a crumb in the corner of her mouth and he couldn't stop staring at it. She licked her lips.

Ian cleared his throat.

“Yes, a great deal of thought, but I have a question for you first.”

The footman came with a fresh pot of tea, a few cups, and cream. “Just set it on the table. We won't need anything further,” Ian said to the footman. He waited until the man had left the room. “You were saying you had a question.”

Sophia poured herself a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar. A good deal of sugar, Ian noticed. She stirred and sipped, then sighed, her eyes closed. There was a look of pure pleasure on her face.

“Sophia?”

She held up a hand. “Tea first.”

“I take it you don't care for early mornings,” he said gently. Truly, he'd never seen Sophia awake and dressed before midmorning.

“I hate mornings.” She sipped more tea, clutching the cup between her slim hands.

“Are you able to ask your question now?”

She set the teacup down and nibbled a piece of toast. “Where was I?”

This was a side of Sophia Townsend he'd never seen before. Usually she was haughty, with a sharp tongue. This morning she still had the sharp tongue, but she was softer, more honest. “You had a question for me.”

“The other day at the Fairy Steps, before the storm hit. Do you remember the air feeling strange? Cold?”

It was an odd question. “A storm was blowing in. The air usually cools prior to one.”

“So you don't remember anything strange happening?” Sophia picked up another piece of toast.

Ian thought back to that day. “Not really.”

“Do you remember making a wish?”

“I remember you wishing for something. What is the point you're trying to make, Sophia?”

She said nothing for a long moment. “It's of no matter.”

Given the disappointed expression on her face, it was more than a little matter. Ian couldn't rid himself of the feeling that there was something else going on in her head. “Are you sure?”

She looked up at him and blurted out, “I'm not going to be able to help you fend off Lady Catherine's attentions.”

Ian struggled for a moment at the change of subject. This was the last thing he'd expected. “Am I allowed to know the reason why you won't?”

“After what happened in the library, I do not think it would be wise for us to spend so much time together.”

She was afraid and it was his own fault. He'd pushed her into things she wasn't ready for. “If I promise not to kiss you again, will you help?”

Sophia nibbled more toast and watched him for a long moment. “Do you think you could keep that promise?”

His brain screamed
hell no
, but he said, “I can control my baser instincts if you can.” He picked up his coffee and drained it. “I need your help. Catherine is determined to marry me.”

“If she loves you—”

“Love has nothing to do with it.” The words came out harsh and blunt. “She isn't above tricking me if necessary.”

“That's absurd. What woman would do that?”

“A desperate one.”

“So the rumors about their finances are true, then.”

“I'm afraid so. Catherine is facing the same fate as you. Stuck in the country with no dowry and no hope.”

“Thank you for putting that fine point on the subject.” Sophia made a face at him but then grew serious. “If Lord Bateman marries Miss Hamilton, won't that solve Lady Catherine's problem?”

Ian debated telling Sophia the whole of it. It really wasn't his secret to tell, but Sophia was involved to some degree. “Bateman's situation is much worse than most know. Miss Hamilton's dowry will cover only a portion of the debt.”

Sophia propped her chin on her hand. “I almost feel sorry for Catherine. Her life is going to change in so many ways, none of which are very pleasant. Don't look so surprised, Ian McDonald. I am capable of sympathy when the need arises.”

“If you say so, though I've seen no evidence of it.”

“You are impossible.”

“It's nice of you to sympathize with Lady Catherine, but what about me? Will you help me hold her at arm's length?”

Sophia poured another cup of tea and dumped in more sugar and a splash of milk. “Do you like tea or just sweet?” he asked.

“I like both at the same time, if you must know.” She sipped and wrinkled her nose before setting the cup down. “What do you propose we do to protect you from Lady Catherine?”

“We could become engaged.”

“Out of the question. No one would believe it.”

“Of course they would.”

“I don't know how you ever succeed at anything; you obviously do not understand strategy. No one will believe we are engaged because you are a sheep farmer. Everyone knows I had planned to marry—”

“Someone with a title. You could pretend to be in love with me.”

She shook her head.

“Then what do you suggest?” He couldn't keep the sharpness from his tone. He was losing patience with Sophia's snobbery.

“We'll have to work up to the engagement. For now, I think you should court me. Flowers, chocolates, and love notes.”

Ian pushed away his plate. “I'm not writing any love notes.”

“Can't you write?” Her voice was all innocence.

“That sharp tongue is going to get you into trouble one day, Miss Townsend.”

“Well, then, no love notes.” She smiled at him. “If you are courting me, you'll have little time for Lady Catherine.”

It wasn't a bad plan. “What about Lord Bateman?”

She waved a hand. “He's made his decision. There's nothing I can do about it.”

Ian studied her for a long moment. He wished he could tell what was going on in that brain of hers. She was cunning for sure, but there had to be something more behind this. “What do you get out of this?”

She smiled serenely. He felt his gut tighten, but he thought it was more from fear than lust.

“I get the pleasure of thwarting Lady Catherine. She is not going to like this one bit.”

“There is one other consideration before I agree to this plan of yours. Your family.”

Sophia suddenly became very interested in the pattern on the china in front of her. “This has nothing to with them.”

“Matthews is going to assume all this courting will lead to an engagement. I have business dealings with him and Tony. I don't want this to get in the way of those.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Really, Mr. McDonald, let me deal with Nathaniel and Tony. Things will be fine. We won't let the situation go that far. Besides, I have a history of being fickle. You'll be safe; don't worry.”

There was something in her tone that gave him pause. “You could always just marry me, Sophia.”

She raised her eyes to his, shocked. “No. Thank you.”

“Why not? If last night was any indication, we should be quite compatible.”

She blushed, her cheeks fiery. “A gentleman wouldn't bring that up. But now that you have, we shall have to prevent incidents like that from happening again.”

He was a glutton for punishment regarding this woman, but he had to know. “What would be so wrong with being married to me? Is it that I lack a title?”

“It's more that you live so far away from any sort of civilization, honestly.” She grimaced. “Talk about a fate worse than death.”

A sharp pain at her retort shot through him. “Thank you.”

She had the grace to look chagrined. “You know I didn't mean it like that.”