Elise (10 page)

Chapter 10

The carriage stopped for a late luncheon. Elise had just begun wondering if Colin meant to see her fed at all.

The carriage was comfortable, the best sprung she’d ever been in, Archibald Wyndham’s included. Elise had settled herself against the cushion support at her back and side, careful not to disturb the roses in her coiffure. She had almost managed to sleep.

She could feel more of the carriage seat than she should have, but that was no great burden. The MacGowan coach seats were stuffed to an exactitude, she was certain. She could feel the seat because her ensemble was supposed to be worn with no less than ten petticoats, to gain the proper volume and width. It should have taken up much more of the seat than it was. She’d opted for only four petticoats, instead. She would never have managed all of it without Daisy to assist her. Then again, she’d not known that the cushion under her posterior settled after a spell, and she’d have to rearrange herself constantly on it or risk an ache in her back.

It would also help if designers would give women a little breathing room. The bone-stiffened corset kept her from being able to take deep breaths, as well as making it difficult to slouch against one side, where it would have been the most comfortable. She’d debated not wearing the corset this morning, but Lady Beth’s maid had been shocked enough.

Elise wouldn’t let unspoken censure stop her next time. The corset was an uncomfortable device of torture. It was digging into her ribcage; it was itchy, too. It was also getting warm.

She’d already removed her pelisse and placed it on the opposite seat, where a traveling companion should have been. She should be grateful that she was traveling in such comfort. She could be atop a horse in the open, like the duke most likely was.

She wondered if he was riding his chestnut horse.

“Damn it!” Elise cursed aloud, annoyed with herself. Just because she was being sentenced to solitude didn’t mean her every thought had to be on His Grace, Colin MacGowan.

The coach stopped in the yard of an inn. Elise barely had enough time to sit back, as though uninterested, when the door opened.

“The duke has reserved a private room, Your Grace. If you’d follow me?”

She gathered her skirts and followed Colin’s man. She was turned over at the front step to a servant girl who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Your Grace.”

The girl mumbled the title and swept into a low curtsy. Elise grimaced, then she found herself in a bedroom and watched while the girl poured water for her. Elise soaked her handkerchief and sponged her neck and face. The girl watched silently as Elise studied herself in the chamber mirror.

Other than the slight drooping of her roses and the wrinkles along the back of her silk skirt, she looked exactly as she had when they’d started out. She probably had the corset to thank. Perhaps she’d best quit cursing the designers of her clothing, she told herself.

“My thanks. I’m ready.” She tipped the girl and tried to match her smile
. Such an innocent, young thing,
she thought. Elise wondered if she’d ever looked like that.

Colin was already in the inn’s private room, awaiting her. Elise halted an instantaneous start of sensation as she hesitated in the door, before forcing her feet to continue moving. She’d only seen him in lofty rooms or out in the open. In this little dining room, he was even more immense—larger, stronger, more inescapable. There was nothing she could do about it.

She also had to admit that he looked fairly impressive in traveling attire of butter-colored trousers tucked into knee-high boots and an open vest worn with a thick, muslin-type shirt. He’d shed his jacket, and he wasn’t wearing cuffs. He’d taken the resultant material at each arm and rolled it almost to his elbows, showing every tanned bit of sinew and muscle he possessed, even in his forearms. She knew exactly how it felt, too. She’d already had that sensation. No wonder he’d felt so hard! Everything that was female in her stopped and sighed; then every bit of her that was The Ice Goddess rose up in protest.

Elise consciously halted her own thoughts. She wasn’t sighing over him. She was never even considering him, ever again. He wasn’t her type, much as Roald had said, what now seemed years ago. Colin wasn’t a dandy. He wasn’t born to wear white gloves, black trousers, and a high, starched cravat. He wasn’t a self-assured sophisticate, whose tongue dripped with sweet nothings for no reason. He wasn’t like that at all. He seemed much too rugged for such niceties.

He wasn’t as dark as Elise preferred, either. Her men were usually dark haired and swarthy. That made them a perfect foil to her.

Colin was tanned, it was true, but his eyes were golden brown with greenish flecks that sparkled sometimes, and his hair was reddish in the window’s light. Now, why should she notice that? She winced and hoped he wouldn’t spot it.

“You’ve journeyed well, thus far?” he asked.

“Passably, Your Grace.” She moved gracefully to her seat.

“Always in control, are na’ you?”

His whisper made her start as he watched her arrange her skirts. Then the door opened and the innkeeper entered, bowing so low that Elise couldn’t see his face. He was followed by the tantalizing aroma of roasted beef. Her mouth watered.

“Your sup, Your Grace.”

“I may even find it edible, my good man.” Colin’s bored tone was as insulting as his words. The innkeeper’s head shot up.

“My Sarah’s every bit as good a cook as them you’d find in London.”

“That remains to be seen. You may withdraw.”

Colin waited for the man and his helper to leave. Elise couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. As the door shut with more force than seemed necessary, Colin turned his warm brown eyes to her. She caught her breath and looked away.

“Am I passing your inspection yet?”

“My ... inspection?” she asked the wall.

“I can act as convincing a fob as those you seem to prefer. I’ve nae taste for it, though.”

“I have no such preference.”

“Surely, you jest. I spent some time scanning the papers yesterday while you slept. You’re featured in quite a few of them. You’re quite famous. I dinna’ realize that before.”

Elise ignored him and helped herself to a slice of freshly baked bread. The innkeeper was right in his esteem of the unseen Sarah’s skill. The inside of the loaf was soft and heavy with aroma, whereas the crust crunched in her fingers. She tore off a bite and spent the next several moments evaluating it.

“I’m trying to have a conversation here, Elise.”

“His cook is extraordinary.”

“Perhaps you’ll do it justice and take more than two bites, then?”

“I always take more than two,” she replied.

“All right, three.”

Elise looked across at him. “I’m making polite conversation. That is what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“I said naught about being polite. I prefer you when you’re brutally honest. I will admit, though, that I’m a bit stung at the parts where you dislike me.”

“You want me to like you, now?”

“I doona’ particularly care how you feel about me. It’s of no consequence one way or the other. It simply irritates me when you hide behind teasing phrases and flirtatious glances.”

“Flirtatious glances?” She laughed her society laugh and put the crust back on her plate. “Such enticements would surely be wasted on you, Colin. That much I already know.”

“From our near-collision during the fox hunt? Why? I mean, I did kiss you, and on such short acquaintance, too. What more would you have had me do?”

“I’m afraid you’re losing my attention, and this Sarah is a very talented cook. You really should try some.”

“Are you such a coward?”

“Let us end this farce, Your Grace. I have my own estate, one that isn’t linked to Wyndham’s. Although it’s not large or assuming, I could disappear. I swear it. You’ll never hear of it again.”

“You actually think we’re na’ the topic of conversation at each and every gathering? And in every house? I just told you how famous you are. Really, Elise, I expected better of you.”

“I’m begging you.”

“Please doona’. It does na’ become you.”

Elise sucked in air as she recognized her words to Sir Roald. She held her breath for several heartbeats as she calmed her reaction. Then she lowered her head and glared at him from beneath her lashes.

“That’s better.” He leaned back, folded his arms, and smiled across at her.

“This playacting can’t continue, Colin.” She had such a tight rein on her emotions, her voice cracked.

“Oh, I quite agree.”

“You ... agree? But you just said—”

“To the playacting. I’m in agreement that it can na’ continue. I’m still waiting to meet the woman that’s my new duchess.”

“That’s just it! I don’t want to be your duchess. I don’t want to have any part in this!” Elise had promised herself that she’d not give in to any emotion, anger or otherwise. Yet here she was with her voice rising, her hands clenched, and angry words just beneath the surface.

“What is it you do want?” he asked softly.

“I want to be left alone!” She was very close to shouting and was hard put not to shove from the table.

He didn’t answer. Aside from heightened color along his jawline, he didn’t exhibit any sign of even hearing her. She watched him load a platter with beef and vegetables. Then he applied himself to buttering his bread with more aplomb than was necessary. There was a self-satisfied grin on his face the entire time. Elise knew why. She’d played right into his game and come out the loser.

He had every right to gloat over her lack of self-control. He was the one who had reminded her of the Ice Goddess title. She shouldn’t begrudge him the victory. It wasn’t like her.

She bent her attention to unfolding her fingers, one at a time, and flexing them. If she kept her mind on simple things, she’d get back her calm facade. She knew that much.

“You must admit, we could deal famously together.”

He was watching her, so Elise looked away. She didn’t want to know what expression he’d have on his face. Her calmness was barely working, and he would probably know of it.

“That sounds just like every other proposal I’ve ever received, Your Grace. I’m surprised at your lack of originality.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and boredom. She lifted her hand to her mouth to cover a pretend yawn. She was very pleased. Then he had to reply and send ripples through her facade again.

“My reasons should be different from your usual. You see, I dinna’ truly want a wife. I certainly dinna’ want you. Oh, I know, I postured and put out the story that I was looking for one, but it was a sham. I’ve but recently acquired my title. It came with a lot of sorrow and pain attached. It also comes with a bloody fortune, something you probably already know. I’ve yet to acclimate myself to that. I’m wealthy beyond my wildest dreams and I’m but thirty. That’s young yet, even to a woman of your age and experience. I had nae wish to be fettered to anyone, especially someone like you.”

“Then, why—?”

“Hear me out, Elise. You can na’ learn much if you’re constantly interrupting.”

She bit her tongue and forced herself to smile vacuously at him.

“Where was I? Oh yes, my assumption that you’re exactly what’s needed at this point in my life. Let’s start with the obvious. You’ve mirrors. You’re a lovely woman. It’s a pleasure looking at you. From any angle, you’re almost inhumanly lovely.” His voice warmed. Elise was afraid she did, too. “Looking at you, I can understand this ice goddess thing, only it’s na’ just due to your coloring and the fragile quality about you, is it? Doona’ answer that. Let me.”

He probably said the last because her mouth had dropped open, and not to say a word, either.

“It’s na’ only your beauty, it’s the entire thing. Everything about you. You’re perfect, almost beyond imagination. Exactly what I need. It was fated, if you will. It fell into my lap, and I doona’ take opportunity for granted. I never have. Do you want me to go on?”

Elise didn’t move. He smiled, and his green-flecked eyes smiled, too.

“Verra well. As I already told you, sometimes a non-answer is an answer. You’re perfect, and na’ just because you’re beautiful and have a perfectly formed body. You happen to carry an impeccable title, you exhibit all the social graces, you have your own fortune, and let’s na’ forget the most pertinent—you, my dear, were a lady in trouble. I rescued you at enormous cost to myself and my very own future. It was an act of chivalry that has cost me dearly. Why, I can na’ possibly wed the MacKennah lass now. And the best part is, there’s nae man in my clan who can fault me for what happened, and consequently having you foist upon me when I least expected it.”

“No, I—” She stopped her own instant response because the pain-filled voice didn’t sound like her. If it hadn’t come from her own throat, she would have disowned it.

“Careful, you’re in severe danger of cracking. That’s what decided me, actually. You’re The Ice Goddess. You’re cold. You’re heartless. You’re bloodless. Perfect. Ask any man looking for a society wife. There’s too much theatrics with normal women. There are tears and trauma and jealousy and emotional scenes. Let’s not forget those. Most women send a man to his grave early with such scenes. Na’ you. Oh nae. You never make a scene, do you? And then there’s Karma to consider.”