Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) (15 page)

A flare of relief rushed through him as Hellion gave a low chuckle. He had won the first skirmish. And without the least amount of bloodshed.

Surely that boded well for the future battle?

“Consider me properly warned, my sweet. Shall we go?”

From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 21st, 1814:

Jane perched upon the edge of the carriage seat in stiff silence.

It was not that she feared the swift pace as they rumbled toward the outskirts of London, she acknowledged with a faint shiver. Heaven knew that Hellion was far too notable a whip to put them into danger.

Nor did she fear the mysterious destination he had chosen. If he truly desired to marry her, he would never dare to create a scandal that might ruin her reputation.

The truth was that she could not be at ease when seated so close to the dratted man.

A grim smile curved her lips. She might as well attempt to be at ease as a bolt of lightning struck her.

It felt remarkably similar.

With every sway of the carriage she was lurched against the granite-hard muscles of his thighs. Each breath she took was laced with the warm, male scent of his skin. And even with her eyes trained firmly forward she could feel the searing brush of his gaze as it lingered upon her profile.

Heat and awareness crackled about her, making her muscles tense and her heart leap and jump with peculiar unpredictability.

Dash it all. She must have been crazed when she allowed Anna to convince her to allow Hellion the opportunity to court her.

Perhaps she did enjoy his companionship and his clever wit. Certainly she appreciated his rare ability to treat her as a woman of intelligence and independence. And she would not be human if she did not take a measure of pleasure from the knowledge that she had managed to attract the interest of a gentleman desired by every damsal in England.

The sophisticated, utterly fascinating Hellion desired to wed her. Her. Jane Middleton. The woman who was always overlooked and sentenced to molder in the shadows. The woman who was never asked to dance or to stroll upon the veranda. The woman all others pitied. It was bound to tempt her vanity.

But considering the notion of Hellion as a suitor from an intellectual fashion was one thing. It was decidedly different when she was perched at his side and her entire body was tingling with fierce awareness.

How the devil was she to logically assess him as a potential mate when her thoughts kept straying along pathways that were not at all productive? Paths that were positively wicked.

She already knew she wanted him as a lover.

What she needed to know was if he could be a dependable companion and friend.

It was time to make a passing bid for sanity.

“How far do you intend to travel?” she demanded in tones deliberately serene.

She sensed his quirk of amusement at her pretense of calm. No doubt the rat was well aware that her pulse was racing and her stomach clutched in a tight ball of nerves.

“Not far,” he evaded, skillfully keeping the powerful grays under control as he weaved through the heavy traffic. “And the trip will take us through some lovely countryside. I thought it might be nice for you to be away from the city.”

She suppressed a dry smile. He was attempting to maneuver her as effortlessly as he did the willful stallions. Still, she could not deny that it was rather nice that he recalled her love for the fresh air and rolling fields.

“It is always nice to be away from London.”

“Oh, surely it is not so bad?”

Jane grimaced. “It smells.”

Hellion tilted back his head to offer a sudden laugh. “Well, I cannot argue with that. Then why do you not tell me of your estate in Surrey? Does it smell more inviting?”

“Of course. In the summer it smells of flowers and in the winter the air carries the scent of the sea.”

“It sounds quite enticing. I can hardly wait to view it for myself.”

Jane abruptly stiffened, wondering if he thought that marrying her would bring him some lavish, elegant estate.

“I fear that most would consider it a small estate. It is not nearly as grand or large as you might expect. Indeed, we have only a handful of tenants and the house is not at all what you have become accustomed to . . .”

“Enough, Jane.” He tossed her a stern glance. “You will not frighten me off with such foolishness.”

She blinked with seeming innocence. “What foolishness?”

“Your attempts to convince me that your estate is some cramped, shabby affair,” he retorted. “You will not alter my determination to wed you and it surely is an insult to your home.”

She wrinkled her nose at his shrewd perception. Why did she continue to underestimate him? For all his rakish ways he had proven to be astonishingly intelligent.

“I did speak truly, it is not large,” she retorted, unwittingly allowing her expression to soften as she thought of her beloved home. “Still the parklands are well tended with gardens that are so lovely they will steal your breath. My father claimed that my mother must be part fey to create such beauty.”

“Do you work in the gardens?”

“No.” She gave a soft chuckle. “I do not possess my mother’s magic. Indeed, I have only to brush past a plant to have it wither and die. But I do have several talented gardeners who keep the grounds as my mother left them.”

He offered a gentle smile before returning his attention to the road leading out of London. “What of the manor house?”

A mellowed brick struck with two sweeping wings and a columned portico rose within Jane’s mind.

“It is not vast but it possesses an aging charm. My father used to tease my mother that it might tumble beneath a strong breeze and that he intended to replace it with a more elegant Italian villa. Of course, he would never dare. They both loved the rambling old place despite the smoking chimneys and roofs that tend to leak during a heavy rain.”

Feeling his gaze upon her Jane turned to meet his penetrating survey.

“Your eyes have a lovely glow when you speak of your father,” he murmured.

The familiar pang of loss clenched her heart. “My father was a very special man. Not only did he create a financial empire with nothing more than his wits and hard work, but he always ensured that my mother and I were the most important things in his life. He was never too busy to assist me with my studies, or teach me to ride. He claimed that a man who neglected his family to amass a fortune lost the true worth in life.”

His expression seemed to become oddly guarded at her soft words. “A most admirable gentleman.”

“Yes.”

Abruptly returning his attention to the thinning traffic he urged his horses to a brisk pace.

“And your mother?”

Uncertain what thoughts were hidden by his determined mask of interest Jane gave a faint shrug.

“She was very kind with a tender heart.” Her features tightened with remembered regret. “Much too tender a heart.”

“What do you mean?”

“She never truly reconciled herself to the knowledge that her parents could command her to marry my father for his wealth and then cut her out of their lives because he was a Cit.” Jane allowed her gaze to aimlessly watch the passing fields that had replaced the narrow town houses of London. “And then to make matters worse my father’s family could not be at ease in the company of an aristocrat. For a woman who had once enjoyed endless days among society it was difficult to be so isolated.”

“And you?” he demanded. “Did you feel isolated?”

She briefly considered her childhood. There had certainly been moments of disappointment. And perhaps even disillusionment. But overall her most lasting memory was that of a young girl secure in the knowledge that she was well loved.

“I suppose I occasionally wondered why I did not have cousins to visit like other children, or why I was not invited to the finer homes in the neighborhood,” she replied with simple honesty. “But as a child it is not quite so obvious that you are being excluded. As long as I had my mother and father I was content.”

“You must have been devastated when they died.”

“Yes. For the first time I truly understood what it was to be alone.” Her hands clenched in her lap as the darkness that always hovered in the depths of her heart threatened to rise. “So alone that there were nights when I lay in my bed aching and unable to sleep for the silence. I just wanted . . . someone who could hold me.”

She heard his breath catch, as if her words had somehow brushed a vulnerable nerve.

“Is that when you determined to come to London to choose a husband?” he asked huskily.

“In part, although my promise to my father would have ensured that I eventually wed.”

A silence descended, broken only by the steady thud of horseshoes upon the road and an occasional call of a bird. Jane resisted the urge to fidget. It was not a simple matter to reveal her most hidden wounds. Still, it seemed necessary to share such thoughts with a gentleman who desired to be her husband.

At last he pulled upon the reins until they traveled at a sedate pace and turned to regard her with strangely darkened eyes.

“You are quite an amazing woman, Miss Middleton.”

She battled the most ridiculous urge to blush at his startling words. “What?”

His expression was uncommonly somber as he allowed his gaze to sweep her pale features.

“I know no other maiden who would have dared to organize her own Season in London. From hiring her own establishment to discovering her own companion. It reveals a great deal of courage.”

A dangerous flare of warmth surged through her heart. He was so very good at this. When she looked into those impossibly dark eyes she did feel courageous, and bold, and wondrously special.

Everything she had wanted to feel all her life.

Oh . . . blast.

“More stupidity than courage, in truth,” she muttered in embarrassment. “I did not have the least notion of the difficulties I would face or I assure you that Napoleon’s entire army could not have dragged me from my home.”

“I do not believe that for a moment. It would have been a simple matter to leave London at any moment, but you refused to cry craven. Instead you remained and battled to establish your place among society.”

Jane could not prevent a shudder at the thought of her awful first days in London. She had not lied. She would never have stepped foot in the city had she known what was awaiting her.

“I would hardly call my efforts a success. The moment you turned your interest from me, I was shoved back into the shadows.”

He shrugged aside her logic. “A momentary setback. I do not doubt you could overcome any obstacle.” Without warning that wicked glitter returned to his midnight eyes. “Thankfully you have no more need to concern yourself with shadows. As my wife you will be one of the leaders of society.”

Their gazes clashed, then locked. Breathe, Jane, breathe, she anxiously reminded herself. It was difficult enough to think in this gentleman’s presence without her brain lacking the proper ingredients to make it function.

“You are very persistent, sir,” she managed to choke out.

His smile was slow and perfectly designed to send a searing jolt of heat down her spine.

“Persistent enough to win even the most elusive heart, as you will learn soon enough, my sweet.”

Wisely realizing they were treading toward waters too deep for her to swim, Jane reluctantly untangled her gaze to view the passing meadows. It was far safer to count the dancing butterflies or delight in the antics of frolicking ponies than to seriously ponder the notion that this gentleman was determined to become her husband.

Expecting Hellion to press his obvious advantage, Jane was relieved when he instead allowed a silence to descend. It offered a welcome opportunity to collect her thoughts and force her tautly clenched muscles to ease. A task that was all too commonplace when in the company of this gentleman.

Several miles passed before she felt suitably calm to slowly turn her head and regard the fiercely beautiful profile outlined by the slanting sun.

“Do we have much farther to go?” she demanded.

“Actually, our destination is just ahead.”

Glancing toward the only building that was near, Jane gave a lift of her brows at the large stables and bustle of carriages that were pulling to a halt before the large stone building.

“A posting inn?”

Turning the grays through the gate with an elegant tug of the reins, Hellion headed toward the back of the wide yard.

“Ah, not just a posting inn,” he corrected as they came to a smooth halt. “One of the most elegant posting inns in all of England. You have not truly lived until you have sampled the Fox and Grapes beef pie.”

Jane did not doubt the boast. Despite the numerous people scurrying about the stable yard, there was an organized pattern to the chaos and a well-tended tidiness about the structures that spoke of an owner with the sort of capital and concern to keep a first-rate establishment.

Still, that did not explain why Hellion would desire to bring her here. Unless . . .