The Marriage Lesson (30 page)

“Oh?” She was certain she’d never so much as seen him. She would definitely remember a man who looked like this.

“Indeed. My friends have long referred to me as”—he paused and trapped her gaze with his—“Leopard.”

“Find you?” He shrugged. “It was not difficult, for a man of my abilities.”

“Your abilities?” Her stomach lurched. “What abilities are those?”

“Come, now, my dear, you detailed them yourself in your stories.” He stepped closer. “Like my namesake, I am cunning and clever and shrewd.” He yanked her into his arms and bent her backward. She stared up into deep, glittering eyes. “And irresistible.”

She gasped. “But you’re not real!”

“I assure you,” his voice was sultry and a shiver of fear raced up her spine, “I am very real.” He lowered his lips to hers.

She shrieked and struggled out of his grasp, scrambling across the room. “Who are you?”

“I told you.” He huffed in annoyance. “I am Leopard.”

“You can’t be.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t even look like a leopard.”

“Well, you don’t especially look like a country miss.” He frowned. “How should I look?”

“I don’t know.” She waved vaguely. “More like a cat, I should think. Wiry and definitely leaner.”

He looked down at himself. “You think I’m heavy?”

“I didn’t say that.” She huffed. He did indeed appear quite fit. “I just don’t think you look much like a leopard. You look more like a . . . ” She said the first thing that popped into her head. “A badger.”

“Yes, well, possibly I misspoke. It was simply the first thing that came to mind.”

“A badger,” he muttered. “Insults on top of everything else.”

“Forgive me for insulting you.” Indignation surged through her. “I’m a bit flustered at meeting a man I invented.”

“I can well imagine. I accept your apology.” He studied her in a lofty manner. “Perhaps if you would stop screeching and took a deep breath—”

“I am not screeching!” Although, in fact, she was. Still, if any situation called for screeching, this was definitely it.

“Screeching will not help.”

“I daresay it won’t hurt.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “And I’ll thank you not to tell me what will or will not help. You certainly have a great deal of nerve, for a man who doesn’t exist.”

“Ah, compliments at last.” He swept a dramatic bow. “I am nothing more than the man you so perfectly described.”

“Created, not described.”

“Described,” he said firmly.

“You”—she aimed an accusing finger—“are nothing more than a figment of my imagination. A creatively turned phrase. A sentence well written.”

“Extremely well written.” He spread his arms wide in an expansive gesture. “You captured me perfectly.”

She shook her head. “I did not capture you at all.”

“Oh, but you did, my lady.” He moved toward her.

“I simply want to prove to you how very real I am. That I am, in fact, flesh and blood.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Oh, but indeed it is.” He took another step and again she stepped back. “In spite of the proof of your own eyes, you question my very existence.” He clapped his hand over his heart. “You wound me deeply.”

She darted out of his reach to put the solid protection of the desk between them and grabbed the book he’d been looking at, substantial enough to serve her purposes. She hefted it in both hands. “Not as deeply as I shall if you come any closer.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter and strolled toward the cabinet where the brandy was kept.

“Given that you are flesh and blood . . . ”

He raised a brow. She could scarcely deny it at this point. Whoever he was, he was very real.

“What are you doing here?” she said in the most demanding manner she could muster. “What do you want?”

“A brandy, at the moment, I should think.” He opened the cabinet doors and poured a glass. “Would you care for some?”

“No,” she snapped. The last thing she needed was the too-pleasant and overly relaxed feeling brandy gave her. She suspected with Leopard—and for the first time she acknowledged how silly a name that was—she needed to be fully alert. “I don’t mean what do you want right now, I mean what do you want here!”

She gripped the book tighter and forced a calm note to her voice. “Forgive me. Now, then . . .  Lord Beaumont, was it?”

“Yes, but you may call me Leopard.”

“I most certainly will not!” She absolutely refused to compound the bizarre dilemma facing her with too much familiarity. “How on earth did you get such an absurd name, anyway?”

“I was a spy,” he said in an offhand manner. “We all might well be speaking French today were it not for the information I supplied Wellington.”

“A spy?” She gasped and circled the desk, keeping the book in hand just in case. He did indeed look exactly like she’d always imagined a spy to look. Dark and handsome, with an amused twinkle in his eye. Far too amused. “I don’t believe you.”

He sipped his brandy. “I suspected you wouldn’t.”

“And I don’t believe that’s your name, either.”

“Believe as you will.” He shrugged. “The fact remains that it is indeed my name and you have used it in your stories.” He studied her over the rim of his glass. “In truth, you have used me.”

“I never intended—”

“Regardless of your intentions, you have portrayed me in a less-than-favorable light.”

“I said you were clever,” she said uneasily.

“You have also depicted me as a scoundrel. A despoiler of innocents.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It is not a pretty picture.”

“I never imagined—”

“Your reputation?”

“Indeed. You see, by this point I should have seduced the country miss. However, in your
Adventures
I have failed to do so. It is not what people expect of me. My reputation is—”

“Ruined.” She swallowed hard. “But you said yourself I painted you as a despoiler of innocents.”

He waved off her objection. “And that was entirely too much. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Well, I suppose—”

“However, my dear, according to your stories”—he grinned wickedly—“you are no innocent. And I should have succeeded with you long ago. It’s what people expect of me.” He stepped closer. “And I have come to rectify the matter.”

“Rectify the matter?” Her voice rose. “Exactly how do you plan to rectify the matter?”

“It’s not what I shall do, but rather what we shall do.”

“We?” Good Lord, what was he saying?

“Since you have seen fit to tell the world of our relationship—”

“We have no relationship!”

“Not in reality, perhaps, but on paper. And, my dear young woman, people always believe what they read in the papers.”

He moved toward her. She stepped to the side. He countered her move, stalking her like a jungle beast. God help her, like a leopard.

“I simply want in truth what everyone believes we already have.”

“Unhand me at once,” she demanded, her voice much shakier than she would have liked.

“Never.” He grinned down at her. “You were far too difficult to capture.”

She struggled against him, panic rising within her. “Let me go!”

“I don’t think so. However, you should probably scream now.” Laughter flashed in his eyes.

“Should I?” Her gaze frantically searched the room for a weapon to use against him. Not that she could reach anything at the moment. “Why?”

“Aside from the fact that there are few things more exciting than a screaming woman?”

“Yes!”

“Because I am planning on living up to the reputation you provided me with.”

“Really?” Abruptly, and perhaps unwisely, her fear subsided, replaced by curiosity. This stranger might well be irritating, but was he indeed dangerous? Wouldn’t a truly dangerous man want to keep her from screaming, not encourage it? She stopped struggling and stared at him. “How?”

“I am going to spirit you away and have my way with you.”

“That sounds like something you’d read in a book.” She studied him suspiciously. This was getting odder by the moment.

“Do I need rescuing then? You scarcely seem to be making much progress.” Oh certainly he had her trapped in his arms, but it was going to be damned difficult to get her out of the house this way. “You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?”

“Are you going to scream or not?” He blew a frustrated breath.

“No. I rather think
you
should do that.” She summoned all her strength, wrenched free of his grasp and scooped up the book from the floor. Without hesitation, she gripped it in both hands and swung it as hard as she could against his midsection.

His loud
oof
echoed in the room. It wasn’t exactly a scream, but by God, he was right. It was exciting. He grasped his stomach and doubled over.

“Release her at once, you brute!” Thomas’s voice thundered from the doorway.

Marianne whirled around. Thomas strode toward them, a picture of gallant indignation. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“I
have
released her.” Leopard gasped and straightened slowly, a grimace of pain on his face. He pressed his hands against his stomach and glared at her. “You hit me!”

“Of course I hit you.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What did you expect me to do?”

“I didn’t expect you to hit me,” he snapped. “Damned inconsiderate of you.”

Something about his words struck a familiar chord, but she discarded it for the moment. “You threatened to have your way with me.”

“I’m wondering that myself,” Leopard muttered.

“You have impugned the honor of the woman I love.” Thomas drew himself up and stepped to Leopard. “I demand satisfaction.”

The woman I love?

“I thought you would,” Leopard said.

He loved her?

The two men stood toe to toe, nose to nose.

“Pistols, then,” Leopard said. “At dawn.”

“This cannot wait until dawn.” Thomas’s voice rang in the room. “Dusk. Today.”

“Dusk it is.” Leopard nodded. “Newcombe’s Hill should serve our purposes.”

“A duel?” Marianne’s heart leapt. “Are you talking about a duel?”

“Indeed we are.” Thomas’s gaze never left Leopard.

“You cannot be serious.” She looked from one man to the other. “Duels are illegal.”

“Affairs of honor supersede the laws of man.” Thomas’s tone was lofty. “I shall see you at dusk.” He stepped away from Leopard and gestured toward the door. “Now get out.”

“Gladly.” Leopard turned to Marianne and bowed. “And I shall see you again.”

“Not while there is breath left in my body.” Thomas’s declaration sent a shiver of fear up her spine.

“That is precisely the idea.” Leopard nodded and strode from the room.

“Thomas.” At once she was in his arms. “You can’t do this. You’ll be killed.”

“Hardly, my dear.” He gazed down at her with a slight smile. “I have no doubt of my success.”

“It could mean prison, or worse, I shall have to leave the country.”

A vice tightened around her chest. “I shall go with you.”

“I cannot allow that.” Sadness colored his voice. “Regardless of your desire for adventure, exile is not the life I would wish for you.”

“But I am to blame for this.” It was indeed her fault. If she hadn’t foolishly insisted on pursuing the future she wanted, she wouldn’t have written the
Country Miss
stories for funding. And would never have provoked a man as dangerous as Leopard, silly name or not. And Thomas’s very life would not now be at risk.

“Blame scarcely matters at the moment. What is done is done.” He tilted her head back and met her lips with his in a kiss gentle and sweet and . . .  final.

“Thomas.” His name was little more than a cry or a prayer on her lips.

He released her and stepped away. “I must go now. There are a but a few hours until dusk and there are arrangements to be made.”

“Thomas, don’t. . .  .” The words choked in her throat.

“I must.” He took her hands and brought them to his lips. His gaze never left hers. “Regardless of what the future holds, you will remain in my heart forever.” He nodded, turned and strode from the room, never looking back.