To Bed or to Wed (3 page)

“You, madam, are exactly the reason I dislike holding house parties or events of any kind at my estate. I don’t appreciate inappropriate, older women chasing my nephew’s tailcoat.”
His deep voice held the ring of authority, and its timbre resonated through her very bones. He gripped her upper arms and gave her a shake that rattled her teeth. Her hood slid from her head. “What have you to say for yourself?”

She stamped a foot. “I cannot very well say anything with you shaking me like a dog with a bone.” When he released her, she straightened her fur-lined cloak. “And please, endeavor to keep your voice down. I’d rather not have my handiwork disturbed prematurely.”

“Your fortune hunting, you mean?” The man stared at her, his eyes hooded and shadowed beneath the brim of his beaver felt top hat. “He won’t come into that title for some time.”

“Absolutely not.” Charlotte glared back, resisting the urge to pop her hands on her hips.
She’d never met this man, but something he said rang through her ears.
My estate… my nephew
. Oh dear heavens. Was this the marquess? “I’m merely helping a friend.” How dare he question her?

The intruder had the audacity to rake his gaze up and down her body in a sl
ow perusal that left her heated beyond indignation from his treatment. What could he see or even evaluate through the folds of her cloak? And why did she suddenly wish she’d worn something more flattering and a tad more revealing?

“Be that as it may, perhaps you should tell me who you are.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared.

Charlotte shivered. His caped greatcoat looked warm, but it would hardly be proper to ask him to open it and let her thaw. “I am Lady Charlotte Darrington, sister to the Earl of Swandon.”
Take that you bloody rude sot.

His snort recalled an incident in her childhood where she’d had a run-in with an unfortunate bull. “Pleasure to meet you, Lady Charlotte. I’m the
Marquess of Ravenhurst, but then you’d be daft to hint you didn’t know that. What have you to say?”

Oh Lord. I’m in the drink now.

She dropped a curtsey as well as she could in the snow. “My lord.” An apology hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to utter it for she had done nothing wrong. He was the one who’d attacked her, accused her of things she didn’t do. Another shiver wracked her shoulders only this time it had nothing to do with the cold. The Marquess of Ravenhurst was something of a legend. He was a recluse by rumor and shunned the company of most people. It was said his temper knew no bounds and that everyone who looked upon him fled before his ire. Why he’d let Jamie throw a house party was beyond her. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t have any idea who you were as I’ve never laid eyes on you, and according to rumor, you never mingle within Society. I had no reason to suspect you’d be in attendance at this party.”

“Yes, well, I do like to check on my property. I don’t trust that Jamie will treat things with respect.”
His voice had turned slightly less gruff than before, but he still wore his scowl. “You’re not suitably dressed to linger in this weather.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord. I had not anticipated I’d be waylaid on my mission.” She took a step backward as his looming bulk sent tingles down her spine. “I’d meant to return to the house long before now.”

He chased her step for step, much like a tiger would stalk an unsuspecting villager in India. “Perhaps we should do so with all haste then.” The marquess shot out a hand and gripped her upper arm. “I won’t have you succumbing to frostbite while on my property.” A near growl concluded his speech.

Was it concern for her well-being that prompted the statement or for his reputation?
“Respectfully, I ask you to unhand me.” She didn’t like him by half, merely because the only things she knew about him for the moment were
on-dits
. Regardless, she refused to remain alone in his company. Another peek at his dark-shrouded face didn’t change her mind. Yet, there was something about him that fired her imagination and heated her insides. No longer did she think about the cold.

“I think not.” He propelled her down the path. “I may be many things, but I refuse to leave you out here to cause more havoc.”

“But we’re going the opposite direction of the maze’s beginning.”

“
Very astute. I’m going to collect Jamie then escort you both to the house.” His grip didn’t waver. “Come along.”

As if I’m a dog!
He may be accustomed to having his own way, but she’d wager she’d be the first woman to give him a dressing down. “That is not the best idea, my lord. By now, your nephew is undoubtedly otherwise engaged.” The one thing Jamie implored upon her was not to let his uncle know of his provocation for men. Now here she was, with that very formidable man attached to her, heading in Jamie’s direction.

“Engaged in what? If you cannot provide me with a reasonable excuse, I intend
to retrieve my nephew.” He marched her along the path at a quick pace.

Charlotte tried to pry his fingers from her arm. They could have been made of iron for all the give in the grip. “Lord Ravenhurst, I implore you to leave your nephew be.” One more turn and they’d arrive at the heart of the evergreen maze.

“Watch yourself, woman. You shouldn’t order me about.” She imagined she felt his anger flowing in her direction. “And if you persist in defying me, I will unleash my temper without regret.”

“Oh, bother.” Her pulse pounded.
That legendary temper. She trembled but couldn’t decide if she wanted to see it or not. “Then, for the love of God, say nothing once we…” There was no more time for further conversation. They both entered a quaint circle in the heart of the maze. On a brilliant summer’s day, a quiet conversation or assignation at one of the stone benches would be ideal, but on a winter’s night, in the clear cold air, it was unfortunate.

A blond man she assumed was Jamie’s lover sat on a bench, breeches unfastened enough that his erect shaft had sprung free
. In her shock, Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth. She couldn’t look away from Jamie. He dropped a gentle kiss on the man’s lips then knelt in front of him. Seconds later, he took the engorged length into his month. The blond buried his hands into Jamie’s hair and guided him downward. Neither man noticed Charlotte or the marquess. Both men wore expressions of intense bliss. Soft sounds of enjoyment drifted on the air.

Behind her, Charlotte caught the swift intake of breath that signaled the
marquess would either bellow or speak. Quickly, before they were discovered, she pulled him from the maze’s center and back the way they’d come. She gained the first turn before he stopped moving. He simply halted and she had no choice except to stop as well. The man wouldn’t budge. His arm tensed beneath her mittened fingers. The marquess resembled a boulder when he dug in his heels. “Lord Ravenhurst, please allow them privacy,” she whispered. “Let us return to the house and you can ring a peal over my head if you want. I shall be glad to take full responsibility.”

“I will do no such
thing. I need—”

“Bollocks. Keep your voice down, you impossible man.
There are worse things than your nephew finding love, however illicit.”
I cannot imagine how this scandal will play out. I’m so sorry, Mother.
Desperate that he’d interrupt what was meant to be a private and intimate moment, Charlotte could think of only one way to silence the angered lord. She crushed her fingers in the lapels of his greatcoat, stood on tiptoe, and smashed her lips to his cold mouth in an impromptu kiss.

Chapter Two

Outside of Northampton, England

Bloody hell!
Nathan Brigham, Marquess of Ravenhurst, couldn’t believe the pushy chit in his arms had dared to kiss him. No one in their right mind forgot themselves enough to brush shoulders with him let alone do something so highly scandalous where anyone could come upon them.

Yet, she was a warm bundle. Her plush lips against his lit a fire deep inside him he
’d thought long dormant. She certainly wasn’t an untried lady whose mouth had all the personality of a fish. No, this woman moved over his lips with all the skill of a courtesan, and that captivated his imagination. He unbent enough to enfold her in an embrace for the mere novelty of holding her, but when he caught himself returning the kiss, he wrenched away. No good would come of becoming embroiled in gossip—especially with Swandon’s sister. Neither would any good come of encouraging a relationship, however brief, with anyone.

“Good lord, woman. Are you insane?” he spat out then put a couple more
strides between them to limit temptation. “You’ve overstepped.”

“Perhaps I have, but please, keep your voice down.” Despite his obvious shock and annoyance, she once more grabbed his arm and pulled him around the next two turns in the maze. “Are you so daft that you didn’t understand my last request? I don’t wish for Jamie to be disturbed.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise at the lingering order in her voice. He didn’t remember Swandon ever saying his sister was a harridan. Granted, they hadn’t spent that much time together while in school and even less time mingling in Society. Parliament seemed to be the one thing they had in common anymore. The only reason he had returned to his country estate was to monitor Jamie’s party. In this case, Parliament would have to pardon his absence for a couple of days. “And I don’t wish for my nephew to be taken advantage of.”

Lady Charlotte uttered a most unladylike snort. “It looked to me as if he was the one taking advantage. If you interrupt them now, Jamie won’t find his own bliss.” A slight smile parted her lips. “It’s interesting, that sort of
pairing isn’t it? I’ve often wondered how men of that preference showed affection.” At his silence, she shrugged. “Their relationship may only be destined to be played out in secret assignations, but that doesn’t mean it’s not love.”

“It’s a perversion of the highest order.”

“To you. Why must you be so narrow minded, my lord?”

“I must take a rather dim view of things to protect him. Don’t you understand? There are too many pitfalls ahead of Jamie, especially if he intends to continue
on this course.”

“Some of them thrown in his way by his loving uncle, I’d wager.”

“Be that as it may, it is no concern of yours.” He felt himself scowling and made a conscious effort to relax his face, then needing to further explain, he said, “Everyone in an authority position in my life has been hard on me, in the past and now.”

“Aha, and you feel you must do the same for poor Jamie.” She tsked.

“Perhaps. It’s the way things are done in this life, especially if he is to be groomed for this position. I expect him to perform at his full potential.”

Lady Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He
isn’t you, and is quite young yet. Much too young to take the reins of an important title. People are different and should not be treated as such.”

Of course I know this. Haven’t I tried not to be my father?
In retrospect, he supposed he’d failed in that as much as he had in grooming his nephew for the title. He gulped a breath then let it out slowly even as one hand curled into a fist. “My disciplinary methods notwithstanding, to circumvent scandal and keep the lad on the correct path, I need to retrieve him.” When he strode back up the snow-covered lane, the blasted woman stepped in front of him, daring again to lay a hand on his arm. Her touch was feather-light, her mitten of gray wool a stark contrast to his black coat.

“I’d advise you to let me go.” He’d made a habit of not forming friendships or anything deeper with anyone—not since he escaped his French captors. The horror of those six months had found a permanent residence in his mind, his own private hell to relive again and again. When the memories took over, he wasn’t fit company
, for anyone. The years between the horrors of war and his present day life blurred at times. “I cannot be held responsible for any action which would result in injury on your part.”

Even through the shadows of the early night, he discerned the frown on her lush mouth. “I implore you to let him be, just for the next half hour.” A shiver wracked her shoulders. She pulled the fur-lined cloak more tightly about her body as she stared into his face. “You had no idea about his predilection for men, did you?”

“No. Tonight has been quite the shock.” He tensed beneath her touch. In all of his adult life, he’d never encountered a woman who’d been as frustrating as Lady Charlotte. Despite that, Nathan stared at her lips, and the remembrance of them on his tightened his chest. It would be folly to repeat such a gesture. “I don’t care to believe it now. What matters is seeing him properly trained to inherit the title and all of its demands.” Though if Jamie’s romantic preference continued to run to the same sex, he’d need to use even more discretion once he came into the title.

“For what purpose? You don’t seem to be all that ancient.” She raked her glittering gaze up and down his person in a perfunctory assessment. “Probably not older than my brother, Felix. Have you decided, then, that you’ll never marry or produce heirs?”

“That is none of your concern.” He glared. Did she have no clue how intrusive she was? The words sat on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was five and thirty, and that if he wanted to produce heirs or not was none of her business, but he refused to give her the satisfaction.

Lady Charlotte shrugged. “I’m sure you have your reasons, but it seems silly to me to throw your life and your future away before you’ve given yourself a chance.” She shivered again. Her breath puffed on the chilly air. “Will you accompany me back to the house? If we tarry too long, they’ll send out a search party.”

“I’m not leaving this maze without my nephew.” The sooner she realized he wasn’t of a mind for conversation, the better she’d be. Still, the part of him that remembered manners and niceties—the gentleman he used to be—surged to the forefront. He grabbed her hood and gently drew it over her hair, settling it in place. “I told you before, it’s too cold for you to be out here.” The black fur framing her pale face made her seem vulnerable. He wished it wasn’t so dark. In the gloom, he couldn’t properly discern the shade of her hair or the color of her eyes. When a noise escaped her that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, he pulled away as if he’d been burned. It was entirely possible she was nothing but a fortune hunter, intent to trap him or Jamie.

“I refuse to return if you stay here, Lord Ravenhurst.” Her voice was low and steady—and laced with iron. “Jamie deserves a chance at happiness. Don’t crush his dreams simply because you’re too afraid to chase yours.”

Pain skittered through his heart. How could she divine something he so closely guarded? “You know nothing about why I am like I am.”
I don’t need her to tell me how to live my life.
Nathan stormed down the path toward the next turn, but a tug at the back of his greatcoat halted him. He whirled around only to find Lady Charlotte nearly in his embrace—again. He gripped her upper arms, resisting the urge to shake her as he had near the heart of the maze. Did she have no common sense? “Do you have some sort of manic need to throw yourself at me?”

The giggle that escaped her sounded out of place in the silent night. “I have no need throw myself at any man, least of all
you
.”

That gave him pause. “Ah, you have given up the fight to find marriage material. Very astute of you to realize the futility of making a match at this late date before being made a fool in Society.” Perhaps she had some common sense after all.

Her outraged gasp proclaimed otherwise. “How dare you! I cannot believe you so vile as to insult both my age and my ability to attract a man.” She squirmed, but he didn’t release her.

“I meant no offense.” His brain reeled. How to extricate himself from this farce? “Not knowing how old you are—”

“Thirty-three. Yes, in today’s Society, I’m firmly on the shelf, but that doesn’t mean I’m dead.” Her eyes narrowed. “It certainly doesn’t mean I’m not desirable. It simply means I choose not to tie myself to a boring man for the remainder of my life.”

Boring man? To whom had she already been exposed to? As to her desirability, once again he cursed the darkness. At least if they were inside the house, he could look her over and decide for himself. Nathan shook his head, with a firm reminder he didn’t wish to concern himself with her life. “Right.” He cleared his throat, but his thoughts wouldn’t be dislodged so easily. For such an advanced age, she was still quite vital and full of energy. “Then why the unaccountable attachment to me?” He needed to keep the conversation on topics where his temper could flare and not on subjects where his libido might.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You are not the sort of man I’d ever choose.” She managed to make him feel even colder with her glare. “I simply am trying to—”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, not wishing to have a reason to bond with her. “If scheming to make me come up to scratch is your game, I must say it won’t work. It is not my intention to ever marry.” He’d known for at least five years he couldn’t inflict his darker moods on a wife or family. He’d known for much longer than that he’d do whatever he could not to be like his father. Yet, at times his temper escaped and he became like a snarling beast until he found his control again. A man couldn’t outrun his roots or experiences; he could only survive them. It would be unfair to ask others to do the same simply to tolerate him.

“My lord, you’re hurting me.” A soft sound of pain infiltrated his consciousness. “Please release my arms.”

Nathan let her go. His gut roiled. Appalled, he cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Lady Charlotte. I had no idea I’d lost control.” He forced a swallow into his tight throat. Never had he accosted a woman or even hurt a female. Why had he gone woolgathering now? “Perhaps it would be best if you returned to the house.”

She peered into his face with narrowed eyes while rubbing one of her arms with a mittened hand. “Not unless you accompany me.”

“What difference does it make to you?” How obnoxious to stand in a darkened evergreen maze with snow and cold all around arguing with the most stubborn female he’d ever come across. “This is my property. I
’m the marquess. If it’s my prerogative, I shall stand on my head in a snow bank.”

“Then by all means, proceed to invite frostbite on the tip of your rarified nose. Perhaps it will give you a sense of humor. Impossible man.” She huffed in displeasure. Exasperation rang in her voice. “I used to think my brother was difficult. Now that I’ve met you, I have revised my opinion. Felix is a saint among men.” Another shiver accosted her. “It would seem the rumors about you are true, and for that, I’m disappointed. Good evening, Lord Ravenhurst.” Without another word, she spun then marched off
firmly in the opposite direction from where Jamie was.

Disappointed? Why the devil would she say something like that?

“Damnation.” Nathan set off after her. He caught her at the next turn and waylaid her with a hand on her arm. “My curiosity has been piqued. Why are you disappointed?”