To Wed a Scandalous Spy (8 page)

"I am sure that when you are feeling better, you'll have no trouble performing your duties."

Still no response. This would never do. She took a deep breath and increased her strength of voice. She had marvelous strength of voice, since she often needed to make herself heard over the din of the taproom.

"I apologize for disturbing your contemplation of the dust on the road, but I must know. It truly is quite necessary that you are capable, you see. You
are
able to perform, are you not?"

There. He had to have heard that. The folk from miles around should have heard that.

Nathaniel reined in his gelding and his temper at the same time. Twisting in the saddle, he watched as the she-demon from hell rode up beside him. "I hardly think my ability to perform is a topic for discussion on the open road," he said frostily.

Despite his scowl, she brightened. "Well, I want to know. I have asked you a great number of questions these past two days, and you have answered none of them."

Now that was an understatement. Nathaniel had lost count of her interrogations somewhere after a hundred. "What an odd creature you are."

"I know. But I fear you must answer this one, for your own safety."

"My safety depends upon it?" Nathaniel tilted his head. "Well, in that case, I have never had any difficulty 'performing'—if sufficiently interested." That should close that rather unnecessary subject. He turned to ride on.

The mare hurried again. "Are you?"

He was not going to turn around. "Am I what?"

"Are you sufficiently interested?" Her tone was conversational. "In me?"

Nathaniel stopped again and turned to look at her. "You are
so
odd."

"You repeat yourself. My mother said that only people with no imagination settle for repeating themselves."

"I shall endeavor to improve. You are
incredibly
odd."

"Yes, I believe we have established that. It isn't my fault, you know. I'm an orphan."

"Ah, that explains all." Nathaniel gave his gelding a subtle nudge to speed his walk slightly. Surely she would grow weary of shouting over a distance.

The dainty clip-clop of the trotting mare came up next to his gelding, but Nathaniel refused to acknowledge it.

"It won't work to ignore me. It never does."

Nathaniel heaved a great sigh, although he despised sighing on principle. "No, I don't suppose it does. What was it that you asked?"

"Are you sufficiently interested in copulating with me?"

Copulating? Where did she get that word
? "No."

Silence. Nathaniel couldn't believe it. He stole a look sideways, only to make sure she wasn't dead or some such. She still breathed, but there was such a look of concentration on her face that Nathaniel began to fear in earnest.

"I am considered attractive enough in Derryton. I've had no end of suitors, you realize. None as attractive as you, of course, although you are well on your way to being a bit pretty for my taste."

"I am not pretty!" Damn, she was doing it again. Nathaniel took a deep breath and held it for the count of ten. Then another, for the count of twenty. His mood eased and he began to hope she'd finished—

"I shall have to cut my hair, then," she said thoughtfully.

Nathaniel was beginning to see why the village had been so eager to get rid of Willa. The girl was as mad as a caged cat. Nathaniel edged his horse to the side, just in case she carried any concealed weapons.

"How's that?" he asked, keeping his tone mild.

"I shall cut my hair and wear trousers to entice you, since you prefer boys."

That tore it.

In one deadly motion, Nathaniel leaped from his horse and scraped the little snip off her mount. Holding her tightly, he bent her over his arm despite her squeak of dismay.

"I do
not
prefer boys," he growled into her startled face, then kissed her half-open mouth before she could say one more maddening word.

I'm going to catch fire
. Her heart jumped through her ribs. Kisses were
much
better with cooperation.

It was all new tastes and sensations and hot breath. It was strange and invasive and intimate.

It was marvelous. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Willa threw her whole spirit into returning the kiss.

His lips were hard and forceful at first, his beard stubble coarse against her face. He drove his tongue into her repeatedly, startling her and exciting her, and chewed roughly on her lips.

Then his mouth softened and gentled, and his angry grip turned to a caressing embrace, until Willa began to shiver from the pangs of arousal that shot through her.

When his mouth left hers to bury itself in her neck, she gasped but couldn't slow down her racing breaths. All she could taste and feel was him.

His hard hands slid to her backside and pressed her close to his harder body. Pressure built within Willa, until she feared bursting from it. She rubbed restlessly against him, trying to combat that hungry ache that consumed her, that ache to be touched all over.

"Wildflower…" he murmured into her neck, his breath hot on her skin.

"Oh, Nathaniel," she sighed.

Nathaniel came to himself with a jolt and sprang away from the girl in his arms. Breathing hard, he backed away from her as if she were venomous. What was he doing? He had only meant to prove his point, and to shut her up for a moment.

How had she aroused him so completely and mindlessly that he had nearly taken her on the dusty road?

Nathaniel turned away from temptation and shoved his hands through his hair. He still found himself attuned to her, aware of her halting breath and shuffling feet. He heard her go back to her horse and the squeak of leather as she struggled back into the saddle. She gave an offended sniff. Then, when he didn't respond, a louder, more emphatic, furious sniff.

Still he didn't turn. He had to think.

The last thing his convoluted life needed was the further complication of a wife and family. He still wasn't quite sure how the wife had happened, but if he kept on the way he was headed, there would be family indeed.

It was only the intimacy of traveling together, surely. Only his solitude weighing heavily on his desires. Once in London, he could put her in the farthest chamber of Reardon House and keep his distance until the time came to send her off.

Until then, for the good of both of them, he had to stay well away from the diabolical little minx who would be his wife.

Thinking back on his overwhelming response to her untutored kiss, Nathaniel had to admit that might be easier said than done.

As he mounted Blunt once more, Nathaniel hoped that at least his instant of madness had made her angry enough to keep her own distance.

«
^
»

Unfortunately, her resentment didn't seem to last, and Willa was back to her normal chatterbox self by noon. However, it didn't bother Nathaniel so much today. With her forthright manner and her odd Willa-esque insights into life, she was actually rather refreshing company.

"Are there many bookshops in London?" she asked at one of their infrequent rests.

"A few," Nathaniel said drily. He had avoided most of her questions again today, but what could be the harm of answering this one?

"I've read every book in Derryton many times, except for Dulcie Mason's copy of
The Housekeeper's Exploration of the Uses of Vinegar
. I could only read through it twice."

"All of two times?" Nathaniel was impressed. He couldn't imagine reading the title twice without falling asleep.

"Whenever someone from Derryton traveled, they would always bring back a book for me," she said, her fondness for her far-reaching family evident in her tone. "Of course, since some of them don't read themselves, this did make for rather unpredictable variety. Of all, my favorites were my parents' collection. Have you read Linnaeus?" she asked eagerly.

"A bit," Nathaniel replied, startled. Carolus Linnaeus was a bit deep for a country miss, for the naturalist's works had yet to be translated from Latin into English as far as Nathaniel knew. It seemed she was indeed a well-educated country miss!

"My mother did so love Linnaeus," Willa commented. "

"The flower's leaves… serve as bridal beds'," she quoted rapturously. "Really, I find it so much more satisfying than mere romantic poetry, don't you? All that 'heavenly bosoms kissed by moonlight and dew' rot simply leaves me cold," she said matter-of-factly.

Nathaniel nearly choked. What the devil had she been reading? "Well…"

Thankfully, she didn't wait for him to reply.

"I'm glad I'm not angry anymore," she said cheerfully. "It's a lovely diversion once in a while, but so tiring."

Nathaniel looked away. He'd made a right fool of himself . "About that—"

She nodded. "Yes, well, you can see why I was too busy hating you to talk."

"You hate me?" Nathaniel couldn't believe it bothered him, but it did.

"Oh, not anymore! After all, none of this is your fault, is it?"

"It isn't your fault, either," he said.

"Well—" Abruptly she turned from him and pushed the mare into a fast trot. "Aren't we making wonderful time today?" she called back over her shoulder.

Nathaniel knew guilt when he saw it. Blunt caught up easily at a nudge from Nathaniel's heels. "Willa? What really happened that evening in the lane?"

She edged away, still chattering. "Such good weather for traveling—"

Nathaniel reached for the mare's rein and pulled both horses to a stop. "I'd like for you to stand still and answer my question this time."

"Oh, I'd really rather not."

"Willa!"

"Don't puff up at me. I am not afraid of cobras."

Cobras
? Nathaniel blinked. "Wh—what? Why would you say something like that?"

Willa pursed her lips. "You'll think me odd."

Nathaniel put one hand over his heart. "I promise, my opinion of you will not change."

She hesitated, looking askance at his phrasing. Then she shrugged. "Oh, very well. It is merely a game I play. People can be difficult to understand sometimes. I find it easier to predict how they will behave if I decipher what sort of wild creature they resemble. For instance, Moira could be compared to a brown bear."

Since Nathaniel had experienced Moira's burly protectiveness firsthand, it seemed like a good match to him. A game? Could this truly be all there was to her deadly accuracy? "So you find me snakelike?" If the matter turned out to be a silly jest, he might take the time to be insulted.

"Oh, don't take offense! If you understood snakes, you'd like them very much, I'm sure."

"But Willa," he said quietly. "Why a cobra?"

"Oh, a number of reasons !" She began counting on her fingers. "Cobras are really quite shy, and don't like to be disturbed. When they are disturbed, they put on a great show of ferocity, raising their hoods and weaving about, but it's really mostly show. They only strike when they must." She smiled hesitantly at him. "Like you."

"I'm not poisonous," Nathaniel reminded her, although a voice inside reminded him that his disgrace might very well be contagious.

She shrugged. "I did not say it was a perfect concept."

"I have never 'puffed up' at you—until now, anyway." Nathaniel wasn't too happy about her astuteness. Who would have thought a curvaceous country miss could have such a keen mind? If that was truly all there was to this.

Willa sighed. " Tis only a game," she said slowly, as if to a simpleton.

Nathaniel scowled. "So you have decided that I am a cobra. What difference does that make?"

"No, not just any cobra. A king cobra.
Naja hannah
. I have a book that describes them very well. They live in India. They are very large and handsome, but are the shyest of them all. They will retreat from a child."

Lovely. Now I'm a cowardly snake
. "Enough. You were going to explain how I ended up on the side of the lane, unconscious."

"I'd rather talk about snakes."

"Willa"

She huffed. "Oh, very well. It is commonly considered a fact, not only in Derryton and Edgeton but in all our surrounding farms and communities, that I am jinxed."

Hell. And here he'd thought her sophisticated. She was just a superstitious country miss, after all. "You don't believe in such nonsense, do you?"

"I wish it were nonsense. I wish it were some silly story, but most of all I wish it were about someone else."

Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck. "So you believe
you
are jinxed?"

"Some would say I
am
the jinx."

Ha. More like the "minx."

"Who would say that?"

She ticked off one finger. "Wesley Moss, for example."

Nathaniel dug deep for patience. "Willa, would you kindly just tell me everything, so I don't have to pull it from you word by word. You believe you have bad luck?"

"Oh no, I have marvelous luck. I am always the first one to find berries in the spring, and my cakes never fall. It is only my suitors."

"Such as this Wesley Moss?"

"Yes, poor Wesley was one of my more famous incidents. Of course, that may be because he actually went so far as to kiss me. Or to try to."

"So what happened to him? Did this terrible jinx smite him dead?" Nathaniel smirked.

Willa shook her head quite seriously. "No, thank goodness, although it was close. But he regained consciousness after only a few weeks, and I hear he is now able to walk again."

Nathaniel was appalled. "What did you do to him?"

"
I
did nothing. It is not my fault that he fell into the millstream. I was only trying to push him back. He should never have let his feet get tangled in my knitting like that."

"So he was injured when he fell into a stream?"

"Oh no, he only got a wetting from the stream. It was the waterwheel of the mill that did him in."

"He fell under the wheel?"

"Not right away. That was after the footbridge crumbled under him as he tried to climb out."