The Lord and the Wayward Lady (15 page)

Marcus got up and sat beside her. ‘That pawn?’ he suggested, pointing. He had no idea whether it was a good move or not; his attention had been entirely on her face, not the board.

‘Really?’ She looked up at him, puzzled. It was obviously a foolish suggestion. ‘But I am playing the red pieces.’

A very foolish suggestion. ‘Of course, I was not thinking. You are not chilled after our drive this morning?’

‘And my walk?’ Nell met his eye with tolerable composure. ‘Yes, I deserve to catch a cold with such foolishness, do I not?’

‘It was my fault entirely,’ he said. ‘I am sorry.’

‘You did not force me to get down from the carriage,’ she pointed out, her voice low. ‘What followed was just as much my responsibility.’

‘I was tactless,’ Marcus persisted, determined to apologise comprehensively while he was at it. ‘Afterwards.’

‘True.’ Nell turned back to her contemplation of the board. ‘And I was provoking.’ She sent him a slanting glance from under her lashes, an utterly feminine trick to gauge his mood. Marcus felt his lips twitch, just a fraction.

‘
Very
true,’ he agreed, and she smiled, a small, secret smile that did the strangest things to his breathing. What the devil was the matter with him?

Her fingers poised over the chessboard, she hesitated, then moved a bishop. Across the table, Lord Narborough chuckled.

‘Oh dear, have I walked right into a trap?’

‘Most certainly. You see, I will now do this.’ The earl leaned forward. ‘And what will you do now?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ Nell said, half laughing, half plaintive.

‘Let me see.’ Hal strolled over and studied the board, then leaned down and whispered in Nell’s ear.

She went pink, laughed, bit her lip and sent Hal a roguish look that had Marcus’s blood seething. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant Carlow,’ she said demurely, leaning forward and making a move that had Lord Narborough sitting up and frowning.

‘Miss Latham will learn faster if you do not tell her what to do,’ Marcus observed as Hal took up position leaning on the back of Nell’s chair.

‘But it is such fun to teach, don’t you think so?’ His brother’s expression was bland and innocent, his suggestive words went straight to the most tender part of Marcus’s conscience.

Teach Nell. Oh yes, that is what I want to do. Teach her to make love, teach her to love me. Love.
His heart gave a sudden thump. Marcus stared at his own clasped hands, keeping his eyes down in case Hal read the truth in them.

He had fallen in love with Nell Latham. That was why he was so defensive, so possessive when Hal was close to her. That was why he could not make love to
her like that, why the thought of her with any other man filled him with hot anger. That was why, whatever her secrets, he wanted her. Wanted to marry her.

Marcus got up abruptly, walked away across the room to the window and jerked back the curtain. His own face stared back, reflected in the glass. Wanted her for ever, as his wife. God. What was happening to him? He stared blindly at the dark world outside. It was like discovering something totally new about himself. He supposed it
was
something new, this feeling. It was certainly overwhelming.

He watched the scene behind him reflected as though in a mirror. His father frowning at the problem Hal’s move had set him. Hal using his hands to describe something to his sisters that was making them laugh. His mother’s smile. And Nell, quiet, contained, full of unexpected depths and passion. Nell, who had turned to liquid fire under his hands in that cold folly, whose skin smelled of roses and whose mouth tasted of cherries.

What did it matter that she had fallen on hard times, that she was having to earn her own living, that she had no family around her? He was Viscount Stanegate, heir to an earldom. He could do what he wanted. Just for once, he could do
absolutely
what he wanted. There would be gossip; he would have to deal with that, as much for her sake as for the family.

She must be from a gentry family, at the very least, he supposed. He would have his people look into it. There would be some respectable relative, however distant, who would be glad to oblige the Carlows by lending her countenance.

Now all he had to do was to find the right moment,
the right words. The seriousness of what he was contemplating was beginning to sink in. He was in love, and his world was no longer on its right axis, and perhaps never would be again. He was no longer in control of his emotions or his destiny.

That slim figure across the room was going to change everything. Everything he believed about himself, he realized, would be challenged and transformed. And yet, he had never felt more right in himself, more certain of who he was and what was important.

Marcus looked around the candlelit room that held everyone who mattered to him, a room set in the heart of the house and the estate that was rooted in his very being. If he had not stopped, up there in the folly tower, Nell could now be carrying the next generation to love this place, beneath her heart.

How long had he felt like this about her and not realized? How was he going to keep her safe?

‘C
heckmate.’ Lord Narborough sat back and Nell laughed.

‘Oh dear, I fear I am never going to get the hang of this game, even with Mr Carlow’s assistance. Congratulations, my lord.’

‘He’s never beaten me yet,’ the earl said smugly. ‘So you learn from me, Miss Latham, not Hal.’

Still chuckling at Hal’s snort of affronted pride, Nell glanced round for Marcus. He was watching her, unsmiling, almost grim. That frown was back and his eyes were darker than she had ever seen them. Darker than when he had accused her of trying to frighten his father to death. Darker even than they had been as he had lain over her, their breath mingling in the cold air, and he rejected her.

The bitter argument was still unresolved. He still desired her, still wished to make her his mistress, even though he knew he should not. And she, wanton that she was, still wanted him. If he had offered a
carte blanche
again, then she would have accepted it, Nell admitted
to herself. It was the only way to have a part of him for her own, his body if not his heart.

But that hard, hot stare seemed to brand her as she sat there. What had she done so very wrong that he should look at her like that? Laughed and found pleasure in his father’s company? Flirted a very little with his charming brother?

Dog in the manger
, Nell thought.
You do not want me, but no one else can even be my friend.

‘Nell, will you come and talk about the party Hal wants us to hold?’ Verity called.

‘I—I am a little tired, Verity. Would you mind very much if we spoke of it tomorrow?’ Verity’s face fell and Nell had a strong suspicion that she would do what she often did and come round in her nightgown and wrapper to curl up at the foot of the bed for what she called a chat, but was usually a lengthy interrogation about the life of a milliner, which appeared to fascinate her.

Nell gathered up her things, made her goodnights and finally turned to face Marcus. He was still standing by the window, still watching her with what she could only interpret as dislike.

Two could play at that game. Nell lifted her chin and returned a stare of freezing disdain as she swept out of the door. Outside, she leaned back against it, shaken. He had seemed so gentle, almost teasing her over the chess game—until Hal had come over to join them. Perhaps he did not want her corrupting his brother.

‘Miss Latham?’

‘Oh. Watson. A moment’s abstraction.’ She smiled at the butler and went swiftly up the stairs. With Miriam
dismissed, she turned the key in the lock; she really did not feel she could cope with Verity tonight.

Nell folded away the last of her father’s letters and tied the ribbon. There was nothing more there to add to what she already knew, nothing in her mother’s diary either, just despair and the death of hope.

She locked the writing slope and set it back on the table. The clock on the mantle showed five minutes to midnight. Time to sleep, if she could.

The tap on the door stopped her as she began to climb into bed. ‘Verity, I’m sorry, but I am too sleepy to talk,’ she called.

The tap came again, the handle turned. Nell sighed and went to the door. ‘Verity—’

‘It is Marcus. I need to talk to you.’

‘At this hour? In my room? I very much doubt talking is what you have in mind,’ she said, snatching her hand back from the door handle. ‘Go away.’

‘Nell, for Heaven’s sake, stop sulking and let me in.’

‘Sulking! I am doing nothing of the sort.’ Nell heard her voice rise and got a grip on her temper. ‘You are a complete hypocrite, Marcus Carlow, glowering at me for talking to your brother then accusing me of sulking,’ she hissed at the crack in the door. ‘I don’t like you, I don’t want you—’

There was a loud thump on the door panels that sent her jumping back in alarm. ‘Nell!’

‘Will you stop shouting! Do you want the entire household here? Do you want to shame me in front of your sisters? Go away!’

Silence. Then, ‘You really are the most infuriating
woman I have ever met,’ Marcus Carlow said. It must have been the muffling effect of the door, but she could have sworn he was smiling as he spoke. ‘Good night, Nell.’

‘Infuriating? Me?’ But there was only silence. Nell turned the key in the lock and flung open the door, spoiling for a fight. The passage was empty save for half a suit of armour on a pillar. ‘Oh!’ The temptation to slam the door was almost overwhelming. Nell closed it with care, locked it and stalked back to bed.

What do you do
, she wondered an hour later as she punched her pillow in an effort to find a position where she might finally sleep,
when you fall in love with a man whom you want to shake in exasperation almost as much as you want to kiss him?

‘The lake is frozen, so Potter tells me,’ Marcus remarked as he tackled a large and bloody beefsteak.

Nell averted her eyes from both the man and his idea of a reasonable breakfast and addressed herself to her toast and preserves. She was finding it very difficult to ignore Marcus while at the same time not give the appearance of doing so.

‘We could skate,’ he continued. ‘Potter says the ice is bearing—he and two of the other under-gamekeepers were on it last night.’

‘Oh, yes!’ Honoria was predictably enthusiastic. ‘We can all go and take a picnic and have a brazier, just like we used to do.’

‘I didn’t know there was a lake,’ Nell remarked.

‘It is more of a long, large pond,’ Lord Narborough explained. ‘It was made by damming the river to create a head of water for the mill lower down. Most of the
streams around here are shallow, but they feed the Woodbourne and it has a reasonable depth.’

‘We crossed one of the tributary streams when Nell and I were riding,’ Marcus said.

She saw Hal looked up at the use of her first name. ‘So we did, my lord,’ she said with a little emphasis on the title. Hal’s lips twitched.

Unaware of the byplay, Lord Narborough tossed down his napkin and beamed. ‘A good idea. The sun is out, the frost is hard. Watson, tell the kitchen that we require a luncheon hamper and have the footmen take the brazier and so forth down to the lake.’

‘George,’ Lady Narborough began, then looked round the table at her enthusiastic family and smiled. ‘Oh, very well. The exercise will do us all good, I daresay. You have some stout boots, Miss Latham?’

‘I will just watch,’ Nell demurred. ‘I have never skated.’

‘You will love it. Please try, Nell,’ Verity cajoled, despite Nell’s firm refusals.

She was still saying
no
when they reached the lake-side an hour later. This was obviously a well-rehearsed excursion, with muffled-up footmen in galoshes throwing oilskin rugs over fallen trees for seats, a brazier and kitchen staff clustered around it making ready for hot drinks and luncheon. The staff seemed to be enjoying it as much as the family and it was hard, in the middle of so much laughter, to keep refusing to join in.

Nell stood by the edge, well wrapped up, watching while Lord Narborough executed intricate reverse steps with his wife, Hal whirled a shrieking Honoria in circles and Marcus fastened Verity’s skates.

Diana strapped on her own skates with a practised air
just as Lord Narborough delivered his breathless wife back to the edge. ‘Miss Price?’

They stuck out for the centre, collecting Verity as they went. Nell tried not to feel envious. It looked such fun, so effortless. Marcus came up, as sure on his skates as he was on firm land. ‘Nell?’ She fought the urge to turn away and take refuge by the brazier.

‘I do not skate, my lord,’ she said politely, conscious of Lady Narborough not so very far away.

‘Nell, I want to make up.’ Marcus was smiling ruefully at her when she finally made herself meet his eyes.

‘Really?’ She began to walk along the edge while he skated slowly beside her. ‘After glowering at me last night and then hammering on my door for an argument? Do you assume I am going to corrupt your brother?’

‘Hal? Good God, no! Quite the reverse, I am sure. Hal is the most appalling flirt; I would not want your heart wounded, Nell.’

Would you not?
she thought, wondering what he would say if she told him that she feared he had already broken it. ‘And that makes you scowl?’

‘Was I so fierce? I am sorry, Nell. My thoughts last night were not easy. I had some hard thinking to do.’

‘You seem more cheerful this morning,’ she ventured. ‘Have you made up your mind what you will do about your problems?’

‘One of them, yes.’ He came to a halt on the ice. ‘I am looking for the right moment to do something about that. How to tackle our dark antagonist is still eluding me.’

‘These woods are too big to hunt him in,’ she said, looking up at the forested slopes. ‘Could you set a trap?
Take away the patrolling gamekeepers, be a little careless with a window left ajar?’

‘If it were only Hal, my father and I, that is exactly what we would do. With a houseful of women, no. But I refuse to allow him to spoil our fun. Come and put skates on, Nell. I will teach you.’

‘I’ll fall down,’ she protested, allowing herself to be led back.

‘Where’s your spirit?’ Marcus demanded, grinning at her. ‘You ride a horse; this is much closer to the ground, even if you do fall.’

‘Even? Oh, all right,’ Nell capitulated. It seemed she had misjudged his mood last night and the dark, brooding gaze was not the outer sign of his feelings about her.

She sat on a tree stump and let him strap the skates over her boots, one hand steadying her foot while the other secured the lashings. Through the sturdy boots his touch could be nothing but chaste, yet there was still the memory of those same fingers trailing wicked delight up her legs, up her inner thighs, up to the most…

‘Did you say something?’ Marcus looked up and Nell shook her head. She must have gasped. His dark head bent to the task again and she fought the impulse to thread her own fingers into the thick, waving hair.

‘You should wear a hat,’ she scolded. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold.’

His answering grin as he helped her to her feet gave her a sudden glimpse of what he must have looked like as a boy, his bare head ruffled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. If they had lain together yesterday, then she might be carrying his child now. A son with his father’s grey eyes.

‘Nell?’

‘Um? Oh, I’m sorry.’ Her state of abstraction had carried her the few steps onto the ice without her realizing. ‘Oh!’ Her feet wanted to go in opposite directions. Nell grabbed the front of Marcus’s coat and hung on. It was impossible to move.

‘Stand up straight,’ he said patiently, untangling her. ‘And put your feet like this and hold my arm.’

Nell’s feet shot out and she sat down with a thud. ‘Ouch!’

‘Up.’ Marcus hauled her to her feet. ‘Try again.’

After half an hour of skids, slides and inelegant landings on her bottom, Nell found she could stand up and move each foot forward in turn. ‘Look! I’m skating!’ Hal swooped past, laughing at her, and she grinned back. ‘I wish I could go fast like that.’

‘All right.’ Marcus moved behind her, put his hands at her waist and pushed. ‘Here we go, you move your feet too.’

And she was skating, laughing out loud, waving to Lord Narborough, who had Honoria on one arm and Verity on the other. Behind her, Marcus’s body was strong and warm, sheltering her, supporting her, keeping her safe. She turned her head and smiled up at him. ‘I love this!’

His eyes widened, his smooth pace faltered just a fraction and Nell lost her footing. Her feet shot out in front of her and she went down like a stone, landing virtually on Marcus’s feet. There was a sharp crack, echoing around the valley. He stumbled, but she was too close for a recovery, and they ended up in a laughing heap on the ice.

In a moment they were surrounded by the other
skaters, helping them to their feet. ‘What was that noise, just as we fell?’ Marcus demanded, dusting ice powder off his coat. He looked around at the pond. ‘It isn’t breaking up, is it?’

Diana Price flew towards them from the far end of the little lake like a racer, her face white. ‘A gunshot!’ She came to a halt, her skates kicking up a shower of frozen fragments. ‘I felt the bullet go past me, just as you went down. Someone is shooting from the woods.’

The men, without a word being exchanged, encircled the women, hurrying them off the ice. ‘There!’ Marcus, tearing off the bindings of his skates without looking, was scanning the woods. ‘By that dead oak.’

‘I see him.’ Hal was already free of the encumbering blades and running hard for the carriage. Nell saw him pull a shotgun out from beneath the driver’s box, slinging it over his shoulder on the run as Marcus joined him.

‘Into the carriage, everyone.’ Lord Narborough was snapping orders, shepherding the servants into their brake. ‘Leave everything.’

Crammed into the carriage, they jostled together as the coachman whipped the horses into a skidding canter on the icy track. He pulled up as the carriage came out of the woods and Hal and Marcus jumped up, one on each step, clinging to the door frames on either side.

‘Gone,’ Marcus said through the open window. ‘There were hoof prints, then he was into the deep wood. The ground’s too hard and there is no snow in there. We lost him.’

Nell kept her eyes on Marcus as the carriage bounced and swayed its way back to the house. He looked grimly
angry. She could imagine his frustration, chasing a ghost, his actions tied by the need to protect a houseful of women.

This campaign of persecution was moving beyond mere attempts to frighten and disturb. She had no idea whether that shot had missed on purpose or whether they had all been fortunate, but someone could have been killed.

As she went up the steps in the wake of Lady Narborough she realized, with a sort of calm fatalism, that she could keep her secret no longer.

‘George,’ Lady Narborough said as they stood in the drawing room, dripping onto the fine carpet. ‘What is going on?’

Nell saw Marcus meet his father’s eye and nod. Yes, the time had come. As his father began to explain, she touched Marcus’s arm. ‘I need to speak to you.’