Bluestocking Bride (6 page)

"That would depend on the man," replied Catherine, dimpling prettily. "In general, men are as vain as peacocks and with as much intelligence. Women are trained from childhood to flatter them into thinking that they are the superior sex. Come now! Admit it! No one of any intelligence truly believes it!"

"Oho! Is that a challenge, Miss Harland? If so, I accept—any contest, any terms you choose to name."

Catherine gazed at him doubtfully, a feeling of unease beginning to creep over her.
Rutherston
saw it and pushed his advantage.

"So craven, Miss Harland?"

Nettled beyond endurance, Catherine retorted rudely, "If your display of ignorance respecting Euripides is anything to go by, my lord, I wonder if the contest will be worth the effort?"

Rutherston's
laughter pealed out. "So be it, Miss Harland. Combatants we shall be, in every sphere, and no holds barred. But I give you fair warning, I am an unscrupulous opponent and I give no quarter." He gave her an appraising look, then stood up in his stirrups and leaned over to take the reins from Catherine's grasp. She saw her chance and dug in her heels. The frightened mare sprang past a startled
Rutherston
and was instantly through the gap. Catherine heard
Rutherston's
furious oath as he turned his stallion to give chase.

In a matter of minutes they were hurtling down the track and into the open, the black stallion thundering hard at the chestnut's heels. As
Rutherston
drew level, he reached out his hand to grasp the reins and pulled hard on them.

The chestnut reared at the sudden pressure on her mouth, dislodging a surprised Catherine from the saddle. She was thrown to the ground, the wind completely knocked out of her. In a moment,
Rutherston
was by her side, his face grim. Catherine rolled over and leaned back on her elbows, her gown halfway up her thighs. She looked up at his frightened face. "You stupid, impetuous man!" she sputtered when she had regained her breath.

"Thank God you're all right,"
Rutherston
said fervently, and at the unexpected prayer on his lips, Catherine's laughter rang out, and he found himself smiling back at her.

"Oh give me your hand, you unscrupulous man!" said Catherine brusquely, but still smiling. He helped her to rise, brushing the mud and dirt from her gown.

"Miss Harland, that was unforgivable! I apologize
. . .
I had not meant." He saw the laughter dancing in her eyes and he was nonplussed.

"Perhaps I deserved it," she said generously, moving to retrieve the reins of her mare. "I baited you outrageously. But you are an impossible man, you know. I have never met anyone like you! You bring out the worst in me." She went on in candid good humor, "I am quite afraid to be alone in your company."

He cupped his gloved hands and threw her into the saddle, then stood looking up at her, one hand on the reins. "In my circles, ma'am," he replied provocatively, "a young lady who flaunts convention by appearing
unchaperoned
is inviting attention."

"Really?" retorted Catherine, refusing to be discomfited by his veiled insult. "Then I beg to inform you, Lord
Rutherston
, that in this neck of the woods we generally accept at face value those who appear to be gentlemen until we learn better." She moved off and flung him her parting shot. "And I have learned better!" And with a saucy flounce of her head, she took off, leaving a disconcerted, amused, and admiring
Rutherston
in her wake.

"Oho, Miss Harland, you impertinent wench!" he flung at her retreating back. "So you think that I am no gentleman? Then so be it, for you are decidedly no lady! What you need, my proud
beauty,
is a lesson in humility, and I am just the man to teach you!"

The natural outcome of
Rutherston's
dining at
Ardo
House was that a host of gentlemen came to call at
Branley
Park and a proliferation of invitations arrived to various outings and soirees throughout the neighborhood of Breckenridge. It soon became known in the district, however, that Lord
Rutherston
, although of the most genial disposition, went into company only to oblige his cousin, Mr. Charles Norton, and that Mr. Norton went only to oblige his friend Mr. Thomas Harland, so that if the eager hostesses of Breckenridge wished to secure Lord
Rutherston's
presence, the Harland family had to be included in their invitations.

Thus, whether she would or not, Catherine found herself constantly in
Rutherston's
company, and although she took pains never to be in his presence alone, and he did nothing obvious to arouse the suspicions of jealous mamas, she discovered that a gentleman, if he had a mind to, could always contrive a few moments' private conversation with a lady, even if the rest of the world looked on. His manner always appeared proper to anyone who should happen to
glance
their way, but his remarks to

Catherine were either blatantly improper or cast in such a way that she could read two meanings into what was said, the one a deliberate attempt to outrage her feminine sensibilities, the other wholly innocuous.

Catherine, although at first taken aback by such ungentlemanly behavior, soon came to recognize that she looked forward to
Rutherston's
sallies and found herself responding in kind. She wondered if he behaved in this manner with all the young ladies, but when applying to her sister and friend in a most circumspect manner for their opinions on the handsome and debonair marquis, she discovered, by dint of careful questioning, that he treated them as if they had been duchesses. This information left her more in doubt about the propriety of his conduct toward her, but as he always seemed to take pleasure in her company, she reassured herself with the thought that their sport was such as might exist between friends rather than acquaintances. In two weeks she would be leaving for London, and it would be highly unlikely that their paths would cross again, for his circles in town were sure to be far more exalted than hers, and any of the balls at which they both might be in attendance would be such large affairs that he could quite properly ignore the rustic Miss Harland without having it said that he had cut her.

Rutherston
, for his part, did little to analyze his feelings for Catherine, but she had roused his hunting instincts, and he felt himself to be in hot pursuit. He admired her adroitness in avoiding his maneuvers to be alone with her and had taken steps to end that situation. This was one maneuver that the elusive Miss Catherine Harland was not going to sidestep!

A small select company of gentlemen from Breckenridge had been invited by
Rutherston
to shoot on
his estate
.
The plan had been to set out after an early break
fast
and return to
Branley
Park for dinner. It
was a
regretful Lord
Rutherston
who met his guests to inform them that he was unable, due to unforeseen circumstances, to accompany them, but that his cousin Charles would act as host in his stead. Charles looked perplexed, but no one would have deemed it civil to inquire into the unforeseen circumstances of which his lordship spoke.
Rutherston's
manners might be easy, but it would have been presumptuous to assume
an
overfamiliarity
with one of his consequence.

The gentlemen departed, and
Rutherston
returned to the house to bide his time. He did not think that Miss Catherine Harland would miss this opportunity when she was so secure in the knowledge that his lordship would not be at home for many hours. It was nearly an hour later, as he watched from an upstairs window, that he saw her wend her way to the back of the house. She had removed her bonnet, and the pale February sun cast golden glints in her hair.
Rutherston
watched her intently, a smile spreading across his handsome face, and he was struck once again by the arresting beauty of her glowing coloring. He waited till he thought she would be thoroughly absorbed,
then
made his way cautiously downstairs.

She was ensconced in a library chair, in her usual position, feet curled under her, a small frown of concentration on her brow. He approached soundlessly, and stood by her chair absorbing everything about her—the cluster of russet curls at the nape of her neck, the delicate glow of her flawless complexion, and the rounded swell of her breasts beneath her modest gray frock. He waited,
then
deliberately cast the shadow that he knew would rouse her from her reverie. She looked up with a start, an expression of consternation on her face.

"My lord," she gasped, trying to rise, "I do beg your pardon,
but . . ."

"No, no, Miss Harland, stay just as you are," replied
Rutherston
, pushing her shoulders gently against the back of the chair. "I invited you to browse, and indeed I am glad that you have taken me up on the offer."

His pleasant, unaffected manner persuaded Catherine that she had not offended him, and had nothing to fear. She forced herself to control her confusion and to assume an easy pose.

"What is it this time?" he asked with a smile. "Ah, today it is '
Antigone
.' Miss Harland, the scope of your reading astonishes me." He took the book from her hands, flicking through the pages until he found what he wanted.

"These choruses!" he said, shaking his head. "Wouldn't you say, Miss Harland, that Greek women of old had a healthy respect for '
eros
'?"

Catherine nodded her agreement, not sure of where the conversation was leading or whether
Rutherston
was quizzing her or really interested in a serious discussion.

"How do you translate
eros
,
Miss Harland?" He remained standing over her, making Catherine, she knew not why, feel very uncomfortable.

"Love," she replied briefly.

"And
philia
?"
he went on. "How do you translate that?"

"Love," she said again.

"You translate both words as love? Then what is the difference?"

She tried to read his eyes, but the light was behind him and she gave up the attempt.

"I suppose," she began seriously,
"
eros
is closer to passion and
philia
is closer to affection, but love is as good a translation as any for both words."

He put the book down and leaned toward her, placing his hands one on each arm of her chair. Catherine was by this time thoroughly frightened and cursing herself as all kinds of a fool for having been inveigled into playing his game.

His face was only inches from her now.

"And which of these two words, passion or affection, describes most accurately the feeling that we share for each other, Catherine? Shall we put it to the test?"

He bent to kiss her, but Catherine quickly ducked under his arm to make her escape. He caught her wrist in a viselike grip and pulled her slowly into his arms. He held her head firmly with one hand and tilted it back so that she was forced to look into his eyes.

"Catherine," he drawled, "you have only yourself to blame for what happens next."

He bent his face close to hers, and Catherine lashed out with all her might, but he was prepared for her resistance and tightened his arms around her with such violence that the breath was knocked out of her. She was overcome by a feeling of helplessness and sagged against him for support.

With unhurried deliberation, he brushed her eyes and mouth with his lips, and when she felt his hot breath on her breast through the thin fabric of her gown, Catherine protested weakly. One hand slid down her back to pull her thighs hard against his loins.

"No!" moaned Catherine against his mouth. "Let me go," but his answer was to close his mouth over hers until she could scarcely breathe. A tide of emotion that she had never before experienced surged through her and she felt her will yield to his. His tongue probed insistently against her lips, demanding entry to the softness of her mouth. She could deny him nothing, and opened her lips to receive him, and she trembled in anticipation. She was dimly aware that she was surrendering to the sheer power of him, and she felt her body melt against his.

Rutherston
lifted his head and Catherine looked up to see him regarding her intently. She heard his breath quicken, and a groan broke from his lips.

Suddenly Catherine felt herself crushed savagely to him in a bruising embrace. His hands slid to her back, and she felt the urgency in his fingers as he deftly undid the buttons of her gown. Then his warm hands were caressing her naked breasts and moving under her gown to explore her body. She gasped in fright and would have pulled back, but he held her firmly and soothed her fears, his soft voice murmuring unintelligibly against her ear. She felt the heat of his passion penetrate her every pore, arousing her to
a fervor
to match his own, and her hands slid under his coat to return his caresses.