She stopped again. “Why is Lady Lily here?”
“She . . . ah . . . when I received the summons from the marquess, it only said—”
“Are you in love with her?”
He met her gaze. “Yes.”
“Thank God.”
He blinked, nonplussed. “Pardon?”
“I don’t want to marry you, Randy. I mean Rand.” A small smile curved her lips, then faded. “I didn’t want to marry your brother, and I don’t want to marry you. I love you like a sister. Not a wife.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”
“Oh, I imagine you’re just as relieved as I am to hear it from you.” She turned and started walking back toward the house, but slanted him a sidelong glance. “Did you truly think I loved you that way?”
“No,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure, and many wed for alliance, not love, and the marquess wanted—and Lily worried—” He stopped, humiliated to find himself babbling.
When a student babbled, he accused the ninnyhammer of being unprepared. Which Rand was, at the moment.
Woefully unprepared to deal with this—love, pressure from his family, responsibilities he’d never wanted nor thought would be his . . . all of it.
They reentered the formal gardens, their feet crunching on the gravel. “Well,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood for both of their sakes, “you cannot blame me for wondering if you might, after all, be besotted. I did, if you’ll remember, grace you with your first kiss.”
That earned a good-natured smirk. “I don’t remember
‘grace’ being an applicable description. And if I recall aright, ’twas
your
first kiss as well. You seemed to be concerned about going off into the world an inexperienced man.” She looked over at him, her green eyes perhaps a bit more lively than before. “Have you gained any experience, Randal Nesbitt?”
“Oh, in the past fourteen years I’ve kissed a woman or two. And you?”
“Besides your odious brother at his insistence?” She looked as though the memory made her gag. But then her features softened. “I’m in love with Bennett Armstrong.”
“Bennett Armstrong?” He frowned, trying to remember. “Is he not a scrawny boy of ten?”
In spite of her despondency, a little chuckle bubbled up. “He was when you left. He’s four-and-twenty now.
And not scrawny, I can assure you.”
Her dreamy gaze told Rand she had the same feelings for Bennett that he had for Lily. Or a shred of them, anyway. He had a hard time believing most people lived with these strong emotions.
He attempted to picture a grown-up Bennett Armstrong. “His father is a baron, yes?”
“Bennett is the baron now. His father died when the smallpox raged through the county. Three years ago, that was.”
That explained Etta’s new scars, and the ones he’d seen on other old family retainers. “You never wrote me about the smallpox.”
Margery shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
He
hadn’t
cared, not then. Guilt ate at his insides.
“Bennett is a wealthy baron,” she continued. “His father left him gold and estates. I am certain my own rich but untitled father would have been pleased to see me happily wed to such a man, no matter that Bennett isn’t an earl like Alban. Like you,” she corrected herself. “Yet I argued with Uncle William until I was blue in the face, and he refused to let us marry.” As they drew closer to the house, Margery’s feet dragged. “And now there’s the complication . . . ”
She seemed reticent to continue. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “The money? He told me. The way the marquess looks at it, this is a matter of honor and finances. Love does not figure into the equation.”
“Money doesn’t figure into it, either.” She frowned. “I told you, Bennett is a wealthy man. With land, and—”
“’Tis not your wealth the marquess is concerned with, but his own.”
They’d reached the edge of the garden, and Margery plopped down on a bench. “What do you mean?”
“Did he not discuss this with you?”
“No. I’m a woman. And that aside, the man tends to be dictatorial.”
“You’re a master of understatement.” Sighing, he sat beside her and explained about Hawkridge’s dependence on her property and the repercussions of losing that income.
“No wonder he didn’t want to admit it!” Margery burst out when he was finished. “He kept mumbling about honor and the promise to my father. And now, of course, since it happened, he’s had the perfect excuse to refuse Bennett—”
“Lily,” Rand interrupted her, “has a solution for Hawkridge’s finances.”
“Does she?” Margery blinked. “But it doesn’t solve—”
“She has an inheritance coming. Ten thousand pounds.
Plus another three thousand from her marriage portion.
That ought to be enough to set the marquess on the road to solvency, and then everyone can wed whomever they want.”
Margery toyed with her black skirts. “No, Randy,” she started, but he’d heard a bark from the direction of the river.
“What the devil?” There in the distance he saw Lily toss a stick, and a big, wet mastiff jump into the water to retrieve it. Beatrix sat nearby, placidly watching. Apparently the monsters didn’t eat cats, after all.
“What are you looking at?” Margery asked.
“Lily.” The hound scrambled up the bank and shook violently, spraying her with water that left big splotches on her blue gown. He laughed aloud. “She’s playing fetch in the river with one of the marquess’s dogs!”
The sight of her, being so very Lily, lightened his heart.
She caught him watching and waved, and he waved back.
He turned to Margery. “I must go tell her you want Bennett, not me. She’ll be so happy.”
“Rand—”
“Later, Margery.” She looked so distressed. “Stop worrying. We will make it right.” Sudden impulse made him lean and give her a quick, chaste kiss on the mouth. “For old times’ sake,” he said lightly, rising from the bench.
“Was it better than last time?”
He was gratified to see the ghost of a smile return to her lips. “Perhaps. But not as good as Bennett’s.”
“No? I’m not sure whether I’m happy to hear that or gravely insulted.” He grinned. “I need to talk to Lily; then we’ll speak with the marquess.”
He started off.
“Wait, Rand, there’s more—”
But he was already walking away, and Lily had spotted him. Whatever else Margery wanted to talk about could wait.
The smile froze on Lily’s face.MMMMMMMMMM
He’d kissed Margery. On the lips.
He’d walked with his arm around her, too. Lily knew that, because although she’d been playing with the dog, she’d kept half an eye on Rand and Margery the entire time.
Or at least while they were visible. For a while they’d disappeared into the hedge- and tree-lined gardens. Had he kissed Margery there, too? In the little round gazebo where he’d kissed Lily last night?
He was going to marry Margery.
As Lily watched him come closer, she decided she would not make a fuss. Because she was nice. Because his father wanted it this way, and if all the parties agreed, there was no point in fighting fate. Because Margery had known Rand for twenty-one years, and Lily for only weeks.
Then suddenly she was in his arms, and she wondered how she could have thought any of that. His mouth was on hers, hot and needy, and the whole of her responded.
She slipped her hands under his open surcoat and pressed herself close. Her heart raced; the blood rushed through her veins. And it was the same for him, she was certain.
Nothing had changed between them.
By the time he pulled away, her senses were spinning, her knees wobbly and weak. He was smiling, looking as shaky as she felt. His heart was in his compelling gray eyes, there for her to see.
Perhaps fate would tear them apart, but ’twas clear as the cloudless sky that it wouldn’t be because Rand’s feelings had changed toward her. And although she wanted an explanation for why he’d kissed Margery, even more than that she didn’t want him to know she had doubted him.
Still smiling, he brushed at his damp coat, plucked his wet shirt away from his body.
She wanted her hands on that body.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid Rex has soaked me through.” The dog was panting at her feet. She bent to grab the stick and tossed it arcing out over the water, watching as the mastiff gleefully splashed in to fetch it.
Looking just as gleeful, Rand swung her back to face him. “’Tis all right. I’ll happily risk more wet to claim another kiss.” Involuntarily she swayed toward him, but this kiss was light and short. “Margery doesn’t want to marry me,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“She’s in love with another man. A local baron named Bennett Armstrong. My brother’s death was naught but a relief to her, since it freed her from their betrothal.”
“Then why was she crying?”
“The marquess has refused Bennett’s suit. Because he wants her land and income, of course. But now, with your inheritance . . .”
“It should work out for all concerned.”
“Thanks to your generosity, yes.” The dog emerged and shook, soaking them both, and Rand laughed and lifted Lily by the waist, swinging her in a wide circle.
When he finally set her on her feet, he kissed her again soundly and then gripped both her hands. “Tonight,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning, “after all this is settled, I will come to you.”
And they no longer needed to worry about conceiving a child. Her entire body responded to that thought, and her fingers tightened on his.
Then she looked over to see Margery.
“You must be Lily,” Margery said. “It warms my heart to see how happy you’ve made Randy.”
Lily blushed to the roots of her hair. Margery must have been sitting on that bench, watching, the entire time.
And if she hadn’t approached now, Lily might well have started stripping Rand out of his damp clothes.
Well, not really, but she’d wanted to. What a creature of lust she was becoming!
Margery looked wistful.
“I hear you’ve found a love of your own,” Lily told her.
“Yes, I have.” Her expression softened for a moment, then tensed again. “Randy—I mean, Rand—we must talk. There is something—”
“What the hell are you doing with my dog?”
They all turned to see the marquess storming down the path to the river. Beatrix scampered up a nearby tree, joining Lady and Jasper where they sat on a branch, chattering nervously.
Lily’s heart pounded.
“Worry not,” Margery whispered. “He might bellow like a bear and insist on his own way, but he’s not a man to do physical violence.”
“I beg to differ,” Rand said tightly, making Lily wonder anew what his childhood had been like. He looped an arm over her shoulders, a clear message of possession.
The tall, formidable nobleman drew up before them and glared down into Lily’s face. “Well?”
Although Lily had always been nice, she’d never been shy. “I was only playing with Rex, my lord. He seems to enjoy it.”
“Rex?”
She shrugged. “He needed a name. I assure you, I’ve done him no harm.”
He whistled to the dog, which obediently ran over. He grabbed the chain around the animal’s neck. “His name is Attila. And like the rest of my mastiffs, he’s a valuable fighter. He will sell for a top price once he’s fully trained—that is, if he doesn’t die of a chill first.” His fist was white-knuckled on the links. “My dogs do not play.”
Lily drew herself up to her full height of five foot two.
“Perhaps they should. As they do not seem to get a lot of human attention, some toys would be a welcome addition to their enclosure. Knotted rope, as I told Rand.” Rand’s hand tightened on her shoulder in warning, but she ignored it. She refused to be intimidated by the man she hoped would be her father-in-law. “And you’d do well to uproot the apple tree in there—the fruit is of a size to be a choking hazard.”
Surprisingly, the man looked thoughtful if still fierce.
“These dogs are meant to accompany soldiers at war.
They get plenty of human attention when I train them—to kill. But perhaps some toys might not be amiss. Knotted rope could well promote fighting amongst themselves, which would help keep them in shape.”
’Twas not exactly what Lily had in mind, but it was something. And he was no longer ignoring her.
He turned his attention to Margery. “When did you arrive?”
She exchanged a look with Rand. “Mere moments ago, Uncle William.”
“Good. We will talk over dinner. ’Tis long past time we settled your betrothal and marriage. In the meantime, Margery, come along. You need to make yourself presentable. Dinner will be served in one hour.”
He swung on a heel, taking Margery’s arm to pull her along with him. Lily stared at his stiff, retreating back, the dog trotting on his other side. Margery needed to make herself presentable? Lily had rarely seen a woman so pristine. She glanced down at her own water-and-mud-stained skirts with dismay.
Rand came around to face her and lifted her chin with a hand. “You did well,” he said admiringly.
She fluffed at her filthy blue gown. “If he thought Margery needed grooming, he must think I’m a veritable fustilug.”
He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “He wasn’t looking at you; he was listening. Miraculously. And he only said that to Margery as an excuse to drag her off. He doesn’t want us talking and figuring a way around his plans.”
“But we will, right?”
“Absolutely. He’s unaware of your inheritance. And although he’s stood firm on her betrothal, apparently Margery feels no reason to fear him. Perhaps he’s softened in his old age.”
He didn’t look like he actually believed that, but Lily drew hope from his words. “An hour,” she said. “I’ll need that time to bathe and change.”
He shrugged out of his surcoat and handed it to her.
“Take this inside for me, will you? I’m going for a run.”
“A run? Now?”
“I’ll just have time.” His fingers worked the knot in his cravat, then stilled as he met her gaze. “’Tis just a run, Lily. I like to do that. To—”
“To think. I know.”
Then why did she feel shut out?
He smiled, not understanding, as he handed her the lace-trimmed linen. “Thank you. I’ll see you at dinner.”