The Reluctant Suitor (19 page)

As he straightened, she leaned briefly toward him and delivered her own rejoinder in an angry whisper. “

Well, any
lady
would be upset if she were involved in this conversation. ‘Tis hardly the topic to soothe one’s senses.”

“I’ll allow the subject itself wouldn’t soothe you, but the joining of our bodies in the rites of love would do wonders for relaxing you. I’d certainly be willing to give you a fair sampling of what goes on when two people enjoy such intimacy.” His broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “Actually, more than a fair sampling, if you’d be of such a mind.”

“Will you
please
stop?” she hissed and lifted her eyes to his face in time to see the gray orbs dip into her décolletage. “And stop ogling me. We’re not married
yet
, and considering your previous disdain for that idea, ‘tis doubtful we
ever
will be.”

Colton chuckled softly. “Who knows what will come from our association? I may just decide to forget my aversion to arranged marriages and take you to wife just to show you what delights can be had between a married couple.”

Adriana chuckled chidingly. “Oh, what subtle ploys you practice, my lord. You think to soften my heart and get me into your bed by your liberal use of the word
marriage,
but I’m not as gullible as you may think. You’ll have to speak the vows with me ere you see me naked again.”

His eyes danced as he probed the dark, shining orbs. “And would you, fairest maid, willingly speak the vows with me?”

Considering his question, she feigned a museful attitude. “My parents would certainly be pleased if I were to do such a thing. After all, it was what both yours and mine agreed to, to the extent that they willingly

signed the contract. But since I cannot imagine you’ll come to want me as your wife, I don’t expect such a wedding will
ever
take place.”

He grinned down at her. “I suppose if I were to get you with child, I’d have to marry you and save your reputation.”

Fairly faint at such an idea, Adriana gulped the last of her wine before passing him the empty goblet. “

Would you mind fetching me another? This conversation is too much to bear sober.”

The corners of his lips twitched in amusement. “Frankly, Adriana, I think you’ve had enough, so much so that I’m afraid to leave you. A breath of fresh air would likely do you far more good.” He set aside her goblet and reached to take her arm. “Come, I’ll escort you out.”

“No, thank you,” she hurriedly replied, managing to avoid his touch. She could well imagine his eagerness to
unite
with her in a private place without benefit of wedding vows. “I’ll be all right. I just need to sit for a moment. . . . Perhaps I’ll just go across the hall into the great room and wait there until dinner is announced.”

“I won’t leave you,” Colton declared, slipping a hand beneath the bend of her arm and turning her toward the door. As he led her toward it, Harrison entered and announced with stately dignity that dinner was to be served.

“Too late,” Colton murmured and grinned askance at Adriana. “I’ll escort you to your chair instead.”

“Why bother with me when you could just as well assist your mother?” she protested, trying to free herself.

“Considering that I’ve shocked you nigh out of your wits, I feel responsible for your present condition,”

he replied, a grin flitting across his lips as he drew her against his side. Though she tried to push herself away, he leaned down and breathed above her ear, “Besides, it pleases Mother to see us together, so if you wish her to enjoy the evening, you should consider limiting your protestations and allowing me to attend you for a few rare moments. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

Adriana thought that would be the case as he escorted her into the great room, but she was mistaken.

The customary place of honor for the Marquess of Randwulf had always been at the head of the table. It had been that way during the late Sedgwick’s reign as lord of the manor; it seemed destined to remain so under the new marquess’s authority. Adriana hardly expected Colton to escort her to a place immediately upon the right of the lord’s chair, but that was indeed where he led her. Stuart was directed to sit next to her, and Samantha and Percy settled across from them. As the sole marchioness of the household, Philana took her customary chair at the end of the trestle table.

In spite of the fact that the meal was outstanding and the company even more so, Adriana didn’t feel much like participating either in the consumption of food or the conversation. The fact that she graciously declined more wine was certainly conducive to the clearing of her head and senses. Still, she felt in dire need of its numbing effects, considering that, throughout the meal, she found herself the recipient of Colton’s careful perusal. Her gown gave her little protection from those hungering eyes, and at times the warm glow she saw in them made her feel as naked as she had been in the bathing chamber. She was not at all surprised when she realized her nerves were taut enough to be plucked.

It proved an especially fine feast. Cook had outdone herself in that area in spite of the fact that the new scullery maid, who had secretly imbibed the late lord’s brandy, had to be dismissed and then, because she had been so befuddled by the amount she had imbibed, had to be carted home. The groom and his son, who had been assigned that task, had been required to carry the woman into her cottage. The pair

later returned with glum tales of her three young offspring, all less than six years of age, looking as if they were in dire straits, being bone-thin, hollow-eyed, filthy, and raggedly clothed. This news was solemnly absorbed by Harrison who would dutifully report it to his lordship at a later time.

In the drawing room that evening, the presentation of several gifts to commemorate Stuart’s birthday were made amid bantering comments and cheery wishes. Many of the presents brought hearty laughter, while others drew smiles of pleasure from the man. Percy had had a blacksmith make a heavy metal shield for his brother’s backside, which, the younger sibling claimed, could be conveniently strapped on should the elder ever go to war again. Adriana had sewn Stuart a heavily quilted velvet throw to place atop his saddle. Although that, too, drew humorous comment, it would likely prove serviceable in the colder months, especially for one whose hind parts would still be tender from his wound. As for Samantha’s gift, she had cross-stitched a pair of stiff flags for her brother-in-law, one with an arrow that indicated a way to the rear, the other to the front.

The evening’s celebration finally drew to a close, and once again Colton lent gentlemanly assistance to Adriana by helping her on with her cloak. Had she been given a choice, she would have preferred Harrison’s help rather than the marquess’s, for the younger man seemed wont to linger overlong at the task as he stood behind her and smoothed the velvet over her shoulders. Not knowing exactly where his gaze was directed, she glanced downward and immediately blushed as she faced him with a brow raised at a challenging angle. He offered no apology for allowing his gaze to delve into her décolletage, but smiled as if his ogling was something to be expected as he snuggled the hood up close around her face.

“The sights are much too enticing for any man to ignore, Adriana, much less one who has seen you in the altogether. If you must know, I enjoy looking at you.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious in the bathing chamber,”

she retorted.

“Shhh,”
he shushed with a grin. “Someone will hear you and think we shared a bath and have good reason to smell the same.”

Adriana rolled her eyes, wondering why she even tried to get the last quip in when this man had spent at least the first ten and six years of his life perfecting his teasing banter. There was no accounting for the time he had spent in that endeavor during the latter half.

Philana approached them with a smile. “Adriana, my dear, please inform your parents that I shall be accompanying my son when he visits Wakefield.”

Adriana searched the woman’s gently smiling face, wondering if she had actually detected a note of resolve in the marchioness’s tone. Colton had merely stated earlier in the day that he’d inquire into the appropriateness of such a visit, whereas Lady Philana had simply presumed they’d be going. But then,

Adriana couldn’t remember a time when the elder hadn’t been welcomed with enthusiasm at Wakefield Manor. Indeed, all of the Suttons considered Philana among the finest of women.

“Of course, my lady. Papa should be returning from London late tonight, but upon my arrival home, I shall inform Mama straightaway. We shall send a missive over with dates and times. If none is convenient, select one that will be. I’m sure we’ll be able to accommodate you and Lord Colton.”

“Thank you, child.”

Philana stood back, allowing her son to escort Adriana through the front door and beyond the portico where her family’s landau awaited her. Philana couldn’t believe how well the evening had gone, for her son had actually seemed quite taken with the girl. The two certainly made a handsome couple, and she was especially pleased that Adriana was tall enough to complement rather than detract from Colton’s height. Most women, including Melora and Jaclyn, would’ve been dwarfed by him, yet she could imagine that when her son entered a room, everyone turned to watch him, much as they had done when his father had made an appearance, not only because of his extraordinary good looks, but also for his lofty presence. Perhaps, after all this time, there was still strong evidence of that Viking lord from ages ago running in the Wyndhams’ blood.

Five

E
dmund Elston sat back in his chair as he stared agog at his rumple-haired son who shuffled like an ancient dotard into the dining room. His shoulders were sharply hunched, and he held an arm clasped across his middle as if desperately trying to hold in his entrails. He made his way to the food-laden sideboard, poured himself a cup of tea, and gingerly took a sip. Immediately he winced, lowered the receptacle, and carefully touched the lopsided protrusion jutting from his swollen mouth, drawing Edmund’s notice to the left side of his son’s face. It was puffed well past his bruised jaw.

Cocking a curious brow at his offspring, Edmund dared to offer a conjecture. “From what I’m seein’, boy, I’d say the cove wha’ did ‘at ta yu sent yu flyin’ ‘pon yur arse right quick-like. Oo’d yu get inta a row wit’, anyway?”

“No one you’d know,” Roger mumbled darkly, glowering at his parent from heavily hooded eyes. “ ‘

Twas merely a dispute over a bit of rare property. As for the victor, no one has been able to claim the piece as yet, so its ownership remains in question.”

It certainly didn’t help Roger’s mood to see a contemptuous smirk turning his father’s lips. He didn’t need to ask why. His untutored sire had come to believe only a bloke who could swig down several tankards of ale or glasses of gin without losing his ability to throw a dozen or so good punches at some ornery cuss was really worth his weight. As for his solitary offspring, Edmund Elston had always considered him less than competent in manly vices.

“Yu’ll have ta let ‘at there eye heal afores yu go visitin’ ’er liedyship ‘gain, or she’ll be wonderin’ if’n yu’

re man enuff ta do what needs ta be done ta ’er.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Roger jeered caustically. “The question that
should be
asked is whether the lady will be able to keep
me
content. I’m not nearly as naive
or
inexperienced as you seem to imagine, Father. In fact, the truth would probably surprise you more than you can even imagine.”

“Maybe, but the proof o’ the puddin’ is in the eatin’, boy, an’ ‘ard as I been lookin’, I ain’t seen ’Er ‘

Ighness followin’ yu ‘ome ta ‘ave dessert.”

“ ‘Tis doubtful a wellborn lady ever would, either—certainly not when her parents might consider her a means to greater wealth and power.”

“So’s, when yu gonna be seein’ ’er ‘gain?” Edmund pressed impatiently. “If yu wants me advice, I’d say yu needs ta stop yur shilly-shallying an’ gets yurself ‘itched ta ’er afore she gets an itch in her pantaloons ta ‘ave some other bloke pleasurin’ ’er.”

By dint of will, Roger refrained from glowering at his sire. “It isn’t as easy as you make it out to be, Father.”

A loud snort erupted from the elder. “ ’Ere’s ways ta brings ’ese matters ta a ’ead, lad. If’n yu can’ts get coupled ta ’er no other way, then, be damned, force yurself ‘pon the bitch. She’ll be enjoyin’ it soon enuff wit’out yu worryin’ ’bout how yu done it ta ’er the first time. Time’s awasting, boy, an’ if’n yu don’t do somethin’ ta make the bitch yur own fairly soon, some other gent’ll be settin’ her back upon her arse an’ climbin’ on top.”

Rage nettled Roger’s temper. “Should ever a suitor be so foolish, Father, I have no doubt that Lord Sutton would take him out and, at the very least, castrate him for raping his daughter.”

“ ‘Tain’t like she’s ‘is only chick,” Edmund observed as he stuffed a scone into his mouth. Throwing up a hand in derision, he talked through his food, spitting out generous particles as he did so. “Why, the bloke’

s got ‘isself two other chits, more’n any man would e’er need ta baits ‘isself a fine one. Betcha ’e wouldn