With an eager step, she walked around the oak, trailing her fingers along the bark, passed an ash and another oak, and abruptly, as though by the wave of a sorcerer's wand, she saw it.
A small Greek temple nestled among the trees.
Her spirit lightened as it always did in this special place and she wanted to laugh aloud. She approached it with joy and a measure of reverence, as if it would disappear if she wasn't careful. It had been a very long time since her last visit.
The temple was small and perfectly round, with a domed roof held up by columns. There were no actual walls. One could walk up the two steps that encircled the structure, and if not for the placement of several curved benches inside, step into the building at any point.
In spite of the open design, the columns provided a sense of privacy. Pandora had more than once stumbled on relations or guests taking advantage of its secluded location for a clandestine rendezvous. The building was built of marble, although as a child she'd always believed it was created of spun sugar. It would have been blinding in the direct sun, but set here amid the trees, dappled sunlight painted it with dancing patterns of green and gold.
Pandora entered the temple, moving to the circle that marked the very center of the stone floor, just as she always had. The structure was no more than ten feet across, a measurement taken by children lying head to head. From here she could see through the trees to the lake beyond, even though the temple could not be seen from the lake itself. A fanciful child could well imagine the temple did not exist at all, unless one was directly upon it.
It was that very characteristic which prompted most of the family to refer to the structure with tolerant affection as the Duchess's Folly. After all, what good was a garden structure if no one could see it? But her grandfather had built it for his new bride nearly sixty years ago. The reasons why he'd placed it where he did and why it had been constructed as it had were known only to the two of them. To Pandora it was never a folly and always a temple.
Her gaze rose to the rotunda, its height giving a spacious feel to the enclosure. This was the only part of the building that wasn't white. Instead, it was painted a deep, perfect blue, with silver stars scattered across its surface like the night sky held captive here forever.
She tilted her head back to stare upward at the dome and without thinking raised her arms in a nearly forgotten ceremony of childhood. Long ago, she'd been certain if she reached far enough and stared long enough and wished as hard as she could, the magic here would sweep her off her feet and she'd fly up through the painted sky and on to a mystical world inhabited by Greek gods and fantastic creatures. And heroes.
“I should have suspected I would find a goddess within a temple.” A familiar voice sounded behind her.
Her heart leapt. Traitorous heart.
She resisted the urge to jerk her arms to her side. “Pray that the goddesses themselves did not hear you. Foolish mortal, they could well strike us dead for your presumptuous comment. They are exceedingly jealous, you know.”
“They have much to be jealous of,” Max said softly.
Her face warmed at his words. She dropped her arms and turned. He leaned against a column, arms crossed over his chest, a slight smile on his lips, a pale bruise shadowing his jaw.
“What are you doing here?”
“Admiring the scenery.” His gaze flicked over her. “Didn't you tell me you never wore men's clothing?”
She crossed her arms, mimicking his stance. “Did I?”
“You did. And in a rather indignant tone, if I recall. However.” Once again his gaze traveled over her, slower, more like a touch than a mere look. Her stomach fluttered. “I do believe they suit you.”
She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Well, then I shall have to change my entire wardrobe. Perhaps you could introduce me to your tailor?” A tailor who obviously knew what he was about judging by Max's attire. She'd never seen him so informally dressed. From his high boots to his fashionably snug breeches to his creamy white skirt, scandalously open at the neck, he looked every inch like a modern Apollo. Or a hero. “He seems to do an excellent job.”
“As well he should given his bills.”
“You haven't answered my question.”
“Very well.” His voice was serious but a light danced in his eyes. “I should be delighted to introduce you to my tailor.”
She tried not to laugh and failed. “You know full well that's not what I meant. Now, what are you doing here?”
“How could I possibly stay in London if you are not there?” His tone teased, but there was a subtle undercurrent that gave her pause. Was there truth in his words, or were they simply well-practiced flattery?
“Do you always know the right thing to say?”
“Not with you.” He grinned. “You, Hellion, are an enigma. A challenge.”
“Am I? How delightful.”
“Delightful for you, perhaps, but an ongoing quandary for me.” He stepped farther into the temple, clasped his hands behind his back, and sauntered from one column to the next. “I find myself completely at a loss as to your true attitude toward me. One moment I am convinced you wish me to win this game of ours and the playing is a unique form of courtship. And the next moment I discover you have retreated from London without so much as a word.”
He stopped and cast her a chastising look. “I daresay it wasn't entirely fair. Not in the spirit of the game, and all that. I am working with a limited amount of time, you know. How can I be expected to earn points if you are nowhere to be found?”
“It was no secret. My grandmother has this gathering at the same time every year. My visit here could be determined with a single question. Besides, you seemed to have found me with little effort. Even this morning.” She frowned. “How did you know where I'd gone? There was no one about when I left the house.”
“I was. I followed you.”
“You followed me? From where?” She sucked in a breath. “You're staying at the hall?”
“Did I fail to mention that?” He continued to prowl the perimeter of the temple and she was forced to turn with his steps. “I arrived late yesterday, shortly before you did.”
Indignation surged through her. “You simply cannot follow me all over the country and make yourself at home.”
“On the contrary. I could do exactly that if I wished, but in this instance, I didn't.” He leaned forward and peered closely at the striations in the marble of a column as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. “I was invited.”
“Invited? By whom?”
“Your mother.”
She gasped. “My mother? Why on earth would my mother do such a thing?”
“She no doubt feels I should meet the entire family.” He straightened and resumed his circular stroll. “Since I shall soon join their number.”
She bit back a sharp reply.
“Although I suspect the Effingtons might be better taken in small doses than all at once.”
Her annoyance eased. Perhaps her mother had done her a favor after all. The poor man probably had no idea of exactly what he had gotten himself into. She couldn't resist a smug smile. “Indeed, Max, many of us are much easier to, oh, adjust to individually. Together we can be rather--”
“Terrifying?” He glanced at her, a resigned smile on his lips.
“I was going to say daunting but perhaps terrifying might be appropriate given the right circumstances.”
“In sheer numbers alone, your family is,” he blew a long breath, “overpowering.”
“Don't tell me the Earl of Trent is actually nervous about a simple family gathering?” She studied him skeptically. “Surely your own family has similar--”
“My family is not extensive. My father died when I was in the army. There remains only my mother, a few distant cousins, and the odd relation a dozen times removed.” He ran his hand down the side of a column as if their discussion was of no consequence. Was it? “So, you see, you will have little to worry abou
t in term of family interference once we're wed.”
“Apparently what you lack in relations you more than make up for in arrogance.” Still, she had to admire his confident nature. And had to admit his persistence was flattering. “Why are you so determined to marry me?”
He turned toward her. “Why?” His brow furrowed and his gray eyes darkened, like a storm cloud before a rain. Her heart thudded and she held her breath. What was he thinking? What would he say?
Did he love her?
Could he love her?
Could she love him?
Or did she already love him?
“You're everything I want in a wife. You meet all--”
A hard pain stabbed through her and for a moment she couldn't breathe. “Your requirements.” Her voice was sharp. “Yes, yes, I know. You keep reminding me.”
“And I meet yours, remember?” He stepped toward her, a questioning expression on his face. “It's how this ridiculous bargain of ours began.”
“It's not ridiculous.” Damn the man anyway. She pulled her gaze from his and stared at the lake beyond the trees, wondering in the back of her mind how it could appear so serene when her entire world was engulfed in chaotic emotions she didn't care to examine. She was a prize to him. Nothing else. She should have expected as much. He had never promised anything more.
“Pandora?” Concern sounded in his voice.
She kept her gaze on the lake, afraid if she looked at him he'd see her feelings in her eyes. Feelings she didn't quite understand herself. Or perhaps, simply couldn't accept.
“And what of…” She couldn't bring herself to say the word. “What of affection, Max? Don't you wish for affection in a wife?”
“I thought we shared a certain amount of affection.”
She looked at him then. “Do we?”
“I thought so.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I thought, when we kissed…”
“That's what you call affection?” Surely the man didn't believe desire, for it was nothing more than that, was the same as love?
“Well…” He looked like a trapped fox desperately seeking a means of escape.
She drew a deep breath and forced herself to achieve a measure of calm. She could scarcely blame him for being as thick as one of the temple columns. It was as much her fault as it was his. She hadn't mentioned love before. Hadn't told him it was the most important thing she wanted in a match. It wasn't part of their bargain. A bargain she had agreed to. A bargain she had to live with. “It's of no consequence.”
She turned away, but he grabbed her elbow and pulled her into his arms.
“Pandora.” He stared down at her with a look so intense she caught her breath. “Kiss me now.”
For a moment she wanted nothing more than to melt against him. To meet his lips with hers and forget he wanted to share her body but not her soul. She steeled herself against the bittersweet temptation. “I think not.” She pushed out of his embrace. “It's against the rules.”
“We've broken it before.”
“Nonetheless.” She walked to the edge of the temple, leaned against a column and gazed out at the trees. “I hadn't anticipated seeing you here. It's rather disconcerting.”
“I could leave.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled. “You were invited and it would not be well received if you were to leave now. Besides, there will be any number of other guests including Miss Weatherly.”
“You know, I believe I misjudged her the first time we spoke.”
“Oh? What makes you think that?”
“Nothing really.” The trapped animal look again flashed across his face replaced quickly by an expression of innocence. An expression not to be trusted. “I've just realized anyone you have as much fondness for as you do her, must surely have more to her than one can see at first glance.” He smiled as if his words actually made sense.
“What are you planning now?” The answer struck her and she turned and moved toward him, wagging a threatening finger in his direction. “If you have any ideas about using her again to attract my attention--”
His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “I am wounded to the quick, Pandora. I would never do such a thing.”
She raised a brow.
“Again.” He grinned.
Why was that blasted grin so compelling? Coupled with his eyes it was a weapon she couldn't counter. It dissolved her defenses and she was willing to forgive him practically anything.
“I must say, though, it will be nice to see a friendly face amid the legions of Effingtons watching my every move, no doubt looking for any social faux pas I may commit.” His manner was casual, but at once she realized he was indeed nervous about her family. Good.
“Excellent way to approach it because you will be on display. Consider it another test.”
“Will I earn extra points?” he said hopefully.
“It's a family, Max, not a nine-headed snake. And it shouldn't really be too bad.” She wandered idly around the circumference of the temple, circling him. Now he had to turn to follow her progress. “It is only four days with one devoted to the ride and an entire evening to grandmother's ball. It's always a wonderful affair, extremely well attended and with so many people, no one will pay any notice to you at all.”
“That's something anyway,” he said under his breath.
“So, that leaves a mere three days and nights, that it will be just the family and whomever we've invited.”
“Three days.” He smiled weakly.
Pitiful creature. She could almost sympathize with him. Almost. “This is the first time my mother has issued an invitation to anyone who could potentially join the family.”
“The first time?” Was that a touch of green in his complexion? She tried not to smile.
“The very first. Whether my grandmother or the present duchess or any of my other aunts, not to mention my uncles, cousins and assorted other relations will attach more significance to your presence because of that I can't say for certain.” She frowned, crossed her arms and tapped her chin with her finger. “Although, I should warn you, most of my family disagrees with my parents. They feel I should have been wed long ago whether I wished it or not. Still, even at this point they are exceedingly particular about whom--”
He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Would you stop pacing round and round me like that!”
She tilted her head and looked at him with feigned concern. “Why, Max, are you feeling ill? You don't look at all well.”
Something in her manner must have given her away. His eyes narrowed. “I'm quite fine, thank you.”
“You really needn't worry about my family.”
“I'm not worried,” he snapped. “I intend to use everything at my disposal to charm each and every one of them from the dowager duchess all the way to the smallest child.”
“Good luck, my lord.” She glared up at him. “Pity, though, it shall be a wasted effort. You will never be a member of this family.”
“Why are you so determined not to marry me?” His gaze bored into hers.
“I told you in the beginning: I am not seeking a husband. Any husband. Especially you.”
“Why?” His brows drew together in frustration and his gaze searched her face. “We suit so well together. I meet all of your requirements--”
Not all!
“--And you can't deny there is more than that between us. Whether that is affection or…or…something else, I don't know. I do know, I will have you as my wife.”
“Only if you win.” She shook off his grip.
“Do not delude yourself, Hellion.” He smirked and she wondered if bashing him with a bottle would be as satisfying as bashing a tavern ruffian. “Victory is inevitable.”
“Indeed it is, but not yours.” Possibly even more satisfying. “Your last point was a gift--”
“A gift?” He rubbed his jaw. “Thank God I don't receive many such gifts.”
“If it wasn't for me you would never have got
ten out of there alive and whole,” she said loftily.
“If it wasn't for you, the melee wouldn't have begun in the first place.”
“Regardless, up to now I have allowed you--”
“Allowed me? Hah!” Max glared as if he couldn't believe she would say such a thing.
“Yes, allowed you to play exactly as you've wished.” No doubt whatsoever. Bashing him with a bottle would be infinitely more satisfying. “And I have given you a great deal of leniency in the process. But from this moment forward, I assure you, I will take an active role in your defeat.”
“Excellent.” Sarcasm rang in his voice. “The game was proving to be far less a challenge than I had originally anticipated.”
She fisted her hands on her hips and raised her voice. “Then I shall consider it my responsibility to do all I can to ensure you are not plagued by boredom!”
“How thoughtful of you. I'll remember to add ‘gracious in the face of certain defeat’ to my list of requirements for a wife.” The level of his voice matched hers. “Although I daresay boredom is not something I anticipate with you for a wife!”
“Hah! I would rather be torn apart by wild camels in the deserts of Egypt before I would even consider keeping you entertained as your wife or anything else!” Her breath was ragged and heat flamed her face. Had she ever been so angry with anyone?
Max stared at her, his ire obviously as great as hers. His eyes smoldered hot and fiery and she wouldn't have been at all surprised to see smoke rise from him toward the dome and soot encircle him on the floor.
What was going on in that obstinate head of his? If he wanted to call their bargain off right now, that was just fine with her. But she would claim her right to pick his bride. And she'd name a suitable bride, all right. The ugliest suitable bride she could find. And fat, too. Someone the size of a small government building. And old. If he thought she was on the shelf she'd show just how crowded that shelf really was. Ugly and fat and--
An odd sort of strangled snort erupted from him. “Camels?”
She jerked her chin up. “Camels!”
“Wild camels?” He pressed his lips together as if he was trying not to…
The Wedding Bargain Page 13
