“Yes, wild camels,” she said slowly. Surely the beast was not amused?
“In…Egypt did you say?” He bit his lip and his eyes seemed to shimmer. The very way they would look if he was desperately trying to restrain himself.
She stepped closer and stared up at him suspiciously. “Max?”
“Pandora.” He could barely choke out her name.
“You think this is all very humorous, do you not?”
“Not at all.” Again, he emitted that strange muffled sound and his eyes filled with tears. “It's quite serious.”
She studied him carefully. Why, the man was about to explode with laughter and obviously realized she would not take it at all well. Still--she bit back a wicked smile--what would it take to shatter his control?
“Indeed it is, Max. Just the other day, I was speaking to an older, unmarried woman, the size of a small government building, by the way, although that's of no importance at the moment. She mentioned that wild camels are becoming an increasing problem in the desert.”
“Imagine that.” He swallowed hard.
“And even invading the streets of Cairo. Running amuck, as it were.”
“Really?” He didn't look at all comfortable. How long could he last? She was hard pressed not to laugh herself.
“Why yes, there are even rumors,” she glanced from side to side as if to make sure they were alone, “purporting that they have commandeered a ship and are on their way to England at this very moment. Of course, it is spring, and I daresay storms may slow their progress.”
“Indee--” His brow furrowed and he stared at her. “What did you say?”
“That I was speaking with someone the size of a small government building?” she said innocently.
“After that.”
“About spring storms?”
“Previously.”
“Oh, about the wild camels invading England?”
For a moment he looked at her as if he questioned her sanity, then a grin broke across his face and he laughed. “Nicely done, Hellion.”
“It was entirely my pleasure.” She returned his grin.
“I'm certain it was.” He shook his head, his expression sheepish. “I probably deserved it and I do apologize. The absurdity of your wild camels struck me and…”
“The straw that broke the camels back as it were?”
He laughed. “Exactly.”
She joined him and nearly forgot the anger of a moment ago and the unexpected ache preceding it. She promised herself to examine that later. It was enough right now to simply savor the pleasure of his presence, and, even if they had nothing else between them, she did enjoy his company.
“It's still early, Max. No one ever rises before ten, and I suspect my horse has become rather restless waiting for me.” She started toward the edge of the temple and glanced back at him. “Would you care to race to the stables?”
“Will I get an additional point if I win?”
“Don't be absurd. Besides, I haven't raced on a horse riding astride and dressed like this in years. I'll be shocked if you don't win.” She turned and headed out of the temple.
“Do I get a point if I let you win then?” His voice trailed behind her.
“No!” She laughed and strode through the wooded area to her horse. Quickly she swung herself up and into the saddle. The last thing she wanted was help from Max. There was a truce between them now, and she wasn't at all certain she was prepared for, or could resist, even his most casual touch.
Within moments Max eased a large black beast beside her and patted the animal's powerful neck. “Prime bit of cattle here, Pandora, and the other horses in the stable are all equally impressive.”
“My family has always prided itself on the quality of its mounts. If you're satisfied with this horse, I'm sure you can have him for tomorrow's Ride.”
“Excellent. But what exactly is the Ride?”
“The Roxborough Ride is something of a fox hunt without the fox.”
“Without the fox?”
“It sounds a bit odd, I know, but it's a family tradition and began long before I was born.” She grinned. “You'll see tomorrow. It's great fun.”
“I look forward to it. Now.” He gestured in a grand manner. “After you, my dear. Given your lack of recent experience, it seems only fair I should allow you to go first.”
“Don't think I won't take the advantage offered.” She looked in the direction of the house, far too distant to be seen from this point.“I'll start from the other side of the lake and signal to you when I'm ready.” She glanced at him. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he said with a smile and a look in his eye that warmed her deep inside.
“Then I'll be waiting for you at the stables.” She cast him a flirtatious smile, reined the horse toward the lake, and nudged him to a brisk walk. Max's laughter rang behind her.
The man was insufferable and God help her she…what? Liked him? Of course. Was fond of him? No doubt. Had some affection for him? Possibly. Cared for him? Perhaps. Loved him?
She didn't know. Not really. It certainly felt suspiciously like everything she'd ever heard about love. There was no question he had a strange effect on her. Since she'd met him she'd been moody and restless and not at all her normal self. She thought about him constantly and seemed to be truly alive only when he was by her side.
And what except love would have given such pain when he more or less admitted he didn't love her?
Still, if she had difficulties recognizing love, perhaps he did as well? The idea lifted her spirits.
Not that it mattered at the moment. She'd meant what she said about taking an active role in defeating him. After all, she could always name herself as his bride. If, in fact, she did love him. And if he loved her in return.
It was rather a pity she'd never been in love before. If she had she'd surely recognize the symptoms now.
For one thing, was it love to want to thrash him nearly as much as you wanted to kiss him?
She was infuriating. And delightful. Lord, with every moment spent in her presence he wanted her more. Pity he didn't understand her for so much as a single second.
He watched her horse canter away from him, her back held straight and regal, her legs straddling the animal. Lucky beast. He shifted in his saddle, abruptly uncomfortable and conscious of the snug fit of his breeches.
He frowned and reviewed the last few minutes. What on earth had he said to overset her so? She was as sharp and biting as ever during most of their conversation, but he'd always assumed she'd relished those verbal battles as much as he had. Oh, certainly they'd lost their tempers toward the end. The woman was so incredibly stubborn, it was something of a miracle he'd been able to put up with her for long as he had.
Her dark hair hung halfway down her back and it swayed with the rhythm of her hips and the gait of the horse. He blew a long breath. Could he wait until the end of the game for her? He didn't question his success. Not since the moment he'd realized passing her tests had more to do with a creative mind and a clever twist of words and phrases coupled with a broad dose of symbolism than any overt act of mythic heroism.
Still, he did rather relish the idea of being her hero. Of having her look at him with admiration and…
He groaned aloud. That's what had fouled her mood. She'd asked why he wanted to marry her and he'd once again responded with a list of requirements. She'd asked about affection and he'd responded with lust. God help him, how could he be so blind? So stupid? Even a total fool should have realized she was asking about love.
Did she want love from him? Or did she simply want the victory of his loving her? It was never part of their bargain. Not on his list of requirements or hers.
Did he love her?
She was always in his thoughts. And indeed, it seemed these days he simply existed in an empty void when he wasn't with her. That his heart beat and his blood surged and his mind quickened only in her presence. And he wanted her with a need unlike anything he'd
ever known. No. He sighed and pushedthe thought away. He was confusing lust with love again.
Did she love him? He was confident that she liked him. It was possible she was even somewhat fond of him. Why, hadn't her reaction to Muriel, the serving girl, been suspiciously like jealousy?
He had already decided winning her hand was not enough without winning her heart as well. Why? Why did he care? What did it matter? Why was it so very important it had become his ultimate goal in this game of theirs?
She reached the far side of the lake, glanced in his direction, and waved.
Was this, then, love? This need to have her by his side. To touch her hand and look into her eyes and hear her voice, her laugh. To challenge her wits and have her challenge his. To do battle with her and win. Or lose. To take her in his arms and forget the rest of the world.
He returned her wave, surprised to note the steadiness of his hand when his heart and his stomach and his mind seemed caught in a turbulence born of uncertainty or perhaps perception.
Had love crept upon him unnoticed in the night? Slipped into his life unannounced? Caught him unawares in a secluded parlor or a moonlit graveyard or in the midst of a tavern brawl? Or was it long before they'd ever spoken? When a pretty hellion who waltzed too close to the edge of scandal had caught his eye had she caught his heart as well?
He stared at her figure in the distance and wondered how the Earl of Trent, a man who prided himself on knowing the answers, now had only questions.
Her horse shot forward and at once he realized the race was on. He spurred his mount and took off after her, putting his thoughts aside for now.
But not before he noted, perhaps, he did indeed already know the answers.
Chapter 13
Interference
Laurie paced the width of the magnificent library at Effington Hall and tried to ignore generations of Effingtons glowering down at him. At least they had the decency to remain silent.
Where was Lord Harold, anyway? Laurie wasn't especially eager for this meeting, but he preferred to put it behind him before he encountered Max or the Hellion. It was well past noon, and as much as he'd managed to avoid them since he'd arrived this morning, confrontation was inevitable. Max would, no doubt, be annoyed by his presence initially, then, with luck, amused at his arrogance in coming here.
He stopped below a painting of a dourfaced Effington matriarch and wondered if Max realized the Hellion could look like this some day. He glared back at the portrait. No. Pandora Effington would never resemble this imposing creature. One only had to look at her mother to know that.
How would the Hellion react to his presence? The blasted chit hadn't seemed to recognize him when he'd attempted to rescue Max. Of course, he'd gone out of his way to avoid her in the last five years. Certainly he had spotted her at various balls or assemblies, but the crush was always such that it was easy to escape her notice.
Not that the Hellion would have paid him any heed even if he'd had the temerity to cross her path. She'd been far too busy charming the latest lovestruck suitor vying for her favors in any given season and dancing along the edge of society's dictates to give him a single thought.
She'd survived the scandal of her second season and the race to Gretna Green, and as far as he had observed, never done anything quite as untoward since. In spite of that her reputation as a hellion had grown.
Well, what did she expect? A woman, especially a woman who looked like she did, with an exuberant charm and an outspoken manner to match, simply could not go on year after year without attracting notice. Add to that the outrageous number of duels, wagers, and gossip that accompanied her, plus her refusal to consider marriage to even the most eligible of men up to now, and the blame for her reputation could be placed on no one's head but her own. Certainly not his.
Still, he was not at all sure Max or the Hellion, or her father, would see it that way.
Perhaps this was not such a good idea. Perhaps there was a far more intelligent way to save Max than venturing directly into the Hellion's family stronghold. Perhaps he would be well advised--
“Lord Bolton.”
Laurie started and turned.
Lord Harold stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a firm snap. He was a few inches shorter than Laurie, still a handsome figure of a man, even though he was surely in his fifties. In the back of his mind, Laurie wondered if all the Effingtons retained their fine looks well into old age. He glanced back at the portrait. Well, not all of them.
“Good day, Lord Harold.”
“That's yet to be determined.” The older man strode the long length of the room to a large, imposing mahogany desk and seated himself behind it in an equally imposing matching chair, obviously where the Duke of Roxborough conducted estate business.
Laurie understood the duke was unable to attend his mother's party this year and was grateful he not did have to face him as the head of the family. Or, for that matter, the dowager duchess, a woman with a formidable reputation.
“Sit down.” Lord Harold gestured to a chair before the desk. Laurie quickly took the seat, noting it placed him an inch or two below Lord Harold's eye level.
“Now then, how long has it been, Bolton?” he said crisply. Pandora's father was the youngest of the duchess's four sons and as such would never inherit the title. Even so, he had an air of no nonsense authority that would well serve any duke.
Abruptly Laurie realized he might be better off facing a duke or a duchess rather than a father. He swallowed hard. “Five years, sir.”
“That long, eh? Given that, I must say I was surprised at your presence here and your request for a meeting. Nearly as surprised as I was to learn Lady Harold had issued you an invitation.” Lord Harold narrowed his eyes. “Why do you suppose she did that?”
“I don't know, sir.” Laurie had been trying to determine the answer to that question himself.
“I assume you wish to discuss my daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I will tell you that nothing has changed between then and now. I made a promise long ago never to force Pandora to marry any man she did not wish to.”
“Yes, sir, I remember, but--”
“I have to admire your persistence, though.” He leaned back in his chair and studied Laurie as if he was an intriguing bit of ancient pottery. “I've got to hand it to any man who refuses to accept defeat even when it's inevitable.”
“Thank you, sir, but--”
“Especially since I could easily lay the blame for my daughter's current unmarried state directly at your door.”
“Sir, I--” Would he ever get a word in?
“You did bestow the title of Hellion of Grosvenor Square on her, did you not?”
Laurie swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, but--”
Lord Harold held up a hand. “No need to explain, my boy, I can well understand how the heat of the moment can lead to an ill-advised comment. Pity it has continued to cling to her.”
“It doesn't seem to have bothered her unduly,” Laurie said without thinking.
Lord Harold chuckled. “No, indeed it hasn't. My daughter has not only relished the title, but done her best to live up to it.”
Laurie snorted.
Lord Harold raised a brow. “Nonetheless, it's my belief it's that very attitude that has prevented her marriage to this point. She's been far too busy being independent and out-spoken and free of spirit to allow any man close enough to recognize a suitable husband when she saw one.”
“Sir, I--”
“Pity.” Lord Harold shook his head. “There have been any number of young men I would have been happy to welcome into the family.” His assessing gaze flickered over Laurie. “I confess, I did not disagree with her refusal to marry you at the time. Felt you were too flighty. Too young. Not at all ready to settle down. It appears you've matured since then.”
“Thank you, sir. I--”
“And it seems Pandora may finally have found a man to her liking. It's
about time.” He rose to his feet. “Damn tricky business, marrying off daughters.”
Laurie jumped up. “Sir, I--”
“Let me give you a piece of advice, my boy.” Lord Harold pinned him with a firm gaze. “Don't ever have daughters. Sons are what you want. Heirs and minor problems at best. Wish I had had sons.” He breathed a heartfelt sigh. “I love the girl with my heart and soul, but you throw a son into the world and wash your hands of him. A daughter is trouble forever.”
“Thank you for the advice, sir. But I--”
“Glad we had this little chat.” Lord Harold started for the door. “Good to clear the air after all these years.”
Laurie stepped after him. “Sir--”
“Forget all about Pandora, Bolton. Find yourself a nice girl. Someone biddable, but with a bit of spirit. Wouldn't want to live your days in a constant state of boredom.” He reached the door and turned back. “And take into account her family, especially her parents. If you run across any fools that allow her to call them by their given names or give her the funding to live her life as she pleases--run as if your life depended on it. It well might.” He nodded and reached for the door handle.
“Lord Harold, sir, wait.” Frustration sharpened his voice.
Lord Harold's brows pulled together impatiently. “What is it now?”
“I haven't said what I came to say, sir.”
“I thought you wanted to talk about marriage to Pandora.”
“I did but--”
“And we did. And now we're finished.” He turned to leave.
Damnable man was as difficult to deal with as his daughter.
“No sir, I haven't yet begun.” Lord Harold turned with a frown. “I didn't come here to speak about my marriage to your daughter.”He drew a deep breath. “I wanted to talk about her marriage to the Earl of Trent.”
Lord Harold considered him for a moment, then heaved a long-suffering sigh and headed for the other end of the room. “Brandy?”
“Thank you, sir.” Laurie brightened. A good drink would certainly make this discussion a lot easier. He followed Lord Harold to a cabinet and watched him pull open a door and rummage inside.
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