Helen Dickson

by When Marrying a Duke. . .

  ‘Don’t say that,’ he cut in, his voice raw. ‘Please don’t say that. It isn’t true.’

  Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. ‘Then why did you reject me?’

  ‘I wasn’t rejecting you, Marietta. Your grandmother made the situation virtually impossible for me to ask you to be my wife.’ He cupped her face between his hands. ‘She wants us to marry and my own parents would have approved of the match wholeheartedly. But we have to decide what we want. Are you ready to settle down?’

  ‘I never thought I would be. But now I think I am. What about you?’

  ‘I do want to marry you—you adorable little fool.’

  ‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Tell me why, Max?’

  ‘Because I am attracted to you—surely you know that. I want to give you my name and everything a woman wants—everything a woman really wants—and the only way I can do that is to settle the issue of the land.’

  When he placed his hands on her upper arms, Marietta felt herself being drawn relentlessly closer to his chest. He had told her he wanted to give her everything, everything a woman could want—everything but love. She was unable to fathom that cynical remark, because his firmly chiselled lips began a slow, deliberate descent towards hers.

  ‘I’ll give you riches beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of,’ he murmured, his free hand cupping the back of her head and tilting her face up for his kiss. ‘In return, all you have to give me is yourself.’

  Strangely, Marietta thought he was selling himself too cheaply, asking so little of her when he was prepared to give her so much—surely he had a right to expect more from her than this? At that moment her mind went blank as his mouth seized possession of hers in an endless, drugging kiss that suddenly intensified to such demanding insistence it left her trembling. He touched his tongue to her lips, coaxing them apart, then kissing her to dizzying heights and sending shock waves jolting through her. She moaned and pressed herself against his hard length as his protective arms tightened around her, his kiss a wildly erotic seduction.

  By the time he finally lifted his head, Marietta felt dazed and warm.

  Max scanned the lovely face for signs that she regretted her capitulation to his kiss, but there was a melting softness in her eyes that told him she didn’t. Unable to help himself, he caught her into his arms once more, crushing her to him and burying his face in the fresh fragrance of her hair.

  ‘My God,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘how will I ever wait the length of a courtship to make you mine?’ Raising his head, he gazed down at her. ‘It was not my intention to cause you pain, Marietta. I owe you an apology. It was wrong of me to speak to you so harshly. I apologise for my boorish behaviour. I said things to you of which I am deeply ashamed. You’re trembling,’ he whispered, putting his hand beneath her chin and tipping it up. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you, Marietta?’

  Regardless of all the raw emotions quivering through her, Marietta gave him a wobbly smile and shook her head. She wasn’t afraid of him—she was suddenly inexplicably afraid of herself. ‘No, I’m not afraid of you, Max.’

  A smile curved his lips. ‘Good, because you’ve no reason to be.’

  ‘I’m just not used to being kissed—twice in one day.’

  ‘You must expect to be kissed more than that when you are my wife.’

  ‘I can’t believe you really do want to marry me?’

  He laid his hand against her heated face, slowly running it back and forth. ‘Yes, and you mean far more to me than any parcel of land. I don’t need an excuse to marry you. It shouldn’t be an issue, but your grandmother made it so. If we marry under her conditions, then there will always be some doubt in your mind about my reason for marrying you.’

  ‘But—if you want to marry me, then it shouldn’t be an issue.’

  ‘But it is—for me. Can’t you see that? You would resent me for that reason.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘I can’t take that chance. There will always be doubt in your mind. You are far too precious, too important, to be part of a bargain. It’s sordid and not how I work.’

  Marietta bit back a teary smile, afraid to believe him, to trust him—to love him. ‘I would have talked to my grandmother, although my influence over her is very little to say the least. She is a very determined lady—and she must realise that when she is no longer with us and I have inherited Grafton, all that I have will be yours.’

  ‘Ours, Marietta, and you are right, but that’s for the future.’

  ‘What she did was wrong. I’m sure she sees that now.’

  ‘Had that wily old lady had any notion of what my feelings were where you are concerned, my love, she would never have made it so difficult for herself—and for me. May I at least have your answer? Will you marry me, Marietta?’

  She kissed him then. That was her answer. ‘I hope I can make you happy. I think I can, you know.’ She could feel her heart beating, her face warm. She had spoken before she had chance to think and yet she knew this was what she wanted.

  Max raised her hand to his lips and kissed the soft white skin of her wrist. ‘I have no doubts about that. What do you think? Are we compatible?’

  Taking his hand, Marietta drew him down on to the sofa, sitting sideways so they were facing each other. ‘That all depends on when you were born and in what year.’

  Lifting her hand, he kissed her fingers and laughed. ‘Now would I be right in thinking you are about to quote some Chinese customs at me?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. They have to be taken into account. It’s very important. I lived in Hong Kong for a long time and the Chinese New Year is a reflection on how people behave and what they believe in most.’

  ‘Very well, Miss Westwood.’ Max laughed, continuing to hold her hand. ‘Fire away, if you must—but one thing I must ask you. When we marry will you behave as the Chinese do at their New Year and clean my house to sweep away all ill fortunes in the hope of making way for good incoming luck?’

  ‘But of course—although I do believe it is now the custom for the bridegroom to completely furnish the house in which the newly married couple intend to live. There are exceptions to every rule and sometimes the bride’s father gives the whole of the furniture, but this is only when the bride is an heiress who marries a comparatively poor man. So you see, since I have no father and you are a rich man, it doesn’t count.’

  ‘That’s a relief, although as for clearing the house, I was doing precisely that when you turned up out of the blue earlier.’

  ‘So long as you replace everything. You have yet to meet Yang Ling, so you have no idea what you are going to be up against. By the time she has finished with her feng shui and other Chinese customs, she will have turned your house upside down and inside out and have every one of your servants running for cover. She will have every door and window decorated with coloured- paper cut-outs and couplets with popular themes of happiness, wealth and longevity and like the Chinese New Year tradition, our marriage will be about reconciliation and peace and happiness for everyone—although, as I said, we have to consider if we are compatible.’

  ‘If it helps, I was born in ’53, which I believe was the year of the Ox.’

  ‘That makes you sweet and loyal—though with a lack of humour—which I have to say on occasion is true,’ she teased, a sharp twinkle lighting her eyes.

  ‘Ah, but I am also supposed to be a realist—which is what I am. What sign were you born under?’

  ‘I was born in ’63—which, I am afraid to say, for I know you will laugh,’ she said wrinkling her nose, ‘was the year of the Rat. It’s not very flattering and not something I tell everybody.’

  ‘I will smile,’ he said, doing just that, ‘but I will not laugh. Anyone born under the sign of the Rat has some wonderful attributes.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Intelligence, humour, gifted—and money comes to you alone and you will never lack anything.’

  Tilting her head to one side, Marietta cons
idered him with a thoughtful look on her lovely face. ‘You are very knowledgeable about these things, Max. I am surprised.’

  ‘Before I went to Hong Kong I made a point of learning what I could about the Chinese and their customs that might prove beneficial to me. I also learnt that anyone born during the year of the Rat is faithful in love and that their sign is compatible not only to someone born in the year of the Tiger and the Monkey, but also in the year of the Ox. So you see, Marietta, according to Chinese tradition and the experts, we are an ideal marriage combination, so I am sure your Yang Ling will approve of me.’

  ‘When she finally meets you, how can she not?’ Marietta murmured softly.

  * * *

  When Lady Wingrove came back into the room after kicking her heels in her room until she considered it the right time to return to the drawing room, she was rewarded by the sight of Marietta blushing as Max held both her hands by the window. As they gave her the news, she looked from one to the other. ‘I will not pretend that this is not my dearest wish since I’ve made that blatantly obvious, but I hope you’ve not agreed to do so because it is the wish of a dying woman.’

  To both ladies’ astonishment, Max threw back his head and burst out laughing. ‘Lady Wingrove,’ he said when he could speak calmly, ‘you are definitely not a dying woman, but a woman with as much cunning as a fox, can outwit the Devil himself and will outlive us all.’ He sat beside Marietta and, defying all the proprieties with his usual careless elegance, he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. He cast a smiling, meaningful look at Lady Wingrove. ‘Be happy that Marietta and I have at last got around to the business of marriage.’

  Lady Wingrove eyed him narrowly. ‘Not without my help.’ Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. ‘I could cheerfully murder you, Max Trevellyan.’

  ‘Why, what a thing to say,’ Max teased, laughing. ‘Be satisfied and enjoy the result of all your scheming.’

  ‘I intend to.’ Her expression became one of mock severity. ‘I am entrusting my granddaughter into your keeping, Max, and I shall hold you personally responsible for her happiness, is that clear?’

  ‘Quite clear,’ he said in a solemn voice, but he eyed the elderly woman who was issuing vague threats to him with thinly veiled amusement.

  Lady Wingrove scrutinised his handsome, tranquil features sharply, then nodded. ‘Good. As long as we understand one another. It goes without saying that her dowry will be generous.’

  ‘Everything that came to Marietta from her father remains her own. I repudiate my legal right to her assets.’

  Lady Wingrove was surprised. ‘That is unusual and highly irregular, Max. When a young lady marries all that she has is transferred to her husband.’

  ‘Not in this case, Lady Wingrove. It may seem unusual to you, but that’s the way I want it.’

  Recalling their conversation of the night before about making a generous settlement on his wife, Marietta smiled. ‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’

  ‘It shouldn’t. I meant what I said. Your wealth is your own, Marietta.’ Given time, perhaps she would come to realise why he had an aversion to her money—that it was tainted with opium, and he wanted no part of it.

  ‘We shall arrange the wedding to take place as soon as possible,’ Lady Wingrove said. ‘Here, I think, at Grafton. I trust that suits you both.’

  ‘Perfectly,’ Max replied.

  ‘And going back to the conversation at dinner last night and my impatience for a great-grandchild and the fact that I cannot live for ever—despite your eagerness to differ—I shall not countenance any delays on your part.’

  ‘You have my word that as soon as Marietta and I are wed, I shall give the matter my prompt attention,’ Max said, straight-faced, but with laughter lurking in his silver-grey eyes.

  ‘And there will be no showing a lack of decisiveness on your part either, Marietta,’ Lady Wingrove warned her suddenly ashen-faced granddaughter, whose body had gone rigid with fear at the realisation that her grandmother and everyone else would expect her to bear a child not long into her marriage to Max. Patting her hand, Lady Wingrove added rather wistfully, ‘I shall miss you when you are no longer here with me, but Arden Hall is only a short distance from Grafton, so we will visit each other most days.’

  Marietta felt that this had all happened very quickly, but then everything Max did seemed to take her by surprise. Her grandmother spoke of a short engagement, but surely there must be more of a courtship, a period of mutual discovery and sweet anticipation? She wondered if she was giving in too quickly. Yet their kisses were too urgent to be contained for long. And by marrying Max, at least she and her grandmother would agree about her future, and she would at once dispatch any possible marriage to someone else who would not share Max’s aversion to children.

  * * *

  As Max rode back to Arden Hall, now that he had admitted to himself and to Marietta his desire to marry her, he wanted her with an urgency that was almost irrational. The desire she ignited in him every time they met was eating at him like a fire licking at his insides. He wanted her so badly that he ached with it. His growing need for her made him feel vulnerable and uneasy, for he knew from past experience how vicious, how treacherous, the female sex could be. Despite this, he could not stop himself from wanting her and his firm hope was that they could make each other happy.

  * * *

  Everything—the extensive preparations for the wedding and the wedding itself went without a hitch. Invitations were sent out the length and breadth of England and Scotland, the news that the Duke of Arden was to marry Miss Marietta Westwood, the granddaughter of Lady Wingrove, striking the Borders with the force of a hurricane.

  Marietta was so feverishly busy she had little time to think, but unfortunately by the time the wedding was little more than a week away, her practical attitude had deserted her entirely, and her dread about the wedding night itself and what Max would expect of her was steadily mounting. Even her cream wedding gown, which was hanging in the dressing room, sent a shiver of fear up her spine every time she looked at it, for it was a bold reminder of what was to come. She had no fear of what Max would do to her—in fact, whenever he took her in his arms and kissed her she almost melted with desire for him. No, it was what would happen as a result of the passion they would share, of the child she might conceive. She could not expect him not to impose his desires on her, for once they were married she would see an entirely different side of him to the one she knew.

  To add to her misery, her agitated mind began tormenting her with constant visions of those terrible times her mother had tried to give birth, and then again of Max’s first wife. It all came back to haunt her, magnifying her memories until she was a mass of fear and trepidation.

  * * *

  It was a bright blue morning, the sun warming wherever it touched as Max took Marietta on a guided tour of the vast, well-manicured, formal gardens at Arden Hall. At the back of the house there were glasshouses and walled gardens, which grew vegetables and herbs, and an orchard with regimental lines of fruit trees. The gardeners and groundsmen were raking up leaves ready to burn and took little notice of the couple as they strolled along the paths.

  The grounds gave way to woodland and a magnificent lake on which ducks floated serenely. Birdsong coloured the air and the warm sun drew them on as, arm in arm, they made their way towards it. A small pillared pavilion stood on its banks and they sat inside for a while, surrounded by cushions, looking out over the water where lily pads spread across the surface rippled by a gentle breeze. It was a paradise for swans and a wide variety of water fowl. A pair of moorhens waddled flatly by before sailing forth on the water. Max and Marietta came out to continue the tour.

  Max put his arm about Marietta’s shoulders and drew her close, sensing the tension in her body, and when she looked at him he saw something in her eyes that was akin to fear. He regarded her attentively, his suspicions beginning to work overtime as he wondered if she might be having sec
ond thoughts about marrying him and, if so, why.

  Aware of his scrutiny, Marietta ran a nervous hand over the back of her neck, tucking non-existent strands of hair beneath her bonnet. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she whispered.

  ‘It is difficult not to look at you, Marietta. You are very beautiful. And very frightened.’

  He said it so coolly, so unemotionally, that it was a long moment before Marietta was certain she’d heard him correctly. By then it was too late for her to react. Max was already walking on. Then abruptly he stopped and faced her, blocking her path. ‘Why?’ he demanded in a terse, frustrated voice. ‘Why are you frightened?’

  ‘I—I’m not,’ Marietta denied, startled.

  ‘Yes,’ he said harshly, ‘you are.’

  Marietta stared at him. Despite his harsh tone, there was a gentleness in his eyes and calm strength in his features. ‘I think it’s because everything seems to be happening so quickly,’ she said with partial honesty.

  His brows drew together in a frown. ‘Is it only the haste that worries you? We could delay the wedding if you prefer.’

  Marietta hesitated. She could not explain the source of her fear to him. She didn’t entirely understand it herself. ‘There is so much to be done and so little time to do it in,’ she prevaricated.

  He sighed with relief as his hands slid up her arms, drawing her close to his heart. ‘Marietta, try not to worry. You grandmother is handling all the necessary arrangements perfectly. Everything will be ready on the day.’

  His velvety voice, his breath stirring her hair, the musky scent of his body, were all combining to work their magic on Marietta. ‘I am sure you’re right and I’m worrying needlessly,’ she breathed, her attention absorbed in the sensuous masculine lips slowly coming nearer and nearer to hers. Desire was beginning to flow through her veins, sweeping aside her doubts and fears.