by Cheryl Holt
“No.”
“I won’t take charity from you.”
“It wasn’t charity, you little fool. It was money, lots and lots of money too. Take it and be glad.”
She would have liked to protest, but in reality she was glad and wouldn’t pretend otherwise. If she was cautious with her expenditures, the windfall would last a few years, so she had plenty of time to reorganize a life that was currently in shambles.
Besides, after all the harm he’d inflicted on her and her family, didn’t she deserve some compensation?
“I am glad,” she forced out. “Thank you.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It was pretty hard.”
He laughed, which made her wish she could go back in time and retract the statement.
“I have another surprise too,” he said.
“I hate surprises.”
“No, you don’t. Be quiet and listen.”
Upon his arrival she hadn’t noticed he was carrying a satchel filled with papers. He laid it on the table, opened the flap, and pulled out what appeared to be legal documents.
“What are those?” she asked.
He didn’t explain, saying instead, “Once I agreed to wed Lady Felicia, I was to receive a dowry from Lord Stone of a plantation in Jamaica and a couple of ships.”
“Lucky you.” She oozed false cheer.
“When I jilted her, I should have lost them, but then—with Lady Felicia behaving so despicably toward you—I decided you should have them as damages.”
“Damages?”
“Yes, damages, so the plantation and ships are yours.”
“They’re…what?”
“They’re yours, free and clear. You can sell them if you like, but I’ve reviewed the accounts and they’re very profitable. I’d keep them if I were you.”
She felt as if she’d gone deaf. “I own a plantation? I own ships?”
“Yes. The past month, I’ve been negotiating with Lord Stone’s lawyers. That’s why I didn’t stop by earlier. I couldn’t bear to get your hopes up until it was finalized.”
“You’ve been meeting with lawyers on my behalf?”
“Among other things, but it took forever. They thought they could cheat me, but they weren’t cunning enough to figure out how.” He picked up the glass of wine he’d poured and held it out to her. “Now would you drink with me to celebrate?”
She was trembling, and she reached for it and downed a hefty swallow. She hated it when he was charming and kind! When he was marvelous, she forgot that she loathed him.
“Why do all this?” She was so very, very confused.
“Because I don’t want you to ever be poor again. From here on out, you’ll always be wealthy and settled. You’re not working again either—unless it’s to volunteer on some rich woman’s fussy project.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“What’s to understand?”
“Why would you bother?”
“Why would I…bother? I swear, Magdalena, your recent difficulties have addled your wits. I told you I love you. Did you assume I was joking?”
At his declaring himself, her heart flip-flopped with joy, but she ignored it. “Not…joking exactly, but you can’t expect me to believe you were serious.”
“Have I ever not been serious? Don’t claim you don’t know me well enough to have an opinion. You know me better than anyone. Don’t deny it. If you try, I’ll call you a liar.”
Suddenly he stood and shoved the table aside. To her shock and dismay, he dropped to one knee and clasped her hand. She panicked and struggled to pull away, but of course he wouldn’t let her.
It was overwhelming, having him so close. He had broad shoulders, the type a woman could lean on in times of trouble, and she yearned to fall into his arms, to weep against his chest and tell him how much he’d hurt her, how much she’d missed him.
Had she no pride? No shame? After all he’d perpetrated, what was she thinking?
But even as she posed the questions, a voice in her head was shouting for her to remember the good things he’d done, the inflated price he’d paid for her property, the negotiations with Lord Stone.
Because of his efforts, she’d never have to worry about money, would never have to fret about the future. The financial independence he’d provided was a gift without compare, a gift she’d always treasure.
“I asked you this before,” he said, “that day in the carriage.”
Her pulse started to race. “Asked me what?”
“I asked you to marry me, but I didn’t do it very well. You were upset, and I was being vain and obnoxious.”
“You were obnoxious. I heartily agree.”
“So…I want to try again, and I’m begging you to let me. I plan to keep talking until I get it right.”
He was so near, his mesmerizing blue eyes only inches from her own. She’d never been able to resist those eyes. When he gazed at her—as if she was special and amazing—she couldn’t stand firm. Despite all that had occurred, she was anxious to hear his comments.
“I’ve always been alone,” he murmured.
“I realize that you have.”
“When I was younger, my life was very hard. I had to toughen up to survive. I told myself I was happy on my own, that I didn’t need anyone.”
“Everybody needs someone.”
“I know that now. I learned it after I met you.”
She blew out a heavy breath. “Don’t be charming. If you are, I can’t remain angry with you.”
“You shouldn’t be angry.” For a moment he seemed to consider their recent history. “Well, perhaps you can be a little angry, but do you suppose you could forgive me?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I love you so much, I’m dying with it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“If you send me away, how will my life be worth living?”
It was such a pretty speech, and he was speaking the words she’d once been desperate to hear. Yet wasn’t it too late for him to voice them?
Previously, when she’d been so madly in love with him, when she’d waited on tenterhooks for a similar statement, he’d been secretly engaged and had had no intention of ever binding himself to Maggie.
Couldn’t he change his mind? Yes, but it was all too fast, too convenient. How did a man cry off from one betrothal and immediately pitch himself into a different one? She didn’t trust the sudden change. She didn’t trust him.
“I have no idea what to say,” she told him.
“Say yes. Say you’ll have me.”
Overcome by his proximity, she leaned away. “Sit, would you, Michael?”
“You look like you’re about to refuse me, so no, I won’t sit.”
“You are so stubborn.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” He lifted her hands and kissed her palms. “What’s troubling you?”
“Let it go, Michael. There’s no point in my being cruel.”
“Tell me,” he pressed.
“I don’t trust you.”
“Why don’t you? Except for my engagement, when have I ever been dishonest?”
“Well, let’s see. How about when you gambled with Gaylord? How about when you came to Cliffside, but you didn’t reveal why you were there? How about—”
“All right, all right,” he hastily grumbled. “I’ve made some mistakes.”
“You certainly have.”
“In my defense, I didn’t know you then. I only knew Gaylord, and he was such a horse’s ass that I didn’t care about anything but ruining him. But I care now.”
“Do you really?”
She eased away, stood and went over to the window to stare into the garden at the rear of the house. It was a beautiful summer day, the flowers in bloom, big puffy clouds drifting by.
Behind her, he rose to his feet.
“No matter what ultimately happens between us,” he said, “you can keep the ships and the plantation and the mone
y. I have accountants and clerks who can manage your affairs if you require assistance. You wouldn’t need me by your side.”
She didn’t glance at him. “No, it doesn’t sound as if I would.”
“But don’t you ever think about how awful it is to be alone? Wouldn’t you like to have a family, to have a place where you belong?”
“I might have thought about it occasionally,” she grudgingly admitted.
“My most secret wish has always been that I would come home late at night and there would be a candle burning in the window just for me.” He paused, emotion rocking him. “I’ve never had that type of existence, but I crave it so badly.”
“Oh, Michael…”
He walked up and snuggled himself to her back. She elbowed him in the ribs, trying to force him away, but the arrogant beast wouldn’t oblige her.
“Don’t send me away, Maggie.”
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s best.”
“Well, I know—even if you don’t seem to.” He spun her so she was facing him. “Be mine, Magdalena. Be mine forever. Please?”
“I doubt you’d be much of a husband.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if I turn out to be the greatest husband in history?”
She chuckled miserably and was disgusted to hear herself ask, “Where would we live?”
“Anywhere you wanted.”
“How would we carry on?”
“I imagine we’d stumble through. I swear, if Ramsey and Rebecca can figure it out, I’m sure we can.”
Her chuckle became a full-blown laugh.
Was she truly considering his proposal? Apparently yes. He was wearing her down, as he’d clearly understood he could. She was putty in his hands.
“Could we live at Cliffside? Would you apprise your new tenants that they can’t have the property? Could we have it instead? Would you do that for me?”
“Those new tenants I was talking about? It’s us, you silly girl. I was talking about us residing there as man and wife.”
“You’d give me my home?”
“Yes. I’ll sign the whole damn place over to you if that’s what it will take to get you to have me.”
She peered into his blue eyes, and a wave of visions raced in her mind. She remembered the first time she’d met him, how handsome and dashing he’d been. She recalled his slow seduction, her gradual relenting, her pathetic, inescapable glide to being in love.
They’d shared those splendid days at Orphan’s Nest, a blissful sojourn that should never have ended.
He was infuriating and exasperating and impossibly conceited. He made her angrier than she’d ever been, but he made her feel so alive too. For so long, she’d been drifting, stuck at the rescue mission with no hope and no future that appealed. He’d brought her laughter and joy and passion. The few brief weeks she’d spent with him had been the most frustratingly wonderful period.
Could she refuse him? Could she send him away? What if she never saw him again? Could she bear it? The resounding answer was no.
He’d asked her, what if he was the best husband ever? What if he was?
He could be cruel and tough and merciless and domineering, but he could also be generous, kind, helpful, and supportive. Would she toss it all away? For what? To remain a spinster?
“I need to hear your reply,” he said, “and then, depending on what it is, I have to tell you something important.”
She blanched. With his penchant for mischief, it could be any ghastly tidings.
“Tell me what it is first.”
“No. I can’t have it influence your decision.”
She studied him, but of course his expression gave nothing away.
He dropped to one knee again, and he gazed up at her, his affection washing over her like a cool rain.
“Will you marry me, Magdalena? Will you make me the happiest man in the world?”
She was conflicted and confused, but ultimately she forced out, “Yes, Michael, I will marry you. I must have gone mad, but I believe I will.”
She pulled him to his feet as he grinned and preened.
“I knew I could convince you.”
“Vain oaf,” she scolded. “You’ve pressured me horridly, so what’s your news? If it’s dreadful, I rescind every word I just uttered.”
“You are a hard woman, Magdalena Wells.”
“I’m learning from the master.”
“So you are. So you are.” He rested his hands on her waist, looking very much as if he was on a high cliff and about to jump off. “I have some information about my past, about my parents.”
“Rebecca mentioned it. She said you’re changing your surname.”
“Actually, I was never Michael Scott. Very soon, I will announce that I’m Michael Blair.”
“How did you discover this?”
“I’ve always known. I have some old papers someone stuck in my coat when I was tiny.”
“But why now?”
“Because…my sister is searching for me.”
“Your sister? My goodness. Who is she?”
“It’s Evangeline Drake, Maggie. It’s Lady Run.”
“Evangeline!”
“Yes, although if memory serves, her name is Annie. We used to call her Sissy. I can’t guess how she became Evangeline.”
“You’re certain of this?”
“Yes. I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I’m about to.”
“Why keep it a secret until after I agreed to wed you? This isn’t bad news. This is wonderful.”
“I didn’t want to unduly sway you. I wanted you to accept me for me, and not because of who my brother is—or who my father was.”
“Who is your brother? Who was your father?”
“My father should have been Earl of Radcliffe, and my brother, Bryce, will be someday—if I have my way in the affair.”
“Did you say Earl of Radcliffe?”
“Yes, the title is connected to a small estate in Scotland.”
“You’re not joking?”
“Let’s review, Maggie. Do I ever joke?”
“No.”
“I was a little lost lord, but—”
“You’ve been found.”
“I’ve been found,” he said, appearing amazed.
She shook her head, as stunned as he appeared to be. “It’s so bizarre. I have to hear every detail.”
Michael grinned his wickedest grin. “You should call me Lord Michael.”
“Never.”
Rebecca poked her nose into the room. “It’s awfully quiet in here. You two haven’t killed each other, have you?”
“Not yet,” Michael told her.
“Maggie,” her sister teased, “you’re glowering—as if he fed you a sour pickle. What’s wrong?”
“He proposed.”
Rebecca raised her hands to the heavens as if in prayer. “Hallelujah! Please tell me you said yes.”
“She said yes,” Michael answered. “I would have harangued until she did. She knew that. She gave in merely to shut me up.”
“You’re a lot like my husband,” Rebecca said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Michael replied.
“Rebecca,” Maggie stammered, “he’s…from an aristocratic family. He claims Lady Run is his sister. If I marry him, I’ll be marrying an aristocrat.”
“Why are you so shocked?” Rebecca asked. “Look at the bloody man. Why would you have ever thought he was anything but an aristocrat?”
Michael puffed himself up. “I think she should call me Lord Michael, don’t you? Or just My Lord Husband.”
“Absolutely,” Rebecca concurred. “So…it’s all settled? It’s fine?”
Michael turned to Maggie. “What do you say, Maggie? It was easy enough to tell me when we were alone.”
“It wasn’t easy at all!”
“Can you say it in front of your sister? Can you say it to the whole world?”
She gazed over at Rebecca, then gazed at Michael. He had
been—and always would be—her heart’s delight. He was smiling at her, appearing so deliciously magnificent that her pulse raced again. Maybe it would never slow down.
“Yes, Rebecca,” she admitted, “I’m suddenly engaged.”
“Told you,” Michael muttered, preening again.
“If he plays his cards right,” Maggie said, “I might call him my lord every now and then.”
“If I play my cards right?” he scoffed. “My dear, Magdalena, since you’ve agreed to be my bride, it’s obvious I’ve won every blasted hand.”
EPILOGUE
“I’d like to speak with Lady Run.”
“Who shall I tell her is calling?”
Michael almost said her brother, but he didn’t suppose it was the sort of news he should divulge to the woman’s butler.
“Tell her it’s Michael Scott. We’re acquainted.”
“Please come in.”
The butler stepped back so Michael could enter the house, and he was escorted to a front parlor and seated on a sofa.
“It may be a few minutes before she can see you.”
“That’s all right,” Michael said. “She wasn’t expecting me, and I’m in no hurry.”
“While you wait, may I bring you a refreshment?”
There were liquor decanters over on a sideboard, and he thought it was absolutely the moment for a stiff glass of whiskey. Then again, if he planned to introduce himself to his sister, perhaps he shouldn’t have the odor of alcohol on his breath.
He dithered, then pointed to one of the decanters.
“Is that whiskey?”
“Yes.”
“Pour me a tall glass.” The butler couldn’t quite hide his surprise, and Michael added, “She and I are about to have a difficult discussion. I should probably fortify myself.”
“Very good, sir.”
The man prepared the beverage and left Michael alone, promising to return as soon as Lady Run was free. Michael dawdled, the silence settling in. He gazed around, assessing the furniture, the paintings on the walls, the rugs on the floor.
From her humble orphan’s existence, she’d risen so high, had landed herself an amazing spot in the world. Her husband, Aaron Drake, Lord Run, was a fine man, his greatest asset in Michael’s view being that he didn’t gamble. Most of Lord Run’s peers were addicted to wagering, and it took a challenging level of restraint to decline to join in.
