by Meara Platt
“I knew your game the moment I opened the books and saw the neat, feminine entries,” he said angrily. “You ran Harleigh surprisingly well, given the constraints of your sex. Who would have imagined a female capable of turning a generous profit on so small an estate? But if you think I will leave you here to continue running Harleigh, you are much mistaken. I don’t care if the estate rots before my very eyes, little one. You belong to me now. You shall go wherever I go and do whatever I demand of you.”
He set her back down but retained a grip on her waist.
She was too distraught to realize he had put her down, so she desperately clutched his arms. “Please, I beg you not to destroy Harleigh. So many people rely on this estate for their livelihoods, and England already has so many unemployed, why add more? I don’t care about my well-being, but my people will starve if the crops aren’t planted or the mill lays idle. Think of all the innocent women and children who will suffer simply because you hate me. They don’t deserve this. They have never done you any harm. Give me six months, that’s all I ask to find and train a new estate manager. Then I’ll do as you command, go wherever you desire.”
She silently asked forgiveness for her blatant lie about leaving in six months or ever doing anything the duke asked of her. But in her own defense, the duke had left her with no choice but to stall for time.
“You have a lovely waist. Even smaller than I realized.” He ran his hands down her body, much as he would if he were examining a filly for purchase. “Your hips flare out quite nicely.”
She felt her face suffuse with color as he brazenly pawed her. “Now it is you who are playing games, Your Grace.”
“Quite so, little one, and it was not my intent until you provoked me.”
“How can you accuse me of such a thing? You provoked me!” Oh, dear! She had fallen for his taunts again, though she knew he purposely riled her at every turn. Despite the knowledge, she had responded with all the aplomb of a chicken whose feathers had just been plucked.
He laughed, and held up his hand as a sign of truce. “You’re right, little one. I take perverse pleasure in riling you, though it is not for the fiendish reasons you imagine. I am surrounded by men and women who think to gain my favor by proclaiming my infallibility. If I declared the moon was green, they would concur. You, on the other hand, would gleefully declare me a fool. I find your candor quite refreshing. For that matter, I find many things about you quite to my liking.”
Anabelle eyed him cautiously, wondering what game he now played. A moment earlier, she had thought him ready to throttle her, yet now he seemed to admire her. She took a moment to digest this new revelation and did not resist when he took her hand to draw her to a chair beside the fireplace. Having seated her, he took the chair opposite hers and leaned closer. With a sober expression, he began to speak, and Anabelle noticed with some surprise that he seemed uncomfortable.
“You’re a strange creature, Anabelle,” he started, then paused as if seeking the right words to continue.
She smiled up at him, gently shaking her head in exasperation. “I’m not quite sure how to take that remark.”
“I’m not quite sure how I meant it.” He managed a small but disarming smile, then ran a hand absently through his hair. “I spent little time reviewing your ledgers, they were all well maintained and easy to follow. Within half an hour, I knew Harleigh was a profitable estate. I spent the remaining hours contemplating you and what I am to do with you.”
“Leave me here,” she said, with the hopefulness of a child offered a forbidden sweet.
“I know your wishes, little one. You’ve made them quite apparent.” He sounded irritated, though she couldn’t determine whether his irritation extended to her or to himself.
“I suppose I can be overbearing when it comes to something I want,” she said, offering him a sop. “It’s just that I want Harleigh so much. How can I make you understand? You see a simple manor surrounded by fallow fields and snow-covered meadows, a modest herd of sheep, an idle mill, a sleepy village. Certainly, an unimpressive sight compared to the Draloch holdings, but not unimpressive to me.”
He eyed her thoughtfully, then spoke. “I wonder if I would fight as hard for Draloch as you fight for Harleigh.”
“I know you would, but certainly for different reasons. Whether or not you cared for a thing, you would destroy the person who took it away from you, merely because they dared take it from you.”
“You’re right. Sentiment carries no weight with me.”
“Yet it is everything to me.”
He reached for her hand and held it loosely in his for a moment. He studied it, then gently released it. “You fight for the things you love. You don’t seem to care for wealth or position in Society. You wear no jewelry and spend little of the estate profits on yourself. I noticed you spent more on your servants’ livery than you did on your own wardrobe.”
She laughed, then groaned as she fingered her drab gown. “I don’t care for material possessions nor do I care for social prominence, and it is a good thing. Two years ago, while war neared its end on the Continent, I made my entrance into Society. It seemed absurd to do so after Napoleon had decimated much of Europe and appeared to be once more on the attack, but my family was insistent. My mother was in failing health and hoped to see me married before she passed on. She remained at Harleigh while her cousin brought me to London, against my wishes, and sponsored my coming out.”
“Quite a successful debut, so rumor has it.”
“After two weeks of excruciatingly dull conversations about the unpredictable weather and whether Lady M. was really having an affair with Lord B., I’d had enough of the ton. I took no pains to hide my feelings, and shortly thereafter departed London, little realizing that by doing so, I had made life long enemies of most of them. I was too worried about my mother to care what anyone thought of me. After she died, I had my hands full worrying about my father and the running of Harleigh. To this day, I miss few of those people.”
“I understand that in those two short weeks, you managed to garner no less than twelve proposals of marriage, thereby earning the title Amazing Anabelle.”
She sighed and lifted her eyes upward as her mind drifted to that heady time two years ago. “There was nothing amazing about that feat, I assure you. Eight of my suitors were penniless second or third sons who probably proposed to every young lady of means on the chance that one might say yes. As to the others,” she said, blushing, “I couldn’t imagine their falling in love with me in so short a time. I imagine they fell in love with my ample dowry.”
“Harleigh was to be your dowry.”
“Yes, but that is neither here nor there since I did not love any of them. I would not have accepted any suitor I did not love and who did not love me in return.”
He leaned back a little startled. “Why must a man love you to want to marry you? You are pleasant looking in an unusual way.”
She smiled wryly. “Shall I take that as a compliment?”
He ignored her and continued. “You come from a good family and have an adequate purse.”
“I had an adequate purse. No more, thanks to Lord Markby’s ruling.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, but did not pursue the matter of the ruling or her father’s actions that had precipitated it. “Had I not been fighting Napoleon at the time, I might even have offered for you.”
“You, Your Grace?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You jest because you think me foolish for wanting my husband to love me. As I said, it would not be a one-sided love. I will not marry a man I do not love.”
“Why must you love and be loved in return? It can only cause you unbearable pain.” To her surprise, he seemed genuinely confused. Had no one ever loved him?
Anabelle impulsively reached out to him, once more sensing in him a hidden anguish. “There is pain in losing someone dear to your heart, but there is so much more pleasure in giving, in sharing one another’s love. My parents taught me that
. My experience in such matters between a man and a woman is limited and mostly gleaned from watching my parents when they were around us. Simply put, they always sought to please each other. Mind you, they disagreed on matters and did fight on occasion.” She paused a moment and grinned. “For as you know, we Harleighs always speak our mind. But their arguments never lasted long. There was nothing important enough to come between them.”
“Did you not resent it?”
“Of course not. My brother and I were never deprived of their affection.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “And you seek that for yourself?”
“Yes.” She wished she could halt the heat rising up her neck and cheeks. He’d believe she was ashamed of her feeling, when quite the opposite was true.
“What if you were to fall in love with a man who was incapable of loving anything or anyone? What if that man asked you to marry him and promised to honor you, to do his best to make you happy?”
For a moment, she felt that he actually had a care for her answer. But the feeling did not last. His disdainful expression quickly wiped it away.
“I would not be so foolish as to fall into that trap. I might adapt to such an arrangement were I a woman of even temperament, but as you are well aware after knowing me this short time, I am woefully lacking in that regard. Eventually, my husband’s indifference would make me miserable and I would in turn make him miserable. Worse yet, what if he ultimately fell in love with someone else?”
“I hardly see that as a problem. If he does not have the capacity to love, he can hardly lose his heart to someone else.” It was apparent that he considered her views on love and marriage ridiculous.
She rose abruptly, more than a little embarrassed by the track of their conversation. He rose as well, looking surprisingly remorseful for having shown disdain. “Don’t go, Anabelle. You spoke from the heart, and it was a refreshing honesty of feeling. I can see why you were considered a misfit among the elegant Society.”
“Is that what you think of me? A misfit?”
“I don’t know what to think of you. Your views are unusual, you must grant me that. I’m merely trying to understand them.”
“They are not all that unusual,” she insisted. “I would like to be married and bear children, much like any other woman. The only difference is in the way I define a successful marriage.”
“Very well then. Come sit back down and we shall continue our discussion about love. Now that I understand your views on marriage, perhaps you can expound upon your love of Harleigh. Who knows, you may even persuade me to let you stay here.”
Her insides twisted. She cast him a sorrowful glance. “Don’t hold out false hope, for I vow I will make your life unbearable if you jest with me on so sensitive a matter.”
“Rest easy, little one. I’m not as cruel as you make me out to be.”
But she tightly held back her hope. She’d die, she’d be crushed, if she allowed herself to believe, only to have him drag her away to Draloch, or worse, to London and the worthless specimens there who’d mock and jeer at her because she was under the Dragon’s thumb.
“Sit down, Anabelle.”
She did so with hesitation, deciding after a long moment that there was more to be gained by talking than by running away.
He settled beside her, careful to keep a polite distance between them, but she inhaled the scent of him, a subtle scent of sandalwood and male heat that she found irresistible. “Tell me more about Harleigh.”
Her heart beat a little faster and she felt a fluttering in her belly, but her response was not one of fear. She was dangerously drawn to this powerful man who seemed more primal beast than respected duke of the realm, no matter that he held himself in tight control. “As I said, I know little about love between a man and a woman other than what I have witnessed between my parents. But I do know much about Harleigh and how it has so woven itself into the fabric of my being that I fear I will sicken and die if dragged away from here.”
He growled softly to signal his impatience. “You exaggerate, Anabelle.”
“I don’t. I love Harleigh and its people, from Dolly who has yet to obey a single command without a commentary on why I was out of line for issuing it in the first place, to my young shepherd, Tom Jenks, who lost his father in one of the battles against Napoleon’s army and is now the sole provider for his mother and four sisters. He’s but a child shouldering a man’s responsibility, and I feel I must be here to protect his situation. But I digress.”
She shook back to the present and continued. “The ewes will be delivering their lambs in a few weeks, and that is a busy time for me. Besides making certain the lambs are safely delivered into this world, I also manage the animal breeding stock and supervise the spring planting. The fields must be tilled and properly fertilized, decisions must be made as to which crops to plant, though I suppose this year we shall concentrate on corn crops—wheat, rye, barley—since the passage of the Corn Laws has made those a necessity.”
He raised a questioning eye, noting her moue of disgust. “You don’t approve of the law?”
She frowned. “Barring the import of foreign grain has only created terrible shortages in England, thereby increasing the price of the meager supply. The poor could hardly afford the price of a loaf of bread before the law was passed. Now they will surely starve. The French peasantry beheaded their monarchs. If our Regent turns a blind eye to the plight of the English commoner, he may soon find his head separated from his body.”
“I imagine he has more sense than that.” Saron spoke as though he were intimately acquainted with the Prince Regent. “In any event, I shall relay your comments when next I meet with him.”
Oh, good heavens. He did know him. “I should hope so,” she grumbled, masking her awe that he should be so well acquainted with England’s royal family. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. He was a powerful man, with powerful friends, which explained why she couldn’t shake the image of the majestic dragon from her mind whenever she glanced at him. “Tending to his subjects must be of paramount importance.”
“I’ll make sure to tell him so.”
With an imperious nod of her head, she returned to the subject of Harleigh. “I’m proud of this estate, particularly its experimental gardens. They take up much of my time.” She laughed and raised her eyes heavenward, recalling her all too often failures. But she’d had some wonderful successes, as well. “Weather permitting, I’d like to show you the planting fields tomorrow, though there is little to see as yet. I’d also like to show you my laboratory, but be warned, most of my experiments are dismal failures.”
“I look forward to the viewing of both.” Signaling an end to their conversation, he rose and nudged her up with him. “Well, then. I believe that settles that.”
“You’ll let me stay at Harleigh?” Unable to suppress her delight, she cast him a breathless smile and threw her arms around his neck, but quickly realized her mistake and drew away. He wasn’t smiling and that rock-hard body of his remained taut and unyielding.
“I’ve promised no such thing,” he said, dashing her hopes. “You’ll have my decision at the end of the week, little one.”
She wanted to cry in frustration, but had only herself to blame for assuming the best in him. He was neither warm, nor kind, nor caring. Had he possessed any of those traits, he would have returned the estate to her when she’d offered to pay him a share of the profits for life. Any reasonable man would have accepted those terms. She scowled at him. He was a cold, unfeeling brute who took unseemly pleasure in taunting her.
“Don’t give up hope, Anabelle.”
“How can I not? You’re worse than I ever imagined possible.” He’d taken her hand when they rose, but now refused to release it.
“Is that so?” There was a dangerous amusement in his tone. “Perhaps, I am.” He turned her hand palm up in his and ever so gently ran a finger along her lifeline. A jolt of heat shot through her body, quickly followed by several more jolts t
hat shot fire into parts of her body that–goodness, what was happening to her? How could she possibly be attracted to this horrid man?
“Go now, Anabelle,” he said quietly. “I won’t take responsibility for my actions if you stay.”
She was unable to move, much less to draw her gaze away from his seductive blue-gray eyes. “What do you mean?”
He leaned closer and focused his gaze on her parted lips. Her hand was still in his, and though she could now have drawn it from his open palm at any time, something stopped her. Perhaps it was the gentleness of his touch.
And then she felt the warmth of his lips on hers, lightly pressing against hers. Was this another of his taunts? She put her hands flat on his chest, intending to push him away, but she couldn’t bring her body to obey and found herself drawing closer instead, her fingers now splayed against his shirt. The pulse at the base of her throat throbbed with excitement as her palms came into contact with granite-hard muscle.
“Mother in heaven,” she said in a startled whisper.
A wry smile crossed his lips as he eased away.
But in the next moment, he placed his hand at the nape of her neck and slowly drew her toward him again. His dark lashes closed over his glorious, smoke-blue eyes, a warning that this second kiss would not be tame.
To her shame, she was tempted and had been strangely tempted by him from the moment he’d stepped down from his carriage. For a brief, intoxicating moment, all thought of propriety flew out of her head. How would his mouth feel crushed against hers? Vibrant? Overwhelming? How would his sleek, powerfully big, body feel molded to hers?
She came to her senses in time. “What trick is this, Dragon?”
Her heart pounding wildly, she flew out of the room and raced upstairs to the safety of her chamber, trying but failing to expunge the echo of his booming laughter. She did not stop until she had firmly closed her bedroom door. It had no bolt, for she’d never felt the need for one before. That oversight would be remedied at once.
Feeling not at all safe from him or her own body’s inexplicable response to him, she shut her eyes and rested her head against the closed door. Their meeting had been a jest to him, something to distract him from his boredom.
