Good Lord. He glanced toward the door, and she chuckled again, capturing his attention once more.
“He’s deceased. There is no worry of being forced to marry me.”
“Really? Things like that have been known to happen.”
“It won’t happen here. And the one thing that almost killed you could save you. The blizzard will keep people away for days. They know I stocked up on supplies and can handle myself.”
The forceful tone of her voice had him convinced. She leaned closer and touched the back of her hand to his forehead. Her braid fell forward over her shoulder, the scent of cinnamon drifting around him.
“It seems your fever has finally broken.” Her lips pulled down in a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh, nothing.” She walked toward the door. “I’m going to the kitchen to warm some broth. I haven’t gotten much down you.”
Two days. He’d forgotten. “I’ll need to arrange a horse as soon as possible.”
She turned, her hand still resting on the doorknob. “I doubt anyone will be leaving soon. The town inn is probably still locked up tight.” Releasing the door, she walked to the window. “It’s been snowing the entire time you’ve been recovering. It finally slowed down, but I doubt anyone is braving the weather just yet. It’s still piled fairly deep, and the hard winds are blowing the drifts. Now, I’ll get you something to eat. It shouldn’t take but a few moments.”
Her full red lips curled and something nudged his memory. Somewhere, his mind brought back the tasting of those lips, the touch of her hand at the base of his neck, her full breast against his palm. He shook his head again. The fever must have soured his brain. The woman would have chopped off his hand had he touched her.
“You just rest,” she said.
She slipped out the door. Her scent still lingered in the room. He licked his lips, thinking about Cook’s sticky buns, and winced at the pain. His lips were as dry as his throat. He massaged his temples. Two days out of his mind with fever. Hopefully, he hadn’t said anything incriminating. A slow smile spread across his lips. Maybe he had. Maybe he had shocked her. Served the prude right.
* * *
As Colleen set a kettle on the tray, the muted sound of a carriage froze her very action. Who would be here in the middle of the night, in such horrible weather? She peeked out the window and almost cursed. She’d learned quite a few new words while nursing Lord Ware. The vicar descended from the carriage, his already round body fuller from the amount of extra clothing he was wearing. He and one of the stable lads from the inn were walking to her door.
Panic lanced through her. She had to get to Lord Ware and warn him to be quiet.
As she neared the door, she thought about her varied reactions to Lord Ware. While he slept, she had forgotten what a rogue the man was. When he had first awakened a few moments earlier, she had been paralyzed by the memory of their shared kiss, worried that he would tease her. Thankfully, the man had been too sick and appeared to have no memory of the event. And for him to think that she was trying to trap him into marriage by getting caught with him in her room. Blasted man!
She balanced the tray with one hand, opened the door with the other and almost dropped the tray when she saw him. He had pulled himself out of bed and was using the footboard to support himself as he walked. His back was to her, so intent on his task he hadn’t heard her.
“Lord Ware!”
At the sound of her voice, he turned, lost his balance and fell to the floor with a curse. She hurried to the nightstand, setting the tray down then helped him to his feet. His face was flushed and a white line around his mouth indicated how much pain he was in.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“Had to use the chamber pot.”
She slung his arm around her shoulders and helped him toward the bed. He leaned on her, and she almost toppled the two of them. She’d forgotten how heavy he was.
“You should have waited for me. You don’t want to have the fever return by overexerting yourself.” Her voice was sharper than she had meant it to be, but she couldn’t help it. His body was hot and so hard, and the whiskers on his cheeks brushed her forehead a couple of times. All she could think of was that kiss. Her whole body tingled from the memory.
He tried to struggle free. His angry movements caused him to lose his balance, and he tumbled on the bed, pulling her with him. She landed on top of him, her head smacking his chin. Placing a hand on each side of his head, she lifted herself. Stars danced in front of her eyes. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, but the sound of footsteps and the creak of the door stopped her.
Chapter Four
For just a moment, Sebastian couldn’t react. He held himself immobile, unable to get his mind to function. All of Miss Macgregor’s many curves were pressed against him. He could do nothing to stop his body’s reaction to the weight of her breasts against his chest.
A flash of memory—flesh molding to flesh, the taste of innocent passion entwined with a seductive whisper—sparked across his mind. Before he could grasp it, it vanished like it had earlier, but his body reacted to it all the same. Raising herself to her hands, she wiggled against his groin and he could feel the very heat of her.
When his head stopped spinning, anger ignited. The little liar! She’d set him up, and he had fallen for it. Drawing in a deep breath, he told himself to not allow the temper threatening to boil over into full-blown rage take hold.
He still couldn’t believe she had done it. Miss Macgregor had planned on trapping him and having someone catch them so he would have to marry her. For some unknown reason, hurt twisted with the anger. He didn’t understand it, didn’t even want to know why. But it was there and it made him even madder.
He looked at her, ready to tell her in no uncertain terms that he would not succumb to her manipulations. But, the sheer panic that flashed in her eyes told him she already knew he would not help her. She struggled off the bed, and it caused the same unbelievable reaction from him. His groin tightened and his blood drained from his head. The woman was a temperamental, uptight, judgmental prude. He had avoided women like her with a passion, mainly because he found them unappealing. Around her, though, he acted as if he were a randy stallion scenting a mare.
She finally gained her feet and her eyes widened when she saw who was at the door. Sebastian followed her horrified gaze to find a rather rotund, short gentleman wrapped in what appeared to be five layers of clothes. The man’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, and his eyes rounded in what could only be described as horror.
A young man stood behind him, peering over the gentleman’s shoulder to get a better view. A devilish smile curved his lips, making Sebastian even more suspicious.
“Miss Macgregor, I would like to know the meaning of this,” the older man said, his voice ripe with condemnation.
The young man chuckled, and the sound of it grated down Sebastian’s spine. “Looks to me like we didn’t need to worry about ye, Miss Macgregor.”
Sebastian shot the young man a threatening look and was happy to see the leer fade from his face. Miss Macgregor was silent for once. He glanced in her direction. She was white as a sheet, her pulse fluttering in her throat. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She swallowed nervously, then licked her lips again. Sebastian couldn’t help noticing just how much he wanted to taste her.
She cleared her throat twice, breaking his thoughts of mouths and tasting. “Mr. Pearson, John, I would like to introduce Lord Sebastian Ware. Mr. Pearson is the local vicar.”
Her voice was threaded with worry. She looked at him as if he were going to announce her as his mistress. Silly chit.
“It’s a pleasure. I would stand and greet you properly, but I’ve been recovering from a head wound.”
“So that’s what they call it now,” John said with a snicker.
Miss Macgregor rushed forward, apparently worried of what these two men thought of her. He wanted to tell her it was a little late for that, and tr
uthfully, why would she worry if she bagged herself a rich man?
“Really, John. Behave yourself!” exclaimed Mr. Pearson.
“Mr. Pearson, it’s not what you think,” she pleaded.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to decide what you are going to do. Wouldn’t look good for you to take up with a man.”
“I haven’t taken up with a man.” Her voice had turned as brittle as the northern wind but there was a hint of fright beginning to thread her words. “Lord Ware was injured. I found him on the way home the day the blizzard hit. I couldn’t leave him in the snow. He would have died.”
Her voice rose, a hint of hysteria invading her tone. Sebastian would normally take comfort in it, even gloat, but the reminder that she possibly saved his life stopped him.
He turned his attention back to Mr. Pearson. The older man was no longer looking at Miss Macgregor, but at him.
“Once word gets out…” The older man let his voice drift off as he cast a knowing glance at John.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian noticed her shoulders slump. Most of his anger faded and the urge to comfort her almost had him pulling himself to his feet and going to her. For some insane reason, he wanted to drag her against him and assure her that all would be well.
Again, a memory prodded of touching her, of feeling her heart beat against his, but it dissolved as he reminded himself of her deception. He might not be as suspicious if she had not assured him earlier. He had one disastrous marriage in his past. The thought of being shackled to another woman, having to go through what he had endured before, did not comfort him. Rage consumed him, threatening to overcome his common sense, but Mr. Pearson’s voice interrupted Sebastian’s morbid thoughts.
“Mrs. Pearson insisted I come to check on you. I was going to wait until morning, but she just wouldn’t let it be. The snow had slowed so I came out here with John to confirm that everything was well. And we find you frolicking with a man.” He paused to take a deep breath, his body language not so much showing anger, but resignation. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
Sebastian may have been annoyed with Miss Macgregor, but he did not like the accusatory manner in which the vicar spoke.
“I would be very careful when you are talking about Miss Macgregor.” His voice was deathly calm, icy. Both Mr. Pearson and his younger companion looked surprised. The older man’s faded blue eyes studied Sebastian for a moment before turning shrewd.
Colleen released a breath, her aggravation with his interruption apparent. “Lord Ware, there is no reason—”
“I will not have these men slander you in front of me. I just wonder what right these two had, barging into your home.”
“We knocked, and then we heard the noise in here. I was worried Miss Macgregor was being attacked.” Mr. Pearson offered that bit of information without an ounce of regret.
Sebastian, still seated on the bed, crossed his arms over his chest and studied the vicar. He seemed to be telling the truth. And there was no way these two would have known about him. Colleen had no way of telling others about his presence. Unless she had lied about who had been by while he’d been sick with fever. His attention shifted back to the men. With only two of them as witnesses, they could possibly keep the locals from knowing.
“There is no reason for anyone to know about this.”
The silence stretched as the vicar scrutinized Sebastian and then Miss Macgregor. Then he glanced at John. “John, would you leave us for a moment?”
John frowned and looked to argue, but after studying the vicar’s stern expression, he shook his head and turned away. He left them, his feet dragging as he walked reluctantly down the hall.
“There is no way John will keep mum about this,” the vicar said when they were finally alone. “Nothing I say or do will hold his tongue for long.” He glanced at Miss Macgregor. “You know what he is like. He craves attention and will use anything to get it. He might be quiet for a day or two, but that would be the extent of his secret keeping. And at that point, you will be gone, and Miss Macgregor will be forced to fight the condemnation on her own.”
Put that way, it did sound pretty bad.
“I think you two have much to discuss. We’ll be waiting just outside the door.” He shot Sebastian a warning look, his sharp eyes sparking with anger. He left the door open a crack, something that bothered Sebastian to no end.
Sebastian dismissed the vicar and turned his attention to Miss Macgregor. She wouldn’t look at him. Her head was bent and she had taken immense interest in her hands clenched before her. She hadn’t taken her eyes off them since the vicar left. He couldn’t believe they had been caught in such a predicament. Irritation curled in his stomach as the implications became clearer.
“Well, I guess we do have something to discuss.” His voice dripped with derision.
His accusation hit a sore spot. She whirled around, her face flushed with anger. “We have nothing to discuss. There is no way I am going to marry the likes of you. I wouldn’t lower myself. So you are free.”
He stared, nonplussed by the statement. After years of avoiding matchmaking mamas and scheming debutantes, he’d just been spurned by a spinster. A spinster with no prospects and who could very well face condemnation in her own little corner of the world.
Before he could form an opinion on that, she placed a hand on each hip and advanced. “I’ve never wanted to marry. It makes a woman subservient and gives the man control of her money.” She stopped within inches of stepping on his toes. “We have to figure a way out of this!”
“Let me get this straight,” he snapped. “You don’t want me to do the honorable thing?”
“N-no. I never want to get married, especially to a man like you.”
“A man like me! What do you mean a man like me?” His voice had risen, and he fisted his hands on the bed. She slowly backed away, not moving her gaze from his fists. All the color drained from her face, and she bit her lip.
She swallowed. “You don’t have to be so angry.”
Sebastian stared at the impossible woman. First, she tried to trap him into marriage and then told him she wanted nothing to do with him. Now, she was crowded against the door as if he were going to attack her.
“What the bloody hell are you doing, running out the door? I’m not going to do anything. I can barely stand up.”
Her eyes widened behind her frames. As if to calm herself, she took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed.
“Now, are you trying to tell me this was not a trap?”
She stared at him for a moment. Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but instead she started laughing.
Not some little twitter like the debutantes gracing the parlors at Almack’s. No this was a big, full belly laugh, her joy bubbling over, filling the room, despite the situation. Even though he was irritated with her, he couldn’t stop the way the sound of it sent a rush of heat to his groin. She doubled over, crossing her arms around her midsection, tears streaming down her face.
After a few moments, her laughing eased a bit and he asked, “Now what did I say?”
“You…you think I wanted to trap you into marriage.”
“I don’t see why that is funny.”
Her laughter had finally died, and she wiped the wetness from her face. She looked up at him and started laughing again.
“That is quite enough!” Really, who did the woman think she was? She calmed down, but amusement still danced in her eyes. “I am more than suitable for a woman of your station.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
A snort of laughter escaped, but she controlled another outburst. “No, and I don’t want to marry you.”
“Really, what’s so wrong with me?”
She grunted. “You’re a rake with a harem full of women. You had a bad marriage, and you probably think that all women are like your deceased wife. I’m not interested in being someone’s chattel.”
All true, but it didn’t
change the predicament they were in. “A harem full of women… How did you know about my wife?”
She glanced away and then met his gaze. “You talked while you were sick.”
Lord only knew what he had said to her while he’d been sick. Apparently, it was enough to make her not want to marry him. She might be opposed to marriage, but marriage to him wasn’t a worse prospect than losing her reputation.
“We have to do something.”
All humor fled from her face as she sobered instantly. Her eyes lost their twinkle, her posture tensed and her lips turned down in a frown. He almost regretted dashing cold water on her merriment but, bloody hell, he could not let the woman ruin her good name.
“We don’t have to do anything. I’ll live with my actions.”
He studied her brave face, knowing he would be dead if she had not risked everything. But reasoning with her would not work, nor would being nice.
“Well, Miss Macgregor, you do wear your martyrdom well.” He didn’t try to hide his sarcasm. It dripped from each word. She flinched, and a jolt of guilt clenched his gut. However, he didn’t regret the comment or the coldness of his voice. Truth be told, it bothered him more than he wanted to admit that this woman would rather be an outcast than his wife.
Her eyes narrowed, color rushing to her face. “What are you talking about?”
“Where are you going to go when people stop talking to you? Or maybe they won’t ignore you, but they will hurl nasty comments in your direction.”
Her face paled with each remark. His assault was calculated, hitting every fear she probably held, but it had to be done. The woman needed to realize what she was going to face. Sebastian saw it as his duty to save her from herself.
“You have somewhere else to go, Miss Macgregor?” He gave her his best sneer. “I know you don’t. You know you don’t. What will you do when no one will sit next to you in church or men in town begin to think of you in different terms and decide to visit you when they know you are alone?
“We have to do something because your reputation is at stake here. Living in a little village like this, there is no way you can survive this kind of scandal.”
The Accidental Countess Page 4
