by Laura Landon
High boots stretched to his knees, covering tight black breeches that hugged thick, muscular thighs. He looked ready to attack, but it was the knotted muscle in his jaw and the predatory expression on his face that caused her the most alarm. She could not tear her eyes from him.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised to find you here, Miss Stanton,” he said, taking a step closer. “But of course, we both know I am not.”
Collingsworth reached out his hand to grasp Northcote’s arm. “What is the meaning of this, Simon?” The earl twisted away and continued across the room until he stood in front of her.
“How easily the lies tripped off your tongue last night. Did you think me such a fool that I would believe even one word that spilled from your deceiving mouth?”
“Simon!” Collingsworth yelled. “Bloody hell, man. What is wrong with you?”
“There is nothing wrong with me, James. It’s the plan you and this pretty little liar concocted that has gone wrong.”
Jessica’s gaze darted from one face to the other, frantic to catch all that was being said. Heaven help her. They were talking too fast. And the Duke of Collingsworth didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“Melinda, take Jessica to my study. Simon and I have—”
“No!” Simon interrupted. “She will stay here.” He spun around to level His Grace a harsh look. “Why? Why did you send her to me last night when you knew I would not take your money?”
“Last night? Where did you see Jessica last night?”
Simon shook his head. His lips curled upward to form a bitter smile. “Don’t, James. Don’t play me for an ignorant fool. I’m wise to your scheme.”
“You’re not making sense, Simon. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Simon leaned down, his face just inches from hers. “You haven’t told him yet, my dear? He doesn’t know you’ve failed?”
Jessica looked into his eyes filled with anger and opened her mouth to speak. “Please, my lord,” she whispered. She was so tired and confused, she couldn’t think.
He reached out to her. He lifted his muscular hand from his side and touched her cheek. Dear God, she’d dreamt of that touch all night. She’d prayed to feel that strength again.
But she did not want to see the disgust and revulsion she saw in his eyes.
“Would you like me to tell His Grace that his plan went for naught? Would you like me to explain that even though I found you physically attractive and I truly enjoyed our passionate, yet all too brief, exchange, I would not play the beggar just to provide you with a husband?”
The room suddenly turned terribly warm. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t force the air into her body. The roar in her head and the bright lights that darted behind her eyes made her dizzy. She pushed his hand away and wiped the dampness from her forehead. She needed to get away from him.
From the corner of her eye, she knew Collingsworth was yelling. He grabbed Simon’s arm and tried to pull him away from her, but the earl twisted out of the duke’s grasp and continued to level his accusations.
“Or perhaps His Grace doesn’t know that you offered to sell yourself to me. Perhaps he doesn’t realize how desperate you are to trap a husband. Could it be he still thinks you came only to offer the money and not your body?”
Everything around her spun in dizzying circles. She felt strange—disoriented. She sprang from the sofa and rushed across the room, heedless of the obstacles in her path or the small table she knocked over in her escape. She had to get out.
But before she could reach the door, a strong arm reached out for her, bringing her to a halt. The viselike grip twisted her about and pulled her up against him. It was the same hard chest she’d struggled against last night. The same unyielding arms from which she had not been able to free herself.
Dear God. She could not let him humiliate her again.
She had no idea if her deafening cry was successful in escaping her body. She clamped her hands over her ears as her scream echoed inside her head. Then Jessica welcomed the blessed darkness that consumed her.
And she knew no more.
Simon caught her slender body just before she hit the floor and picked her up in his arms and held her. She weighed almost nothing. Her face was as white as the lace collar around her neck, and even the rosy lips he’d kissed last night had lost their color.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.
She seemed so small and fragile. So helpless. Nothing like the proud woman who’d stormed from his house last night.
Simon laid her gently on the sofa against the wall and then raked his hand over his two-day stubble. “I didn’t mean to scare her,” he said to no one in particular.
Melinda gave Simon an angry glare as she raced past him toward Jessica.
Hell! Bloody hell!
Simon squeezed his eyes shut and ground the palms of his hands against his aching sockets.
“What did you mean when you referred to the lies Jessica had told you last night?” his friend said quietly from behind him. The tone of his voice was as deadly as a double-edged sword. Simon chose to ignore the danger.
“You should know. You’re the one who sent her.”
Simon heard the air hiss through James’s clenched teeth.
“Humor me, Simon. What happened between you two last night? Where could you have seen Jessica? She never leaves her home.”
“Well, she did last night. She came to see me at my town house. Where you sent her.”
Simon looked over at her. The color had not returned to her cheeks, but her breathing seemed a little more normal.
“What did she want with you?” James asked.
“She came to offer me the money you had given her. She showed me a piece of paper with an astronomical amount on it and told me it was all mine if I would only marry her.”
Simon lifted his head and faced his friend. The angry frown on James’s face punched him in the gut, but Simon refused to let it deter him. “When you told me you were as rich as Croesus you were not exaggerating, James. Did you honestly think it would take that much money to get me out of debt?”
“I had no idea how much it would take. I still do not. Did Jessica happen to tell you why it was so important that she have your name?”
“She claimed my name would protect her. A highly unlikely story about her stepbrother coming to claim the money.”
Melinda sent him a withering look. “I need to get another blanket,” she said, stomping past him.
James stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “My wife is very protective of her friends,” he said. The glare in his eyes leveled Simon with a dangerous look. “Do you know she’s deaf?”
“Yes. She was at least honest about that.”
A long moment of silence stretched between them as Simon turned back to the sofa and the girl who’d caused him such a restless night. “Why did you choose her, James? Could you find no one else?” Simon turned to face his friend. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out that you had sent her?” He braced his shoulders and filled his lungs with air. “Did you have to pay her much to sell her body and offer to become my wife?”
Before Simon knew what had happened, James’s fist careened into his jaw. The impact of the blow sent him flying through the air, coming to a stop only when his large frame crashed against the sturdy wall on the opposite side of the room.
Simon slid to the floor, his legs sprawled out before him. He rubbed his hand over his jaw, then moved it from side to side to make sure it still worked. Before he was steady enough to rise to his feet, the Duchess of Collingsworth walked through the door, carrying a blanket. She stepped over his feet without even a glance, then paused when she reached her husband and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, James,” she whispered, lowering a sideways glance to Simon’s prone body.
James shook his head as he looked at Simon, then held out his hand to help him up.
Simon reluctantly took his proffered hel
p and crawled to his feet. He shook his head and walked over to the couch, still rubbing his sore jaw. “Which part of this story have I gotten wrong?”
“The whole bloody thing, Simon,” James answered, taking a cup of tea one of the servants had brought in and handing it to him.
“You mean you didn’t send her to me?”
“No. I did not send her.”
Simon stared at the tea swirling in his cup. “And her inheritance?”
James nodded. “She will receive every pound of it on Friday.”
Simon raked his fingers through his hair. “Bloody hell, James. What made her ask a complete stranger to marry her? Once word reached society’s ears, there would be no end to the line of suitors vying for her hand. Why did she come to me?”
“I think she had this misplaced idea you could protect her.”
“Protect her from…?” A fist of painful reality punched Simon in the gut. “Tanhill is really her stepbrother?”
James nodded once, then breathed a heavy sigh.
A reaction as severe as any Simon had ever experienced slammed through his body. He looked at the pale girl just beginning to stir. “Heaven help her.”
“No, Simon. I think heaven intends for you to help her. Perhaps heaven even intends for her to help you.”
Chapter 6
Bloody hell. The girl had told him the truth. She was Tanhill’s stepsister.
Simon ignored the knot twisting in his gut and stared out the window of the study while he waited for James to return. Tanhill’s stepsister was still in the drawing room. The duchess thought it best if he weren’t there when she revived.
He stared out the window overlooking the garden and watched a pair of nightingales that sat on a thick branch of the budding alder tree. Tanhill’s stepsister. The implication of what that meant registered in his mind with startling reality.
The pale color of her cheeks when she faced him last night, the desperate look in her eyes. He couldn’t forget the brave front she’d exhibited. He couldn’t forget the way he’d talked to her, accused her of being little more than a common whore. He closed his eyes to block out the memory.
Outside, the male nightingale’s melodious tune soared above the normal sounds of the morning as if the tiny thrush had something significant to celebrate. He looked at the smaller bird nestled on the branch beside him. Perhaps he did.
Perhaps they both did.
The door opened behind him. “Is she all right?” he asked without turning. He kept his voice deliberately bland.
“Yes. She and Melinda will join us in a few minutes.” Collingsworth walked across the room and poured two cups of tea. He handed one to Simon. “Would you like something stronger?” he asked, nodding to the brandy decanter sitting on a table next to his mammoth oak desk.
“Poison?” Simon said, his lips twisting cynically.
His friend’s laughter echoed in the silence. “Excuse me for saying so, but you look like hell.”
Simon raked his fingers though his disheveled hair. “I hope I never have the opportunity to return the compliment.”
James sat in one of the two cushioned chairs flanking the fireplace. “Sit down, Simon. Let’s look at this rationally.”
“Bloody hell. There is no rational way to look at this. I have before me the opportunity to save Ravenscroft. The manor, the fields, the forests and ponds. I have the chance of a lifetime to care for and repair the homes of every Northcote tenant who has gone without since my father and his extravagant wife squandered the money. And repair the church and…” Simon breathed a sigh.
“…then begin to care for the other five Northcote estates. All I have to do is marry Tanhill’s stepsister, and pray she won’t run off with the gardener and humiliate me worse than my previous fiancée. Is that a rational view of the situation?”
James did not answer him. When he spoke, his voice was soft, tinged with a hint of concern. “Perhaps there is another solution.”
Simon set his empty cup on the corner of the desk and sat to face his friend.
“The reason she came this morning was to enlist my help in arranging passage out of England. Perhaps she would be safe in the colonies.”
Simon leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “You know that will not assure her safety.”
“She cannot stay here without protection, Simon,” the Duke of Collingsworth said in a harsh tone. “She’s worth a bloody fortune. Her stepbrother will move heaven and earth to take it away from her. You know him, Simon. He will not hesitate to get rid of her. He will either put her up before the courts to prove she’s mentally incompetent and have her locked away, or…”
Simon breathed a heavy sigh. “Or he will simply kill her,” he said. “As you and I know, torturing the helpless is second nature to him.”
“It was never proved that he killed that barmaid, Simon. Perhaps—”
“I know.” Simon sat back in his chair and touched the scar that angled from one side of his chest to the other. He tried to control the simmering rage building within him, but the torment on the faces of the people Tanhill had massacred in India refused to go away. He’d lost track of the times he’d wished Tanhill had been successful in his attempt to add his soul to the countless others who’d lost their lives in that faraway country.
James leaned forward. “Tell me what you intend to do, Simon.”
A wave of indecision swelled within his chest. Every promise he’d made after his father had eloped with his fiancée paraded before him like a taunting curse, mocking and ridiculing him with its shrill laughter. He swore he would watch Ravenscroft fall to ruin rather than marry to save it. He swore he’d be content without a wife, home, and family rather than turn to another deceiving woman again.
But he’d also sworn to exact vengeance on Baron Tanhill.
Simon unconsciously fingered the scar on his chest. “I’ll marry her, of course.” A cold chill raced through his body when he said the words.
The look on James’s face exposed a multitude of questions. “What do you think Tanhill will do when he finds out you’ve married his stepsister? When he finds out that you possess the wealth he thought to gain?”
“I do not doubt what he will do. He’ll try to kill me. He must eliminate me before he can go after her.”
“You’ll be in danger, Simon.”
“I’m counting on it.” Simon closed his eyes and breathed in a harsh breath. He was being given the chance of a lifetime. And Tanhill would pay for everything he’d done. “I don’t expect you to understand this, James, but I must have one more chance to conquer my ghosts.”
“Destroying Tanhill is that important to you?”
“You have no idea. I would barter with the devil himself to see the bastard rot in hell.”
“If you marry her, that is exactly what you will be doing.”
“Perhaps.”
James didn’t move for several minutes. Simon could see his watchful gaze studying him. There was a look of genuine concern written on his face.
“What about Jessica, Simon? How will you handle her deafness?”
Simon stood and walked to the window. His vivid refection stared back at him in the glass. “Her deafness will not affect me one way or the other,” he answered. “Just as she will never affect me. Marriage to her will mean nothing to me. We will endure the union because it mutually benefits us both. Nothing more.”
Simon braced one arm against the window frame. “I will provide her the protection she needs. In return, she will provide me the wealth I need to save Ravenscroft and make my estates profitable—”
“Simon,” James interrupted. There was a warning in his voice.
Simon had not heard the door open, nor had he realized she’d entered the room.
Ignoring the unease he felt, he lifted his head. His gaze met Jessica Stanton’s refection in the window. She stood in the doorway with Melinda at her side. Her eyes focused on his refection in the glass. He thought he saw a flash
of pain in her eyes before she lifted her chin and raised her shoulders almost in defiance.
Bloody hell. How long had she been there? How much of what he’d said had she seen?
Simon looked at her eyes, her pale cheeks, and her lips. The lips he’d kissed last night.
Uncomfortable with the memories, he glowered, then turned his gaze from her face.
He stared at her hands fisted at her side. Hands that had touched him with a gentleness he’d never experienced before, then clung to him with a ferociousness he couldn’t comprehend.
He pushed away the possibility that he cared what happened to her, one way or another. He did not. The last thing he wanted was emotional involvement with another deceiving woman.
James started across the room to escort both the women to a seat, but stopped short when Miss Stanton raised her hand in warning. “I cannot stay, Your Grace. I have only come to offer my apology and beg you will find a moment to visit with me when you are no longer occupied.”
Collingsworth shook his head. “No, Jessica. Please, stay. Together we will work out a solution to your problem.” He glanced at Simon for help.
Simon said nothing.
“No,” she answered, the glare in her eyes lethal. The tone of her voice deadly. “There is nothing more to be said. Everything I had to say to the earl was said last night.”
Simon took a step toward her. “I think there is a great deal left, Miss Stanton.” He noticed the slight lift to her shoulders and the determined gleam in her eyes. “You came to me last night with an offer of marriage. I have reconsidered your offer.”
“I, too, have reconsidered my offer,” she said. There was a pleasing expression on her face, but when she spoke, her words hissed through her teeth and spilled into the room like venom. “It will be a cold day in hell, my lord, before I will marry you.”
He held her icy glare for a long moment, and then he smiled. “Then you’d best ring for another wrap, my lady. Because the temperature is dropping even as we speak.”
