Only Mine

by Cheryl Holt

  “I’m certain our food is cold which is all your fault.”

  “I didn’t realize I had a supper engagement or I would have returned sooner.”

  “Liar. It’s occurred to me that you never do as you’re bid.”

  “You’re probably correct.”

  “What was your parents’ method for dealing with such insolent conduct?”

  “Well, my mother died when I was born so she had no chance to mold me.”

  “What about your father? Did he ever try to beat it out of you?”

  “My father? Gad, no. He was the most congenial man who ever lived. He thought I was amusing and clever.”

  “Then he was insane.”

  “Most people believed he was.”

  “Should I assume you inherited his deranged tendencies?”

  “Most people believe that too.”

  He snorted then poured his own glass of wine. “Where did you go today?”

  “I told you: riding.”

  “You didn’t take a maid or a footman with you. I don’t like that.”

  “Why would I care? Besides, I don’t have a maid or a footman to tag after me.”

  “You could have used one of mine.”

  “It wasn’t necessary.”

  “It’s dangerous for a woman to be out on the road alone.”

  “Not me,” she insisted. “I’m accustomed to being by myself, and I had my pistol. I was fine.”

  He scowled ferociously. “You’d have shot any miscreant who dared to accost you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Every time you open your mouth, I’m more astonished by you.” He shook his head in amazement. “Who did you visit?”

  “No one.”

  “Miss Fenwick! You’re lying again. I’m positive you make a habit of it, and I’m positive you’re adept and rarely caught out, but don’t lie to me. I don’t like it.”

  She pondered whether she should admit to having a sister, to calling on her, and she couldn’t discern any disadvantage.

  “I have a sister nearby.”

  “A sister! Well!” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he meticulously scrutinized her. Ultimately, he said, “Yes, you have a sister, and she’s nearby. Was it a pleasant visit?”

  “No. She’s always been miserable and horrid. Is there some reason I’m suffering through an interrogation?”

  “Yes. I’m trying to figure you out.”

  “I’m not that complex.”

  “I disagree. In my view, you’re incredibly complex.”

  “Why? Because I don’t conform to society’s rules?”

  “Yes, precisely.” He raised a brow. “Where is your precious Mr. Boswell tonight? Is he running the card games again?”

  “Actually, I just saw him. He’s on his way to London with your brother. They’re bringing doxies to entertain you.”

  “Splendid.”

  “Once they arrive, might I hope I will be free of your dreadful attentions?”

  “My attentions are not dreadful, Annabel. You like me. Don’t pretend.”

  “I don’t like you. I can’t abide men, I don’t like bullies, and I never involve myself in flirtations.”

  “What a boring life you must lead.”

  “You’re wrong. I live a very exciting life.”

  “You really think I’m a bully?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You had a footman accost me at the door. On your orders, he wouldn’t let me wash or change, and he dragged me here.”

  “He didn’t drag you. You walked in on your own two feet.”

  “But he told me he’d been commanded to tie me up if he had to. He was quite distressed over the notion.”

  “I’m delighted you didn’t force him into it.”

  “Is it your habit to have women delivered to you against their will? You’re rich and handsome which leaves most females breathless with anticipation. Can’t you find a strumpet who will consent without being compelled?”

  “I’ve never acted this way before, Annabel. You simply bring out the worst in me so I’m behaving like a boor.”

  “I don’t forgive you.”

  “I neither seek nor require your forgiveness.”

  He stood and went over to the sideboard. “I didn’t know what you like. I had them send up beef and potatoes. It looks as if there’s a pudding or two. And some pie.” He glanced back. “Will any of it suit you?”

  “All of it will be fine.”

  He came over and surprised her by setting a plate down in front of her. Then he dished up his own plate. He sat again and started to eat as if he were starving. She watched him, and she was gaping like a fool.

  “What?” he finally said.

  “I’m stunned by how completely you overwhelm me.”

  “That’s understandable. I’m an overwhelming fellow.”

  She chuckled then tentatively picked at a slice of roast beef. For some reason, she was embarrassed to be dining with him, as if it were scandalous.

  “If you don’t join me,” he said, “I will march round the table and feed you.”

  Her cheeks heated. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would so put some food in your belly. Now.”

  “I’m not a soldier in your regiment, Captain.”

  “Good thing or I’d have to flog you to get you to listen to me.”

  She took a few bites then a few more. It had been a long and trying day, and as the meal continued she felt calmer and more in control. She swallowed every last morsel then downed her wine. He was very attuned to her, and the minute her glass was empty he filled it.

  He returned to the sideboard and dished up a second plate for himself.

  “Would you like another helping?” he asked.

  “No, thank you. It was all delicious, and I’m stuffed.”

  He came over and dug into his food again. She sipped her wine, wondering what would happen once he’d finished, how she’d escape without a noxious incident occurring. She was certain when he was full he’d have other activities on his mind.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said. “Your parents are deceased, and you have a sister. Anyone else?”

  “No.”

  He studied her eyes then scoffed. “Why are you so furtive? Why would it be dangerous or scary to admit to having relatives?”

  “How do you read me so easily? Usually, I’m extremely opaque.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Tell me about your family,” she suggested instead. In her experience, men always liked to talk about themselves.

  “Why must I? I’ve been publicly chewed over for a decade. There’s naught about me you haven’t heard.”

  “I could have been trapped in a cave so I’m the only person in the kingdom who doesn’t know your secrets.”

  “I have no secrets. My life is an open book with tragedy written on every page.”

  She was aware of all the stories: about his little cousin who’d vanished from his cradle, about him and his other cousin, Soloman Grey, being accused of perfidy in the child’s disappearance, about the contested earldom he was about to inherit.

  “Is it hard to be you?” she asked.

  “No. Why would you pose such a ridiculous question? I’m wealthy and imperious and commanding. Even without the earldom dumped into my lap, I was obnoxiously rich. Now I’ll be even richer. Matters are working out brilliantly.”

  “Will you miss the army?”

  For an instant, some of his arrogant demeanor slipped. “Yes, I’ll miss it very much.”

  “Are you ready to be a husband? You don’t seem like the marrying kind to me.”

  “Aren’t all men the marrying kind?”

  “Society insists they are, but I’ve never seen any indication that men make good husbands. What is your fiancée like?”

  “Young. Pretty. Rich too.”

  “Do you suppose she will be worth the bother?”

  He laughed. “I’m sure n
ot.”

  “Then why go through with it? I’ve never understood men and their willingness to bind themselves. It leads to so much unhappiness.”

  “Are you predicting I’ll be unhappy?”

  “In my opinion, most husbands are.”

  “Isn’t that a ringing endorsement for matrimony?”

  He laughed again, his eyes twinkling with merriment, and she had to look away. When he was charming, when he was chatty and funny, she wound up liking him, but she didn’t want to like him. She wanted to enjoy his hospitality then leave—unscathed—as soon as he was done extending it.

  He’d cleaned his plate again and finished his wine. He set the goblet down with a determined thud then eased back in his seat.

  “You didn’t attend me this morning, Annabel.”

  “I was busy.”

  “Yes, but my wishes take precedence over yours. How are we to resolve this situation?”

  “I’ll introduce you to the doxies Michael and your brother are bringing with them. Maybe you’ll be so smitten you won’t need to fuss with me.”

  “I don’t believe that’s a possibility, Annabel. I’m quite fascinated by you.”

  “I have no idea why.”

  “There’s something happening here I can’t ignore.”

  “Try to ignore it. We’ll both be better off.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve never met a woman who was so adamantly opposed to spending time with me. Not in my entire life.”

  “Is that why you’re pestering me? Perhaps my refusal to swoon over you has dented your ego and you’re eager to win my favor just to prove you can.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply tantalized beyond measure.”

  “Don’t be absurd. You’re a grown man, and we’re not animals. We can control our conduct.”

  “There’s the problem for you, Annabel. I don’t want to control myself, and I don’t want you to either.”

  BENJAMIN STOOD AND SCOOPED her off her chair. He carried her over to the sofa and sat down. She was on her knees and straddling his lap. Her shapely breasts were right in his face, her cleavage tempting him to proceed to conclusions that were insane.

  She didn’t hiss or complain over his high-handed manner. She merely glared at him as if he were an offensive lout.

  “Will I ever be lucky enough to see you without your clothes?” he asked.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Sparks ignite when we’re together. Can you imagine how spectacular it would feel for us to be lovers?”

  “What I can imagine, Captain, is that you’d use and abuse me for a few weeks, recklessly plant a babe in my belly then trot off to your fancy wedding without glancing back.”

  “You have a very low opinion of the type of man I am.”

  “Don’t take it personally. It’s the same opinion I have of all men.”

  “You consort with Michael Boswell. Aren’t you worried about him behaving in the same despicable fashion?”

  “He’s fully cognizant of what I’ll allow and what I won’t.”

  “We could be cautious, Annabel. You’re a woman of the world. You must realize there are ways to please ourselves without causing any lasting damage.”

  “But in the end, you’d still rush off to your wedding and your bride.”

  “Yes, of course I would.”

  “I won’t trifle with a married man.”

  “I’m not married yet.”

  She scoffed with derision. “Everyone keeps saying that about you. Are you of such debauched character that you would disgrace yourself right before your nuptials? Don’t you care how others view you?”

  “Not particularly. They’ve always thought the worst.”

  “What does your bride think of your bachelor party?”

  “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he was disgusted to hear himself claim.

  “Won’t rumors drift to London?”

  “Probably, but she’ll ignore them.”

  “Is she that naïve? She’s not concerned about your womanizing? What?”

  “No, she’s simply determined to be a countess. It’s what she’s always wanted, and she’s about to cross the finish line. She would never let a paltry rumor prevent her from attaining her goal.”

  “I don’t understand aristocrats,” she said.

  “What’s to understand?”

  “You’re about to shackle yourself to a woman whom you don’t seem to like. Why not wed the woman of your dreams? Wouldn’t you like to be happy?”

  “I’m happy,” he insisted, but as he uttered the statement a quiet voice in his head was calling him a liar.

  He’d been happy in the army. He’d been happy away from London and removed from the burdens of his family.

  He’d been raised to be an earl, had expected he would be an earl then it was instantly snatched away by his Uncle Ralston choosing a bride and quickly siring a son and heir.

  At the time, he’d been young and foolish, subject to his mother’s whims and authority, and she’d convinced him he’d been cheated by his uncle’s marriage. For a while, he’d been bitter but then Uncle Ralston had died, and Baby Caleb had disappeared.

  Suddenly, Benjamin was in line to be the earl again, but it had been delivered at too high a cost. It had ruined his life and Soloman’s life. It had killed Caleb’s mother who’d been eaten alive by regret and animosity.

  And of course, Caleb was just...gone. Soloman had never believed the baby was dead, and Benjamin wasn’t certain what he believed, but he felt as if he was receiving the title under false pretenses. It was being given to him under a black cloud of suspicion with most people still claiming the Crown should have found a way to keep him from inheriting.

  With all of it starting on such a negative note, how could any good come of it? Yet he was a man who did his duty. Caleb had been declared legally dead which meant Benjamin was now the family patriarch and would be Lord Lyndon. He would proceed as circumstances required. He would step into the role that had been forced on him. He would work to be glad.

  But...happy? He didn’t think he was—or ever would be.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.

  “Should you? What if I chatter like a magpie to the entire kingdom?”

  “You never would.”

  He couldn’t deduce why he was so sure of it. She was nearly a stranger, but she generated a unique intimacy as if he’d known her forever. He could share any woe or problem. He didn’t trust easily, and he especially didn’t trust any woman so he couldn’t figure out what was causing the peculiar condition and he wouldn’t try to figure it out.

  “No, I would never betray you, Captain,” she said. “What’s your secret? Get it off your chest.”

  “My brother, Wesley, is madly in love with my fiancée.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “Half of his motive for arranging this party is so he can inform Veronica about how badly I’m behaving.”

  “He wouldn’t!”

  “He would. He’s that ridiculously smitten.”

  “Why are you marrying her then? Why hurt your brother like that?”

  “He loves Veronica, but she doesn’t love him, and she’s desperate to be a countess.”

  “The whole thing sounds ghastly.”

  “It is. A gentleman can’t cry off, and she doesn’t want me to.”

  “You’ve discuss it with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will definitely make for some awkward Sunday dinners.”

  She rested an elbow on his shoulder, and she studied him. She looked beautiful and alluring, and just that moment if she’d been shrewd enough to ask he might have agreed to give her whatever she requested.

  “My poor, dear Captain,” she said. “How will you ever survive the coming weeks?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps that’s why I’m so obsessed with you. You distract me from my troubles.”

  She smirked. “What troubles have you? I can’t c
ount a single one. You’ve had a stellar career in the army. You were already rich and successful, and now you’re about to be an earl so you’ll be even richer and more successful. You’re marrying a pretty girl from a top-lofty family who’s wealthy too. Which of those situations would you describe as trouble?”

  “When you put it like that I seem awfully petty.”

  “Yes, you do. Trouble is not having a penny to your name. Trouble is having no food in the larder, no roof over your head, and growing up with no mother to watch over you. Trouble is having a negligent, irresponsible father who was always hiding from debt collectors. Trouble is your father getting himself killed for no reason at all, leaving you alone to fend for yourself. That’s trouble, Captain Grey. Your only problem is having to pick the mansion you’ll live in after the ceremony.”

  “I stand corrected,” he murmured.

  She realized what she’d admitted about her past, and her cheeks flushed bright red. He assessed her, his blue eyes digging deep, and she didn’t glance away, didn’t try to avoid his blatant evaluation.

  “Did those things happen to you?” he quietly asked. “Was that a short and succinct biography of your childhood?”

  “No,” she said, “my childhood was a grand adventure.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yes.”

  He could tell she was lying. Her face was too expressive, and she couldn’t conceal any emotion from him. He found himself greatly disturbed by the facts she’d revealed. She was so remarkable, and he didn’t like to suppose she’d struggled, didn’t like to imagine her hungry or scared or on her own.

  The oddest sensations swept over him, and his masculine instincts surged to the fore. He wanted to make promises he’d never keep. He wanted to offer boons he’d never actually extend. He wanted her by his side for as long as she’d agree to stay.

  But such notions were madness in the extreme, and he had to bite down hard so no inappropriate words tumbled out of his mouth. When he spoke vows, he kept them. It’s the sort of man he was. He would never tender any proposition to Annabel Fenwick that couldn’t be supplied and concluded in the next month.

  She was still on her knees, still straddling his lap, and he eased her forward and kissed her. Kissing he understood. Passion he understood. It was the pitfalls of verbal conversation that vexed him.

  For a few minutes, she permitted the embrace then she drew away, and his pulse raced at seeing how she smiled at him.