“What?!”
“I won’t marry you, Noble.”
Chapter 20
“What do you mean, you won’t marry me? Or do you mean you can’t?” Noble demanded, vaulting to his feet. His face was set in grim, determined lines and Venice found herself backing away from his anger. “If it’s because of your father, Venice, I’ll deal with him. I promise,” he said.
“No. It’s not just him—”
“Not just him? What, then?” His angry expression turned grim. “Are you betrothed to someone else? Because I assure you that after last night, my claim far exceeds that of any other beau’s, whether you’ve had the damned banns published or not!”
“No. There’s no one else. I’m not engaged.”
“Then what the bloody hell do you mean?” He raked his hand through his hair, obviously making an effort to stay calm. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
She should have known he’d react like this. Noble was . . . noble.
“I just can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
He strode one step closer, his head lowered belligerently.
“You’re not going to look me in the eye and tell me there’s been someone before me, because even though I might not be an expert regarding the ways of a man and a woman, I sure as hell know enough about female anatomy to know there hasn’t been anyone else.”
“Of course not!” she gasped and found that she had taken a step forward. Still, some buried part of her could not help but be pleased that Noble did not have a lot of experience with other women.
“Then why the bloody hell won’t you marry me?” he demanded. They were standing nearly toe to toe.
Her gaze fell before his. “I . . . couldn’t handle it.”
“Handle what?” His golden eyes narrowed as an idea occurred to him. “Regrets so soon, Venice?” he asked bitterly. “What happened to ‘I love you’? Or did you get lust all mixed up with love?”
“You big, dumb oaf! I do love you!”
“Right.” There was a mountain of disbelief in the single sharp word.
“I do,” she said simply, lifting her chin. “And you know it.”
He stared at her for a moment, confusion warring with anguish until at last, with an oath, he grabbed hold of her shoulder and gave her a little shake.
“You’re right. I do know it. And that’s why this doesn’t make any sense. Why won’t you marry me?”
Taking hold of his shirt collar, she gave him her own shake. “Don’t you see?” And now it was her voice that spilled over with anguish. “We’d just end up hating each other.”
“Hating each other?” he echoed in disbelief. “Why would we—Does this have anything to do with me being the cook’s son and you being a rich man’s daughter?”
“No,” she said. “Yes.”
“Which one is it, Venice?”
“You’d end up despising me, Noble. I couldn’t stand that.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and tucking the top of her head beneath his chin. She smelled musty and pine tarry and altogether wonderful.
“Honey, you’re not making sense. I love you.”
“It wouldn’t last.”
“It’s already lasted. More than a decade.”
“Only because you haven’t had to live with me, live as a Leiland, feel the burden of Leiland duty.”
“Leiland duty? I have no intention of living as a Leiland, Venice. I have every intention of living pretty much as I have for the past seven years. I sorta thought you found that appealing.”
“Oh, I do. I wish I could.”
“No reason you can’t.”
“There’s every reason,” she said sadly.
“I assume the damn foundation is what you mean by ‘Leiland duty.’ Venice, your daddy lives to run that little empire. He doesn’t need you.”
“I know. But he won’t live forever.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Noble said sardonically, lifting a strand of her hair and fingering the fine texture.
“Eventually,” Venice continued, “I will inherit certain obligations and duties.”
“Listen, if you’re worried about ole Trey thinking I married you for his money, frankly Venice, I wouldn’t touch another red cent of the Leiland estate. The price first time around was a mite high.”
She pushed herself away from him. “That’s just it, Noble,” she said. “The foundation, the power, the wealth, that’s who I am. It’s useless to try and change what you are. It only leads to heartbreak. I don’t want to spend each day loving you, only to have it all fall apart.”
He was confused and angry. “It’s not going to fall apart.”
“I couldn’t stand to lose you then. And I won’t. You can’t ask me to!” Her voice broke.
He gritted his teeth, trying to find words to make her believe in him, believe in their love.
“Venice, I am asking you and I’ll keep on asking you until you say yes. I know we don’t come from the same background, but we want the same things out of life. We’re both adventurers, remember? We’ll have a grand old time, even without your father’s blessing, money, or duty.”
“I want to believe there’s a happily ever after—”
“Believe it.”
“I can’t,” she cried.
“You won’t!”
“I won’t,” she admitted, her head hanging.
He let loose an oath and, closing his right hand into a fist, punched his open palm with it. Venice stared at him in dismay.
“Wait a minute,” he said suddenly, impaling her with a glare “Wait just a minute here. You mean you never had any intention of marrying me? You made love with me without any idea of making a commitment?”
“You didn’t ask me what my future intentions were when you—”
“You led me on!” he thundered.
“I did not!” she answered with a mortified gasp. “I didn’t realize that you’d assume that because we . . . just because I—”
“You didn’t think that just because we shared our bodies in the most intimate way human beings can, just because we are both of age and unwed, just because we said we loved each other, I would make this enormous assumption that we would marry. Well, I am sorry I was so bloody impertinent,” he ground out, “but you, m’dear, shouldn’t have ever made love with me if you had no intention of honoring our unspoken commitment.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry!” he shouted. “I want you to marry me!”
“Don’t you see? It’s history repeating itself.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, throwing his hands up in despair.
“We’re just like my father and—”
“Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo!” The sudden call echoed through the small canyon, resounding with cheerfulness and goodwill.
“Venice! There you are! My dear!”
Venice started. With a frustrated growl, Noble spun around. A small, dapper figure came trotting across the meadow on a diminutive burro. Milton Leiland, Venice’s uncle, to the rescue.
A damned twelve hours too late!
Milton lifted his beaver skin top hat from his balding pate as he jostled forth. Gaily he waved it over his head while cupping a hand around his mouth and hollering over his shoulder. “They’re in the vale, Carter! Just as you supposed, old man!”
“Uncle Milton!” Venice called, bolting from Noble’s grip and running to meet her uncle. “Thank heavens, you’re all right!”
He trotted up to her and hastily clambered off the burro’s back, catching Venice in a tight embrace. “I’m all right? Of course, I’m all right!” he said. He pushed her gently from his embrace, holding her at arm’s length, his grin broadening. “Until two days ago, I had no idea you were even here, in the territory. What a delightful surprise! Just like old times, eh? Have you come to burn every pot in my camp again?”
He patted Venice on the top of the head, beaming hap
pily. Venice blushed.
“Must say, you had us a bit concerned for a while there. Trees-Too-High and Crooked Hand said you were traveling with some hairy chap and only a half day’s ride behind them.”
“Trees-Too-High is with you?” Venice asked.
“Not any more, he delivered the merchandise— and thank you for the fossilized nautilus shells, Noble. Quite nice examples of their sort—told me about you and this chap, and then he and Crooked Hand left.”
“When I get my hands on that—”
“He couldn’t have been talking about Noble, here?” Milton asked incredulously, giving Noble a reproachful look.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Milton, you know me better than that!” Noble said, disgusted.
Venice turned and fixed him with an equally reproachful look. “You didn’t tell me you and Uncle Milton knew each other well.”
“Didn’t think to mention it,” he said.
“Who was the bounder?”
“Which one?” Venice asked narrowly.
Milton took Venice’s question seriously, which didn’t make Noble feel too happy. “This hairy fellow Trees-Too-High mentioned.”
“Cassius Thornton Reed,” Noble ground out.
“And where is this man? I admit I was slightly nonplused when I heard that some chap had sent Trees-Too-High and Crooked Hand away, but then I didn’t know Noble was with you, too, Venice. Thought the Reed chappie might be something of an opportunist.”
“Oh, he is that,” Venice said tightly
“Eh?”
“It’s a long story, dear.” Venice smiled wanly and touched her uncle’s cheek. “So, you aren’t a welcoming committee but rather a search party”
“Well, when you didn’t arrive and didn’t arrive, I thought it best we have a look see.” Milton’s canny gaze, so similar to Trevor’s in its intelligence, passed over Venice and rested on Noble. “Of course, as I’ve said, had I known you were safely with Noble, I wouldn’t have bothered leaving the excavation site at all!”
“Safely with Noble!” Noble cursed loudly. Milton cheerfully disregarded his outburst and stood back, gripping Venice’s shoulder and studying her up and down. He took in her bloodstained shirt, dirty jacket, and tangled hair, then Noble’s bare chest, strapped ribs, and plastered cuts.
“How glad I am to see,” he finally said with absolute sincerity, “that everything is just fine.”
“. . . a magnificent discovery! Nothing like this has ever seen the light of day. You will be spellbound, Venice. Spellbound.” Milton paused in the middle of his excited recitation, dabbing at a small piece of the omelet aux herbes that clung to the corner of his mouth.
Templeton, Milton’s long-suffering valet, scurried over and placed a plate of delicate lemon meringues in front of Venice. “And would madame care for more tea?”
“No, thank you, Templeton,” Venice said in her grandest tones, hoping to impress upon Noble how sophisticated she was.
She should have known he’d propose marriage. While she did not doubt that he loved her, she doubted even less that his proposal came from his lifelong drive to protect her, even from the consequences of her own foolish heart . . . and body.
Noble was simply “doing the right thing” and it was up to her to make him see that she was a worldly, sophisticated woman who didn’t require wedlock from her sexual partners.
She stole a look at him. He was shoveling pate and watercress sandwiches into his mouth. Carter Makepeace, Milton’s companion and colleague, made vague motions with his fork at the desserts. “May I?”
Caught dipping her hands into a crystal finger bowl, Venice hastily wiped her fingers dry on her linen napkin before passing the silver platter to Carter. With a look of satisfaction, he slid three of the airy pastries onto his china plate.
She still had a hard time believing she was in the middle of the wilderness eating a meal worthy of the Savoy. A scant six hours after Milton had ridden into their campsite, he’d had Noble and her packed, escorted them to the excavation site, and settled them down to lunch.
They were sitting beneath a pennant-topped, open-sided tent. The sweet, rain-washed breeze ruffled the skirts of the Irish linen tablecloth and the lazy drone of bees provided a lulling musical backdrop to their conversation.
It was relaxing, sumptuous, as exotic as any Indian bazaar or African safari. Except Venice wasn’t enjoying it. She couldn’t enjoy anything with Noble McCaneaghy’s hard amber eyes watching her from across the table.
“. . . I can hardly wait to show you,” Milton was saying, spooning sugar into his teacup.
Carter bobbed his head vigorously in agreement. “Shan’t see the like of it again should I live to be a hundred.”
Venice forced herself to smile at the two older men as they sat grinning at each other.
“Where is it?” Noble asked, sounding only vaguely interested as he folded his napkin.
“In a narrow chasm,” Carter said.
Milton nodded. “When we scouted here a few years ago it was no more than a crack a few inches wide. I hypothesize that each spring it has filled with water. And each winter the water has frozen and the resultant ice expanded, acting as a wedge, forcing the rock apart. Over the past few seasons, the crack has grown into a good-sized fissure.”
“And the ancient sediment it cleaves,” Carter said portentously, “has held our find trapped in a rocky crypt. Until now.”
“That’s quite a theory,” said Noble.
“Thank you,” said Milton before continuing in a soft, dreamy voice. “Now it waits, entombed in ice and rock, on the threshold of breaking free from the very earth that has shielded it for countless generations.”
“What is it?” Noble asked, settling back and balancing on the back two legs of his chair. He shot Venice another glance, another one filled with dark promise.
Milton blinked, clapping his hand against his thigh. “Don’t know,” he said. “Certainly it is some type of prehistoric creature.”
“An ancient animal?” Venice asked, her interest finally awakening. A fossil that could grant Salvage a reprieve from the closing of the spur line?
“Is it remarkable enough to warrant a long-term investigation? Do you think Father will agree to further funding?” Venice asked.
Milton furrowed his brow. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. As for that financing coming from the Leiland Foundation . . . we’ll just have to see what they’re willing to offer.”
Carter popped another meringue in his mouth. “They shall have to be very, very generous.”
“Why’s that?” Noble asked, the front legs of his chair coming to earth with a thump.
“I expect we shall have half a dozen societies and foundations scurrying about begging to give us financial backing,” Milton said.
Noble shook his head. “Trey ain’t gonna like that kinda attitude in you, boy!” His beautifully molded lips were set in a tight line.
Venice tensed, reading his bitterness. How could he want anything to do with his enemy’s daughter, anything to do with the man who’d offered him to the Union Army as cannon fodder?
Lord, Noble had even saved Cassius’s miserable life. “Heroic” was just part and parcel of the man, as instinctive for him as breathing!
With a little start, Venice realized she had been staring at him. He was returning her regard steadily, watching her as the murmur of academic conversation flowed back and forth between Milton and Carter.
“I always thought you two got on rather well,” Milton said, his words shocking Venice from her private absorption. “And yet, ever since we’ve been here, you two haven’t traded a word.”
“What?” Venice blushed.
“You and Noble,” Milton said insistently. “You used to trail after him like a puppy when he lived with you at the Park Avenue address. Poor lad, couldn’t turn around without running into you.”
“Yeah.” With a determined movement, Noble pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “That brings up some
thing I’ve been meaning to tell you, Milton. Venice and I have a little announcement—”
She bolted to her feet, upending her own chair.
“Yes! We . . . we are—” she gulped. She couldn’t let him do this. He was scowling at her fiercely.
“Yes?” Carter asked with interest.
“We are delighted you’ve found something that can insure the future of Salvage,” Venice said.
Milton and Carter traded confused looks and Noble made a sound of disgust.
“Of all the ridicul—” he started to say.
“Ridiculous?” she asked icily.
“Did you two have a fight?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Venice said, trying to escape the conversation.
“Yes, you do,” Milton insisted. “It used to be ‘Slats this’ and ‘Slats that,’ ‘I have to find Slats,’ and ‘Slats says.’ I remember feeling quite jealous when I visited. I was used to being the center of attention and then suddenly this young lad appeared and quite stole your affection away.” Milton smiled.
“I don’t remember,” Venice murmured faintly. How well she remembered.
“Certainly, you do,” Milton said.
“You must,” Carter seconded.
“You weren’t there!” Immediately, she was embarrassed by her rudeness to Carter. He, however, didn’t seem to mind.
“I heard all about it,” he said, nodding sagely. “Feel quite a member of the family. Milton’s told me everything. Everything. And really, Miss Venice, you do remember. Whyever would you say you don’t?”
“Maybe she did follow me about,” Noble broke in. “I was handy enough for a time. Then she got interested in other things. Probably bugs.” The grin he flashed didn’t reach his eyes. “End of story. There’s no reason on God’s green earth why Trevor’s daughter should remember much about a brat from belowstairs.”
A muscle balled in his lean, hard jaw. His gaze was fixed and flat. Venice doubted whether anyone other than herself saw the dull, red flush on the bronzed skin of his strong throat.
Lord, he must be very hurt to say something like this.
She’d never meant to hurt him.
“Noble,” Milton said kindly, “I think you underestimate your place in Venice’s heart.”
Connie Brockway Page 24
