Candice Hern (77 page)

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Meg dragged her head out of the clouds and fell back to earth with a thud. Oh, dear God. Mr. Herriot had been right, after all.

He does not marry them.

She had been so happy. She had been flying, soaring with the shared passion of Sedge's kisses. She had been so lost to him that she had wanted to melt right into him. And, as always, she had been entranced by his smile. By his eyes.

He will only make one sort of offer to a woman.

What a fool she had been!

With a firm resolve to maintain her composure, Meg gently pulled away and stepped back slightly within the circle of Sedge's arms, her hands resting lightly on his chest. She steeled herself against those eyes still burning with passion, determined not to show him how much his words had affected her.

"Let me be certain I understand," she said, in a calm voice. "You want us to be together. To make love together. Morning and night, I believe you said."

He flashed his most seductive grin. "Oh, yes, Meg. I have never wanted anything so much in my life."

"And you would put your wealth at my disposal?" she continued. "Give me anything I wanted?"

"Of course."

"Jewels, for instance?"

"The best, the brightest, the biggest money can buy," he said with enthusiasm.

"And carriages? Horses?"

"Anything, my love." He was positively beaming. "The best from Thornhill or Tattersall's or any other stable you wish. And carriages to make you the envy of every woman in London."

"And a house in Town, no doubt?"

"Naturally," he said. "It only awaits your special touch to make it your own."

"Naturally," she said through clenched teeth. So, he had the house already. Had probably used it for all his past mistresses. And now he expected her to move in and take their place. If she were not so angry, she might have died on the spot of mortification. How dare he! Meg dropped her hands to Sedge's shoulders, and gently pushed away.

"Meg?"

Sedge allowed her to extricate herself from his embrace, and she turned away from his imploring gaze. She held her hands tightly clasped in front of her in an attempt to still their trembling. How could he have asked such a thing of her? A knot of anger began to twist like a knife in her chest—anger at Sedge for daring to so insult her, and anger at herself for allowing him to believe he could do so.

She kept her back to him. "I am sorry, my lord," she said, trying to keep her voice level, "but I cannot accept your offer. I think it is best that you leave Thornhill at once."

Meg heard Sedge catch his breath, as though startled. Had he been so sure of her, then? He did not speak, and Meg turned and headed toward the library door. She no longer wanted to be in the same room with him. She had to get away.

"But, Meg ...," Sedge said in a choked, plaintive voice. He caught her by the arm, but she wrenched away and stormed out of the room. She did not stay to hear what further insults he might hurl at her and neither did she turn around to look at him. If she looked at him again, she might feel obliged to strike him. She had to get away.

She hurried through the corridor, slowing her pace when she encountered one of the housemaids and not wishing to appear anything other than normal. Besides, she need not hurry. He could hardly run after her with his broken leg. And if he so much as tried, she might be inclined to break the other for him. Holding her head high, she slowly walked up the stairs. As she neared her bedchamber, however, her pace became faster until she almost ran when she finally reached her own room. She flung open the door, slammed it behind her, and threw herself headlong on the bed.

What a fool she had been!

Taking deep gulps of air in hopes of calming her racing heart, she considered her own stupidity. Mr. Herriot had tried to warn her. But the moment Sedge kissed her, she forgot all about those warnings and twisted the whole situation to suit her own notions. But Sedge's notions were very different. He wanted her for his mistress. He could not have been more plain. He wanted her body and was willing to pay for it.

What a fool she had been!

Despite her attempts to remain calm, Meg could no longer hold back her tears. She buried her face in a pillow and wept for her broken heart. Her entire body was wracked with uncontrollable sobs as she replayed in her mind all that had taken place, all the words spoken, and tried to make some sense of it

She still did not fully understand all that had happened in the library. Terrence was right about one thing: she was very naive where men were concerned. She should never have let him kiss her. Even knowing that Sedge was a rake and remembering all that his cousin had said, she had not pulled away from his kiss. Not like she had done before. Why had she let him kiss her when she knew how dangerous it would be?

No, that was not entirely true. Meg had not in fact, known how dangerous it could be. She had been kissed a few times in the past. Young men had more than once tried to steal a kiss behind the stables or in the gardens, for which she generally had boxed their ears. But even when she had allowed it out of sheer curiosity, it had never been more than a simple meeting of lips. No sparks. No fire. Not at all dangerous.

She had not been even remotely prepared for what Sedge had done to her. Though his first kiss had begun not all that differently from the others, it had ignited a spark between them almost instantly, and her body had caught fire. That was the only way she could define how she had felt with him, as though she were on fire. And the only difference between Sedge and all those other young men was that she loved him, so she had assigned all her own passion to love. She had been certain that two people who shared such a fiery moment must also share deep feelings for one another. For Meg could not imagine that it was the mere touching of lips and tongues that had caused her body to react so. It was because it was Sedge. It was all wrapped up in her love for him. It was a part of the expression of her love for him. It only followed, did it not that his passion also sprung from love? As hers had?

And it was that perfect blending of love and desire that had caused her to allow him to do those other things, to put his tongue in her mouth and press their bodies together in that intimate manner. She had no experience of such things, but she had wanted it. Oh, how she had wanted it He had made her want it

And like the naive idiot that she was, she thought he made her want it because he loved her. Because that's what people in love did.

What a fool she had been.

Just when Meg was certain that he loved her, he had thrown those awful words at her. Though surprised at first by the boldness of his declaration, she thought he might simply be overcome with the ardor of the moment. That words of love, even words of marriage, would soon follow. If they had followed, the rest would have been acceptable. For if Sedge had loved her and wanted to marry her, she would be pleased that he also desired her body. It would be right.

But those words had never come. He only wanted her body. And he would use his wealth to tempt her, to give her anything she wanted in return.

Meg sobbed and sobbed, pounding her fist into the pillow until it was flat. She was humiliated that Sedge could even imagine that she would consider such an offer. And she was embarrassed at her own foolish infatuation and how it had allowed her to so badly misjudge him. How could she have loved such a man?

Terrence had said she was naive. Well, she would not be naive any longer. Now she knew what Gram meant when she said all men were lustful creatures. Meg would never again mistake a man's lust for love. She had learned her lesson well.

Her sobbing subsided at last to a gentle cry. She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. Thank God he was leaving. He was leaving this very morning and she would never have to see him again.

It occurred to her that when Sedge and his cousin departed, Terrence and Gram would expect her to be available to say farewell, to send them on their way with kind words and good wishes. Meg did not care to be a party to their leave-taking. She could never look him in the eye again, and Gram and her brother would certainly find her behavior odd. She must get away and stay away until they had left Thornhill.

She began pulling at the tapes of her morning dress. She would take Bristol out for a hard, long gallop.

Chapter 14

Sedge stood in the library for some minutes, without moving, almost without thinking. His thoughts had been scrambled and agitated before, but now it seemed his brain had turned itself off entirely. He felt numb, unable to move or think or speak.

At last, he heard voices in the hall and was obliged to stir himself. He bent to pick up his crutches, lifted himself onto them, and hobbled to the door. He was met by Sir Terrence and Albert.

"Ah, Sedgewick," Sir Terrence said. "I understand you are leaving us this morning."

"Yes."

"I have told him, Sedge, that we will be taking my carriage," Albert said. "It is all packed and stands ready for us. Sir Terrence has agreed to send your curricle along with a groom later."

"If you do not mind the delay of a day or two," Sir Terrence said. "I am afraid there is some pressing business today that does not allow me to spare anyone. But I will certainly have your rig and team driven to Town as soon as possible."

"Fine."

"I was telling Sir Terrence how much we appreciated his hospitality," Albert said with a pointed look at Sedge. "How grateful we are that he came upon your accident, brought you to Thornhill, and had you nursed back to health."

"Yes. Very grateful."

"Why, only yesterday Sedge was lauding the generosity and kindness of you and your family, Sir Terrence."

Albert's eyes kept darting to Sedge in an apparent hope that he would speak for himself. But Sedge was not capable of rational speech just now. Perhaps later.

"He was telling me how he could not have asked for a more comfortable, congenial place to convalesce," Albert continued. "Is that not correct, Sedge?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain you are fit to travel, my lord?" Sir Terrence asked, his eyes narrowing in concern. "You appear quite pale this morning. Are you feeling unwell?"

"I am fine."

"I—I think he is just a bit tired, Sir Terrence," Albert quickly added. "He is wishing to be home, no doubt."

"Well..." Sir Terrence eyed Sedge curiously, and then shrugged. "If you are quite sure." He held out his hand to Sedge. "I hope you will return to Thornhill under more pleasant circumstances one day. You will be most welcome."

Sedge stared at his outstretched hand for a moment—her brother's hand—before putting his own forward to grasp it. He looked up and caught Sir Terrence's glance. He resembled her in many ways. Sedge had never noticed it before. The shape of the mouth, the high cheekbones, the straight nose. The eyes were different, though. His were blue, not like hers at all. Sir Terrence furrowed his brows slightly as he shook Sedge's hand, and Sedge realized he should say something.

"Thank you," he managed in a raspy whisper. "Thank you for everything. And please thank Mrs. Lattimer as well. And your..."

When it seemed Sedge would not continue, Sir Terrence said, "I will give both Gram and Meg your thanks. But I am sure they will both wish to say their own farewells. I will round them up while you and Mr. Herriot finish your preparations." He turned and headed toward the back of the house.

Albert grabbed Sedge sharply by the shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you? I know you hate to leave, but you could at least make an effort to be civil. My God, man, you were uncommonly rude to Ashburton."

Sedge roughly shrugged off his cousin's hand and headed toward the Great Hall. "Let's get out of here," he said.

Albert shook his head in resignation. "We should check upstairs to see that everything is in order, nothing left behind."

"Let Pargeter do it."

"But—"

"I do not wish to trudge up those stairs again."

"But—"

"I will await you here in the hall."

"All right," Albert said. After one last curious glance at Sedge, he turned and headed toward the stairs, leaving Sedge alone.

Sedge sank onto an ancient old settle near the entry. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hands hanging down limply toward the worn old flagstones of the floor. He kept his head down, no longer anxious to memorize the details of the room as he had done the day before. As he sat there alone, blessedly ignored, he suddenly felt the full extent of Meg's rejection with stunning force.

What on earth had he done wrong? He had thought she must surely love him. By God, she had practically melted in his arms. To be sure, there had been a sweet sort of innocence to her passionate response. Though she was clearly inexperienced, as he gently led her through the escalating steps of desire she had been open and eager and very willing. How could he have misjudged her so?

He might have been able to explain it all away as an awkward misunderstanding, a misinterpretation of simple friendship for something more. But her response to his kisses flew in the face of such an excuse. He did not misinterpret her response.

Sedge reached up one hand and ran it absently through his hair, then kept it there and sank his forehead onto his palm. He ran his thumb over his new rakish scar, and realized his temples had begun to pound with the dull beginnings of a headache. Sedge was miserable with disappointment. The throbbing in his head merely served to punctuate his anguish.

Although he had not been entirely certain of Meg's feelings toward him, he had remained optimistic. And though he had been confused and tongue-tied when he had finally made his offer, he had never truly expected she would reject him. He had been totally unprepared for the look of horrified disbelief in her eyes when he had first asked if she would have him.

Disbelief. As though the very idea that Sedge might think she would want to marry him was somehow unimaginable.