Her Reluctant Groom (19 page)

He chuckled, presumably at the way her voice squeaked at the word
stop
. “I don't think so. You tortured me. Now, I'm going to do the same to you. It's only fair.”

Since when had Marcus given a fig about being fair? “This is definitely not fair,” she protested as his foot pressed boldly against her tender flesh, only the thin layers of his stockings and her drawers separating them. Even after reading that book, she hadn’t realized how sensitive and pleasurable intimate touching could be for a woman.

“
I think it's fair.” He motioned to the board. “Your move, I believe.”

She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to sigh at sensations he was sending through her body. She swallowed and looked down at their game. She couldn’t concentrate even if she wanted to. Steeling herself the best she could, she glanced at his rigid face and moved her foot against him. She'd nearly forgotten her power over him. A smile took her lips as she increased the pressure and used the sides and bottom of her foot to move up and down his rigid erection.

A moment later, his foot stilled and his eyes locked with hers, his jaw clamped tight. “You’d better stop,” he whispered harshly, taking hold of her foot in a tight, stilling grip.

Her eyes searched his face, and she realized right then she'd almost driven him to the brink Lady Bird had described in her little tome. She smiled to herself. That little book was invaluable. If this simple action was accurate, chances were the rest of that rather detailed book was, too.

She slowly removed her feet, reveling in the knowledge that she could affect him so.

His foot, however, was not so quick to retreat.

“
Marcus, move your foot,” she insisted.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“
Marcus, not like this.” She pushed at his foot.

He brought his foot out from under her skirt and set it on top of her thigh. “Since when did your thinking become so depraved?”

Her face burned and she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Marcus cleared his throat and gestured to the board. “It seems you're in a position where your only move is to jump my man.” He pointed to the two pieces in question. “And once you do, I'll ask for my boon, which consequently, involves my foot being in your lap.”

She rolled her eyes and moved her draught. “Your boon?”

“
Rub that foot, would you?”

Chapter 13

Marcus won draughts. Of course. Emma had always been terrible at board games. He walked through the hall on the way to his study. He opened the door to the dimly lit room, fell into the comfortable chair behind his massive desk, and breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully none of the girls had been injured on the horses today.

He couldn't believe Emma and Caroline had taken it upon themselves to allow those little girls to ride Polly without his permission. He twisted his lips in agitation and sighed again. It was little wonder they'd done that without consulting him. He had hardly been involved with much of anything over the past years. Between not wanting to leave the estate and dealing with Olivia and her antics, he'd been distant. Everyone had learned to make decisions without him.

He leaned forward and picked up his account ledger. One thing that hadn't gone on without him was estate business. He reviewed the numbers and made notes of which tenants were in debt. He didn't like throwing people out. Usually he'd find an alternative way for them to pay their rents. It looked like tomorrow was shaping up to be a busy day indeed. He needed to visit three different tenants to make arrangements for their past due rent.

Closing his ledger, he spotted a stack of missives Chapman had left for him on the corner of his desk. Chapman was an interesting sort when it came to certain tasks. Marcus snatched them up and leaned back to flip through the stack. Marcus may not have a lot of butler-type tasks for the man to do, but the ones he did have, Chapman accomplished far better than most. Including how he arranged Marcus’ correspondence, always putting the newest letters at the bottom of the stack instead of the top so Marcus would read them in the order they’d been received. Which was the way they were meant to be read, wasn’t it? He smiled at the man’s strange tendency then scowled down at the letters. He hated letters. He hated reading them. And he abhorred writing them.

Dropping the top two to the floor in disinterest, he recognized the writing on the outside of the third as Olivia's. Not sure whether to be relieved she had written or to groan at what the missive might contain, he turned it over and broke the seal.

Dear Marcus,

America is beastly. I hated the voyage here. It was absolutely miserable. I was sick every single second of every single day.

He rolled his eyes. She'd have been sick every single second of every single day had she been on land or sea with her condition.

Anyway, I am here now and I do not know how long I shall stay. Besides the bizarre way things are done here, Mr. Saxon is not at all what I expected in a husband. He is loud, rude, insensitive to my sensitive needs, and to be honest, his looks are quite lacking! If it weren't for that horrid trip across the ocean, I'd board a ship tomorrow and return home at once.

Perhaps after this creature removes itself from my innards, I shall do just that. Actually, that is an excellent plan. Please book passage for the first week of December. I should be well enough to travel by then, I should think.

Marcus ground his teeth. She hadn't changed a bit. She was just as selfish as ever. She didn't have to come out and say it, but he'd wager every pence to his name she meant passage for one. Well, she was about to learn a hard lesson. If she wanted to return, he'd pay her passage. But she was not coming back without Mr. Saxon and her child.

I suppose that is all I have to say for now. I'll be sure to write you more regularly now that I'm settled.

Yrs,

Olivia

Marcus scowled and put the paper down. He frowned when his eyes fell on the next letter in the stack. It was another letter from Olivia. He tossed it on the floor with the others he had no desire to read. He turned his eyes back to the next letter and his frown deepened. Olivia again. He tossed it on the floor. Olivia again.

He sighed. Using his thumb and forefinger, he went through the stack. Olivia. Olivia. Olivia. Olivia. He tossed more than twenty letters on the floor before finding one from Alex. He quickly scanned the missive and jotted a note in response.

Sighing, he glanced down at all the letters on the floor and bent to pick up the most recent letter from Olivia. Perhaps she'd changed her mind and was willing to accept her new life.

Marcus,

I'd say I'm worried about your safety due to your lack of response. However, I know that's not the case. You're probably just dandy, enjoying your perfect life while I'm left to suffer the sickening attentions of Mr. Saxon in the wilds of a place called Virginia! I tell you, it's horrid here. People are so rude and barbaric they make Mr. Saxon appear refined. Which, as we both know without question, he is not! He is nothing but a filthy commoner who makes me cringe whenever I have to so much as glance in his direction.

But not to worry, I shall return, Marcus. With or without your help. I demand you forward me the funds so I may book my own passage since you're so unwilling to book it for me.

He crumpled up the paper without reading the rest and threw it in the direction of the rubbish bin. He'd read enough of her stupidity.

Taking out a piece of paper, he inked a quill and positioned himself to write a letter.

Dear Olivia,

My situation has changed. I'll not be able to send you the funds to book your passage. If you truly
must
return, then ask Mr. Saxon to pay for your passage from the generous dowry I gave to him. Otherwise, learn to accept the consequences for your actions and be content with a husband and the impending birth of your first child. There are many people in this world who envy you and your situation.

He jerked his hand away from the paper. What was he doing? She'd never get past his lie about not having the money to send her passage to read the rest. He tossed the paper on the floor and grabbed another sheet.

Dear Olivia,

I'm glad to hear you're faring well and your husband is treating you as he ought. Please be sure to write again after the birth of my niece or nephew.

Yrs,

Marcus

He smiled thinly as he sealed the paper with hot wax and stamped it with his signet ring. Olivia wasn’t likely to take kindly to his response, but for the life of him, he couldn't seem to force himself to care. After all the rotten things she'd done to others in her lifetime, a little misery was her due.

“
You look rather pleased with yourself,” Emma said from the doorway.

His head snapped in her direction. “I am.”

“
Why do I get the impression you're doing something naughty?” She took a seat on the settee by his desk.

“
Perhaps because you want me to do something naughty,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She shook her head. “No, not really. I was worried about you when you didn't make it to dinner tonight.”

His eyes shot to the clock on the mantle. How had he missed dinner? Had he spent that much time in here with his accounts and useless correspondence? He shrugged. “Was it good?”

“
I'd say so.” She looked down at the scattered letters at his feet. “What have you been doing in here?”

“
Wondering how exactly Olivia and I are related.”

She giggled. “You know, it's interesting you say that. I've always wondered as well.”

He shook his head. “I once overheard Caroline mumble something to that effect, too.”

Emma grinned. “I've heard her openly question it on more than one occasion.”

“
Do you and Caroline talk much anymore?” he asked, letting his gaze travel down her body, lingering at her breasts for a moment before dropping to her hips.

“
I suppose so. I try not to bother her too much though.”

“
Because she's married?” They'd obviously talked at some point since Caroline had married or else Emma wouldn't have known how to tease him in such a manner earlier this afternoon. He hardened instantly at the memory. Who knew her foot could get him so excited? But then again, it was just a part of Emma; no matter what, Emma could always get him excited. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Emma looked curiously at him. Obviously he'd missed her answer.

“
Did you like staying with Caroline?”

“
Of course. We rub along very well. It was kind of like having a sister,” she said easily, then froze and bit her lip. “Sorry, I didn't mean that how it sounded.”

He smiled at her. “Emma, it's all right. I know you have a sister. I may not personally care for her, but I know she exists. I also know, from experience unfortunately, that sometimes our sisters behave poorly, but because they're our sisters, we forgive them and love them anyway. I don't hold your love for Louise against you in any way.”

She swallowed and met his eyes again. “Between Louise and Olivia, I don't know who’s worse,” she teased with a thin smile.

He knew. Louise was worse by far. But perhaps he was biased. Olivia said and did dastardly things, but she'd never gone nearly as far as Louise. Well, perhaps that depended on who one asked. Putting aside everything Louise had done to him in the past, her actions still outdid Olivia's. Marcus had no doubt the reason Emma was living with Alex and Caroline had something to do with that ugly bruise he'd seen on the underside of Emma's breast. Unfortunately, he knew she'd never confide in him what had happened. It was just as well she wouldn't, because he couldn't do a thing about it.

If he confronted Hampton, who he had no doubt was the filthy bastard who’d put it there, he'd have just as good as admitted to having slept with Emma. For how else would he have seen it? Then her reputation would be shredded, and he'd have condemned her to a life of shame and embarrassment, all because of his temper. A sharp crack suddenly rent the air, and Marcus flinched.

“
Gracious, Marcus, must you break all your quills?”

He glanced at the broken quill he'd forgotten was in his hand then to the quill he'd broken last week when Patrick had been over. With Patrick, he'd been able to pretend not to notice, but with Emma's laughing green eyes staring at him, he couldn't. Tossing the two pieces on his desk, he forced a smile. “I forgot I was holding it.”

“
I bet you did.” She stood up and walked up behind him. “You're awfully tense,” she muttered, placing her hands on his stiff shoulders.

Willing his body to relax and let go of the mounting tension he felt when he thought of Emma's poor treatment at the hands of her only living family member, he allowed her to rub his tight shoulders and neck. “That feels good,” he said inanely as her thumbs and fingers rubbed his tense muscles.