Rebel Marquess (2 page)

He scowled at her, suspicion evident in every crease of his forehead.

“How long would she wait?”

Eliza lifted her brows. He should know as well as anyone the tenacity of her mother’s ambition.

“Right.” He paused and narrowed his gaze. “A clever predicament you have put us in, Miss Terribury.”

Eliza didn’t miss the way he said her name as if it were a curse. Her indignation grew. He may have reason to distrust Lady Terribury since he had been countering her machinations for more than a decade. But Eliza was getting annoyed at how readily he was prepared to think the worst of
her
. She did not appreciate being the object of such blind and unreasonable prejudice.

“Now just a moment. You force me to be insulted after all.” She propped her hands on her hips and eyed him with a direct, accusing stare. “I tried to be empathetic since I know what you have had to endure from my mother over the years, but I have had enough of your continued insistence that I had something to do with this when I stated I did not. I have absolutely no desire to maneuver you into a compromising position. In fact, I would prefer to avoid the whole marital business altogether.”

He harrumphed. “You expect me to believe—”

His argument was cut short by the sound of the outer bedroom door opening.

Eliza froze, her breath stopping. Surely her mother wouldn’t come back again.

Rutherford must have considered the same possibility since he stepped forward into the small bathing room and kicked the door shut behind him. He placed his hand over her mouth to silence her.

She yearned to tell him the precaution was unnecessary. But it would have to wait since she could barely move her jaw beneath his heavy palm.

As they both stood stock still listening for a clue as to who had entered the room beyond, she noticed that his hand over her mouth was not the only place he touched her. He’d wrapped his other arm tightly around her waist and held her securely against him. She suspected it was to hold her in place and prevent any movement that might make noise. When he had stepped toward her, she had instinctively raised her hands. The skin of his bare chest was hot and smooth under her fingers. Rough curls tickled her palms.

If not for his hand over her mouth, the position would have felt curiously similar to an embrace.

Time seemed to slow in a dramatic fashion as she detected the heavy thud of his heart beneath her hand and the way their breathing had found a matching rhythm. Eliza took a slow breath through her nose and drew in the scent of citrus and some unfamiliar spice from his skin. It was a clean and exotic scent that tantalized Eliza’s senses, bringing sudden warmth to her skin.

She looked up at his face. His head was turned to the side as he kept his gaze on the door, and she noticed the rough stubble of hair growth on his jaw. The steady thrum of his pulse showed at the side of his throat and Eliza felt her mouth go dry. She drew a long breath through her nose to dispel the sudden wave of lightheadedness that threatened to overtake her.

What on earth was wrong with her?

“My lord?” The voice from the other room was male. At the sound of it, the tension immediately fell away from Rutherford’s body.

“Another ten minutes, Simmons,” he called out.

“As you wish.”

“And, Simmons.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“As you leave, take a look around for Lady Terribury. You will know her by the obnoxious purple plumes stuffed into the turban wrapped around her head. If you see her, lure her away.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Once the outer door closed behind the valet, the marquess turned his attention back to Eliza.

She saw the very slight widening of his pupils, indicating the moment he realized the impropriety of their position. He dropped his hand away from her mouth but continued to hold her against him with his arm solid around her waist.

A tingling flutter of sensation traveled from her toes to her fingertips and then back down again, as if she were balancing at some great and dangerous height. Her stomach twisted in a wild little dance. What was it about him that so easily turned her mind to mush and left her with not a single thing to say?

His intent gaze fell to her lips and then lower to where her bosom pressed upward against her bodice.

The air in the small space felt suddenly charged with energy. Eliza resisted a strange desire to shift against him, to feel the slide of his warm skin under her hands and test the tension of his thighs against hers. If she stood on tip-toe would her lips reach the harsh edge of his jaw?

As if he read her thoughts and realized the peril of the moment, the marquess issued a short grunt of annoyance and grasped her shoulders in his hands to forcibly push her away until he held her at arm’s length. His gaze was sharp with distrust.

“Miss Terribury.”

At the condescension in his voice, Eliza mentally shook off the sensory fog that had enveloped her. “Yes?”

“Allow me to be clear on something,” he began in a stern voice.

“By all means,” she retorted. She was fully aware he hadn’t actually been asking her permission but couldn’t resist the temptation to interrupt anyway. At his imperious scowl, she suspected it did not happen to him often.

He took a slow breath and narrowed his gaze upon her as if assessing the likelihood of another interruption. When she did nothing but stare up at him with wide-eyed expectation, he apparently deemed it safe to continue.

“It matters naught to me whether you were an accomplice in this plot or a pawn. The fact of the matter is, Lady Terribury is not the only ambitious mama who has tried to entangle me in matrimony with some insipid debutante over the years. I will not be coerced, tricked or otherwise manipulated. You would think after five failed attempts, your mother would have accepted that fact.”

Eliza held back her smile. He had been so adamant in his little speech she couldn’t stop the bubble of amusement from rising in her chest. The poor man must have been beleaguered with dozens, perhaps hundreds, of attempts to get him to the altar.

She did not feel sorry for him one bit. It was likely one of the few down sides to being titled, attractive and so impossibly rich.

Nor could she keep herself from voicing one small correction. “Six.”

The marquess blinked. “What?”

“Six attempts. Rose and Regina are twins, so you may not have realized that Mother pushed each of them under your nose at different points during their shared season two years ago. I am actually the seventh Terribury daughter, and although I would like to say I am pleased to finally meet the illustrious object of Mother’s relentless efforts in finding us all suitable matches, it wouldn’t be entirely truthful, so I will skip that sentiment. I am sure you understand.”

Before he detected the insults in her characteristic run-off of words, Eliza quickly eased past him in the small space and opened the door to escape into the bedroom. She paced directly to the row of tall windows that spanned one wall of the room. Her own little bedroom boasted only a single window to open to the fresh air. She tilted her lips ruefully. Another benefit to being the Marquess of Rutherford and a close friend of their host, the Earl of Blackbourne.

She peered through the glass and looked out upon a grand expanse of perfectly trimmed lawn. Not a balcony, stone wall or strong limbed tree about.

So much from hoisting herself out the window.

“You won’t get out that way.”

Eliza started. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. “I had already deduced as much.”

She sighed and turned about to face him and was struck again by the blatant…manliness of his appearance. None of her sisters’ husbands came even close to boasting such a capable, athletic build. Her gaze was drawn involuntarily to the wide swath of skin revealed by his open shirt. She forced her breath through a suddenly constricted throat as the beat of her heart sped to a racing patter.

Closing her eyes, she turned her head to the side before opening them again. It seemed to work best to keep him in her peripheral vision. For some reason, staring at him full on twisted the thoughts in her head. She needed her full wits about her if she was to get past her mother.

“Are there any other doors? Perhaps leading to a sitting room or a secret passage or something?”

“There are no secret passageways at Silverly.”

Was there a hint of amusement in his voice?

Impossible. She was coming to believe the marquess did not possess even the tiniest drop of humor. Besides, she wasn’t about to look at him to find out if a smile managed to soften the harsh lines of his face.

Stay focused, Eliza.

“You may go out the way you came in.”

“But my mother—”

“Would have been taken care of by Simmons.”

“You are that confident in your man’s abilities?”

“Of course.”

She looked at him then. “Enough to stake your freedom on it?”

His brows lifted as if he were not accustomed to having his word questioned any more than she was.

“I would not have kept Simmons on for fourteen years if I did not have the utmost assurance in his ability to carry out every order and request to perfect completion.”

Eliza nodded, finally convinced. Of course, the marquess would expect only the best in his servants.

“All right then,” she said with a jaunty smile as she stepped around him and took long strides toward the door. “I will leave you to your
toilette
. This little encounter never happened.” With her hand on the doorknob, she turned to look over her shoulder. He stood near the bed, his large hands working at the buttons of his shirt.

“I never saw you,” he agreed without glancing her way.

It was on the tip of her tongue to warn him that her mother was likely already plotting another opportunity to throw the two of them together. If history with her older sisters was any indication, her mother would be relentless in trying to secure a proposal from the illustrious Marquess of Rutherford. Especially since Eliza, as the youngest and final daughter, was her last chance at snagging the top prize.

But then again, the marquess had likely thought of all that already and to date he had proven to be uncatchable, as he had stated himself.

He obviously needed no help from her.

As she slipped through the door and out into the hall, she still half-expected to see her mother sweeping down on her. Of course, she didn’t. Eliza hurried down the hall and around the corner toward the opposite wing where her own room was located.

Eliza would have to track down Simmons to ask him what magic he had employed to get her mother to do what he wanted. Her father would likely pay dearly for the trick.

Chapter Two

Michael Ellison Gerard, the Marquess of Rutherford, entered the Earl of Blackbourne’s study without knocking and immediately spotted his friend standing by the liquor service.

Blackbourne raised his head as the door opened. He wore an expression much like a fox caught in the dovecote but relaxed when he saw it was only Rutherford.

“Come on then,” the earl said with a casual wave of welcome. “Just in time for a drink.”

Rutherford closed the door behind him and came forward to take the brandy Blackbourne held out to him.

“You are not hiding from your wife, are you?” Rutherford asked in a wry tone. “I am not certain I wish to be an accomplice against that lady.”

The earl grinned and raised his glass. “No worries, my man. She agreed to allow me a couple of uninterrupted hours each day as long as I give her the same.”

“A marriage of equality, I see,” Rutherford commented dryly as he went to take his place in one of the overstuffed leather chairs placed before the unlit fireplace.

“Trust me,” the earl replied with an easy grin, “it is the only way. The benefits of keeping one’s wife happy far outweigh whatever may be lost in compromise.”

“Though it pains me to acknowledge your superiority, even in this single instance, I will allow you to remain the expert on that score,” Rutherford readily conceded.

Even after six years, he still hadn’t gotten used to how comfortable his old friend had gotten in the role of husband and father. He lifted his snifter in a subtle salute and tasted the fine amber liquid. Not as good as his own stash, but good enough.

Blackbourne’s smile slipped a little as he took the other chair. “On that point, I apologize for not giving you fair warning. I knew the Terriburys had been invited, but I had no idea there was another daughter making her come-out this season, or that she would be in attendance with her parents this weekend.”

The image of the young Miss Elizabeth Terribury flashed through Rutherford’s mind and he frowned. It annoyed him that a mental image of the girl formed so readily and that the vision was not altogether unpleasant.

He would prefer not to recall her curvaceous little figure or the way her full cleavage pressed against the bodice of her gown. Or the fact that her eyes were a muddled mix of green and brown and held an impertinent combination of intelligence and humor. And he really wished he hadn’t noticed the gleam of sexual interest in her gaze when she had boldly examined his nude body.