The Convenient Bride (10 page)

With
child! The man was insane!

"And
to let you know what kind husband I shall make, I will give you two homes, one
in Bath and one of your choosing." He puffed out his chest, making her
want to plant him a facer.

She
opened her mouth to object, but his strong hands drew her into a locking
embrace and he kissed her, thoroughly, expertly, and with all the intimacy of a
man wooing his intended. She couldn't gather her wits quickly enough to
protest. Finally he let her go, and she stepped away from him, her body badly
shaken.

She
blinked rapidly and curled her hands into fists. "You seem to have
everything figured out, my lord."

"Trust
me."

He
sounded so arrogantly pleased she wished she were a man so she could call him
out! And trust him! What did he think she was? Some dull-witted female? "I
am overwhelmed, my lord."

There
was an edge of sarcasm to her voice that he obviously missed. A smile tipped
the corners of his mouth, sealing his fate. "We should get along nicely
... Briana."

He
whispered her name with such gentleness and charm she had to pause to throw the
shield back over her heart.

He
peered at her, waiting for her to speak.

Planting
her hands on her hips, she lifted her chin another inch to glare at him.
"Do you know, I believe you are the most overbearing, egotistical,
arrogant man of my acquaintance, sir. I would never marry you. Not if you came
to me on hands and knees."

She
flung her hands toward the ballroom. "Go buy yourself another wife, my
lord, for it will not be me."

He
stared at her as if she had rocks in her head.

Humiliation
welled up inside her, and she knew she was on the verge of tears. But she would
finish this out if it killed her.

He
raised his hand to touch her, and she quickly fell back a step. His eyes
narrowed. "Perhaps you misunderstood—"

She
didn't let him finish. "How dare you! How dare you assume I would fall
over you like some ignorant female bent on marriage to anyone who would take
her."

She
regarded his stiff profile as a subtle warning, but her anger had elevated to
such a boiling fury, nothing would stop her now. "How dare you," she
whispered with such venom it made her own toes curl. "You, sir, are no
gentleman."

Clayton
watched in shock as the lady swept him a disgusting glance, spun on her heel,
and returned down the trail toward the dance floor. With mixed emotions, he
followed her, his gaze attached to the sway of her body. When she disappeared
into the ballroom, a strange numbness enveloped him. What the devil had just
happened?

He was a
few steps from the dance floor when Marcus walked into his path. "What did
you do to Miss Garland?"

That's
exactly what he wanted to know. "Nothing."

"Oh?
The lady looked quite upset. She slipped behind the large urn."

Guilt
filled Clayton as his gaze searched the room.

With a
stern brow, Marcus crossed his hands over his chest. "I do believe there
were tears in her eyes."

Clayton
rubbed his chin. By Jove, the little bluestocking had dressed him down like
some holiday goose. "Yes, well, we all know females are fidgety
creatures."

"I
don't like what you're doing, Clay. That lady has an innocence about her that
makes a gentleman want to defend her. From what Em's said, Miss Garland has
gone through hell the past few years. Go find one of those ladies on the
amended list."

Clayton's
jaw stiffened, recalling the snapping green eyes sweeping over him as if he
were some villain. "I intend to."

What the
devil had he been thinking? He didn't need a termagant for a wife. He needed a
biddable bride, not some green- eyed spitfire who would lash out at his every
word, making him feel like some boy reprimanded by his governess. He should
have followed his first instincts. Oh, the lady might love children, and she
might have adorable freckles, but by heaven, he needed a convenient wife, not
some lady who made him feel vulnerable!

For that
very reason he was not ready to pursue this scholarly chit who could jerk his
heart from his chest with just one kiss. Devil take it, not even Lady Serena
could do that.

He slipped
his fingers to his inside pocket and drew out the list, slapping it into
Marcus's hand. "Lead me to them."

Marcus
pushed the list back into Clayton’s palm. "Are you serious?"

"You
just told me to use it."

"I've
reconsidered the entire situation. Let Gerald have the deuced castle. It isn't
worth your future."

"It
is my future," Clayton growled. "It's all I have."

His eyes
narrowed into two irritated slits as he stole a glance across the floor.
"And what the devil is Kingsdale doing here?"

Marcus
followed his brother's gaze. "Think he returned from Egypt a while ago.
Haven't seen much of him lately, though."

Clayton
didn't answer. His total concentration was on Lord Kingsdale hovering over Miss
Garland like some lapdog. "Jupiter, I believe the man is infatuated with
her brain."

A light
of comprehension came to Marcus's eye. "The lady in question has spent
time studying ancient Egypt, has she not? But if you ask me, it's more than her
brain he's infatuated with."

A strong
sense to shield the woman from harm swept through Clayton. His gaze took in the
delicate nature of her body, and he instantly recalled holding her in his arms.
A blow from Kingsdale could kill her.

"She
may not want me, but I will dangle from a rope before that man has her."

Marcus
held back his smile. "Now, this I want to see."

Chapter Nine

T
he music swelled in volume along with
a disturbing feeling enveloping Briana as Lord Kingsdale bowed over her hand.

"Miss
Garland, it has been so long since we have been together. Would you do me the
honor of the next dance?"

Agatha
stood two feet away, caught in deep conversation with Lady Hatton. Disappointed
and a little uneasy, Briana realized she was not going to gain any help from
her godmother.

She
looked up at Lord Kingsdale, who was awaiting her answer. He was a handsome man
with jet-black hair and a distinguished gray lock above his temple. His jacket
fit him to perfection, needing no padding to add to his athletic form. If she
hadn't known his true nature, she might have been impressed.

"It
has been ages, my lord," she said, puzzled by the man's appearance at her
side.

Lord
Kingsdale loved Egyptian artifacts almost as much as she did. Two years ago he
had believed they could share a life together based on their love for
Egyptology. His ideas were a bit frightening, and she had humored him, hoping
he would not pursue their relationship any further than mere acquaintance.
However, his interest had grown to obsessive proportions, and she finally had
to sever their friendship.

"Ages,"
he said with a twitch of amusement about his lips.

It was
the strange gleam in his dark eyes that told her he was still attracted to her.
But in spite of his interest in her as a woman, it did nothing to heal Lord
Clayton’s blow to her heart.

She had
seen Lord Kingsdale only once since he had asked her to marry him, and that had
been at a distance.

"You
must forgive me, my lord. A headache prevents me from joining the
dancing."

"Why,
Miss Garland, ever the more reason for me to take you for a walk about the
room."

Suddenly
Agatha's keen gaze took in the scene. "Briana, my dear, why don't you take
a walk, then fetch me some punch?"

Did
Agatha have any inkling to this man's character? Was she trying to make Lord
Clayton jealous? One never knew about her godmother or her tactics.

Briana's
cool gaze met the man's smiling face. Lord Kingsdale never liked to lose at
anything, even if it was a trivial matter of asking a lady for a turn about the
room.

She
instantly recalled the scene when she had rejected his marriage proposal. He
had grabbed hold of her shoulders, and at the time she had believed if Clarice
had not walked into the room the man might have smacked her.

Later,
she speculated that his firm hold on her had been pure disappointment at her
response. However, looking at him now, she had no idea what to believe anymore.

Trying
to stall for time, she peered across the room and locked gazes with Lord
Clayton. Even from where she stood, she could detect his violet-blue eyes
narrowing on the man beside her.

Good
grief, was he jealous?

She
thought of the difference between Lord Kingsdale and Lord Clayton and inwardly
frowned. Although both men were handsome and arrogant, the similarities stopped
there.

Where
Kingsdale was quick to anger, Clayton possessed a stoic calmness, reaching a
rage only when pushed beyond his limits. Where Kingsdale was impatient to get
his way and did not tolerate limitations, Clayton possessed a certain charm
that allowed him to maneuver around his obstacles in a polite and gentlemanly
manner.

Clayton.
Oh, Clayton, why did you have to treat me so shabbily?

"Miss
Garland?" Kingsdale put out his arm, deliberately forcing her to either
take it or cause a scene.

She gave
him a stiff smile. "Very well, my lord. A short walk and then some punch
for my godmother."

The
man's gaze gleamed with approval, and a minute after circling the floor he
turned to face her. They were standing near the doors to the garden and a warm
breeze caressed her cheek. Behind them couples began to gather for a country
dance.

"Do
you still hate me, my dear?"

The
question surprised her. "I don't hate you, my lord. But you were rather
forceful when I turned down your marriage proposal." There it was, that
swift shadow of anger in his eyes. It disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

"I
loved you." He said it so softly she almost missed it.

Uncomfortable
now, she concealed her frown. He had never mentioned love. Even Lord Clayton
had never mentioned love.

He
glanced toward the sea of dancers, then shifted a regretful gaze back to her.
"Can you forgive and forget?"

She
clasped her hands tightly. She had no wish to give this man any hope they would
be together. "I can forgive, my lord. But I will never forget. I am only
human."

His
smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "At least that's a start. Now, I think
it wise we fetch that punch for Miss Appleby."

He took
hold of Briana's elbow, escorting her into the hall. "I was hoping to see
you here, wondering if I could make amends."

She
glanced at him. "I said I already forgave you."

"Yes,
but there is something else I wanted to say." He ushered her along the
marbled floor, hastily pulling her into a room off the hall. It was the
duchess's private sitting room.

Briana
was taken completely by surprise when the door shut behind him. "My
lord—"

"My
dear, you must know I adore you."

"Adore
me?" Something about his expression frightened her.

"Yes,
adore you. There is something that draws me to you. It did years ago; it does
now."

Briana took
a step back and stumbled against a chair.

His
brows dipped. "You are not running from me, are you?"

He
strode closer and the distinct scent of musk and cloves filled the air. It was
making her ill. With a pang of regret she wished for the sweet fragrance of
bayberry soap. Lord Clayton might have his weaknesses, but he would never
frighten her like this.

She
blinked and skirted the chair, finding herself backed up against the wall, his
tall body towering over her. She boldly met his gaze. His eyes glittered
ominously, and a sudden chill bumped down her spine.

"This
is most inappropriate, my lord. Someone will be looking for me." The back
of her throat had gone dry. "You had best open that door."

He
pressed a hand against the wall, leaning toward her. "You were always full
of surprises. I remember the day I met you at the lending library and you were
taking out a book on Egyptian death. Do you remember?"

Egyptian
death? Her apprehension grew.

"Yes,
I remember. You were interested in the same thing."

His hand
dropped and circled her waist. "I was interested. You had something most
women of the
ton
did not."

"Please,
don't do this." She gripped his arm, but it was like a steel band about
her gown.

Ignoring
her plea, he continued, "You had brains, my dear. You knew more about
Egypt than I did." He gave a little chuckle. "In fact, when it comes
right down to it, you know more about the world than anyone I know. You have
captivated me for years. I tried to stay away, even looked for other women with
your qualities, but it always came down to you."

Her
anxiety increased at the smoldering look in his eye. "I need someone like
you, Miss Garland. Someone I can talk to. Someone who isn't going on about what
gown to wear or what color she wishes to match with her wrap."

"You
need me?" she asked calmly, her mind struggling for a way out of his arms
that would not make him angry.

"Yes,"
he answered, the challenge in his voice undeniable. "And I think you need
me. We would do well together. I see things in you, secret things, hidden
things you are not about to share with any man, and that intrigues me."

"I
want to return to the ballroom."

"Not
yet." His hands moved to her shoulders. "I have watched you. Did you
know that?"

Her
heart pounded wildly as she played for time. "What do you mean?"

His eyes
softened, and he slowly loosened his grip. "Oh, I have my ways. But I see
in you unique qualities, like the secret places found in the pyramids of the
great pharaohs."

"Secret
places?" she asked, slipping from his hold.

He
laughed, shaking his head. "Yes, like now. You are planning to make your
escape."

Her
cheeks flamed, not with embarrassment, but with stupidity for allowing this man
to maneuver her into a room alone. He was good at that. He always had a way of
sneaking past her defenses.

"I
won't hurt you." He pulled her into his arms. "But you fascinate me.
Always have. You hide away, fading into the background, hoping no one is
looking. But I see you. I have always seen you."

She
wondered how often he had watched her from afar.

His
smile seemed genuine as he regarded her. "You remind me of my uncle's
bureau. It had a secret compartment that held all his treasures. When I was a
boy, I watched him open it one day. There was a small button in the back of one
of the drawers and if pushed at the same time when you pulled open the bottom
drawer, the secret compartment opened, too. It was a hard feat for a
ten-year-old, but I did it."

Briana
felt his hands on her tighten. What in the world was he talking about? "My
godmother will be wondering about the punch."

Dark
eyes ran over her. "I think it will take me some time to find all the
hidden compartments in you, Briana, but I intend to keep searching."

"I
have no interest in your search, my lord. And I did not give you leave to call
me by my Christian name."

"Ah,
ever the lady," he said softly.

To her surprise,
his hands dropped from her side.

He
bowed. "Soon, you will see. Soon, you will understand. I have faith in
you, my dear. We are of the same blood, you and I. Passion runs deep in our
veins. Egyptology is a fascinating subject, and side by side we can delve into
the minds of the pharaohs and the slaves, determine how the pyramids were built
and where the treasures are hidden. There is no end to what we can accomplish
together."

Her
blood ran cold. The man wasn't just mad, he was dangerous. Knowing he was
letting her go, she walked hurriedly across the room. Without a word, she
wrenched open the door, her insides shaking. Closing her eyes in relief, she
stepped out of the room and dashed around the corner, afraid Kingsdale would
follow.

He was
obsessed with her and Egypt. Somehow she would have to make him understand she
wanted nothing to do with him.

She
wasn't paying attention to where she was going when two strong hands took hold
of her shoulders.

"I
can see why you turned me down, Miss Garland." Lord Clayton glared over
her shoulder at Kingsdale, who had suddenly stepped behind her. "A better
offer, I presume?"

A deep,
familiar pain lodged in her breast. He was the same as the rest of them. He was
no different from Kingsdale, or her father, or the man who had seduced her
sister. They thought only of themselves.

"I
believe you owe the lady an apology." Kingsdale's voice was soft, but
alarmingly angry.

"Do
I?" Clayton asked, his eyes locking on Miss Garland's white face as she
jerked from his grasp.

Anger
sliced through Clayton. Anger that this woman had brushed his proposal aside as
if it were nothing but a roll at breakfast. Anger that she was in the room with
Kingsdale and not him. Anger that Kingsdale was looking at her as if he were a
sailor on leave who had not seen a woman for months or even years.

"I
need no apology from you or anyone, my lord," the lady said, lifting her
chin. "Now, if you will excuse me."

Kingsdale
reached out and grasped her wrist. "Briana."

Briana?
"I would suggest you keep your
hands to yourself," Clayton said, jerking Kingsdale's hand off her person.

Kingsdale's
eyes darkened. "You have insulted my future wife and you owe her an
apology."

The lady
gasped. "Y-your future wife?"

Clayton's
blood turned to stone. "My apologies, madam. I had no idea."

Miss
Garland's green eyes flashed with contempt as she glanced from Clayton to
Kingsdale.

"I
never agreed to be your wife," she said to Kingsdale, her tone frosty.
"In fact, I have no idea why you assumed otherwise. Good night,
gentlemen." And with that, the lady turned on her kid slippers and headed
toward the ballroom.

Kingsdale
let out a small chuckle. "The lady's temper is as fiery as her hair."

Clayton's
hands stiffened. "I don't think she cares for you any more than I
do."