The Earl's Wager (15 page)

“Our marriage.”

He noted the widening of her eyes before she turned to look in his direction. “I never agreed to a marriage.”

“Confound it, Georgia.” He ran his hand through his hair, stalling for time, praying for patience. “Must you force my hand? Must I bring Marsdale into this? He won’t allow you to marry anyone but me. You’re mine now.”

So much for handling this situation as the composed, reasonable gentleman he purported to be.

“I belong to no one. I am myself.” He swore he saw wetness in her eyes as she gazed at him over the horse’s neck. “I’m owned by no one, and I don’t have to answer to anyone. Especially not you.”

“And why especially not me?” Her words were like a punch to his gut. Every moment he’d waited for her to return, his ire had built, despite his rational mind warning him to remain placid.

But he’d dwelt on her sitting beside Leighton in that damnably fine carriage. He’d imagined all the things she would have said to the rake. The way she would have smiled. The mind could make a man crazy with its visualizations.

“Just because you ruled over my body for an encounter doesn’t mean you own my mind or make any decisions for me.” She stepped away from the horse and closer to the stall gate. “
I
decide what is best for me.”

Rage seethed through every vein in his body. He pulled open the gate and hauled her into his arms. “If you think for one moment I’d let you marry another man with my child in your belly, you don’t know me very well.” He pushed the gate closed then heard a sound from the other end of the stable. One of the grooms entered the corridor. “Leave us,” Will called out to him. “See that we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, my lord.” The groom dashed outside.

“You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.” Georgia shoved on his chest.

“We shall see about that.” He pulled her into a stall that was currently being used for storage of bales of hay.

“What are you doing?” she squealed.

“Trying to make you see reason.” Immediately after he’d said the words, he realized he was doing this completely wrong. He’d just counseled himself not to be high-handed with her, but that was exactly what he was doing.

“Reason according to what? The book of Will Sutton, Earl of Grandleigh?” She didn’t merely push now, she punched his chest.

This blasted woman made him lose all sense of propriety. Her small, voluptuous curves filled the day dress designed primarily for traveling and active use. Mrs. Marchant had outdone herself with the design. The square neckline showed the perfect amount of cleavage—less than her party dress, but certainly more than the dresses she’d worn prior to his tutoring lessons. Her hair wasn’t pulled back as severely as it had been in the past, either. Strands of deep-brown locks framed her full cheekbones and complemented her blue eyes.

He breathed in her lilac scent, held her shoulders at arm’s length, and studied her reddened face. Her skin was flushed, her eyebrows furrowed, and he couldn’t defy his baser needs.

He kissed her. If he’d tried, he couldn’t have stopped himself, she made him so angry. She spun his emotions out of control, like a wild horse that required taming. A fire built at his toes and culminated in his gut.

He’d meant to put her in her place—to show her that he was the ruler. His hands pressed on her back, becoming more rigid and tense. His fingertips burned into the fabric, and he grew hard—God, how he wanted her.

He kissed her with more insistence, and he swallowed her moan.

A small voice inside reminded him why he was kissing her. Finally, he pulled away and put a few inches between them. “I don’t have a book, but if I did, I’d use it to swat your backside.”

“I dare you.” She kissed him with passion, searing him, intoxicating him.

His hands slid beneath her hips and pulled her to him, grinding his hardness into the juncture between her thighs. He wanted her to feel what she did to him.

He locked his hands on her waist and lifted, setting her on a bale of hay, then he ran his hand along the inside of her calf, moving to the end of her stocking and the soft, inner flesh of her thigh. “I have something other than swatting you in mind.”

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Bringing you to your senses. Making you realize I’m the only man you’re to marry.” He pushed the hem of her skirt to the tops of her thighs and pushed her drawers aside. “I’m going to touch you.”

Whimpering, she flung her head back.

Although Will was still enraged with her and wanted nothing better than to teach her a lesson, he also wanted her consent. “Georgia.” He crawled alongside her in the hay and touched his lips to the outer shell of her ear, he said, “Spread your legs for me.”

Immediately, she complied. Will felt a sense of masculine pride. “Tell me,” he hummed. “Tell me you want me to touch you.”

“I-I want you,” she murmured.

“You want me to what?” he asked, stroking the insides of her thighs, touching her everywhere except her woman’s sex.

“I want you to touch me,” she said breathlessly and pulled at his shoulder.

Exactly what he’d hoped to hear. His fingers teased the moist folds of her sex, giving friction where she needed with a light, feathery touch.

At first she arched her back then lifted her hips. She moaned then kissed him with a needy abandon. He slipped a finger inside her, but the heel of his hand kept pressure on her sensitive nub.

Her hips jerked, and she called his name.

“My darling,” he murmured.

She gasped and let her body feel the vibrations coursing through it.

“I didn’t plan this, Georgia,” he crooned as she relaxed. “I didn’t set out to make you mine, but you are now, and despite how ill-matched we might be, we will be together.”

The stable was quiet except for the soft nicker of a horse. The silence between them lengthened.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you say we have to be together?” She straightened her bent legs.

He pulled his hand from her. “Because you might be with child.”

“What if I’m not?”

“It doesn’t matter, because you’re ruined.”

She pushed her skirts down to her ankles and scooted to the edge of the hay bale. “Stop saying I’m ruined. Besides, maybe my future husband won’t care.”

The tenderness encompassing his heart only moments ago faded.

“What are you saying?” he bit out.

“I’m saying that if I’m with child, then yes, I’ll marry you.” She stood and turned to him. “But if I’m not, I won’t.”

She brushed at the pieces of hay covering her person.

Will was too flummoxed to speak.

When she started to walk out of the stall, he reached her in one swift stride and grabbed her waist. “Wait.”

Her pale-blue eyes stared up at him. “What is it?”

“You would deliberately spurn me? A man with a title and land? You would be a countess married to me.”

“I understand,” she replied simply, her gaze not wavering.

“I would give you all that I have, when you’d give me nothing but—”

“But what?” she blurted. “I’d give you nothing but a child?”

“I-I didn’t mean that.” This was completely unlike him. He was clearly off-kilter. This woman turned him into an idiot he didn’t recognize, driving him to speak without thinking. “I only meant that it isn’t our way. In England, we have expectations. Decorum is of the utmost importance. A woman, such as yourself, would be honored to be married to a titled gentleman. I certainly don’t have the means that Marsdale has, but Black Pine Hall gets on well. I have good tenants. I’ve made improvements to all my properties.”

“I’m sure most women would be honored by your offer, Will, but I’m different from most women.” She moved away from him down the stable’s corridor, but then she abruptly stopped and turned to face him. “I’ll know in less than a fortnight if I’m pregnant. I’ll agree to marriage only if I’ve conceived.”

And she left.

Chapter Fifteen

For a woman once completely set on what she wanted to accomplish, Georgia wasn’t at all pleased with her plan. The next day, she still felt uncertain about what to do.

Will had changed everything.

And while she wanted to acquiesce and agree to their union, his words about duty and her possible pregnancy, and how women like her should be pleased to marry a titled gentleman like him—all of it only infuriated her and made her more determined than ever
not
to be with him.

Ever since she had arrived in England, she’d planned to marry an older gentleman, though she certainly didn’t think she’d be lucky enough to find someone who lived so close to Oliver and Arabella.

So, instead of dwelling on Will and her predicament, she’d sent a letter asking which day would be best to ride Perseus over to Danby Hall, and the Duke of Ardurry responded by asking her to visit the following day.

She wondered again why Oliver hadn’t mentioned the Leighton estate, but it really didn’t matter—she’d discovered them and didn’t have time to waste. She needed to be married so Will would move on and find himself a proper bride of his own. However, she would have to make sure she wasn’t indeed pregnant first—no matter how unconventional her goal to be an independent woman in charge of her own funds, she would accept a marriage to Will should she be carrying his child.

She’d summoned one of the grooms to ride with her the next morning. It was a sunny day, perfect for a run across the countryside. When she rode, with the wind blowing through her hair, she felt as if she was home again, like nothing had changed. She could pretend, if only for a little while, that she was as free.

Perry, a groom who worked extensively with Harland and the racehorses, rode with her. “Where are we going, my lady?”

“To Danby Hall,” she replied. “The duke invited me for a visit.”

“It’s quite a long way to the Danby estate,” Perry said. “Won’t Lord Marsdale be concerned if we’re not back right away?”

“We’ll just have to hurry along then. Shall we gallop?” she asked as she leaned into Perseus’s neck.

“Very well, my lady,” Perry called out from behind her.

“I’ve asked you to call me Georgia, or Miss Duvall if it pleases you, but I’m not a lady.”

“Very well, Miss Duvall,” Perry called from an even greater distance behind her.

She’d made certain the ribbons of her bonnet were tied tight, but it still loosened as they galloped across the hard-packed earth. The wind whipped across her face, and she’d never known a more joyous experience than riding, but as soon as she had those thoughts, Will’s face appeared in her mind.

Georgia had experienced intimate joy with him that she truly never could have imagined. If she married a man her age, bearing children and sharing a bed would be part of being a wife.

The experience with Will filled her with wanton desire and caused her insides to quiver with need, but she couldn’t allow making love with a man to set the course for the rest of her decisions in life. Could she?

Except if she were pregnant. Then everything in her life would be decided.

Luckily, her courses were quite regular, and she should know within the next day or two if she was pregnant. In the meantime, she would move forward with her plans to pursue the Duke of Ardurry. Oliver had balked at her interest in Sir Richard, but he couldn’t deny a duke, no matter his age.

When Georgia rode toward the stables at Danby Hall, she expected to meet the duke, but instead she was met by his son, the earl. “Good morning, Miss Duvall. How nice of you to come for a visit.”

“I’m here to show your father how he might consider Perseus a good addition to his breeding stock.” Perseus pranced beneath her. “Perhaps just one mare or two could be bred with Perseus next spring.”

Lord Leighton gave her a curious gaze, one that made her uncomfortable, but she ignored it. He grasped Perseus’s reins. “Let me help you dismount.”

“I can do that.” Perry rode up beside them and slid off his gelding.

“Allow me,” Leighton said and handed Perseus’s reins to Perry before reaching up to guide Georgia’s descent to the ground. “My father is expecting you.” He turned to Perry. “If you’ll take the horses to my groom, he’ll show you which stalls are available.”

“Yes, my lord.” Perry departed with both horses.

“And where is your father?” Georgia asked. “I expect he’ll want to see Perseus.”

“He’s in the parlor, but he’s not feeling up to leaving the house today.”

“I see,” Georgia said. “Maybe a visit from me should be delayed for another day?”

“Oh, no,” Leighton said smoothly. “I believe he’s looking forward to talking with you. Besides, I want to see what you’re up to.”

They reached the front doors, and the butler let them in. “The duke will see you in the parlor, my lady.”

Georgia stopped outside the parlor door while the butler announced her arrival. She hissed under her breath to Leighton, “I’m not up to anything other than showing Perseus to your father. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“All this time, I thought you were coming to see me.” Leighton put his hand to his heart. “You wound me, Miss Duvall.”

When he smiled, his crinkled eyes held a mischievous glint in them, and even though her interest centered around his father, the earl’s charms didn’t go completely unnoticed.

She entered the parlor, and unfortunately, Leighton followed her. The duke’s color was pale. “When I sent you the invitation, I’m afraid I was feeling much better than I am now,” he said. “My apologies for not seeing your stallion myself, but I trust my son will give me his honest opinion about whether we should incorporate some of Marsdale’s stock into our own.”

“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well, Your Grace.” She purposely didn’t sit down.

“Yes, well, that’s what happens when you’re my age.” He waved his hand in the air. “Sit down and stay for a moment. I’d love to hear about your home in America. I’ve always wanted to go, but what with all my responsibilities here, I’ve never been able to manage it. And now, it will likely never happen.”

If the duke was interested in going to America, then why shouldn’t he? They could marry and immediately set sail. The idea was thrilling, but at the same time, Will entered her thoughts. The idea of never seeing him again stung, and she felt more confused than ever.

“Maybe you’ll be feeling well enough to go soon,” she suggested.

“It’s doubtful, but do tell me about it, will you?”

“Of course I will, but what are your responsibilities here that meant you couldn’t go? You have your son to run your estate, do you not?” She gestured to Leighton.

“I have him, plus three other sons, but I’m probably not up for a journey.”

“You have three other sons as well?” she asked, genuinely interested. “I had no idea.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, so tell me about where you lived in America.”

Georgia proceeded to tell him all about the farm where she was raised in Virginia. She also told him about her promise to her father to marry a British gentleman and live in England. None of it made any sense to her, but, for some reason, telling the tale to this man lightened her burden. Then she talked about racing and her love of riding, and how she’d had so many freedoms that weren’t afforded her here.

When the duke looked as though he’d grown tired, Georgia said, “I must return to Autumn Ridge now, but send me an invitation again. I’ll return right away.”

“That would be delightful, Miss Duvall. I’m so glad you met my son at the party.”

“I am as well, Your Grace.” She curtsied. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you again soon.”

“My son will show you out.”

Outside near the stables, Perry gathered the horses. While she waited with Leighton, he said, “My father seems quite taken with you.”

“Thank you, my lord. He’s a delightful man.”

“He’s not visited with any eligible young ladies for that length of time since my stepmother died.”

Georgia nodded, wondering if there was a point to his comment.

“We might make a new stepmother of you yet,” he said. “Especially with your talk of America. If you convinced him to make the journey, he’d likely not make it and you’d be a dowager duchess in no time.”

Vigorously, she shook her head. “Why do you say such spiteful things?”

“Why are you interested in my father?”

“He’s a delightful man. He appreciates my heritage, which I can’t say for most of the Englishmen I’ve met. He doesn’t scoff at my accent.” Or say she needed a voice coach.

“I doubt anything can be done about your accent, but it’s interesting in an odd sort of way.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I have a proposition for you Miss Duvall.”

The tone of his voice sounded so serious. “I’m listening.”

“Hear me out, if you will.”

“Of course.”

“I believe you want to marry my father because he’ll die soon.”

She started to interrupt him, to deny his accusation, but as soon as her mouth opened, he said, “You promised to hear me out.”

She nodded. “And so I did.”

“My proposal is that we become business partners. We will incorporate your stallion into our breeding stock, but we will also marry.” He lifted his hand, anticipating her interruption. She remained quiet.

“I only require an heir. After one is produced, then you’ve no other ties to me other than being a business associate. No need to be in my bed. You’ll have access to all your own funds. I’ll have my solicitor draft a contract. It will all be based on business.”

She was stunned beyond words. Isn’t this exactly what she wanted? To have her own funds, have her own racing stables, and moreover, to be a true partner in a business.

“I-I hardly know what to say.”

“Take some time to think about it. My offer doesn’t have a time limit. I require an heir. I sense you require your freedom. I can give you what you want, if you’ll also give me what I want.”

She swallowed hard. “I have some questions.”

“I’m listening.”

“Why me?”

“Because I like you. I think we’ll get on fine, and you’ve an eye for horseflesh.”

“But there are any number of eligible
British
women available, and even if I do know quite a bit about horses, my status as an American woman wouldn’t elevate your status amongst the
ton
—in fact, they might even shun you for it.”

“I couldn’t care less what the
ton
thinks,” he countered.

“So you agree with me that they might shun you because you’ve married an American?”

“No. I certainly don’t think they’d shun me or my family, but even if they did—I don’t honestly care. Why would you believe that?”

She looked away from him, staring absently across the pastures. “I’ve just heard it said that the
ton
can be cruel if they don’t like something a member of your family has done.”

“I think you might be overanalyzing the
ton
and their power, Miss Duvall.” He placed his hand on her upper arm. She noticed immediately that she didn’t experience that same bubbly feeling in her stomach as when Will touched her. Very gently, he turned her toward him. “I’m proposing a business arrangement, nothing more.”

“All right. I still can’t understand completely why you’d choose me, but nevertheless, I have one more question.” Lifting her gaze, she watched him to see how he would react to her next question. “Will you still take me as your wife if I’m not a virgin?”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze shrewd, menacing almost, and at the same time completely unreadable. “Yes.”

She nodded. “I shall consider your offer then.”

Perry approached them with the horses, and Leighton directed her to the mounting block. “I look forward to our next visit, Miss Duvall.”

“I look forward to it as well, my lord.” She climbed on Perseus’s back and gathered the reins in her gloved hands. “Good day to you.”

“And good day to you, as well.”

Georgia rode to Autumn Ridge with so many thoughts swirling in her mind that her head literally hurt. The Earl of Leighton’s offer was too perfect—it was everything she wanted. She’d have her own funds, and she’d even have her own child. Oliver and Arabella would live nearby. It was everything she could have dreamed a few weeks ago, but now everything was different.

Now, there was Will to consider.

She placed her hand on her abdomen.

Unless the decision had been removed from her hands.