The Hidden Heiress (15 page)

Frantic, she searched the empty compartment. "You're all alone?"

He locked the door. "Yes, we are all alone."

"It isn't necessary to lock the door."

"No?"

Isabel wrapped her arms around her body. "You have to stop behaving in such a rash manner, Marshall. I cannot live like this."

"Like what?"

Her arms fell to her sides. "You seem to keep changing your mind as to whether or not you want me in your life. First you pursue me, even going so far as to follow me, then you decide to rid yourself of me by staying in London while I was forced to go to the country."

He closed the window and pulled down the shade. "I am quite clear about wanting you in my life. You are the one who is caught up in the details."

"Marriage is hardly a mere detail."

"Which is a good reason for me to avoid it."

"Please, I don't want to have this discussion again," Isabel cried in a high pitched voice.

Marshall sighed. "Perhaps that's why we're having such a difficult time trying to resolve it! But if that will make you happy, we'll drop it. For now."

Isabel sat on one of the benches that stretched along the length of the compartment. "I would be willing to speak of it if we weren't covering the same ground every single time without even the semblance of a resolution. Tell me the truth. Why did you change your mind and decide to come to the country house with us?"

Marshall leaned against the door and crossed one leg across the other. "Why do you want to know, Isabel? Is it that important to you?"

She unpinned her hat and placed it on the cushion beside her. "No. But if I had known, I would have been better prepared to avoid you."

He placed his hand across his chest. "That cuts to the heart."

She rolled her eyes.

"I know about Cyril."

Isabel sat up straight, her eyes large and scared. "Is that why you came then? To taunt me--"

"I followed him after I saw you watching him in the park--"

"How dare you!" She stood up, hair escaping from her chignon with the abrupt movement. "That's a despicabthing to do."

He made a grab for her hands, but she slipped away. "I'm sorry, Isabel, but I was insanely jealous!"

"Then perhaps you should have discussed it with me." Her eyes glazed over as her body came to a standstill.

He shook his head. "You wouldn't have confided in me."

Isabel leaned back, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "If I were you, I wouldn't assume things. There is much you do not know about me."

He reached for her hands a second time and this time, caught them. "You're absolutely right, my dear. I don't know enough about you. But I want to learn."

"Following people behind my back was not the way to go about it."

"I know." Marshall tried to find the truth in her eyes. "I was not spying on you to punish you. I care about you, Isabel, and I wanted to know what was going on. Many men would take advantage of you if given the chance. I refuse to see you get hurt."

She closed her eyes. "Please, don't trouble yourself. You're only making things more difficult by trying to drudge up a scandal. I know how your family reacts to any hint of a relationship between us . . . even a secret one."

Marshall squeezed her soft, tiny hands. "I don't care what they think."

"So you'd risk your reputation, your position in the parliament, just to have an affair with me? Or, better yet, would you lose your shot at junior lord completely to marry me?"

His chest throbbed. "I never said anything about marriage. I don't know how I could--"

"I know. That's why this conversation is over." Abruptly, she pulled her hands away and strode toward the door. But she fiddled with the lock for too long. Marshall pulled her away before she'd worked it open.

"I demand to know about Cyril. Is he your lover?"

She struggled to free herself from his grasp. "No, of course not!"

"Then was he once your lover? If he jilted you--"

"Don't be foolish," she cried. "It's nothing like that."

Even as she tried to escape him, Marshall's heart softened for her. He pulled her closer to him, which only made the throbbing in his groin worse. "Is this man trying to hurt you? Do you owe him money?"

Now silent, she shook her head.

"Is he blackmailing you? Does he know a secret that you desperately want to keep hidden?" Marshall wanted to shake her, anything to knock some sense into her female brain. "I can help you with him. We can get through this together. Just tell me!"

"You don't know what you're asking," she growled. "Don't you think I want help? I need all the assistance I can get! But I haven't asked for your help before now for a very good reason. Can't you just accept that?"

"No." He took a deep breath, finding it difficult to control his temper. "I can't."

"You are going to have to."

He reached up to caress her silky hair. "I don't want to lose you because of your stubbornness."

She twitched her head away from his hand. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Just being stubborn?"

"No, you're right. There must be more to your reticence than that."

"Really?" she replied, her eyes wide. "Could it actually be possible?"

"Of course. I happen to think you're a very intelligent, albeit conniving, woman."

Isabel pushed him away, her eyes shooting fire. "Just mind your own damn business."

He stared at her in shock, not moving as he watched her unlatch the door. He had every right to demand information from her. She was practically his employee, living under his roof!

If only he could shake her out of his mind, he would be a happy man. But whatever foolish thing she did or said, he still wanted her. It was a fire burning deep in his gut, painful and inextinguishable.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night he'd pinned her to her bed, consequences be damned. Unfortunately, his mind was flooded with images of what happened later. He drove his fingernails into his palms, wishing they were long enough to wound. She still wasn't willing to forgive him for the things he'd said. How might he convce her to see things his way?

It all made him determined not to let her out of his sight. He refused to give up until she told him what she was up to and how he could protect her from it.

Isabel had her hand on the door to Mrs. Templeton's compartment when two strong hands grabbed her from behind. She gasped, wanting to scream, but not wanting to cause a scene. She would be the one who looked bad, not Marshall.

They always blamed the help.

Marshall pulled her back into the next compartment and shut the door.

She backed away from him. "You're behaving like an animal. Someone on the platform might have seen."

"I demand to know what's going on, Isabel."

If she were to tell him the truth, she supposed the first thing she would have to confess would be her real name. The thought made her want to run for the door. Isabel gazed down at the floor, not wanting to meet his angry stare. "Nothing is going on."

He laughed, and his eyes revealed what he truly thought of her response. "I don't believe that for a second."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't be acting so guilty if you had nothing to hide."

"No?"

"No."

She took another step toward the window. "And what makes you the expert?"

He just smiled. "You shouldn't be afraid of me. I'm not the one who's acting like a criminal."

"I am not acting like a criminal."

"Then tell me what you've been doing with this Cyril. If you're in danger, I deserve to know."

She covered her face with her hands, wanting to sob until he listened. He couldn't bully her until she told him everything. What did she even know of him? Certainly, he had his own secrets.

Unfortunately, Marshall was determined to discover everything she kept hidden. He refused to believe her claim that nothing was amiss. Words were cheap.

Clearly, a different approach was necessary. Isabel left the window, stood in front of him and ran her fingertips down his arm, pinning him with her gaze. "Why are you being so bad-tempered?" she whispered.

His muscles relaxed beneath her hand. "I'm worried about you."

"Well, you can stop worrying. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself." She squeezed his upper arm, tingling all over when she felt him clench his muscles.

Marshall moved closer, his chest only a hint away from her own. "It's nice to be alone again. I wasn't sure we'd have another opportunity."

"That's because you were
trying
to make sure that it never happened again."

"I was a fool. Did my behavior upset you?"

She nodded. "Yes, it did. It would have been lonely in the country without you."

He pulled her hard against him, knocking the breath out of her. "Maybe you'd meet someone at one of my sister-in-law's lavish parties. Would you like that?"

"No."

He nodded and ran his hand up and down her back. "I wouldn't like it either. Not since knowing the feel of you in my arms."

Isabel arched to his touch and shook her head.

He brushed his lips against her cheek. "Not since knowing your kiss."

Her entire body tingled.

Marshall held her lips between his teeth, gently pulling them into his mouth. He made a growling sound as he did it, traveling a fine line between control and chaos.

Her entire body ached for him, even though she hadn't forgotten how he'd just been arrogantly demanding that she tell him her every secret. It didn't matter. She was in his arms and it was where she wanted to stay. Being with him like that made her feel important, like she really mattered to someone.

He nibbled her neck. "You make me feel . . . animalistic," he moaned. "I could tear you apart if I'm not careful."

Common sense warred with her desire as she listened to his words. She should have been frightened by such a comment, but she was all the more aroused. She breathed heavily in his ear. "I need you."

The moment the words came out of her mouth, she feared that she'd said the wrong thing. But seconds later she knew it was right. He didn't pull away, not even to breathe. Marshall just backed her toward the couch, his fervor increased.

He pressed her hard against the compartment's long, narrow bench. She felt cushions straining against the back of her knees, even through her petticoats. Slowly, he lowered her back toward the wall. "Isabel, I don't understand what you do to me . . ."

Her legs gave out and they fell onto the soft bench. Once horizontal, he reached for her skirts.

But she forgot what his hand was doing when he began seducing her mouth with his lithe tongue, twisting around her own in a passionate game. She returned his kisses heartily, her heart rising to her throat with each movement.

Marshall glanced down at her exposed petticoats, his eyes fiery. "I'd thought I glimpsed scarlet earlier. I'm pleased to discover that I was correct."

"Then you'll be even happier when you see my corset," she ventured.

He groaned. "I'd like to see it now."

She nodded, but he didn't move to unbutton her bodice. She ached when he lifted her petticoats and she felt his hand on her bare leg.

"So soft," he said, caressing higher up her leg.

She felt vulnerable and safe. Too safe. She had to say something, anything but the truth. Else she was afraid she'd confess everything to him. "Show me what I do to you, Marshall."

He fumbled with the buttons on her bodice, one of them popping off and rolling across the compartment floor. He exposed her lacy camisole and pulled it apart too. She heard a slight ripping sound, but paid it no mind.

She was in love with him. Gloriously, completely, in love with him.

A knock on the door sent them scrambling to their feet. Isabel hastily adjusted her clothing. Her cheeks burned at the thought of someone catching them. To imagine what they had just been doing! It was even worse than that night in her bedroom. She would never be able to look Marshall in the eye again. "Who could that be?" she whispered.

The knock sounded again.

"Probably my brother," Marshall whispered back, helping her hold together her ripped camisole. "I'm so sorry. I'll replace it."

Isabel didn't reply to his apology and hoped that her ruining her blouse was the only thing he regretted doing. Then she thought of Edward Templeton and his insulting assumptions whenever they met. "Oh, Marshall . . . he'll know exactly what we've been up to."

"Just get dressed," Marshall replied. "I'll take care of it."

She nodded to him, trying to believe in his assurances. But she didn't know how he could convince his brother that their time spent in the compartment, alone, was innocent. It was useless to even try.

When she'd nearly finished closing her bodice, she realized that she'd lost the button. "My button," she said, searching the floor.

"Just cover the gap with your hand. If we wait any longer before opening the door, we'll never live it down."

Isabel nodded again.

Marshall opened the door with a welcoming smile on his face.

"Paige!" he said, obviously startled. "I thought it would be--"

"Easier to open these foolish doors," Isabel finished for him, practically gasping with relief.

Chapter 11

Moments later, Isabel was back in the women's compartment, trying not to blush under the observation of Mrs. Templeton.

"Forgot to get your newspaper?"

Isabel's entire body froze, while her mind raced to make up a suitable lie. "Yes, I forgot. After walking around all this time, I felt better and forgot what I'd left the compartment to get in the first place."

"You must be under some sort of stress," Jane replied, "to be so forgetful."

She thought of Paige running next door to see her uncle. "I suppose Paige running into me on her way to the other compartment also made me forget my purpose."

Jane pursed her lips. "I would caution you against getting involved with your emloyer, Miss Balfour."

Isabel met her gaze without looking away, trying not to appear guilty. "By employer, do you mean Mr. Marshall Templeton?" she asked, stalling for time.