To Marry a Marquess (12 page)
Rest easy? Victoria gritted her teeth, feeling the strength of his fingers pressing into her back. Why, this man could ruin her.
It took her a few tense minutes before she realized the carriage was stopping at her home. She hated to move lest the man believed she was making an advance of some sort. His ego had already eclipsed even her imagination.
However, the stunning thought that she might want him to hold her a bit longer lingered in the back of her mind like a prickly thorn. She let out a distasteful shudder. It was the cold night air making her daft. It had to be.
When he escorted her up the steps and to the door, she handed him his jacket just as Winston appeared. She murmured a hurried goodnight, but was surprised when he stepped in after her.
"Cozy little place your aunt has," he said, walking further into the hall.
"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
Smirking, the marquess peered at the butler and gave Winston his hat. "Bring some brandy into the library, my good man, and be quick about it."
Winston stayed put, his questioning brows narrowing into the middle of his forehead. Victoria glanced back at the pirate.
"Oh, good heavens, be reasonable, Lord Drakefield."
The man had the insolence to smile at her, refusing to budge. "Brandy." He paused, raising a brow to the butler. "Winston, is it not?"
Victoria gasped. Of all the unmitigated gall. The wretched man was not going to leave until he had his brandy. She wished she could just give him the entire bottle and shove him out the door. But the way he was staring down her butler and checking that pocket watch of his, it was obvious he was not about to leave until
he
decided to.
She gave a wary glance at Winston. The older man clenched his hands at his sides. Oh, good grief, not him too! She scooted between the two men, dread filling the pit of her stomach. "It's quite all right, Winston. Bring the brandy into the library."
The butler stood for another second, nodded grimly and left, only to return to the library later with a crystal decanter of brandy and one glass. He placed the tray on the mahogany end table and planted his feet on the carpet as though he were rooted to the room like an oak.
A fire crackled in the hearth, sounding more like booming thunder against the silence that swallowed the room. The marquess glared at Winston. Winston glared back at the marquess. No one moved. Victoria grew more uncomfortable by the minute. Surely, Lord Drakefield would not touch the older man.
Smiling, she nodded for Winston to leave. To his credit, the butler took his leave, keeping the doors wide open. But the blood drained from her face when the marquess took three long strides toward the doors, sealing the room closed with a thud. He turned, folded his arms across his chest, and glared at her.
Her heart thumped madly as she fought the anxiety spurting through her veins. No doubt the man would like to skewer her with the fire poker.
"Well, what is it you want?" Her head, perhaps?
Gray eyes locked with hers. "Now, my little runaway, if I knew the answer to that question, we would not be here, would we?"
Chapter
Eight
V
ictoria watched with misgiving as Lord Drakefield took the brandy decanter off the tray and splashed the amber liquid into the glass. He peered up, his steel gray eyes surveying her with a glint of amusement.
"To warm you." He walked toward her and handed her the glass.
Her lips thinned. "No, thank you."
Still shivering from the cold, she spared a glance at the door. She needed a wrap, and she needed him gone.
"Ah," he replied, following her gaze. "Going to be that way, is it?" He lowered the drink onto the tray, and before she knew it, he had her in his arms, depositing her on a soft-tufted chair near the glowing hearth. "Warmer now?"
Victoria gasped. "You take your liberties too far, Lord Drakefield."
She narrowed her eyes as she followed his long purposeful strides back toward the brandy glass. Then he laughed and started toward her. "At least we're getting somewhere by calling me by name."
"That is debatable." She pressed her lips together and glared at him.
But as he closed the distance between them, the devilish gleam in his eye unnerved her so much that she jumped out of the chair and accidentally knocked the brandy all over his cravat. She threw her hands to her face in horror as the liquid dripped down the white fabric and his waistcoat.
"Direct hit, my dear." He dabbed at his clothes with a white handkerchief, stuffing the cloth back into his waistcoat pocket.
Victoria stood, staring in shock at what she had done.
He peered up at her, his gray eyes gleaming with challenge. "Does that mean you are daring to refuse the drink, or is it me you abhor?"
You, of course.
"Very well then," he said with a narrowed gaze, as if hearing her very thoughts. "You are going to freeze to death in that... that flimsy gown. Your shoulders are quivering and your teeth are rattling. I will not have you ill. Confound it, woman! You led me on a merry chase after Nightham's death, and now you can hardly stand or speak without shaking!"
She wrapped her arms around her chest. The thought of Lord Nightham and that horrid night brought tears to her eyes. "If you will take your leave, I will take the drink."
"The devil, I will. The drink is nothing more than a medicinal beverage to warm you. I daresay, it is not a ploy to have you foxed. Take it now, so we can have our little talk."
He pushed the brandy beneath her nose, but she refused by twisting her head aside.
"Minx," he chided, wrapping one hand around her waist and pulling her to him. "Warmer?"
Victoria shook her head no. But in fact, she felt much warmer than she ever wanted to be. He smelled of fine soap and brandy, sending her senses soaring.
"Your teeth are still clacking like horses' hooves." His voice whispered along her neck as he rubbed her quivering shoulders. "I assure you it is in your best interest to stay warm."
The mere touch of his fingers sent a smoldering shiver through her veins. "I am feeling much better," she said softly. "Thank you."
He paused, then pulled her closer to the fire. "I'm not going to tell my father about your flight with Nightham, if that's what's worrying you."
Warily, she looked up to find his gaze intent upon her face. At that precise moment, she felt a subtle, but fragile thread begin to grow between them.
"That is, unless you give me pause to do otherwise."
He took hold of her shoulders, and her breath came to a screeching halt. He seemed to recognize her reaction to him, and his lips curved upward into an unconscious smile. "You must trust me on this. Can you do that?"
"Trust you?" she repeated in a suffocating whisper. To put her family's future totally in this man's hands? She shook her head. "No, I can't do that."
He lifted her chin with the tip of his fingers. "Yes, you can," he said in a silky voice and lowered his head, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was oddly gentle, shooting a fiery heat along her skin. He leaned his head back and stared at her.
"I have wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you at the inn." His warm breath fanned her cheeks as he gently took her face in his hands. "You must have driven Nightham mad."
The tenderness of his touch began to crack her protective shield. His dark gaze searched her face, and he kissed her again. Her mind said no, but her heart said yes. She did not want to resist him. Like a magical spell, she felt herself sway into him while the room seemed to tilt and spin beneath her.
"What the blazes is going on here?"
"William!" Victoria jumped back and turned toward the open doors. Reality abruptly set in. Shocked at her response to Lord Drakefield's kiss, she groaned out loud.
"Why, ye are the bloomin' pirate!"
William stood at the doors, holding his stick in one hand, flying it in the air like a sword in battle. His white nightshirt flapped about wildly as he circled the marquess.
His black pirate hat hit the ground as if in challenge. "Ye are not supposed to kiss the princess, not unless ye are married!"
The boy pulled his second in command for a look. The furry creature squirmed about William's fingers and emitted a restless squeak.
"Well, well." The marquess's eyes lit up with amusement.
"What do ye think ye are doing?" William stood his ground.
Lord Drakefield's chest began to rumble with laughter.
Victoria looked on in horror, humiliation filling her. The pirate had kissed her, but more mortifying than that, she had kissed him back! And trust him? He must be daft!
William interrupted the tense moment with another slice of his sword. "If you are going to marry her, then I will not have to call you out." The sword fingered back to Drakefield's belly.
"An interesting prospect," the marquess said coolly. "Is it not, Lady Victoria?"
Victoria's eyes widened at the implication. "William, what are you doing up at this time of night?"
"I was watching for that villain, of course!" The boy stomped his foot. "And I saw him! Out there!" His sword flew past the smirking marquess's mouth, toward the tall windows.
Victoria's anger was mounting, toward her cousin and the marquess. She could never trust this man. What in the world had she been thinking?
She patted William's bottom, hurrying him along. "To bed with you, young man."
"Wait just a minute, me brother pirate." Drakefield stepped forward and touched the boy's shoulder. "What villain?"
Victoria glared at Lord Drakefield. Then pushing her cousin along, she said, "I said it is time for bed, William."
But Lord Drakefield gently moved in, brushing her aside. He proceeded to haul William to a nearby chair, then onto his lap, sword and all. "Now, tell me about this villain, me pirate."
"Humph!" William glanced up at Victoria with a winning look in his eyes. "Well." William smiled at the marquess, his expression one of great importance. "The villain always watches us from outside that window."
William pointed across the room. The marquess stood up and held the boy's hand as they took a look.
"He waits on the corner, over there." William stabbed the air with his finger. "He watches and waits, dressed all in black. Sometimes he says bad words. Why, I've heard him say words like—"
"William," Victoria interrupted. "That is quite enough. We have no need to know specific details."
"Go on, William." Lord Drakefield hid his smile. "Continue without the undignified words."
William's eyes grew round, obviously enthralled that someone was finally paying attention to him. "The villain wants one or all of the princesses in the house."
The boy looked back at Victoria, then whispered into the marquess's ear, tugging at his stained cravat. "And I am telling ye, he wants the treasure, too."
"Ah, he does, does he?" The marquess's eyes sparkled. "Depend upon it, William, I will keep an eye out for the villain myself. But I do believe it's time for bed, me pirate friend."
With one fluid motion, the marquess threw the boy on top of his shoulders. William whooped with glee.
