Seduction on a Snowy Night Page 7

  She looked over. “Has he been so generous that you are in his debt?”

  “Not financially.” There were other kinds of debts, however. Other ways to extract payment for generosity. Margaret Millerson, for example.

  Nigel wanted Millerson’s money in that canal project, but the two men did not really trust each other. They were too much alike. So a marriage between families would serve as it always served, as a blood tie that proved good intentions. With an allowance dependent on Nigel, and other debts like the horse and social connections, Adam was hard pressed to refuse.

  He had not thought about Margaret for two days now and was surprised that the proposed match appealed far less now, when it had never appealed much at all.

  “After you marry my sister, would you want to stay here and help rebuild Crestview Park? Would he object to any of that?”

  She asked it ever so calmly, as if the first part were a given and the second parts the only unknowns.

  “Marry your sister?”

  “Of course. That is why you are here. I thought you knew that by now.”

  He had enjoyed this ride with her. He liked horses. He liked her. Now they were in a conversation about his future that ideally would be held elsewhere, if at all.

  Caroline had brought him here, abducted him, to coerce a marriage with her sister. “Why didn’t you just write to me in London, explaining the situation and learning my reaction?”

  “Would you have responded? I could not count on it. Nor could I depend upon your seeing her if I brought her there, or to your cousin’s house. More likely we would have been turned away. Now you will have no choice but to see her and hear her name you, and remind you of the truth of it. Then as a gentleman you will do the right thing.”

  “Only if I truly am the man who seduced your sister, something I have no recollection of.”

  “I think you will remember everything when you see her.”

  He considered the implications of that while they dismounted and led their horses into the stalls. He left his and came over to help her unsaddle hers. “When will Jason have her back here so I can meet her?”

  “You have already met her. However, she will be here in a day or so. So you can marry her.”

  Caroline thought he had figured all this out. He should have. He would have if his thoughts had not become increasingly preoccupied with Caroline herself.

  “And if I refuse?” He set the saddle on the beam where it lived. He turned to face her and saw her expression set in one much like that while she held him at pistol point in that wagon the first day.

  “You will marry her,” she said. “I’ll not have my sister live her life in shame because you lacked courage. The border is less than a day’s ride away and we will go to Scotland and you will wed there.”

  “And if I refuse?” he repeated with irritation.

  “I promise that you will agree.”

  “Or what? Am I to marry at the point of a sword? Or the end of a pistol? Who will hold either? You?”

  “There will be no shortage of volunteers. I may now lack the courage, but others will not. You may think I am beholden to you, and might take your chances with me, but you would be mistaken to do so with the men.”

  She meant Tom and that other one, this Jason. The one who had not been here since the first day. Of the two, the young one would be the danger, not Tom.

  “If you force this it will not hold. It will not be legal, Caroline. Contracts made under coercion are not legitimate.”

  “There will be witnesses that say you were willing. You can go to the courts and claim you were forced, but it will be a very long time before you are heard and I don’t think any judge will believe you. I expect men say that all the time to get out of marriages.”

  She began walking to the stall’s entry. He blocked her path. “Why might you lack the courage? You had more than enough four days ago.”

  “Because you have helped me. I think of you as a friend. It was probably a mistake to allow that, but after yesterday—it would be difficult to shoot you now.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “Now, I should go. You still need to unsaddle your horse.”

  “Not yet.” He did not move. “Caroline, do you want me to marry your sister? Truly? Because doing so would be—”

  “Be what?”

  “Unnatural. She is not the sister I want.”

  Her expression fell. She looked away and visibly struggled with her composure. “She carries your child. You don’t get to choose.”

  “Don’t I?” He lowered his head. “Don’t I, Caroline?”

  “N-no.” Her voice broke on the word. She turned away.

  He reached for her and turned her back. He lifted her chin so he could see her face beneath that broad brim of the man’s hat. He swept the hat away and looked into moist brown eyes that carried too much sadness. God help him—he bent and kissed her lips carefully. “She is not here yet, darling. At least let me kiss you while I can.”

  “You should not.” She barely breathed the denial.

  “No. But—” He brushed her lips with his again. She did not resist. She did not pull away. He kissed her again, fully. He took her in his arms.

  Sweet kisses, touched by salty tears. She embraced him awkwardly and kissed him back, but he felt the sorrow in her, the awareness that this could never be. She believed that and it kept his impulses in check. He did not want her doing more than this, which she had agreed to with that kiss, even if he wanted much more.

  The potential hopelessness of their passion affected the kisses and embraces and even the air around them. He made each kiss count because it might be one of a handful he would ever have. He lifted her closer so their bodies pressed together and he could feel her breasts and hips against him. He cajoled her mouth open so they might join more closely.

  “You will not—” She breathed out the command that was half a question, too.

  “No. I promise.”

  She believed him although she had no real cause to. And yet perhaps here, these last days, he had been a man she could trust. He only knew he had not been the man who left London, nor the one expected at his cousin’s house. He kissed her like he was going to stay here forever, riding the hills with her, grooming Guinevere for her first race, watching the seasons change on that hill.

  The images added a poignancy to the pleasure the closeness brought him because at the heart of them was the promise of an emotion he would probably never have, at least not with this woman. He realized with both amazement and certainty that he would not want it with anyone else.

  He caressed her, down the wool of the coat and over the fabric of the pantaloons. She rose against him when he smoothed the roundness of her bottom with both hands, holding her close so he pressed against her. The sensation sent him careening into a drive for more. Despite his promise, he began calculating if one of the stalls had clean straw to serve as a bed.

  The familiar ruthlessness of his hunger caught him up short. He had made a promise, and if ever he kept one now was the time. He gentled his kisses again, calming them both while he did so. Yet the last one begat another, and another yet, because he feared there would be no more, ever.

  Somehow, with a final caress, he summoned the strength to step back and release her. She released him, too. They looked at each other briefly, deeply. Then he stood aside and she walked to the house.

  * * *

  Caroline tried not to look at Thornhill all through dinner. At least they were not alone. Tom hobbled over from the cottage so Mrs. Hoover could feed them all properly in one sitting. The men kept up a lively conversation about the horses while Mrs. Hoover served her stew and dumplings and some boiled carrots dug up from the kitchen garden last month. Caroline wondered if Thornhill spoke so much in order to disguise how she did not talk at all.

  Her head was too busy for dinner conversation. In it she relived what happened in the stable and tried to reconcile herself to the odd reality that she did not fe
el nearly as guilty as she should. He had asked to kiss her while he still could, and she had allowed it. They had done nothing wrong. Yet.

  Could she live here after that wedding took place? Watch him and Amelia together? Be the strange older sister who donned pantaloons to help with the animals? Thornhill would never tell anyone that for a day or so, before he married, he had kissed a different Dunham woman. She would never tell anyone either. It would remain a fond memory of grabbing a little joy before it became wrong to do so.

  It all sounded so reasonable when she lined it up that way. So honest. Only in her heart she knew it had been wrong. She also knew that she would not be able to be the old friend of the husband, and sister to the wife. Her heart would break every time she saw them together.

  She might have to leave, if her heart did not take the next few days in stride. Leave this land and the horses. She could go to Aunt Elizabeth in Carlisle, she supposed, just as Amelia had visited so often. Only Amelia had been a marriageable young woman whose beauty compensated for her lack of fortune. Caroline would be the spinster relative with no prospects and no money.

  It did not sound like an appealing life, but she would accept it if it meant Amelia could be happy in her marriage. It would be wrong, so very wrong, to in any way interfere with that, even through old memories.

  “You must admit he is a fine-looking man.” Mrs. Hoover leaned over to murmur into Caroline’s ear while the men talked on.

  Caroline looked at the fine-looking man in question. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Suppose so, do you? As if any woman would not notice. Of course he knows it. Men that look like that always do.”

  “Yes, he does.” And yet she did not think him especially vain. He knew his advantages but also his own flaws from what she had seen of him so far. He was no saint, but at least he did not pretend his weaknesses were virtues.

  “I don’t think Jason will come around to liking him much for a long time. He may even leave here once we are done. He said as much to me last week. Said he didn’t want to serve a lying scoundrel who took advantage of innocent girls. I’m hoping you will talk some sense into him.”

  Thornhill kept glancing at their whispered exchange, even while he still regaled Old Tom with stories of races he had witnessed. He probably guessed they discussed him. She didn’t think she could convince Jason that this was not a lying scoundrel, much as she now disagreed with that description.

  Perhaps she would leave with Jason. She would take a few of the horses as her birthright and find a small plot of land to rent and start over with Jason’s help. She would not have to give up all she knew then or be a dependent relative.

  Old Tom began struggling to stand. Thornhill rose to help him.

  “I should walk him back,” Mrs. Hoover said. “I’ll come back and clean up.”

  “I can clean up. You take care of Tom.”

  “I will walk with you,” Thornhill said. “You can lean on me, Mr. Smith.”

  Mr. Hoover drew himself straight. He gave Caroline a long look, then faced the baron. “My name is Tom Hoover, not Mr. Smith. My wife there is not a Smith either, nor is my son, Jason. We have been here since before horses roamed this land and if you marry Miss Amelia you are stuck with us, too.”

  “Tom—” Caroline began.

  “Na, don’t, Caro. I’ll have my say. There’s things I want to know from this man before I accept his shoulder for support.”

  “What do you need to know, Mr. Hoover?” Thornhill asked.

  “Caro here has run this place for over a year now, and done a fine job of it. She ran it the year before when her father was not himself. After you marry into the family, what are your intentions here? Do you intend to displace us all?”

  “He can’t do that, Tom,” Caroline said. “There won’t be enough money to displace anyone for a number of years still.”

  “And what of her?” Tom angled his head toward her without acknowledging her comment. “Will you be expecting her to leave and you run the place?”

  “A lot would depend on Mr. Dunham’s will,” Thornhill said. “However, it would be my intention that Miss Dunham never leave this land, and have a hand in its management as long as she chooses.”

  Caroline was astonished by the ease with which he said that, as if he had thought it out already and decided her hand in the continued management was important.

  A big smile broke on Tom’s face. He beamed a grin at his wife. “I told you I should come tonight. Share a pint with a man and it clears the air. You can stop worrying now, see?”

  Shaking her head, Mrs. Hoover threw on her cape and tucked a basket over one arm. “Share a pint with a man and there’s a lot of fool talk, seems to me. Come on now, and watch your way so you don’t break something with a fall.”

  Thornhill pulled his greatcoat off its peg, slid it on, then walked beside Tom. As they left the kitchen and began up the stone stairs, Caroline saw Thornhill’s arm go around the older man to ensure he did not fall on the steps.

  She closed the door behind them, then turned to the sink. Water already warmed on the hearthstone, and she poured it into two basins. She made quick work of the dishes and cups, then began scouring the cauldron.

  She was drying it over the fire when the door opened and Thornhill returned. He hung his coat and paced through the kitchen while she finished. The house all but quaked with its emptiness. The air grew heavy with their mutual awareness that they were alone here now and would be until early morning.

  “Am I going to have to bar you into that chamber again?” she asked while she straightened the crockery.

  “I don’t think so.”

  But he didn’t know for sure, from the sounds of it. It would help if excitement did not keep sparkling in her blood. It would be hell to deny herself, and yet she must.

  “They are good people,” he said. “I am glad you had them with you these last years.”

  “For what little they received in the bargain they were saints to stay. You must promise to take care of them.”

  He neither responded nor left. She felt him still behind her. Felt his desire reaching for her.

  What he contemplated could not happen.

  “You should go above now. You really should,” she said, keeping her back to him.

  No sound. Then slow boot steps, coming closer. She closed her eyes and tried to contain what that did to her. She imagined caresses like she had experienced in the stable, and hot kisses on her nape, and arms surrounding her. Then more. Much more.

  The steps stopped. Then they sounded again, firmer now, walking away.

  Chapter 9

  Lord Thornhill was gone.

  Caroline accepted the truth after breakfast. He had not been down to eat while she was in the kitchen. She went looking for him afterward and finally ventured up to the attic chambers. The garments she had brought him and that he had worn yesterday waited on the bed, folded neatly. All of his own things had been removed.

  She ran out to the stable. Only one horse greeted her. Thornhill had taken the other and broken his parole.

  She had been a fool after all, to believe him and trust him. He had lured her and charmed her and taken advantage, just like he had with Amelia. Nor had she proven stronger than her sister. She had softened and melted and surrendered her good sense. He had not even had to try very hard.

  It would be a miserable Christmas now, not one with some joy. They would all spend the day waiting for the county magistrate to come and take them all to gaol.

  She went about her day, doing the chores. Tom insisted on driving the wagon when they brought hay to the horses. She should have refused, but she needed the help. Neither he nor Mrs. Hoover even asked where His Lordship was. Everyone agreed without words not to speak of the failure of the plan.

  In the afternoon, Caroline took one of the muskets from the gun rack near the kitchen, mounted her horse, and headed toward the woods. Tom couldn’t hunt, so someone had to and it would have to be her. She had a goo
d aim and brought down two pheasants before long. She tied them to her saddle and headed home.

  Just then the crack of another shot broke the snow-packed silence. She followed the sound to see a poacher lifting his prize off the ground. She trotted closer to warn him off. As she neared she recognized the greatcoat.

  Thornhill held up a large hare. “Mrs. Hoover should be able to do something with this, I think.”

  “Where have you been? I thought—”

  He came over to her horse. “You won’t mind if I tie these here, will you? I don’t want the blood to get on my coat.” He looked up at her. “You thought what? That I had run off? Tom knew I would be gone today. He is the one who gave me the musket.”

  “I hope you got more than one hare if you have been hunting all this time.”

  He swung up on his horse. “I only now started hunting. Since you did so well, I can skip the rest and go get warm.”

  “Then where were you?”

  He smiled. “Does it matter? I am back, true to my word.”

  They turned and aimed back to the house. Her mood lightened with his return. She couldn’t stop smiling, her heart felt so bright. She had been imagining Amelia giving birth to a child with no father while her sister faced a merciless judge. Also she had been picturing her never seeing Thornhill again.

  “It is a fine day again,” she said.

  “I would prefer it were summer.”

  “You seem to do well enough in the cold.”

  “I enjoy all seasons. But right now, if it were summer, you would not be wearing that coat that hides your breasts.”

  She glanced down and blushed.

  “And if it were summer the grass would be high and the air warm.” He stopped his horse and hers stopped, too. “I could take you to the other side of that hill and lay you down and find the buttons on your shirt and remove your pantaloons and see you, as I have often imagined, but not chilled from a freezing pond.”

  She dared not look at him. His voice, rich, clear, and quiet, entered her blood. The place where she pressed the saddle prickled until she wanted to squirm against the hard leather. It was wrong for him to speak like this to her. Scandalous. Yet she did not want him to stop.